Sunday 27th
January
From
John Storey.....
In
the western world, Sunday is traditionally a day of rest.
So it is, too, at the South Pole. There are no Hercules flights,
the building work for the new station stops, and the bulldozers
are still. Even the galley is unusually quiet, with breakfast
and lunch replaced by a simple brunch. Acid rock gives way
to Bach and Brahms. There are no "all-call" announcements
over the public address system, and a tranquility descends
over the ice. It is possible then to gaze out over the plateau
and imagine what this place must have looked like 90 years
ago, when Amundsen first arrived.
However
today would be my last full day here, and there was still
much to do. At 6 am I was already checking the Stirling engine
(from the shower recess, of course), and not long after was
on the roof of the AASTO adding even more insulation to the
exhaust stack. Glueing things at the South Pole is an inexact
science. It hit -36 C today, much colder than when we first
arrived. At these temperatures paint doesn't dry, solvents
don't evaporate, and glues don't harden. In the end I was
happy just to "freeze" the insulation onto the exhaust
stack with glue - if the glue ever warms up and melts it will
also harden, so either way the stack should remain wrapped
up - as snug as a bug in a rug, or snugger.
My
other big task was to write up some documentation for the
winterover people and to put labels on things. I can hardly
imagine what it would like to stagger across to the AASTO
in -75 C temperatures, in the pitch dark, only to find a mass
of cables and connectors and somehow have to identify them.
So, the least I can do for the winterover is to properly label
things. Now the inside of the AASTO looks like a kindergarten
classroom - although instead of having complicated words stuck
to things like "window" and "ceiling"
and "draught excluder", it's mostly simple phonetic
words like "AFOS" and "Webcam". There's
also a note on the exhaust fans saying "Warning, fans
start automatically", which I added after one of them
nearly took the end of my finger off.
I
also wanted to take some photos. Rodney Marks, a PhD graduate
from UNSW, was spending a second winter at the South pole
in 2000 when he suddenly and inexplicably died. This tragedy
affected all of us deeply, especially those people who were
wintering over with Rodney at the station. On 1 January 2001
a new marker pole was placed at the exact South Pole by a
team of surveyors. On it is inscribed a dedication to Rodney,
a star-map of the constellation of Scorpio, and the quotation
"Not without peril". The Australian flag also flies
permanently beside the 2000 marker, as a mark of respect for
Rodney.
Tomorrow
I leave for McMurdo, and I'm rather looking forward to getting
my sea-level brain back again. Although South Pole is only
at an elevation of 2850 m, in polar regions the air pressure
is actually significantly lower again than the altitude would
suggest. The "pressure altitude" (or "physiological
altitude") depends slightly on the weather conditions,
but at South Pole can approach 3300 m (11,000 feet). This
of course is what leads to the headaches, nausea and sleeplessness
of the first few days, along with doctors rushing around trying
to stuff Diamox into you. After a week or so at altitude all
these symptoms go away (apart from the doctors), except for
one - your brain no longer works properly. Mostly I find the
effects are merely inconvenient: hand writing already poor
becomes next to illegible, I can't read the little tiny writing
on things like computer chips, and the humour in the diary
becomes a bit suspect. But by far the worst effect is forgetfulness.
I set out to do a task and before I've gone three steps I've
forgotten what it was. I've taken to writing myself copious
notes, and have started carrying around a sheet of paper so
I've always got something to write on. Before I started doing
this, I'd find that, by the time I'd found some paper to write
a note on, I'd forgotten what it was I wanted to write.
It's
difficult to sleep tonight because I'm sure I've forgotten
something important. But I probably won't remember what it
is until I get back down to sea level.
 
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