The A-Factor: When simple jobs become Antarctic epics
Back home in the tropics, stepping outside usually means grabbing your sunnies, sliding on some thongs, and maybe throwing on a cap. Here at Casey Station, “going outside” is a full-scale operation. Beanie, gloves, jacket, goggles, boots, sometimes field spikes, radio, backpack … and then you realise you forgot your notebook. That means heading back inside, peeling off the boots and layers, grabbing the missing item, and gearing up all over again. Suddenly a two-minute walk has turned into a 20-minute saga. That’s a small example of the A-Factor. It’s our shorthand for how even the simplest jobs take on a life of their own down here, so here's a handful of cursory examples from what is effectively an endless pool of challenges.
Take the other day in the workshop. One of our diesos, Dan, was fixing a hydraulic leak on a snow groomer. Easy enough back home, but here the machine first had to spend the night thawing out inside – step one before anyone could even touch it. To get at the leak, Dan had to remove one of the tracks which in itself turned out to be a two-hour job. That meant replacing dead batteries from the long winter, constantly sweeping up water and ice dripping from underneath the vehicle, and making a fully kitted-up 20-minute round trip to another workshop for extra tools before even starting! This was followed by a long effort to remove one bolt in order to start the process of removing the track, still not the original job. A one-hour job? Try five. The impressive part was Dan’s temperament — calm, patient, almost like he expected the obstacles. Like all of us, he’s clearly mastered the art of accepting that in Antarctica, nothing is ever straightforward. Nothing.
Vehicles are another great example. At home, you jump in the car and turn a key or just press a button. Here, if you want to start up a Hägg to head out on a trip, at minimum you need to plug it in and run through a whole checklist of pre-start tasks. If there’s been a blizzard, you might first have to dig it out entirely before even thinking about going anywhere. Then you drive, sometimes in whiteout conditions where visibility out the window is zero and all faith is placed in following the GPS track and physical markers where you can see them.
This really is a land of first, second, and third order consequences, a land where not everything is a straight path forward, and big blizzards change the game completely. On those days, even the simple act of going outside becomes the exception — something reserved only for responding to alarms or true emergencies. Staying indoors brings a whole new set of challenges, from potential cabin fever to a new set of logistics and more recently, having parts of flying debris hit parts of the Station at speeds up to 200km plus.
Our skilled expeditioners are tasked with everything from intricate mechanical, plumbing, electrical, and electronic work, to plant and vehicle operations, communications, supplies, weather monitoring, science projects, field training, roping and rescue drills, fire training and emergency response. The list really is endless. Each of these jobs comes with its own A-Factor twist. Imagine trying to thread a wire, fit a small part, undo a bolt or screw on a vehicle, or adjust delicate weather equipment while wearing thick gloves. Often the only way is to slip the gloves off for short, sharp safe bursts, then duck inside a vehicle or building to warm up before heading back out to finish the task. What might be a five-minute job in Australia can quickly turn into an hour-long mission down here.
Transferring critical supplies like fuel and water, hauling in food for the galley from stores to the kitchen bench, even opening and closing outdoor containers, can all be slowed down by snow, ice, or the need for full survival gear. The A-Factor keeps us humble, keeps us patient, and makes every small victory – like finally getting the groomer back in service or coaxing a Hägg into life – feel like a triumph. This is why we celebrate even the smallest of successes down here. Antarctica is a sculptor that carves patience.
And then there’s our team up at the Wilkins Aerodrome where the A-Factor is even more pronounced. They live in the field and are intensly dictated to by the Antarctic weather. Clearing the runway one day, watching the snow re-drop the next … but that’s another story.
Andy Warton
Station Leader (Winter)
78th ANARE
Casey Station, Antarctica
