Month: February 2023

Given that we had no internet and limited power at Cape Crozier for 4 weeks, we’re going to give a short and sweet, highlight filled recap because we were too busy to write a weekly blog.

 

Twinkling air crystals

On day one, 5 helicopter flights from Scott Base took our team, all our gear, and some support personnel out to help us set up camp. With help we got all our tents up and secured to the sea ice (using a fancy drill to create rope anchors into the ice called v-threads) in one day. We dug our sleeping tents into the snow to protect it from the wind and one of the most spectacular things about the whole day was watching suspended ice crystals sparkling in the air as we set up camp. At first, I thought I was having a stroke and nearly panicked, but once I realized other people were seeing it too, my panic turned into pure wonder and delight. I can only guess that the snow-shoveling mixed with winds from the helicopter must have stirred up the enchanting sight. But maybe there is another more scientific explanation, or perhaps it was just pure magic.

 

300,000 Adelie penguins

Yes, we were there to study emperor penguins, BUT… one of the most impressive things about Cape Crozier is the 300,000 Adelie penguins breeding on the side of Ross Island just opposite our field camp on the sea ice. You could hear the cacophonous humming of their mating calls from camp and see a whole hillside covered in guano and little black and white penguin specks. The first few days in camp we had a field trainer with us that was there to ensure we were set up for safety and success and he took us on an amazing and terrifying (to me, the novice) adventure across the sea ice to Ross Island. The point of the mission was to show us how to safely move across the sea ice transition zone onto land should there be any sort of emergency (like the sea ice starting to break out). We were shown how to drill into the sea ice to test its depth and what depths could be safely traversed (we had to go across some big cracks that thinned quite a bit at the middle). Once we got to the more jagged ice, we heard a Weddell Seal calling beneath us and saw it breathe, spraying icy water up into the air. It was amusing watching our (actually very brave) field trainer startle and jump off the chunk of ice before he realized it was the sound of a seal and not the sound of capsizing ice. As impressive as it was to finally get up close and personal with so many nesting penguins, I still think they are most entertaining while running across the sea ice – every so often, one slips or trips while crossing an ice crack, then turns around to examine the offending ice very crossly raising the feathers atop their head. They have the best, sassiest personalities and remind you of it every time they pass by with a loud grumbling squawk to let you know they are *not* happy to see you. I love a sassy bird!

 

The sovereign rulers of the ice

Of approximately 2,000 emperor penguins lumbering about the ice, we caught and put fancy little devices on 32 penguins. A large portion of our subjects were affixed (using a combo of tape and a touch of glue on the feathers) with Axytrek devices which measured where they went via GPS, how deep they dove with a pressure sensor, and how they moved in 3-dimensions with accelerometer. A smaller portion got affixed with satellite tags that would transmit location and diving data to a satellite that we could later download, and thus not have to retrieve the device from the bird. These tags are still transmitting and that’s how we plan to find where the penguins have gone to molt and renew their feathers (thus depositing the device with the discarded feathers onto whatever ice floe they’ve decided was sufficient for their month-long molt process).

The emperor penguins are obviously the main attraction and were the pinnacle of our trip to Crozier, not just because of the science we accomplished, but because they are one of the most remarkable birds in the world. Not only are they big (almost 60 lbs!) and stunningly beautiful (I mean, just look at them!), but they are incredible athletes. One of our penguins dove to over 500 meters! On average, penguins spent 9 days at sea foraging for their chicks. And don’t even get me started on how cute the fluffy chicks are. These little guys and gals spend their days flopped over on the ice (sometimes eating snow) or running around the ice flapping their flippers like little pool noodles, squawking and begging for food, and filling their little jelly pot bellies when mom or dad comes home to feed them. Oh, and pooping. There is lots of pooping! It’s not all glamor with this lot of royalty; only a fresh coating of snow can hide that fact. The penguins love a coating of snow too – they roll around in it like puppies and love to “toboggan” on it – saving themselves from the endless grind of shuffling across the sea ice one footstep at a time. The only downside, as far as I could tell, is during the blizzards, when the little fluffs of down feathers get caked in snow – doesn’t look all that comfortable, at least not to us humans. But thankfully, these incredible birds are well adapted to extreme cold.

