It’s a matter of survival

The Antarctic coast is very different from the Polar Plateau; I’m getting to know the continent all over again, discovering this new region of Antarctica. To better learn the area, I slept outside in a Scott tent again – this time on the Ross Ice Shelf, completing a snowcraft course for survival school.

In order to send me to a coastal field camp for the extended season, the United States Antarctic Program put me through this second course for Antarctic survival techniques. As soon as I had unpacked my bag at Marble Point, I was flown back into McMurdo Station for a long weekend. After a morning’s instruction in the care of cold-weather injuries – largely review for me after a season at the South Pole – 10 of us packed up our gear and set off.

Heading several miles out from the outer limits of the station, we took two Piston Bully track vehicles to our campsite. Our instructor Matt, a longtime member of the McMurdo search and rescue team, drove one while I followed him in the other. I took in the view through the wide front windshield as I steered our vehicle carefully in his tracks, winding our way along sheer cliffs, past the end of the road, and finally onto the ice shelf itself.

With the exception of myself and one other polie, our snowcraft course group was composed entirely of scientists headed to the Dry Valleys for research. A mix of British and Americans, they all were new to the ice and looked around eagerly as we set off, their red parkas still clean and unworn.

In many ways, survival on the coast is easier than at South Pole – it’s at least 30-40 degrees warmer. There are environmental factors here, however, such as sea ice, crevasses and the more common occurrence of whiteouts that I did not have to deal with at Amundsen-Scott station.

Everything is frozen on the Polar Plateau. There, I stood on top of nearly 2 miles of solid ice. Here on the coast, you need to know how to avoid and cope with open seawater and unsafe ice. Parts of the ice shelf are highly navigable and safe, such as the sea-ice runway I landed on when I arrived in October. Conditions change, though; that runway was gone by December. The section of the sea ice we traversed by Piston Bully was known to be safe, yet just a few miles away there was open water.

Then there are the crevasses. A crevasse is a fracture in a glacier caused by a large stress near or at the glacier’s surface. They have vertical or near-vertical walls and can be as deep as 90 feet. They often are covered with a snow bridge from recent snowfall, rendering them virtually invisible. The area around McMurdo has been carefully checked for crevasses, with safe roads and walking trails flagged clearly. To go off the path and walk in an unchecked area is to take your life into your hands.

We were instructed in these dangers as we built our camp on the ice shelf under the clear gaze of the Royal Society Mountain range. Bad weather rolled in during the night while we slept tucked into our shelters with hot-water bottles clutched close; our visibility dropped to less than 200 feet. The howling wind woke me often during the night despite my warmth. When I crawled out of the Scott tent in the morning, the landscape was quite altered: Blowing snow had obliterated our view, all of the tents were partially drifted over, and the two who had slept in snow trenches were busy digging themselves out. We freed our tent lines with ice axes and broke down camp, shaking out tarps and holding our materials tightly to keep them from blowing away.

After sheltering briefly in an A-frame structure a short drive from our campsite, letting the snow drip from our boots and passing around a pot of hot water for tea, we went back outside for more training. To practice for a full whiteout, we ran a search-and-rescue drill – with all of us blindfolded. Coordinating a group of sightless people for a search, outside in the elements and with only one long rope to aid us, was excellent practice; it gave us all a visceral idea of the challenges ahead. Next we practiced setting up a high-frequency radio. With several of us holding out the clothesline-length of antenna, we successfully radioed McMurdo Station.

All in all, the snowcraft course was worth the extra trip back to McMurdo. I’ve learned a lot about the coastal face of Antarctica.

And I’ve never been one to turn down a weekend camping trip.

Meg Adams, who grew up in Holden and graduated from John Bapst Memorial High School in Bangor, shares her Antarctic experiences with readers each Friday. For more about her adventure, information about Antarctica and to e-mail questions to her, go to the BDN Web site: bangordailynews.com