A Southern Christmas 2001 - Day 24 (to Mawson)

A short interlude as we dash off to Mawson with a handful of expeditioners transferred from Polar Bird.

Tuesday 8 Jan 2001 

En route to Mawson 

We have not abandoned Polar Bird. Like Schwarzenegger, “we’ll be back” – but there is still a feeling of letdown as we leave her so completely beset in heavy pack ice, with no immediate chance of breaking free. 

She has been left with extra supplies of oil, fresh provisions, and a couple of extra communications guys and we have set off for Mawson with 35 additional passengers. There is a sense all round that we want to get back as soon as we can and finish the job.

 Tonight was Quiz Night – a fun event which raised another $500 for Camp Quality. I was able to answer all the questions, also not surprising since I was Quizmaster having prepared them all from a list that I just happened to have on my hard drive which has been collected after years of trivia nights at school and band functions. I knew it would all come in handy one day. 

My favourite question – What famous sporting event was won by Russia in 1946? 

No one had the correct answer of course and when revealed at the end of the round, I was peppered with a variety of projectiles for being such a smart arse. 

 It was the first night for quite some time that people had a work-free evening and the presence of Mawsonites, Caseyites, round-trippers and crew, not to mention Uruguayan Ricardo, the heli pilot from Polar Bird, and a party life and soul if ever I saw one, made for a memorable time in the “F” Deck Lounge later in the night.

We have made excellent time to Mawson, interrupted by yet another engagement with a fishing vessel. This time instead of Japanese whaling “research” vessels, we came across a long-line tuna fishing boat, Nova Tuna 1 complete with marker buoys and lines all ready and prepared. When hailed and asked what she was doing 60 miles inside Australian waters, her skipper said that his Ghana registered vessel was just “looking around.” 

“No sir,” he said when hailed, “we’re not fishing, just looking, and now that you have told us about this 200-mile zone, we’ll be on our way.” Yeah, right! 

The weather has been very kind, and the trip has been made even more magical as we travel through Iceberg Alley, surrounded by orcas and minkes. The last 30 miles as we approach Mawson leads through a spectacular iceberg field where drifting and grounded bergs, separated from the continental mass, stand in a huge array of colours, shapes and sizes. It’s over two weeks since I saw my first iceberg. I was gob-smacked then, and still am now. When we talk to crew members who have been here many times, their response is the same, you never tire of this. 

Pods of orcas and minke whales keep appearing, first on the port then on the starboard side. They are the most photo-shy of all Antarctic animals. Great to see, but never appearing when you get the camera out unless to show up in exactly the place where your camera is not pointing.

What an outstanding place is Mawson. If Casey, with its bay, and abundance of penguins, and bergy bits is stunning, then I struggle for superlatives to describe Mawson. As we approach and the ice-edge looms closer, I suddenly realise that what looks like low cloud, is in fact coastline gently rising to a clear white plateau with several splendid rocky hills and mountains carving the skyline. Of the three continuously operated Australian continental bases (the others being Casey and Davis), Mawson is furthest from Australia being about 5,500 kilometres southwest of Hobart. The station which is the oldest continuously operating station south of the Antarctic Circle was established in 1954. 

We gently push into the sea ice which stretches for about 3 or 4 miles from Mawson Station. 

We are here. 

 Oh – one last thing. In case you were struggling with the answer to the quiz question, here it is!