One of the perks of the job, and
for many a highlight down here, is the opportunity to go on a Twin Otter co-pilot
flight. I got the shout the evening before that I was next in line; that in the
morning I was down to be the co-pilot for the flight to Fossil Bluff. Naturally
I was pretty excited about this, the only downside being that my friend Blair
was leaving for the UK on the Dash-7 that very same morning. It was a slightly
rushed goodbye, and I was actually sat in the cockpit of a Twin Otter as I watched
his plane take off. Rothera is a place of comings and goings, and it wasn’t
really something I’d anticipated of been prepared for. You meet a lot of
people, form friendships quickly, and before you know it they are out into the
field for weeks or heading home. Listening to others who have been down before
you do get more accustomed to it, but initially I found it quite difficult. The
flight to Fossil Bluff takes about 1 hour 40, and it was a straight there and
back run this time – only stopping to drop off a few fuel drums and provisions.
Once we were airborne and levelled off, Andy’s voice came over the headset,
“It’s your turn to take control of the plane, I’ve got some paperwork to fill
in.” And pretty much just like that I found myself flying a Twin otter across
Antarctica. To be honest, all I had to do was hold the controls level, but it
was still one of those moments where you think, ‘wow, this is flippin’ cool!’
The weather might have been crapping out a bit at Rothera, but further south
there were blue skies and amazing views. We were probably only on the ground at
Fossil Bluff for 20-30 minutes – enough time to unload and have a chat to Jake
and Rich. I also went to visit the pee flag, but soon realised as I got my
flight overalls half way down that it was going to be a bit of a faff. I’d
either have to take them off entirely, or get them covered in pee. With neither
being a particularly attractive option, I decided that I’d just have to
exercise good bladder control on the way back. Perhaps the strangest thing
about flying the plane was that once airborne you got next to no sensation of
the speed you’re travelling at. This changed slightly though when Andy took the
plane down to approximately 100 metres above the ‘ground’, and flew close
enough to see seals and a mass of blocks which were locked in icebergs. I was
soon landed back at station, off the plane, and pretty much straight into the
late shift. Certainly not your average morning off before work!
As Christmas approached I was
keen to organise what would be Antarctica’s first ever Quidditch match. It was
something of a tradition I’d started at the hostel in Borrowdale, and now I
wanted to take it to the world’s most remote continent. I didn’t think I’d have
a problem getting enough players; Rothera is about a captive an audience as you
can get! I also had the lure of history on my side; a chance for people to add
their names alongside the likes of Amundsen, Shackleton, & Scott –
Antarctic firsts and pioneers. Jess, as Station Leader, wrote a full and
comprehensive risk assessment for the match, and it had to be the best document
of its kind I’ve ever read. Favourite bits include, “Brooms must not be used as
weapons.” & “Curses are restricted to muggle swear-words only. Spells and
hexes are disallowed.” I thought the most difficult part might be convincing
someone to be the Golden Snitch. I had initially tried to talk Cam into doing
it, but then discovered he would be out in the field. I then approached Alex
(aka blonde Jesus), & without too much resistance he agreed. However, when
I spoke to him later on he seemed slightly concerned….“K, I’ve been doing a bit
of research into golden snitching, and it looks like they get kneed in the
balls quite a lot?” I assured him that I would specifically mention that in the
category of foul play when I delivered the rule briefing. After a few
postponements due to the weather and muggle flying, we finally took to the
runway to play the match on Sunday 23rd December. We had enough
players for there to be subs, enough mop handles for broomsticks, and a Big
Bird costume (essential polar clothing) for Alex to wear as the Golden Snitch.
We learnt two things pretty quickly; just how knackering Rothera Rules
Quidditch is, and that Kate Stanton is probably unrivalled anywhere in the
universe when it comes to competitiveness! She later confided that she had to
stop playing board games as even that got too far out of hand. Unfortunately for
my team (Gryffindor), Kate was playing at the Slytherin Seeker when the Golden
Snitch was released onto the pitch. Callum put up a good battle to be fair, and
for a long time it seemed like Alex might elude them both for the rest of the
afternoon. But eventually Kate was able to capture the sock (containing a
tennis ball) from the back of Alex’s pants, which gave Slytherin the overall
victory. Everyone seemed to really enjoy it, and miraculously the only injuries
were to a couple of the broomsticks.
Christmas in Antarctica was, for
me, memorable and special. I hadn’t thought too much about how I might feel
about it; I wanted to enjoy it, and not dwell on the fact that I was a long way
from home. I went for a Christmas Day run with Tom L, three laps of the runway
before heading out on a recreational boat trip. It was possibly the perfect day
for being out on the water – it was flat calm, still. The grey skies meant that
there was no glare, so the towering icebergs were reflected clearly in the
water. In fact, at times, I wondered if the reflection had more form than the
real thing. The Chefs had cooked up an amazing Christmas dinner, and it was so
lovely to share it with friends. A little later in the evening I went up to the
Ops tower for scheds. Kate Doc had set up the keyboard, and a small group of us
assembled to sing Christmas carols over the radio to the field parties. I’m not
sure if it was interference over the radio, or the fact that they’d been living
in the middle of Antarctica in tents for so long, but apparently we sounded
pretty good! Boxing Day was back to work as normal, or as normal as life gets
down here.
“Once in a while you remember
exactly where the hell you are.” In this instance I was stood with Bav on the deck
of the Laurence M Gould, an American research ship, just off the West Antarctic
Peninsula. It was windy, snowing, and we’d been chatting, belting out the
American national anthem, and trying to figure out our place in all of this. I
certainly didn’t have any answers, but was yet again filled with a sense of
awe, and a gratitude for everyone and everything that had led me here. We were
part of a group from Rothera (including scientists doing CTD water sampling)
who had the opportunity to go aboard the ship in a PAX exchange – the American
scientists went ashore for tours of the station. Dee was on a lower deck
photographing tanks of krill, while Scott, Sarah, and the others were enjoying
the Americans’ hospitality (especially the stash of real, chocolate milk we
found). When we all got back together I asked Bav & Dee about recreating
that scene from Titanic. Contrary to the numerous suggestions, I didn’t mean
the iceberg bit, nor the being drawn like a French girl, and certainly not the
car scene. We went outside to the front of the ship, and yelled to the vast
expanse of ocean that I was the king of the world. If you ever get to try that
in the Southern Ocean, you’ll find out just how far from the truth those words
feel; how laughable a sentiment in a land that humbles. It was not the first
time here that I have been brought to a standstill – a sudden and overwhelming
halt, both mentally and physically. For a second there is no movement at all,
and then the thoughts begin to creep back in amongst the silent wonder. If I’ve
dreamed of anything, I’ve dreamed of this. The beauty of the wild places, the
mystery of life so complete it becomes the answer.
