tower
12-07-2003, 12:05pm
I never saw this one coming that is for sure, but here I am just inside the Antarctic circle 60.5 degrees Latitude South, lying at anchor in the South Hebrides, close to Signy Island where we are to resupply and repair the British Antarctic Survey Base there and prepare it for full time occupation.
Now I am well travelled and having seen the breathtaking scenery of my home country of Scotland and more recently of Canada, nothing had prepared me for this as we inched into Iceberg Alley, giant Bergs millions of years old, Glacier Ice, fresh water that last fell as snow long before the Dinosaurs ruled the world.
Towering over our tiny ship they are deep blue in colour, majestic and silent as they glide by in a sea water temperature of -0.9 deg C and an Air Temperature of -1.5 deg C. We have food and fuel and a relief crew for the Signy but it is difficult above deck to concentrate on the job as the Mountains all around sparkle, the pure white Glacier Ice starting its long slow journey to the sea, often sailing as far as Montevideo surviving Sea temperatures of +17 deg C for many months due to there immense size.
They are erecting a new Radio Mast and running a Wire Aerial to improve the stations communications on the Short Wave bands and as a Marine Radio Officer and active Radio Amateur with considerable experience in Aerial erection and design I manage to obtain permission to go ashore on the "Tula" our shuttle craft. The Sun shines on a clear blue sky with mist shrouding the hill tops and Glacier valleys as I climb down the Rope ladder to board the Tula for the short trip ashore.
As we near the landing point curious Lepord Seals follow our progress from sea and shore. The base lies empty and locked just as it was left the previous Summer, but soon we have the Generator and water making plant running, heaters on and the kettle on. The Two Aerial masts have not survived the icy blast of Winter as we feared one is beyond repair and must be replaced - however we have the materials and steel erectors with us and they set to work.
Having dropped off her load of supplies the Tula makes her way back to the ship to take on board our "Flubber" a giant rubber fuel tank which holds 8 cubic meters of fuel oil. She will make 5 such trips today to re-fuel the Base for the coming Winter.
I make my way to a nearby high point, being careful to follow the rocky path and not tread on the lichen and moss, which takes decades to grow. As I climb higher the wind chill rises and the 6 knot wind at sea level is now a 40 knot gale, but the view is stunning - I see my Ship, a tiny little thing below me, looking so fragile in this sea of ice - one Iceberg is so huge as to be the size of a large Island and I stare at its snowy slopes certain in the knowledge that no man has trod on its surface, and few gazed on it's beauty. The fog comes down quickly, for while I climb the weather has turned and now the sky is dark and grey. I shelter from the wind and my world becomes surreal, I loose all vision, all sound, with no reference I loose perspective and direction.
I am frightened, for I don't know which way is home - the ground slopes away from me in all directions and I can not even see my own feet. I have however a VHF radio and a compass, I set a return path and attempt to walk back the way I came - I feel moss beneath my feet and I know this is not the path I came up. My call to the Base goes unanswered, but the Radio Officer left behind on the Shackleton calls me back. He has my position and gives me a bearing to follow - trusting his directions I find my self quickly below the fog line and see the path, just a few metres away to my right.
The weather changed so quickly, I vow never to stray away so far on my own again and re-join the mast erection party. We have a generator to swap out and expect to be here for 3 more days. Then we set sail for South Georgia and Bird Island. We will cross the Antarctic convergence where the sea temperature rises over 8 degrees C as the demarcation line between the Antarctic sea ice and the Scotia Sea is crossed.
The sudden temperature change in the sea water causes huge fog banks which are riddled with Icebergs drifting at the mercy of the wind.
These are the most dangerous waters in the World and treated with great respect by our deck officers. I marvel at the men who sailed here in Wooden Sailing ships and vow to see Ernest Shackleton's final resting place on South Georgia sometime during this trip.
