One thing about Halley that you can rely on, is that you can't rely on anything. Weather may affect other people's plans elsewhere; here, everything is determined by weather. And sea ice. At the moment, the weather is okay, but the sea ice is thick. And our Russian ship can't get through it.
As you may recall from previous entries, I was retained at Halley to unload this ship, the Igarka. It was due to arrive Christmas Day. But as the arrival got pushed back day after day, they started contingency planning: first getting a replacement for me, then taking me off relief altogether. And now I'm scheduled to possibly fly out tomorrow to...either Rothera or Sky-Blu.
Sky-Blu is where I'll be working from, so that would be preferable. But we might not stop there on the way back. Or, my equipment and helpers from Rothera might not be there yet. I would like to get there as soon as possible - but if I have to pointlessly wait somewhere over New Year's, I'd rather do it at Rothera.
And to top it all off, there are only two flights out of Rothera in mid-late Jan - Jan 14 and Jan 28. Plans to fly to Canada would be spoiled by the latter.
It's all very confusing. But that's life down here - a month of waiting to get in to do three days of work.That's how we roll.
It may be a while before I post again. And who knows where I'll be? I'll be able to narrow it down to one of four continents, at least.
I
Tuesday, 29 December 2009
Tuesday, 22 December 2009
Christmas and Melt Tank FM
December 22, 2009. Another "Christmas" is about to roll around; and as usual, it will be a busy time in which holiday celebrations are conspicuously absent. In fact, the Igarka - Anderma Mark II - is scheduled to arrive on Christmas day. Or maybe even Christmas Eve! Either way, there won't be much time for mulled wine and carols.
In anticipation of this, we actually had pseudo-Christmas this past weekend. We took the afternoon off on Saturday and had a bit of a party. The usual four-can rule was extended to -five- cans, and a nice roast dinner was served. We then posed for the Halley Summer 2009-10 shot, on a large sofa constructed out of snow:
I'm seventh from the left, of the standing people, back row. Regrettably, the sofa was angled such that an afternoon photo shoot was severely backlit, as one can see. Hell of a nice sofa construction, though.
Other than that, things are starting to wind down on base, with little left to do before the ships get here. I stuck a "bonus" site out on the shelf - site J is my wildly original name for it. It is tracking the "ripples around the Rumples". The ice around the Rumples has become much more ripply lately - picture a car hood/bonnet in a head-on collision, where ripples in the metal fan out from the point of impact. This is happening in slow-motion around the Rumples, and I had enough equipment to cobble together one last site to track a particular ripple.
Actually, I have done one more thing. I'm rather proud of it.
I have recently become the executive producer of Melt Tank FM - your radio station covering all things melt-tank. That'd be Channel 9 on your marine VHF dial. With the heavy assistance of Richard - the incoming meteorological technician (and now the Melt Tank FM program director) - we've rigged up an elaborate setup where the level of the melt-tank is automatically read out.
Just as a reminder - the melt tank is a big underground tank into which we shovel snow to get our water. One shovels until the melt tank level reaches a certain level - around 2.3 metres. This level is accessible from a ultrasonic sensor already wired into a display on the Laws - Melt Tank FM reads this level through a analog-to-digital converter, then sends it over a serial line, then processes it by a perl script, then played an audio clip of me reading the level over a sound card, which is then piped into a VHF radio. It shouts out the melt tank number whenever it goes up, saving the diggers the need to call up the station and ask someone to read it out manually.
There are several opportunities for humourous additions to Melt Tank FM - such as:
1) Random playing of the A-Team theme song (already implemented);
2) A cheesy jingle to be played when people first start digging (to be recorded by the base doctors);
3) Verbal abuse if the level isn't rising fast enough; and
4) Severe verbal abuse if they block the melt tank.
I don't think I'll have time to implement these changes, but at least I'll be immortalized forever by my voice droning out melt tank numbers.
Or at least, until Halley V is torn down in a few years.