 

Camp life – typical daily tasks

• Wake up, and scan for birds that may have come home from foraging with Axytrek devices. Each bird also has a radio transmitter that we can pick up with a radio receiver to hear a distinct beeping when the bird has returned to the colony.
• Continue scanning every 45 minutes.
• If lucky, go catch a bird!
• Download tag data, process samples, enter data, process data
• Eating, lots of eating – when you’re cold you have to eat a LOT!
• Hydration – as the saying down there goes “hydrate or die!”
• Cut snow blocks for wind protection for camp and to melt for water
• Filter dirt and krill and guano bits out of the melted water
• Refuel the generator and charge up the batteries
• Check the stove fuel and make sure the polar haven stays warm
• Check all ropes outside to make sure everything is secure in case of a storm
• Check the growing sea ice crack leading up to camp (at some point, a seal popped out of this!)
• Radio safety checks to Scott Base (they were very good at giving us daily jokes to keep us entertained)

Photo Credit: Caitlin Kroeger

 

“Hello this is your captain speaking…… we are crossing the point of no return and should be landing in Antarctica in the next hour and a half……. Please put on your extreme weather gear and be prepared to land” – New Zealand Airforce Captain of the Boeing 757 in route from Christchurch New Zealand, to Antarctica

The penguin team has been in a bit of a travel limbo as the C17 that was supposed to fly us down to Scott Base over a week ago has been out of commission due to a hydraulic issue, sending us back to our ohhh too familiar hotel. At the hotel we have spent enough time to make friends with all the hotel staff, who have been incredibly courteous and offered us jobs if we continue to get delayed. Anyways back to the C17 which is a beast of plane that is an essential lifeline to Antarctica as its high carrying capacity is one of the primary way gear and people are transported South. Most of our field gear along with many other projects continues to wait in the belly of the plane including the very helicopter that will transport us to our remote field camp.

To aid in transporting people to the ice the New Zealand air force has been called in to relay some gear and scientists down to Antarctica on a Boeing 757. Here we go again! We set our alarms for 530 am, go to sleep, wake up put on all our extreme weather gear and lug our bags optimistic that we will get our chance go. As we arrive at the terminal, we are issued our tickets that look like numbered tags that we proudly display after our bags are weighed and sent through an x-ray before we ourselves are weighed with all our heavy gear on. Ticket in hand we head travel to the nearest coffee shop devour our last cappuccinos before returning to the terminal to receive a video briefing, move through security and jump on a bus to meet our plane.

Through the bus window our broken C17 is visible as it rests. We are all briefed again and told to grab a bagged lunch and make our way onto the 757. It is hard not to get excited at this point. We are all on the plane and unlike the C17 we are on a plane with windows, that’s right a plane with windows to see the transitional phases of the seascape from the open ocean to ice and finally ice-covered land.

The flight to Antarctica is relatively short five hours and forty minutes and was like any commercial flight you have ever been on with the occasional drink service. The only real difference is the excitement of the passengers as “ooooooohs”and “ahhhhhhs” are frequently heard as we all gaze out the small circular windows at the seascapes. About four hours into our flight the message from the captain indicated we had reached the point of no return (PONR). While the phrase is self-explanatory, I will offer a bit more context. The PONR is the point at which the captain of the plane must decide to turn around or land the plane in Antarctica. This is a bit of a tough call as fuel is limited and from that point on the plane may not have enough fuel to return to the nearest land back in New Zealand. When the PONR was announced, we all quickly put on our hot extreme weather gear and started to sweat.

Forty minutes passed the icy continent was visible. Our hopes and dreams were coming true and there was no turning around…….or so we thought.

“Hi everyone, we are being rerouted back to New Zealand due to foggy conditions at McMurdo and should have just enough fuel to land at the southern tip of New Zealand to refuel. Thank you for your patients”.

