Latitude: 70 17.12S
Look, we've moved!!!!!
The weather lifted that day and the final supplies were flown off the ship. Permission had been granted to fly with the crates hanging from under the helicopters. Due to the break-up of the ice, this was the last remaining option for removing the final crates. It took a few days to gain the permission from South Africa to do this though, and then a few more for ultimate flying conditions. I am green with envy that I missed seeing it. I was running an experiment at the time that was specifically time related and so could not leave it. Some videos were taken though, and I saw those. WOW! Incredible flying!
Once the last crates had been flown off, we were left with just the fuel to offload. So we stuck out for Penguin Bukta (we were moving again! You have no idea how great that was). We were heading through ice over a year old. Older and thicker than what we have sailed through up till now. Yet smooth sailing. The German ship is still stuck in the ice. That's two and a half weeks now. At about four that morning I was out on the helideck-it was like boxing day all over again. Clear weather, with entire empires ordaining us with their presence as they glided by. One can just sit there and watch them for hours. You can see the power of each one, sculptured slightly differently to the mood of its ruler.
We arrived at Penguin Bukta yesterday to discover that the drivers had had a break down between SANAE and Penguin Bukta and that the base helicopter had flown out to help them (the helicopters are currently split between the ship and the base). So we sat on the most beautiful day in what is essentially a lake. The continent on one side of us-its shelf stretching across the horizon. One of its koppies clearly visible (it looks like a cloud dome). The B15 iceberg behind us. The ramp from two years ago just visible. We looked at the sunshine, lack of wind and flying activity, rearranged our times and had afternoon tea on the helideck. We took out blankets and pillows and went out in full kit with thermal mugs, books, paper, pencils and juggling balls. Spent the afternoon lolling on the deck like beached seals, listening to the distant bomb of icebergs breaking off the iceshelf. It's a totally surreal environment. We could have been in a park, instead we were surrounded by water so clear you can see down hundreds of meters, yet so dark it's like staring into a mind. And ice that towers above one, yet seems smaller, with a distance so great it can only be measured with
lifelines.
We are doing CTD's once a day now. There is a freedom in opening the side railings of a ship and standing on its edge as you lower equipment into the water and watch it slowly disappear. Staring out into this expanse of water with no barriers, no restraints.
The refuelling started today. The fog came down just for it. The white outs caused by the snow are nothing in comparison to the fog. It succeeds where the snow fails, it blocks out the only remaining sound - the grumble of the engines. With our bow against the ice shelf we craned up the pump to the top of the shelf (about 40 m). Where a lone figure appeared to collect it, only to disappear again, to a tanker, hidden from view. It was all very mystical.
We are waiting for the drivers to return to SANAE before coming back for the final load of fuel. We can then set off on our buoy run to South Georgia. Due to time loss, it looks like we are cutting out South Tuli and losing the day we were meant to spend on South Georgia. But nothing is definite until we have offloaded all the fuel for the base and left the ice behind.
Farewell to the ice!
Look, we've moved!!!!!
The weather lifted that day and the final supplies were flown off the ship. Permission had been granted to fly with the crates hanging from under the helicopters. Due to the break-up of the ice, this was the last remaining option for removing the final crates. It took a few days to gain the permission from South Africa to do this though, and then a few more for ultimate flying conditions. I am green with envy that I missed seeing it. I was running an experiment at the time that was specifically time related and so could not leave it. Some videos were taken though, and I saw those. WOW! Incredible flying!
Once the last crates had been flown off, we were left with just the fuel to offload. So we stuck out for Penguin Bukta (we were moving again! You have no idea how great that was). We were heading through ice over a year old. Older and thicker than what we have sailed through up till now. Yet smooth sailing. The German ship is still stuck in the ice. That's two and a half weeks now. At about four that morning I was out on the helideck-it was like boxing day all over again. Clear weather, with entire empires ordaining us with their presence as they glided by. One can just sit there and watch them for hours. You can see the power of each one, sculptured slightly differently to the mood of its ruler.
We arrived at Penguin Bukta yesterday to discover that the drivers had had a break down between SANAE and Penguin Bukta and that the base helicopter had flown out to help them (the helicopters are currently split between the ship and the base). So we sat on the most beautiful day in what is essentially a lake. The continent on one side of us-its shelf stretching across the horizon. One of its koppies clearly visible (it looks like a cloud dome). The B15 iceberg behind us. The ramp from two years ago just visible. We looked at the sunshine, lack of wind and flying activity, rearranged our times and had afternoon tea on the helideck. We took out blankets and pillows and went out in full kit with thermal mugs, books, paper, pencils and juggling balls. Spent the afternoon lolling on the deck like beached seals, listening to the distant bomb of icebergs breaking off the iceshelf. It's a totally surreal environment. We could have been in a park, instead we were surrounded by water so clear you can see down hundreds of meters, yet so dark it's like staring into a mind. And ice that towers above one, yet seems smaller, with a distance so great it can only be measured with
lifelines.
We are doing CTD's once a day now. There is a freedom in opening the side railings of a ship and standing on its edge as you lower equipment into the water and watch it slowly disappear. Staring out into this expanse of water with no barriers, no restraints.
The refuelling started today. The fog came down just for it. The white outs caused by the snow are nothing in comparison to the fog. It succeeds where the snow fails, it blocks out the only remaining sound - the grumble of the engines. With our bow against the ice shelf we craned up the pump to the top of the shelf (about 40 m). Where a lone figure appeared to collect it, only to disappear again, to a tanker, hidden from view. It was all very mystical.
We are waiting for the drivers to return to SANAE before coming back for the final load of fuel. We can then set off on our buoy run to South Georgia. Due to time loss, it looks like we are cutting out South Tuli and losing the day we were meant to spend on South Georgia. But nothing is definite until we have offloaded all the fuel for the base and left the ice behind.
Farewell to the ice!
Three scientific theories proved beyond doubt by the oceanography team aboard the SA Agualus:
1) Man can live in subhuman temperatures in perpetual sunlight.
2) Man cannot live in subhuman temperatures in perpetual darkness.
3) Man cannot live without sleep
So I am writing to you as a sleep deprived night shift worker. A few measly degrees North and we have rediscovered dark nights.
We are on the buoy run which is the leg to South Georgia. It is the most intense part of the trip for us from a working point of view as most of the research we are involved in is concentrated in this region. For the first few days I was working night shift as well as half of day shift as I had to explain and hand over the day part of my honours research. Hence the walking zombie, who has now had 6 hours straight sleep and is functioning again.
The cruise has been given permission to be extended, if need be, by five days. It's a first, no memory on the ship can remember an extension being granted before. As the oldest memory has been sailing for 50 years that's quite something. It is because we lost so much time offloading, and it’s to prevent the science side being crippled.
Our very last evening at the ice shelf was the most beautiful of the entire trip. The clouds lifted at "sunset" bathing everything in a rich orange light. The icebergs we passed had risen in grandeur as they escorted us away. And an entire colony of penguins floated their home to us as a final goodbye. For hours the light remained, the ice caves intensified and the iceberg royalty gathered in force to wave us off.
The Southern Ocean is currently grey, cloud covered, but teeming with bird life and whales.