In anticipation of this, we actually had pseudo-Christmas this past weekend. We took the afternoon off on Saturday and had a bit of a party. The usual four-can rule was extended to -five- cans, and a nice roast dinner was served. We then posed for the Halley Summer 2009-10 shot, on a large sofa constructed out of snow:
I'm seventh from the left, of the standing people, back row. Regrettably, the sofa was angled such that an afternoon photo shoot was severely backlit, as one can see. Hell of a nice sofa construction, though.Other than that, things are starting to wind down on base, with little left to do before the ships get here. I stuck a "bonus" site out on the shelf - site J is my wildly original name for it. It is tracking the "ripples around the Rumples". The ice around the Rumples has become much more ripply lately - picture a car hood/bonnet in a head-on collision, where ripples in the metal fan out from the point of impact. This is happening in slow-motion around the Rumples, and I had enough equipment to cobble together one last site to track a particular ripple.
Actually, I have done one more thing. I'm rather proud of it.
I have recently become the executive producer of Melt Tank FM - your radio station covering all things melt-tank. That'd be Channel 9 on your marine VHF dial. With the heavy assistance of Richard - the incoming meteorological technician (and now the Melt Tank FM program director) - we've rigged up an elaborate setup where the level of the melt-tank is automatically read out.
Just as a reminder - the melt tank is a big underground tank into which we shovel snow to get our water. One shovels until the melt tank level reaches a certain level - around 2.3 metres. This level is accessible from a ultrasonic sensor already wired into a display on the Laws - Melt Tank FM reads this level through a analog-to-digital converter, then sends it over a serial line, then processes it by a perl script, then played an audio clip of me reading the level over a sound card, which is then piped into a VHF radio. It shouts out the melt tank number whenever it goes up, saving the diggers the need to call up the station and ask someone to read it out manually.
There are several opportunities for humourous additions to Melt Tank FM - such as:
1) Random playing of the A-Team theme song (already implemented);
2) A cheesy jingle to be played when people first start digging (to be recorded by the base doctors);
3) Verbal abuse if the level isn't rising fast enough; and
4) Severe verbal abuse if they block the melt tank.
I don't think I'll have time to implement these changes, but at least I'll be immortalized forever by my voice droning out melt tank numbers.
Or at least, until Halley V is torn down in a few years.
Sunday, 13 December 2009
The weeks tick by. I now have a changed plan - I shall remain here for the first half of relief. We have two ships coming in, just like two years ago: the Shackleton, everyone's favourite Antarctic supply ship, and the Igarka, a Russian ship carrying the big Halley VI modules.
Some long-time readers may recall that two years ago, we unloaded the Shackleton first, as it has more people, lifting gear, fuel, food, etc., that make life easier all round. However, due to ship problems, the Igarka will arrive first this year. Thus, the personnel shortage. Thus, I'm sticking around for a bit.
Should be interesting, as I think I'll be sleeping on the Russian ship. Mixed feelings about that! It'll be unique and different; however, cabbage soup appears to be a favourite on the menu. I think the chefs have an idea cooking - so to speak - to set up a little cafe down on the coast.
In the meantime, I finally got out to finish my field trips. Antarctic Pole was re-installed at a new location:
... beside a crack 2 km wide...
... with another pole (this one with a solar panel) on the other side.
We'll see what they have to say about the crack movement over the next year. Susanna took a brief video capturing the Pole's departure from Halley:
Some long-time readers may recall that two years ago, we unloaded the Shackleton first, as it has more people, lifting gear, fuel, food, etc., that make life easier all round. However, due to ship problems, the Igarka will arrive first this year. Thus, the personnel shortage. Thus, I'm sticking around for a bit.
Should be interesting, as I think I'll be sleeping on the Russian ship. Mixed feelings about that! It'll be unique and different; however, cabbage soup appears to be a favourite on the menu. I think the chefs have an idea cooking - so to speak - to set up a little cafe down on the coast.
In the meantime, I finally got out to finish my field trips. Antarctic Pole was re-installed at a new location:
... beside a crack 2 km wide...
... with another pole (this one with a solar panel) on the other side.
We'll see what they have to say about the crack movement over the next year. Susanna took a brief video capturing the Pole's departure from Halley:Sunday, 6 December 2009
Visiting an old Facebook friend
It was the quietest of times; it was the busiest of times.
