Reflections on lessons learnt from a tiny rock on the 54th parallel.

Lessons from a giant green sponge

Ahh. No, it’s my turn to put together an “Icy News” article, what shall I do?

This great green sponge we currently call home provides so much potential “content” for the uninspired journalist. From wildlife encounters and monitoring programs, the windswept landscapes and weather, the uneven and often shaky surface we live on and the general day to day life that we have on station could all be well worth writing about.

But it was a message sent from one of my aunties last week after sharing my 34,263th photo with the family on the family messenger chat that awoke me from my writers block and got me started.

What was it she said, you ask?

She just texted back “You must be so brave to work at a place like that”.

As someone who has lived by the motto “A gentleman will walk but never run” for the last 40 or so years, bravery as far as I have been concerned has never really come into it. But it did get me thinking about what the island has taught me over the last few months and what it is about me that has found me living down here on a tiny rock on the 54th Parallel. A place so different and so remote from Ningaloo Reef which I normally call home.

I’m not talking about the flexibility of mindset and resilience building we all go on about during the psychological assessments and training prior to coming down, although, that’s still important. I’m talking about the lessons only Macca can teach you. An island which although still in its geological infancy still has the ability to share so much wisdom with you, if you take the time to listen.

Living and carrying out field work on Macca is not glamorous, easy or for the faint hearted. And this is the first lesson you are taught. Embrace the tough times, whether it’s when you find yourself standing up to your thigh in a muddy bog or having your third “Macro break” on the Hurd Point Jump up only to realise your still only half way to the top.

Dust yourself off, take a breath and just keep going.

Taking satisfaction in these moments has become one of my favourite parts of living here. Knowing that as unpleasant it is, this is only a moment in time and the rest of the island is only a step further ahead.

Sure, there’s plenty of bogs, wallows and hillsides ahead but at some stage during the day - and this happens every day. You will come to the crest of a hill, walk into a valley or onto a beach. Stop. Take a breath, stand there for a second and although you want to say something poignant or meaningful all that you mutter is “Wow, take a look at the light”.

To be grateful for having the opportunity to experience the spectacle that is Macca is somewhat forced upon you. The wild weather, steep escarpments, hillsides and valleys, the bountiful wildlife. All with lighting provided by a winter sun which seems like it just couldn’t be bothered to rise any further than just above the nearest hillside provides a show Hollywood could only wish to imitate.

And its your turn to for a cameo, sitting amongst 75 000 or so penguins (we are still counting them), watching the elephant seals wrestling in the shallows or watching the giant petrels jostling and dancing in mid-air with their eerie pre-historic call, you need to remind yourself, this is only the preview. The main event doesn’t start till September and you get to be part of this show.

Being humbled as the only humans amongst so much wilderness and wildlife really puts you in your place. Macca will do what Macca does. What you want to achieve with your day has nothing to do with the cycles of life here on the island. These moments of humility have a grounding effect, what seems to be a problem now will most likely be forgotten tomorrow, if not halfway up the next jump up. Your next step, the next breath and the next destination becomes the priority and your focus.

And then there’s the people, five months ago complete strangers, now besties and considered family. Sure, we bicker amongst ourselves and just like families it’s the small things that seem to irritate us the most. Like the politics of filling the milk jug or “who stole the last of the carbonara”. But when all is said and done, when the going gets tough you know you can 100% rely on them to have your back and it’s with them you get to share these life changing moments.

So, after two months, the Macca induction is complete. Now we look forward to the big show. A season of field work which will take us to all corners of the island and is sure to test us both physically and mentally. But its worth every second.

Is it bravery? No, I don’t think so. Is it a search for meaning and purpose in life? It definitely wasn’t supposed to be. All I wanted to do when I came here was see a wandering albatross.

Thanks Macca.

Joe Morgan, Ranger in Charge

Three mist shrouded green hills in the distance with a foreground of rust coloured vegetation.
Two elephant seals play fighting in the ocean shallows and surrounded by kelp.
A man in fluorescent yellow field clothing stands on the right side of the image looking across at a penguin and chick colony on a rocky beach at the base of a large green hill.
Three smiling people wearing yellow outdoor clothing stand in a misty, hilly landscape covered in tussock.
A man in outdoor clothing stands atop a tussock covered hill with the sun setting in the distance over a mountain and the ocean.
A black, white and yellow penguin stands tall while a fluffy brown chick begs for food in front of it.
A panoramic shot of a snow-covered station and isthmus surrounded by ocean and a distant plateau covered in snow. The sun is setting in a blue sky.
A silhouette of cormorants atop two hills with the yellow sky from a setting sun behind them.
Two people in yellow outdoor clothing climbing up a very steep snow and tussock covered hill. The ocean is in the background.

Want to live and work in Antarctica? Sign up for our expressions of interest mailing list to be the first to know when jobs in Antarctica and the sub-Antarctic open.

on