Dear Bella, Tilly & Annie
I have been thinking of you constantly this summer as the amazing women I have been working with constantly reminded me of you and some of the adventures that we have shared. So, let me tell you about this latest adventure I’ve had, drilling a really deep hole into a glacier in one of the most remote corners of the world.
We headed out into the wilderness in a tiny team. Three of the most impressive Antarctic scientists I have met and me. They all had doctorates and one was even a professor. It was just us, no one to call on for help in a blizzard but each other. We all had to do a bit of everything that goes into field research and living in a remote camp.
Our project was called RAID, which stands for Rapid Access Ice Drill. The aim was to drill down as far as we could, hundreds of years back in time, to collect ice samples to be analysed. Compared to other styles of ice drilling, like the Million Year Ice Core (MYIC), our team and the size of our camp was tiny. As there was only four of us, we all had to help with every aspect of camp life: we were all needed to run the drill, collect ice samples, set up tents, make tea, cook lunch, and especially we all had a shovel and did lots of digging to fight the build up of snow around the drill and our tents. Four team members, eight tents and two drills.
For most of December we were out there. I had packed enough clean undies for two weeks, but ended up staying for three and a half weeks! Being December in Antarctica we had 24 hours of daylight and it took a week to get used to falling asleep in broad daylight. The sun warmed our tents but outside, even in the middle of summer, it was never above freezing and with wind chill, the coldest temperatures we experienced were below −30° Celcius!
We were nearly 400 kilometres west of Casey research station in the Denman Glacier region perched on the Antarctic Circle at a longitude of 102.5° east. To get there, we flew in a Twin Otter plane and landed directly on the snow. All 3000kg of cargo had to be loaded in and out by hand.
I’ll leave it to the scientists to answer the science question of why we were out there, but why was it so good for me to be out there? The environment, the activity and mostly the people held the answer. Put simply it felt like the sort of fun (but very challenging) adventure I would love to share with you.
The environment offered up so much. Initially a flat, white, featureless landscape. Austere. But each day a little more beauty was revealed. Windblown snow snaking through our legs. Wilson storm petrels far from home playfully darting around our camp. A single perfect snow flake melting in the palm of my hand. Two giggling adults lying on the ground staring at snow formations illuminated by the setting sun. Raised footprints remnant in the wind scoured snow. A popping sound as melting ice chips from 200 metres below the surface release their bubbles of ancient trapped atmosphere.
The activity of living in a deep field science camp engaged me 100 per cent of the time and my mind was constantly ready for whatever was next - training the team in all aspects of working in a remote cold field camp, preparing tents to survive a blizzard, shovelling snow. Recovering from the last blizzard. Shovelling snow. Setting up for a day of drilling. Shovelling snow. Shovelling snow to melt for water and cooking. Running the drill; constant monitoring winch speed, winch weight, revs per minute and torque. Maintaining the drill, maintaining generators, maintaining ourselves. Emptying an auger full of ice shavings and then another and another into a sampling tube. Then scooping ice into hundreds, no thousands, of bags to be analysed back in the lab. In the breaks we drank tea, made cheese toasties and ate a lifetime of rendang curry. Finally, packing up a frozen camp that after three weeks of work, was now under a metre of snow. Shovelling snow. Mundane, repetitive or novel, each activity held beauty in its careful execution.
And most significantly it was the people that made it for me (and secured our success and safety).
Far from the sombre tone of Mawson’s or Scott’s diaries, our Antarctic adventure was backed by a Wes Anderson movie soundtrack (thx Sarah). Every task was approached in a playful style and every challenge solved with good humour.
Difficulties of all varieties were faced every day – generators failing, blizzards, equipment breaking or needing maintenance, unplanned personnel changes. Solutions always involved humour or kindness, and occasionally tears. Leadership was shared by all and held the feminine leadership attributes of building trust, avoiding ego and collaborating.
I was inspired by the conversations that occurred over cups of tea; science, careers and favourite female vocalists (I did not have much to add to the first two). I hope that in the next few years you too get to have adventures with people who can be both your mentors and friends.
Enough for now, looking forward to seeing you soon! ‘Til then enjoy your studies, be kind to each other and most of all, have fun.
Big hugs,
Uncle Mickey
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- Mic Rofe - Part-time Field Training Officer (FTO) - Full-time Uncle