This past week has been a bit quiet on the work front. Now that the Twin Otter has arrived, the weather has decided not to co-operate, and we've only managed one of our science trips so far.
However, the main base is now a hotbed of activity - all of the pre-ship people are now here, bringing our population up to about 70. The dining room is completely full at mealtimes, with more people waiting outside. It would be slightly claustrophobic for me, if I didn't have my trusty Simpson building to hang out in. Which is where I am now, writing this with the building to myself.
But back to the one trip we did do. About a week ago, we made it out to Stancomb-Wills, to hit some of my sites:
We wanted to hit all 5 sites, but only managed A and B. "A" was just a raising trip - we go out there, and dig up the half-buried device and reset it on the snow surface. So we did. The main bits of the devices are a big box full of batteries under the snow.
...it was only about a metre deep, so no big deal.
"B" had two separate sensors; one to be moved to "C", and another to be moved to "D". The latter device is none other than Antarctic Aluminum Pole, of Facebook fame. If you're on Facebook, you can look him up, and ask to be his friend. He doesn't say much, though.
He'll be posting these pictures too, but here's his view of our arrival:
...and here he is with his rescuer, Ben Mapston, coming to dig:
He was about two meters deep. Ian, the pilot, did most of the digging, as Ben and I were digging the other station beside it. Here's the hole, with a shovel in it:
Hard to appreciate the hole, in flat white light, but Ian digs a very neat, round hole. Everyone has a digging style and method, and Ben and I were much more reckless and wide.
By the time we got the equipment recovered, the contrast went - you can see it yourself, comparing the hole picture with picture of "A" above. If you're landing a plane on an unknown snow surface, which would you prefer? The hole is just as invisible in real life as it is in the above picture, I might add. Wouldn't be good to land on it.
Anyway, without contrast, all we could do is go home. I hadn't told Ben that this pole was the Antarctic pole of Facebook fame until now - slipped my mind - so when he found out he asked for a picture of us together. So here it is.
We were going to take it into the bar for a few drinks, but since then the weather has crapped out too much to even get to the skiway again. But maybe we'll bring him in for a quick Guinness before sending him back to site D on Stancomb.
This past week has been a bit quiet on the work front. Now that the Twin Otter has arrived, the weather has decided not to co-operate, and we've only managed one of our science trips so far.
However, the main base is now a hotbed of activity - all of the pre-ship people are now here, bringing our population up to about 70. The dining room is completely full at mealtimes, with more people waiting outside. It would be slightly claustrophobic for me, if I didn't have my trusty Simpson building to hang out in. Which is where I am now, writing this with the building to myself.
But back to the one trip we did do. About a week ago, we made it out to Stancomb-Wills, to hit some of my sites:
We wanted to hit all 5 sites, but only managed A and B. "A" was just a raising trip - we go out there, and dig up the half-buried device and reset it on the snow surface. So we did. The main bits of the devices are a big box full of batteries under the snow.
...it was only about a metre deep, so no big deal."B" had two separate sensors; one to be moved to "C", and another to be moved to "D". The latter device is none other than Antarctic Aluminum Pole, of Facebook fame. If you're on Facebook, you can look him up, and ask to be his friend. He doesn't say much, though.
He'll be posting these pictures too, but here's his view of our arrival:
...and here he is with his rescuer, Ben Mapston, coming to dig:
He was about two meters deep. Ian, the pilot, did most of the digging, as Ben and I were digging the other station beside it. Here's the hole, with a shovel in it:
Hard to appreciate the hole, in flat white light, but Ian digs a very neat, round hole. Everyone has a digging style and method, and Ben and I were much more reckless and wide.
By the time we got the equipment recovered, the contrast went - you can see it yourself, comparing the hole picture with picture of "A" above. If you're landing a plane on an unknown snow surface, which would you prefer? The hole is just as invisible in real life as it is in the above picture, I might add. Wouldn't be good to land on it.
Anyway, without contrast, all we could do is go home. I hadn't told Ben that this pole was the Antarctic pole of Facebook fame until now - slipped my mind - so when he found out he asked for a picture of us together. So here it is.
