The First Inland Traverse from Wilkes
By Harry BlackAntarctic Exploration on a shoe String
It all started as Magga Dan was battling the ice on our way to Wilkes Base in January 1960. As I discussed the year ahead with our Director Phil Law I casually enquired "What if I we do a bit of exploring in the hinterland, Phil?" The response was immediate. "Not feasible! You havenÕt got the vehicles or equipment to do it. Smethurst is coming down next year to do that very thing - with new vehicles, caravans and a whole lot of new gear. You just arenÕt equipped for it."
"Phil ÉÉ surely we can do some useful travel up on the ice cap? It's never been explored." Reflecting for a moment, Phil responded, "It could be useful if you could flag a safe passage up on the plateau and plot any crevasse areas in preparation for next year's big push." I immediately buttoned up my lip. No point in asking how far inland we were permitted to penetrate.
I wonder if anyone involved in those historic 1961 and 1962 explorations inland from Wilkes ever realised what a fortuitous decision ours turned out to be? Because we just happened to choose a course due south from station S2 - for no particular reason - the Thomson expedition two years later was enabled to carry out the longest Australian Antarctic traverse in history. Why? Because their 2880 kms (1800 miles) tour de force depended entirely upon an enormous supply of fuel. As well as the supply on their trailers they were able to utilise dumps of spare fuel drums stacked along the staked route by our party in 1960 and by Norm Smethurst's party in 1961. Never enough however!
By the good grace of the Americans at McMurdo Sound, in an arrangement organised by Phil Law, Thomson's party was able to collect a large fuel drop parachuted onto the plateau as they penetrated deep inland. This allowed them to reach the Russian Base Vostok at the 'Pole of Inaccessibility' (the furthest point from any coastline). This air drop, carried out at extreme range, was only possible because our course followed by Smethurst's party in 1961 led directly towards the far side of the continent. It happened to bring Thomson's party just - and only just - in range of McMurdo. Such is life!! I wonder if the participants ever realised this?
Before us, no one had ventured inland far from Station S2, 80 km (50 miles) east of Wilkes. This Met/Glaciology station had been established by the Americans for the I.G.Y and a lot of research was carried out there. The 1959 expedition brought the first Australians to Wilkes. In a formal ceremony that year under the leadership of Dr Law and a senior U.S. Antarctic leader the Station was handed over to Australian control while some American scientists continued to carry out scientific research embracing meteorology, geophysics and biology for several years. The 1959 party included full time Australian glaciologist John Denholm, who carried on the strong U.S. programs established by Cameron and Hollin in the I.G.Y. years.
Unable to recruit a glaciologist for our year the Director asked me whether I would be willing to carry on the more urgent sectors of the glaciology program as well as my main responsibility as OIC. Largely because of the enthusiasm, cooperation and reliability of the party in its duties during the year I was able to spend a great deal of time on glaciology and enjoyed it immensely. Although I shall never forget one occasion!! In the dark of mid winter - strapped to the mast, with a notebook and pencil dangling on strings around my neck - clinging for dear life to the top of an eight metre steel ladder - I did my best by the light of a torch to read a vertical line of anemometers and write down the figures. All the while an 80 knot blizzard was trying to hurl me into the iced-in bay nearby. For the only time down South I asked myself "Black - what ARE you doing down here?"
I had to spend anything from one to two hours outside in every blizzard that blew during the year. The work involved a record of the profile of blowing snow mass versus wind velocity, using a series of anemometers and snow trapping 'rockets' operating from the surface to eight metres height. However this ordeal led to my inventing a novel blizzard mask, which made the work less stressful. A short paper on the subject was published later on in Cambridge in the Scott Polar Research Laboratory's 'Polar Record' and in U.S.A.R.P. publications.
As winter approached we started to plan for our traverse. Phil Law was right! The equipment available was almost hopeless. Not a vehicle ready for the ice cap. There was no caravan, no chronometer, no working sextant, no trail stakes. We did have plenty of sleeping bags left over in the immense dump of American stores, (as well as thousands of Mars bars!).