Those who had been delayed before started laughing in a confused combination of emotions. In contrast, those who have never experienced a “boomerang” flight before slumped in their sweaty seats with their disappointment hidden behind their N95 masks.

So, what lies beyond the point of no return? Do we have enough fuel to get back to New Zealand? Are we going to have to emergency land? As we all pondered this unusual circumstance, the plane gently turned around and headed back to New Zealand.

Due to a strong headwind, our flight was forced to refuel an hour short of our destination as our pilot prepared the cabin for landing at the southernmost tip of New Zealand’s South Island. While this landing seemed to be routine to us, the locals at the airport were quick to tell us this was not any ordinary occasion as they slid their mobile phones out to snap a picture of the proportionally giant plane-to-runway ratio of the New Zealand Air Force 757 behemoth arriving at its unexpected destination. The plane spent an hour refueling as we all stared out the windows at the farmland sprinkled with sheep, and once the locals finished snapping their pictures, we were on our way back to Christchurch.

After spending close to 11 hours on a plane in limbo the tired crew and passengers departed the plane and headed back to our hotels. So, what lies beyond the point of no return? Well, you end up back where you started. With sore backs and dried tears, the penguin team embraced their warm pizzas and went to bed, ready to give it another go.

Turns out this was a there and back again kind of story. We will have to try again soon,

Penguin Team

 

How does one keep warm in the coldest place on the planet? Well, if you are an emperor penguin you are born with the downy feather tools to keep you warm and endure the long Austral winter. Emperor penguins are unique in this respect as they have developed all the thermoregulatory mechanisms suited for the cold environment, including warm inner downy feathers, sturdy wind and waterproof outer feathers, an incredible ability to shunt blood to their outer extremities and direct blood towards their vital organs such as their eyes, and of course the huddling behavior they exhibit to share body heat. (If you have not looked up thermal images of penguins during the winter, you should probably do that quickly and return to this blog… you will not regret it.) But what about our team of beach-dwelling Californians? How will our team manage to keep warm in temperatures that can drop below -40 degrees Celsius and in the windiest environment on the planet?

After arriving in New Zealand, the penguin team headed to the Antarctic center to get their clothing issued for this season. At the center, a kind and familiar face greeted us at the door, our friend Lou. For those of you who have not met Lou, he is like the Q (from the 007 movies) of the Antarctic New Zealand program but instead of outfitting us with gadgets and speedy cars, Lou walks us through many walls of the latest in warmth apparel. The walls were covered in a sea of orange and black jackets, coveralls and boots when if worn all at the same time are rated down to -70 degrees Celsius. As we passed by to our changing rooms Lou also handed us our very own Icebreakers thermals, sleek and downy extreme weather gear, and yuuuup a pair of possum and merino fur gloves.

Thanks to our friend Lou our team will manage to keep warm and imitate the natural abilities of penguins with our downy jackets, merino wool thermals and possum fur gloves.

To be able to do literally anything outside beyond the border of the base, each person has to complete Antarctic field training. As I was the only new comer in our group, I was the only one who had to complete the full 2-day course. The training started with a power point on team work and safety (like how to spot frost nip and prevent frost bite) and a notable a video of a large all-terrain amphibious vehicle called a Hägglund falling through an ice crack into the sea, looking like one of the worms from Dune had just swallowed it whole. It’s an image I will never unsee.

Next, we went over the contents of survival bags, learned how to start Primus stoves in cold temperatures with a flint, and how to make up sleep and kitchen kits. We gathered everything we would need for the evening, including fuel, pee bottles, a poop bucket and other supplies like shovels and snow saws. Then we got in a Hägglund (you can imagine our fear) and drove out across the sea ice to the field training camp situated in an area that was flagged as “safe”.

