Our magnetometer hut: the most gruelling of environments - a tiny shipping crate decorated with peeling Ansett posters of beach volleyball at Noosa. Getting the rusty door open and closed was one of the hardest physical tasks we had to do at Zhong Shan. We opened it when we arrived, and shut it again when we left. Luckily the bar heaters were mighty, and Reeb supplies were plentiful.
So much to tell, so little time, and so little idea about what parts you guys are going to be interested in. I could write about our work at Zhong Shan - about how a helicopter mechanic helped me set up the magnetometer sensor-coil site for the calibration by giving the calibration site the right "feng shui", magnetometrically speaking, helping me cart around dozens of rocks for about an hour. And how a magnetic substorm came along, and, thinking we might be forced to take the night off because the field was too noisy to do a calibration, we got stuck into the green tea and powdered hazelnut sweets, and the Chinese physicists Jin and Wong taught us how to write our names in Chinese, and then the field came good again and we had to work solidly until 6 a.m. And how Ash then later wrote it all up in his tabloid newsletter This Week in Davis under the heading: "Gosh!!! Plucky Boffins Triumph, Despite Fluxual Frustration!" And how the calibration site was right next to the ice edge, where penguins and seals would laze in the distance, and Chinese guys would fish in holes in the ice.
Nah, perhaps not - most people find that kind of science talk pretty boring I guess.
Those of you who are interested in big, old junk will love to hear about the Russian base Progress II which was strewn with wierd old tanks, and skidoos rusted to the bone, and helicopter carcasses, and tanks with big caterpillar tracks, and pool tables, and old buildings using nothing but half-a-dozen oil drums as foundations. They were flying the Australian flag as well as the Chinese and Russian flags, but all the stars of the Southern Cross had blown off. The first time we walked through the station it was like we were strangers walking into a town in an old Western movie - two guys with crazy hair and stubble sat silently on a balcony and watched us walk past without saying a word. Then the old and new station leaders came over and said hi, and told us about all the stuff that was going on at the moment: their resupply ship was parked on the other side of the bergs and sea ice and two helicopters were carting fuel and goods to the base; and a canadian plane they'd chartered was doing the crew changeover at Vostok (BOCTOK in cyrillic - crates strewn around the huts had this painted all over them). It was a busy time, the station leader explained: "Too much transport! Too much transport!" There are also two new foundations being laid down for new buildings, so heavy machinery is going for much of the day. The doctor, Sergei, gave us gifts: he gave me a babushka doll; the others were given keyrings and pins showing Russian scenes. Sergei had a mouth full of gold teeth. He told me in broken English that he's spent time at most of the different bases Russia has in Antarctica. His room mate, who remained sitting on the hut balcony, waved down to us and told us he was heading to Vostok the next day, to spend a year there as the doctor. Wow. Vostok is possibly the most isolated and harsh environments in which you can live. I wished him good luck and he laughed and shrugged. We walked past the kitchen, which stank like raw sewage because of the toilets which were really close by. We walked past the new living quarters which look modern and great. As we left the base we were attacked by a pair of Skuas whose little chick, looking like a ball of cotton fluff, was lying right in the middle of the road.
Hut at Progress II - the boxes at the base read BOCTOK. Note the star-less Aussie flag.
Wierd, excellent, awesome Russian stuff that's lying around Progress II. The trailer axle actually has five wheels on it, threaded like beads. (Trailer pic by Damon)
Russian "Polarmen" - including the station leader, carrying the radio. (Pics by Jin)
The posse, spying on the Russians. (Pic by Jin)
The night after our all-night calibration, Peter, Damon and I decided to set out for a long hike in the Larsemanns, since our body clocks were all screwed up anyway. We left at 10 in the evening and walked through Progress II and up into the hills, heading towards the point where the plateau of ice swallows up the hills. Our aim was to get to Progress I, the old Russian base, but we were thwarted very close from the buildings due to dodgey ice that we were sinking into up to our hips. There were two lakes on each side and we weren't really sure whether there was flowing meltwater underneath us - and we didn't really have the right gear - so we turned around and headed back into the hills. The height of the plateau meant that the sun almost touched it, at its lowest point - for the first time, I got the sense of a real dusk and dawn. The light on the hills was a stunning rich rosy orange glow.
Progress I, on the edge of the Larsemanns, with the moon and plateau rising behind it.
In the Larsemanns.
We walked to Law Base and made cups of hot soup and chilled out. The first time we'd visited Law Base was a day or so previously, with the Chinese guys - it was such an amazing feeling to walk in and see familiar food - vegemite, cup-a-soup, vita-weets - after eating Chinese ear-mushroom and green tea for the last few days (and, of course, that strange rice-floating-in-boiling-water soup that they find so delicious for breakfast - it makes your battered bread go down so much easier). It really felt, wonderfully, like home. I'd climbed up onto the roof and tied up the Aussie, Chinese and Russian flags to the top to let all the choppers and planes know that we were IN, and we'd stood the Roadside Mail Box (complete with "Caution: Kangaroos" sign) out the front. This time, though, we just smooshed back wearily into the comfy couch in the mess hut and drank our soup and warmed up. Then we walked back to Zhong Shan, arrived at 4 a.m., and fell asleep.
Law Base. From top: the Apple huts with mailbox; inside the mess hut; hoisting the flags (the Aussie flag, true to form, was a perpetual bludger and refused to flap as hard as the others); and the interior of one of the huts - it brings to mind strange Barbarella associations. Probably the dodgey faux-bearskin effect.
Law Base kitchen. Compare to...
... this area, which is part of the Zhong Shan kitchen.
The guys got a good sleep, but I had the task of getting up at 6 a.m. to call Davis on the VHF phone and check when the chopper was coming to pick us up. They said: call back in two hours. So I phoned back in two hours and they said: give us another hour or so. We played this exciting game (filling in the gaps with sleep or ping-pong challenges) until just after we'd sat down to dinner, when the squirrel landed (naturally). When we flew off, there were a dozen or so people gathered around waving. Our little chopper felt like a mini-minor after seeing the Chinese Dauphins, which can carry 10 people, or the Russian choppers which have huge, long bellies like swollen tadpoles. Damon and I squished into the back seat, my shoulders wedged into a gap behind two packs, and my head pushed to the side by a roll-mat. We flew over a whale, some calving bergs, the usual procession of astounding glaciers, a penguin rookery, and then we were home: adventure over.