Out to Browning and a poetic look at our local huts

To Browning we snow.....

You seem to take for granted where you are and get caught up in the work life, rather than stop to smell the roses. Then you realise the season is nearly over!

On a recent trip to Browning hut I dragged the station leader and the chef from their respective duties. Arguably the most important and hardest working on station, they deserved to get away from it all. Nervous times leaving the ‘kids’ at home to fend for themselves, but surely needed.

The couple of days previous brought lots of snow, and no wind to blow it away. From leaving station we forged the track, 58km ahead of us, and as we approached the Browning Peninsula, the snow got deeper and deeper. The yellow Hägglunds turned into a plough as the snow rolled off the front. A pristine carpet with not a cloud in the sky. What a Hägg ride! Not often you say that.

A relaxing day in the hut ensued and the station woes disappeared. A few wines and home brew craft beers, topped off with the dancing southern lights. Maybe the last trip to Browning for me, and truly memorable. It has been a pleasure to winter with the 73rd ANARE.

Glen Pretious, Casey Building Services Supervisor & Carpenter

The yellow Hagg outside the Red shed at Casey station waiting to leave for Browning
Expeditioner lies on their back in a star shape in the deep snow
A snow covered landscape with snow covered nunataks in the distance
The yellow Hagg heading for Brownings in deep snow leaving tracks behind it
An aurora above the Browning Peninsula with the yellow Hägglunds in the foreground
Hermann Schafellner and Ali Dean in deep snow on route from Browning hut to Casey station

Musing on huts

That hut?
That hut's Jack's hut!

But that hut’s a rattletrap!
It ain't that stout,

No doubt about.

A whack, a clout, a slug o' grout,
Can't a redoubt bring about,
O' the shakeout that that hut that is Jack's huts born out!
Das halibut ist traut sich nicht kaput!

Now then …

A-strut the Point pouts Wilkes’ dugout.
Wilkes’ hut, Wilkes’ hutch, barrack, bivouac,
Wilkes’ the creaking ziggurat!

While Jack's hut juts out like a butt,

… Wilkes’ is built on stilts:

It tilts, it vaults like dolts in kilts (What?!)
It waltzes, it catapultzes,

Through ice ‘twill it melts, up still it boltzes!

Now, Jack's and Wilkes’,
Are of an ilk,
But Jack’s hut's got a spot of rot,
And Wilkes’ is built to the Hilt...on.

All good and well, I must now tell,
For a hut that's stuck out,
For a hut that's a cut aloft,
Worth its salt, out-and-out, paramount,
Which hut's that? Well, that hut that’s that, that hut's …

.. uhm …

… wait a minute …

That hut’s Robbo's!

Maybe. Might be. Could be. Definitely, not Mabel!

The End

(What about Browning? Ya forgot Browning, ya goose!)

Sam Peppe, Casey BoM Observer

Jack's hut near Casey station with two expeditioners in front with backpacks
Wilkes hut on Stonehocker Point near Casey station. Yellow Hägglunds at rear.
Jack's hut with expeditioners arriving to visit
A closeup of the base of Wilkes hut near Casey station
The sign at Wilkes hut proclaiming it the Wilkes Hilton
Robbo's hut on Robinsons Ridge near Casey station. Expeditioners rest on a deck outside.
Mabel hut within the Casey station limits, home to the air sampling equipment
on