We learned how to set up Scott tents so that they wouldn’t blow away in the wind and how to secure them down with snow after digging the poles into the snow. Then we learned how to build an ice kitchen. Some of the crew decided to try their hand at building an emergency shelter, which involved cutting a coffin sized rectangle out of the snow, then cutting larger blocks of snow to put over the coffin. As the only woman of 8 people, I was quite happy when my tent mate decided to try his luck and sleep in it for the night. That made peeing into a bottle at night much easier in the comfort of my tent!

 

After getting the kitchen up and running, we melted snow on the stove and each had a meal of dehydrated food (beef curry for me). During the 10 minutes that it required to rehydrate we put the bags in our jackets to help keep us warm, and to keep the food from freezing. It wasn’t bad! But anything that returns your body temperature to a tolerable degree is going to be amazing! I was pretty surprised at how quickly I got cold when not moving. It was a delicate balance between doing work at a pace that wouldn’t make you sweat, but doing enough to stay warm. My hands got the coldest while shoveling snow, despite the gloves I wore, but pausing to warm them up from time to time kept them functional.

After dinner we got in the Hägglund again and went for what would be a “sun downer”, if the sun actually went down, up at Castle Rock. The view was gorgeous – Mt Erebus to the south, the expanse of McMurdo sound to the west, and Mt Terror to the east. We soaked in the view as long as possible before the windchill forced us back down the hill to our vehicle and back to camp.

We got lucky with a calm night and I managed to sleep pretty well in my double sleeping bag with a fleece liner atop a 4-inch fleece thermarest and sheepskin. We all survived the night – including my brave former tent-mate. After a chilly morning tea (so chilly that hot water flung into the air instantly froze into a puff of ice crystals), we packed up and headed out having all survived our first night camping in Antarctica.

When we returned, we went around and shared the “things that rocked” and the “things that would stick” with us – a general consensus was that the teamwork rocked (and was essential) and things that stuck involved making sure to warm up as soon as any coldness set in. Having a spare pair of socks for sleeping in was something that really stuck for me (my feet sweat and mine got wet!), but on reflection, and on a less practical note, what really stuck was the sound of the snow as people walked across it. It sounded like walking on Styrofoam. It’s unlike anything I’ve ever felt or heard before as I’ve never walked on snow in temperatures so cold that all the crystals remain frozen and very squeaky as they shift around under your weight.

View of Scott Base from a helicopter

Life at Scott Base is fairly comfortable and homey. It’s a largish, boxy looking facility with long heated hallways with ramps and stairs connecting the various buildings and felt like a maze when we first arrived. It was very easy to get lost the first few days and accidentally wander into a cargo room or someone else’s sleeping corridor. Everyone here has been extremely friendly and genuinely excited to see new faces and help out the confused new scientists running around. There is a culture of mutual appreciation between the scientists and the teams of people that make it possible for us to do our work. There are so many logistics that go into each project and all the projects are so varied. Electricians, mechanics, field logistic support crews, cargo crews, flight crews, engineers, communications specialists, field trainers, chefs, and people that keep the place clean, warm, and livable. It’s been a pleasure getting to know them and we certainly couldn’t do any of our work without them.

My favorite part of Scott Base (other than the people) is the fact that there are nearly 5 meals a day that are all incredible. We are offered the typical breakfast, lunch, and dinner, but also “smoker” which comes between the three meals and consists of coffee or tea accompanied by tasty snacks – like toast smothered in cheese, tomato, and bacon. The chefs are also so thoughtful and accommodating with dietary issues, which has been critical for some of us!

My other favorite part, is that just outside base you can walk along pressure ridges where the sea ice bumps up against land and creates beautiful ice sculptures. Of course, you have to have had proper field training first, must always sign out and back in to avoid a search and rescue, and must bring a radio to signal when you’ve transitions onto and off of the sea ice for safety purposes. It’s a lot of work just to go for a 30-minute walk, but it’s worth it! Not only is the scenery gorgeous, but it’s a place where Weddell seals nudge their way through cracks and thinner ice to haul out on thicker slabs of snowy ice to give birth to their pups. On our last walk around the pressure ridges we counted 9 seals and 3 pups.