We were going to take it into the bar for a few drinks, but since then the weather has crapped out too much to even get to the skiway again. But maybe we'll bring him in for a quick Guinness before sending him back to site D on Stancomb.
Thursday, 26 November 2009
The post everyone's been waiting for!
And it's penguin time! The past weekend is all about the world's silliest birds.
On Saturday, we had a penguin invasion! Someone reported on Friday night that penguins had been sighted near the Halley VI construction site. By the time we got there, there were at least 200 that had wandered up the drumline. And they're still around here, almost a week later, showing up here and there. Just two days ago, our Twin Otter landed - we'll be seeing more of it in the next month - but first the doc had to shoo about 6 penguins off the skiway. And they really didn't want to move.
The penguin diaspora isn't just confined to our base - we were 10km away on the side of the base opposite the Windy Bay colony, where we saw 10 of them standing and staring at a flag we stuck out there. Hours of entertainment, flags! Must have been sensory overload for these guys.
But anyway. More importantly, on Sunday we assembled the crew and went down to the colony - an exchange trip, if you like. So welcome back to Windy Bay!
Compared to previous trips, there were a lot less kids around. Shame, really. One result of this imbalance is that every baby penguin was fussed over by not only two parents, but several aunts and uncles as well. Obviously, they're spoiled now. One baby caught site of us, and excitedly ran over to meet us. You could almost hear him saying "Oh boy! Oh boy! Something new! Hooray!" while the parents and relatives were running behind him and freaking out; "He's too young to be near the orange-suited creatures!"
This was probably just a coincidental stretch, but this picture looks like a protective dad saying "Damn it, man, have you no decency? Get that camera away from my wife and child. Nothing to see here, sir! Move along!"
In the end, the kid just tried to do the old "Hide under mom" shy routine. But, seriously, isn't he getting a bit old for this? Barely fits under there any more.
On a different note - penguins are never known for their dignity. But you want to see a goofy looking penguin, watch one scratch i's ear for an extended period of time.
That sucker was good and scratched by the time I stopped laughing, lost interest, and wandered off. For all I know, he's still scratching it.
A few pics down at the seaside too. I like this one because it looks like the penguin and I planned a classic "day-at-the-beach" picture:
And here's one attempting to regain land:
A penguin that successfully launches out of the water is a beautiful sight. One that attempts and fails provides one of nature's goofiest moments.
Anyway, there are a few more, but I'll stretch them out.
Also, we managed to scale the Macdonald Ice Rumples and dig out a site that was 3m under snow. Once again, Kirk accompanied us and will probably make a video, so I'll suspend comment until it can be provided. Suffice it to say, there were enough bottomless crevasses and avalanches within earshot to make it an interesting journey.
On Saturday, we had a penguin invasion! Someone reported on Friday night that penguins had been sighted near the Halley VI construction site. By the time we got there, there were at least 200 that had wandered up the drumline. And they're still around here, almost a week later, showing up here and there. Just two days ago, our Twin Otter landed - we'll be seeing more of it in the next month - but first the doc had to shoo about 6 penguins off the skiway. And they really didn't want to move.
The penguin diaspora isn't just confined to our base - we were 10km away on the side of the base opposite the Windy Bay colony, where we saw 10 of them standing and staring at a flag we stuck out there. Hours of entertainment, flags! Must have been sensory overload for these guys.
But anyway. More importantly, on Sunday we assembled the crew and went down to the colony - an exchange trip, if you like. So welcome back to Windy Bay!
Compared to previous trips, there were a lot less kids around. Shame, really. One result of this imbalance is that every baby penguin was fussed over by not only two parents, but several aunts and uncles as well. Obviously, they're spoiled now. One baby caught site of us, and excitedly ran over to meet us. You could almost hear him saying "Oh boy! Oh boy! Something new! Hooray!" while the parents and relatives were running behind him and freaking out; "He's too young to be near the orange-suited creatures!"
This was probably just a coincidental stretch, but this picture looks like a protective dad saying "Damn it, man, have you no decency? Get that camera away from my wife and child. Nothing to see here, sir! Move along!"
In the end, the kid just tried to do the old "Hide under mom" shy routine. But, seriously, isn't he getting a bit old for this? Barely fits under there any more.