If you have any questions about the trip please ask away but remember I have no internet and unless you email ESELECT@south.nerc-bas.ac.uk direct I can not post or read the Boards or Forums. Plain text emails only please and alow 24 hours for a reply. Thanks.
Now I am well travelled and having seen the breathtaking scenery of my home country of Scotland and more recently of Canada, nothing had prepared me for this as we inched into Iceberg Alley, giant Bergs millions of years old, Glacier Ice, fresh water that last fell as snow long before the Dinosaurs ruled the world.
Towering over our tiny ship they are deep blue in colour, majestic and silent as they glide by in a sea water temperature of -0.9 deg C and an Air Temperature of -1.5 deg C. We have food and fuel and a relief crew for the Signy but it is difficult above deck to concentrate on the job as the Mountains all around sparkle, the pure white Glacier Ice starting its long slow journey to the sea, often sailing as far as Montevideo surviving Sea temperatures of +17 deg C for many months due to there immense size.
They are erecting a new Radio Mast and running a Wire Aerial to improve the stations communications on the Short Wave bands and as a Marine Radio Officer and active Radio Amateur with considerable experience in Aerial erection and design I manage to obtain permission to go ashore on the "Tula" our shuttle craft. The Sun shines on a clear blue sky with mist shrouding the hill tops and Glacier valleys as I climb down the Rope ladder to board the Tula for the short trip ashore.
As we near the landing point curious Lepord Seals follow our progress from sea and shore. The base lies empty and locked just as it was left the previous Summer, but soon we have the Generator and water making plant running, heaters on and the kettle on. The Two Aerial masts have not survived the icy blast of Winter as we feared one is beyond repair and must be replaced - however we have the materials and steel erectors with us and they set to work.
Having dropped off her load of supplies the Tula makes her way back to the ship to take on board our "Flubber" a giant rubber fuel tank which holds 8 cubic meters of fuel oil. She will make 5 such trips today to re-fuel the Base for the coming Winter.
I make my way to a nearby high point, being careful to follow the rocky path and not tread on the lichen and moss, which takes decades to grow. As I climb higher the wind chill rises and the 6 knot wind at sea level is now a 40 knot gale, but the view is stunning - I see my Ship, a tiny little thing below me, looking so fragile in this sea of ice - one Iceberg is so huge as to be the size of a large Island and I stare at its snowy slopes certain in the knowledge that no man has trod on its surface, and few gazed on it's beauty. The fog comes down quickly, for while I climb the weather has turned and now the sky is dark and grey. I shelter from the wind and my world becomes surreal, I loose all vision, all sound, with no reference I loose perspective and direction.
I am frightened, for I don't know which way is home - the ground slopes away from me in all directions and I can not even see my own feet. I have however a VHF radio and a compass, I set a return path and attempt to walk back the way I came - I feel moss beneath my feet and I know this is not the path I came up. My call to the Base goes unanswered, but the Radio Officer left behind on the Shackleton calls me back. He has my position and gives me a bearing to follow - trusting his directions I find my self quickly below the fog line and see the path, just a few metres away to my right.
The weather changed so quickly, I vow never to stray away so far on my own again and re-join the mast erection party. We have a generator to swap out and expect to be here for 3 more days. Then we set sail for South Georgia and Bird Island. We will cross the Antarctic convergence where the sea temperature rises over 8 degrees C as the demarcation line between the Antarctic sea ice and the Scotia Sea is crossed.
The sudden temperature change in the sea water causes huge fog banks which are riddled with Icebergs drifting at the mercy of the wind.
These are the most dangerous waters in the World and treated with great respect by our deck officers. I marvel at the men who sailed here in Wooden Sailing ships and vow to see Ernest Shackleton's final resting place on South Georgia sometime during this trip.
If you have any questions about the trip please ask away but remember I have no internet and unless you email ESELECT@south.nerc-bas.ac.uk direct I can not post or read the Boards or Forums. Plain text emails only please and alow 24 hours for a reply. Thanks.