Travel Reference
In-Depth Information
Life Sciences, as well as a number of other scientific divisions within BAS, is highly regarded
in the international Antarctic community for the quality and value of its research. Besides invest-
igating terrestrial, freshwater and marine ecosystems in and around Antarctica, BAS also funds
ground-breaking geophysical work and a range of upper atmospheric sciences. BAS people beat
NASA, the American Antarctic programme, and everyone else in the field into a cocked hat when
they announced that there was a hole in the ozone layer.
We stopped at a blue-eyed shag colony and scrambled up a rock to see the dark-eyed chicks,
almost as tall as their parents but cocoa-brown and fluffy. The adults were white and black with
long, smooth necks and eyes like blue marbles. Antarctica was throbbing with life, here on the ba-
nana belt. It seemed a long way from the biological haiku of the plateau.
Having crossed the Antarctic equivalent of the Atlantic, I had to make certain linguistic adjust-
ments. I knew already about flashlights becoming torches and sleds mysteriously metamorphosing
into sledges. In addition, in the 'British sector', Scott tents were pyramid tents, Coleman lanterns
were tilley lamps, Tuckers were sno-cats, thermarests were karrimats, bunny boots were RBLT's
(this stood for rubber-bottom leather-top), dorms were pitrooms and the galley was the kitchen and
dining room. Weather was defined by two words: manky, which meant bad, and dingle, which was
good. In-between weather apparently never occurred.
1
Thinking nostalgically of the office bestowed on me at McMurdo, I parked my laptop and note-
books in a corner of the sledge store. Soon I discovered that someone slept on the floor of this
room, presumably in order to escape the pitrooms, which were known as deprivation chambers. In
the mornings I was obliged to skulk outside, establishing whether this individual had risen.
I learnt how to drive Hondas, the four-wheel drive minitractors, and John Deeres, little green
pick-ups which were a permanent feature of the landscape around Rothera, beetling across the
gravel. I had a snowmobile refresher course and went to Radio School to learn how to set up a
high-frequency antenna and squelch a VHF. I went to Meteorological School where the weather-
man, Steve, taught me how to tell the difference between cirrus and stratocumulus, a Shutdown
School to learn how to turn the engines off if a pilot keeled over in his plane, and a Medical School
in which I learnt of the beneficial effects of athlete's foot powder on crotch rot and was taught how
to perform a tracheotomy with a Swiss Army knife.
Twice a week everyone gathered in the dining room for a 'Situation Report' at which the base
commander announced news and impending events. This was followed by communal viewing of
a video. The video was chosen on a rota system. Most people had seen all the videos on station
several times, and their favourite trick was to pick a really bad film when it was their turn and then
walk out after five minutes.
One day, after one of these videos, I tried to socialise in the bar. It was in a large room with a
low ceiling, an institutional brown carpet and walls lined with the obligatory team photographs of
hairy winterers clutching dogs and looking as if they played bass guitar for a superannuated heavy
metal band. The drinking area was festooned with postcards of women's bottoms. There was a
music system, a collection of vinyl records, a pool table and a dartboard. In the winter they held
radio darts contests with other bases. After a couple of years of competition someone went to Bird