On a different note - penguins are never known for their dignity. But you want to see a goofy looking penguin, watch one scratch i's ear for an extended period of time.
That sucker was good and scratched by the time I stopped laughing, lost interest, and wandered off. For all I know, he's still scratching it.A few pics down at the seaside too. I like this one because it looks like the penguin and I planned a classic "day-at-the-beach" picture:
And here's one attempting to regain land:
A penguin that successfully launches out of the water is a beautiful sight. One that attempts and fails provides one of nature's goofiest moments.Anyway, there are a few more, but I'll stretch them out.
Also, we managed to scale the Macdonald Ice Rumples and dig out a site that was 3m under snow. Once again, Kirk accompanied us and will probably make a video, so I'll suspend comment until it can be provided. Suffice it to say, there were enough bottomless crevasses and avalanches within earshot to make it an interesting journey.
Tuesday, 17 November 2009
Follow the bouncing ball
Gettin' on to two weeks here at Halley. The first week was mainly really crap weather, as the previous entry's video has shown. One interesting difference this season, though; the crazy winds don't rock the base like they used to. Our base, as pictures show, is built on "stilts", to keep us about 20 ft above the ever-accumulating snow. 
However, we stopped jacking it up two years ago, in anticipation of eventual demolition when we build the new base. As a result, we're now about half the height we were above the snow in the picture. So a bit less swaying.
But yes, the wind has since abated a bit and I've been going like gangbusters digging out my equipment. Site update:
Raised and reprogrammed: B0, C0, D10, E0, R1
Remaining: A10, A00, R2, R3
Whole lotta digging. Site C0, in particular, was 2m deep under ice. We had to abandon shovels in favour of ice axes. Felt like we were mining, more than digging.
But still, things have progressed quickly, to the extent that I don't think I'll need to keep the running tally - I've knocked off more than half in a week! But soon the Twin Otter will be arriving, and it'll be time to concentrate on my flights again. Including a visit to a certain Aluminium/aluminum/alumium pole who has his own Facebook page.
But getting back to the title of the blog. As Kirk and I were preparing to hit site E00, some work was happening on the Simpson, the science building in which I work. Given a massive onslaught to the main living quarters at Halley, stuff like the gym has been shunted off to our building. Among the gym equipment coming across, there was a large plastic inflated ball - the kind you do situps and press-ups on - amongst the cargo on a sledge. But the ball fell off the sledge on the way to the building.
Generally, no big deal. But it just so happened that there was a brisk 20 km/h that day, and we live on a nice flat expanse of nothing. So off the ball goes. And as I was the only person nearby with a snowmobile at hand, I was the only one in a position to go get it.
This was not as easy as it sounds. First, the ball had about a 0.5km headstart on me before I got my act together and took off. It then bounced under the Laws building, past the garage and the Drewry, and was headed towards the Halley VI construction site. I attempted an intercept about 20ft from the site, but the ball banged into my skidoo almost contemptously and immediately went behind it into a large wind scoop formed by one of the Halley VI modules. This is a depression in the snow in the leeward side of a building - and these particular wind scoops are at least 8 feet tall.
Thinking the ball was trapped, I leisurely got off my skidoo and ambled around the building to trap my quarry. Only to see it merrily bouncing away, regaining at least 200m of distance from me. I don't know how it got out of the scoop, but I could swear it was laughing at me as I swore and scrambled back to my skidoo to resume the chase.
By the time caught up to it again, we had long since left the Halley base perimeter. This time, I sped past it considerably, got off my skidoo, and waited for it to approach. I could almost hear the "high noon showdown" music from an old western, as my own tumbleweed nemesis came ambling towards me. I pounced, subdued the fugitive, and brought him back to the Simpson amidst general applause:
And then I went inside for tea and medals. The plastic ball remains trapped in the room next door, never again to make a mad break for Antarctic freedom. If I hadn't caught it, who knows where it would be by now?
However, we stopped jacking it up two years ago, in anticipation of eventual demolition when we build the new base. As a result, we're now about half the height we were above the snow in the picture. So a bit less swaying.