Weddell seal along the pressure ridges hike in front of Scott Base with view of Mt. Erebus in the distance.

There aren’t too many downsides to being at Scott Base, which is good since we got stuck here longer than intended due to delayed cargo and the delayed arrival of the Antarctic New Zealand helicopter (our means of transportation to the penguin colony where we camp and work). The only real negative I can come up with is the extremely dry air which leads to itchy eyes, dry skin, nasal congestion and random large shocks of static electricity every time you touch metal. Which is a lot! The trick is to touch metal as consistently as possible while walking anywhere to discharge the static, and everyone looks like they’ve got a compulsive tick to tap things constantly. And we do, or else we suffer the consequences!

 

 

As trying as it was to get to New Zealand, getting to Scott Base proved even more challenging. I know it is obnoxious to bemoan any means of getting here when we have the immense privilege of getting here in the first place, but my knees and hydration level still haven’t recovered from one of the more unpleasant flights of my life, so that’s what’s on my mind.

After a 24-hour delay due to a broken C-17, our second attempt to get to Antarctica was full of hope and anticipation. We arrived at the USAP Antarctic terminal, checked our bags, stepped on the scales with all our gear, went through security, waited outside for the bus that was to ferry us to the plane and juuuust before boarding the bus, were told to go back to the terminal and wait. Flight canceled. Two days later another flight was scheduled and we finally made it on the plane!

Once aboard the NZ Air Force’s Boeing 757, the pilot told us over the loudspeaker that we should expect a 4-hour 50-minute flight and that 1 hour and 20 minutes before landing in Antarctica we would have to put on our ECW (extreme cold weather clothes) as we would be past “the point of no return” after which he said we’d be landing in Antarctica whether it be on the ice or in the ocean. A few hours into our flight we began to see gorgeous formations of sea ice coating the ocean – jagged pancakes and crackles of ice everywhere. Windows are a huge perk of flying on the 757. Soon we even spotted snow saturated island somewhere off the coast of Antarctica and shortly after that we got the message to gear up — cheers of elation reverberated through the cabin as we knew we’d finally be landing in Antarctica.

Sea ice and Antarctica from the plane

Within 20 minutes the elation and cheers turned to moaning and grumbling as we realized no one was turning down the cabin temperature and we were all wearing gear meant to keep us alive in -70 C weather. Beads of sweat began to well on our foreheads. I looked at Gitte, our leader, whose head was pressed against the seat in front of her, desperately trying not to lose her lunch in the suffocating heat. Another 10 minutes passed and the pilots voice rang out again “we are turning around due to fog, and should have just enough fuel to get back to Christchurch”. What?! Aren’t we 30 minutes beyond the point of no safe return!? And did he say *fog*?! Surely this plane can land in a little bit of fog?? We were stunned. The only silver lining was getting to take off the ECW. To top things off, we actually didn’t have enough fuel and had to land in Invercargill, where we had to sit on the plane in our ECW boots for an extra hour. Workers on the runway were taking photos of our plane as our boomerang 30 minutes past the point of no return was unheard of and I don’t think anyone there had ever seen a 757 land on that runway. The icing on the cake was landing in Christchurch and hearing the flight attendant say, “Welcome to Christchurch. We hope you all had a pleasant flight.”

After some madness for the logistics team sorting out hotels in a very busy town with hundreds of people slated to go to Antarctica and backed up for days, we were told we’d get on a plane in 2 day’s time. We all woke at 5 am that day to a call that it was canceled due to weather. Rescheduled for 2 days later we got the go-ahead and made it onto the bus, but just outside the plane we were told we’d have to wait 2 hours for a minor mechanical issue to be sorted out. At this point I think we had all lost faith. They shuffled us into the Air Force waiting room and at some point, I took a nap under a table. It sounded unpromising, but we did eventually board the plane and against the odds we finally make it to Antarctica – drenched in sweat and sick with heat exhaustion — but happy to step onto the ice and fill our lungs with crisp cold air. It was all entirely worth it.