All plans require a start date. This one is ours and it is almost here. It’s the first time I’ve worked with such an idea, yet it is relevant and appropriate to do so. Antarctica demands it. Without being here previously for a winter, I think it is impossible to understand what it means to be an Antarctic Expeditioner.
Our workplace, our home, our community is unlike any other. There is no quitting, there is no help, there is no reprise. If you don’t, if we don’t, no-one will. At times it’s comfortable to think about all the work we could drop, to spend time contemplating the things that don’t really need to be done, to think of the places we could be. But alas, we carry on.
This is what it means to be a member of the Casey community. The Casey family of the 77th ANARE. It’d be nice to paint us as a bunch of stoic individuals as hard as nails and driven beyond reason, but Antarctica is an insurmountable foe. There is no taming to be done, only enduring. Luckily for us, we’re a great bunch.
Sometimes we pick each other up, tag a team mate out, relieve them of the burden or tell them to get out of the kitchen. Other times it’s a wordless application of effort, spotting a mate in the thick of it, grabbing a shovel and saddling up next to them or perhaps settling in next to the toolbox, or otherwise to alleviate as much frustration and hardship as is possible, knowing there isn’t much else you can do.
That’s not say it’s terrible down here. It really isn’t, I often contemplate how grateful I am for each and every one of us down here, the things we’ve achieved, the experiences we’ve shared, the memories we’ve made. The bond Winterers share. Knowing that I’ll never have this experience again and that our time together is slipping away far too quickly.
So what is happening no sooner than the 14th of August? We (Wilkins), are leaving. Dean, Lewis, Mick and myself will be heading ‘back up the hill’ to open the vital airlink that allows Casey to be the busy, productive station that it is. Our refuge, our support network, our social and recreational opportunities will all be stripped back to the bare necessities, to get the job done.
Similarly, Casey is losing us. 13% of the population, of the workforce it, it doesn’t seem like much but knowing how essential each one of us, I know it will hurt. If you don’t, if we don’t, who will. It will be 4 less faces around the dinner table. For some, best friends moving 4 hours away, to a place where weekends don’t exist, and social visits are impractical and improbable.
Coming down the hill from Wilkins (at the start of winter) it was unclear the role Casey station plays, how we would integrate, the importance of station support in preparing us for the season to come or the memories we’d forge out together. I’m truly grateful for the time we’ve shared together.
I’m not sure why we each of us aspired to come to Antarctica, but I know for me, it will be the people that I remember the fondest.
Peter Laughton - Aerodrome Plant Operator, AAD Aviation.