But yes, the wind has since abated a bit and I've been going like gangbusters digging out my equipment. Site update:
Raised and reprogrammed: B0, C0, D10, E0, R1
Remaining: A10, A00, R2, R3
Whole lotta digging. Site C0, in particular, was 2m deep under ice. We had to abandon shovels in favour of ice axes. Felt like we were mining, more than digging.
But still, things have progressed quickly, to the extent that I don't think I'll need to keep the running tally - I've knocked off more than half in a week! But soon the Twin Otter will be arriving, and it'll be time to concentrate on my flights again. Including a visit to a certain Aluminium/aluminum/alumium pole who has his own Facebook page.
But getting back to the title of the blog. As Kirk and I were preparing to hit site E00, some work was happening on the Simpson, the science building in which I work. Given a massive onslaught to the main living quarters at Halley, stuff like the gym has been shunted off to our building. Among the gym equipment coming across, there was a large plastic inflated ball - the kind you do situps and press-ups on - amongst the cargo on a sledge. But the ball fell off the sledge on the way to the building.
Generally, no big deal. But it just so happened that there was a brisk 20 km/h that day, and we live on a nice flat expanse of nothing. So off the ball goes. And as I was the only person nearby with a snowmobile at hand, I was the only one in a position to go get it.
This was not as easy as it sounds. First, the ball had about a 0.5km headstart on me before I got my act together and took off. It then bounced under the Laws building, past the garage and the Drewry, and was headed towards the Halley VI construction site. I attempted an intercept about 20ft from the site, but the ball banged into my skidoo almost contemptously and immediately went behind it into a large wind scoop formed by one of the Halley VI modules. This is a depression in the snow in the leeward side of a building - and these particular wind scoops are at least 8 feet tall.
Thinking the ball was trapped, I leisurely got off my skidoo and ambled around the building to trap my quarry. Only to see it merrily bouncing away, regaining at least 200m of distance from me. I don't know how it got out of the scoop, but I could swear it was laughing at me as I swore and scrambled back to my skidoo to resume the chase.
By the time caught up to it again, we had long since left the Halley base perimeter. This time, I sped past it considerably, got off my skidoo, and waited for it to approach. I could almost hear the "high noon showdown" music from an old western, as my own tumbleweed nemesis came ambling towards me. I pounced, subdued the fugitive, and brought him back to the Simpson amidst general applause:
And then I went inside for tea and medals. The plastic ball remains trapped in the room next door, never again to make a mad break for Antarctic freedom. If I hadn't caught it, who knows where it would be by now?
Tuesday, 10 November 2009
Welcome back to beautiful Halley
(video courtesy of Tim Gee, the cameraman and fellow melt-tank digger)
Ah, it's good to be back. Even when I'm doing melt-tank duty in 30 knot winds. I'm the one in orange, there, vainly pulling on the rope attached to the melt-tank lid, which is buried under at least five feet of snow. Once we get to it, then we open it, and the real shovelling begins.
Yes, we have left the namby-pamby Rothera base, with its mountains and balmy weather, for real Antarctica - Halley!
This is actually my favourite time and place to be south - the first group into Halley. There are eighteen of us on base at the moment, 11 winterers and 7 new arrivals. We're still on 9 to 5 (in theory) hours, and everyone congregates at the bar at night. I've even got a room to myself! For the moment. It's time like this that I wonder if I should winter at Halley. But such wonderings are brief.
As comfortable as I am, the clock is ticking before I leave. And upon arrival in stellar weather conditions, the weather promptly crapped out and has been the wonderful conditions shown in the above video. So I'm base bound.
I was supposed to leave on Christmas day. However, as happens in Antarctic logistics, everything has been delayed. The Twin Otter planes require a certain designation before flying over here. The Shackleton has a defective part holding it back. So I might get a reprieve. My sites are named A,B,C,D,E,F,G,H,and I; I shall keep a running tally of how many I can get to before I am shipped out. I think I'll hit them all.
Regarding my trip over here from Rothera, I see no need to post pictures or describe the experience when Kirk Watson, our field assistant and cameraman, has already done so professionally. Especially since I have the longest dialog bit in his video!
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