The first concern was the vehicles. The US tractors were OK for use around the base but too old and worn for an inland journey. That left two Weasels and a SnowCat. The Weasels had allegedly been reconditioned recently in Melbourne but our top class Norwegian engineer Lunde was scathing of the work. During the winter months our engineering team of Jan Lunde, Tom Edwards and Jim Smith put in many long, cold months bringing the vehicles up to a suitable standard. I collared the better Weasel, announcing "On the principal that a one-driver vehicle lasts longer, this is now the OIC's Weasel and will be kept in good condition for the traverse in Spring.!" The Snow Cat, with its four tracked pontoons, was excellent for travel over soft snow but suffered on hard snow or sastrugi. But Lunde pointed out sadly that the drive sprocket wheels were badly worn. With no spares on the station he would have to nurse it all the way.
The question of accommodation was next. Some of us had already slept in the traditional polar pyramid tent but we needed something better for the long traverse. Faced with this challenge Don Butling our plumber/carpenter agreed to construct a caravan body on one of the large Nansen sleds. This would provide us with some shelter for sleeping and cooking. In the event he did a fine job and that 4.3 m. long caravan later gave good service in at least three years of traverses. But it had its limitations! We were short of materials. The only panelling on the station was THREE ply sheeting, with no proper material for insulation. In desperation we had to rely on a thin lining of cardboard (Were we the only modern expedition to endure a month or so exploring the plateau in a three ply caravan, with no insulation and no heating except an ordinary primus stove - used only at meal times for cooking? It could well be. It helps to be a little mad at times, particularly down south.) A removable sleeping platform to accommodate two men was put together to lie on top of the pile of stores in the cabin of the Snow Cat. On this cold and hard bed slept Jan Lunde and Jim Harrop, their noses just below the cold steel roof of the vehicle.
We were reasonably served with sleds, having U.S. cargo sleds and the excellent and lighter Nansen sleds. The next problem we tackled was trail posts. The only timbers on the station were long A1 grade oregon blocks fifteen cm square, all varnished for protection and wired together in bundles of four. But they were buried somewhere deep beneath three years of snow accumulation. So, like the winning of all the U.S. 'treasure' dug up at Wilkes throughout our year it was a matter of out with a bulldozer and a long dig to follow. (Over the Australian years the treasure dump yielded up brand new refrigerators, electric pumps and other equipment, packed in timber cases, and countless other useful items. As well, we dug out and used some 120 drums of petrol and about 800 drums of diesel fuel. Some treasure trove!)
How our plumber's eyes lit up at the sight of all that wonderful timber. "I could sell it for a small fortune in Melbourne" Don said wistfully. It must have hurt his professional integrity to saw it into stakes for trail marking. The 250 stakes 275 cm long, measured 5 cm x 4 cm. In order to utilise the stakes for glaciological work we made a saw cut 50 cm from the base of each 250 cm high stake (to be set at snow level) and another cut 135 cm above that mark. This provided a marker point from which the amount of snow accumulation could be measured in future years. For easier visibility each stake was painted red and white. In deference to Antarctic blizzards any knots in the stake were positioned so that they lay either well below the surface or near the top of the stake. In the field in order to protect the slim posts as much as possible from breakage by wind we positioned each stake with an edge to the prevailing blizzard direction as indicated by the surrounding sastrugi.
A serial number was painted on each stake but then came the problem of a flag, for trail markers can be hard to find in polar conditions. Eventually we ferreted out some calico to cut up into the flags we wanted. But white flags are hardly ideal for the polar scene. What to do? To our surprise we found amongst the extensive American stores many large stone bottles of school ink: some red and some blue. They were precisely what I remembered at school in the 1920's. What they were doing down at that Yank polar base was beyond our imagining. But they coloured our flags. At the finish the 250 stakes weighed half a tonne and a great deal of patient work had gone into them.
Navigation promised to be a real problem. The three old U.S. sextants on the base were unserviceable. Choosing the 'best of the worst' I tried to improve it, without much success. But I was able to establish an index error, which was marginally acceptable. But it was a marine sextant, without any artificial horizon. How could I use it on our inland journey - a long way out of sight of the ocean? By good luck a search uncovered the only silver-surfaced mirror on the station. This was given a permanent mount comprising crossed bubble levels and an adjusting screw. For security on the trip it was kept in the sextant box. On the plateau when the time came for a fix the box was laid on the surface, and the mirror levelled precisely with the aid of the adjustment screw. Sextant in hand I was able to stand back until the image of the sun, and at times the moon, stood out in the mirror. A precise measurement of the angle between the heavenly body and its image was taken, halved, and the normal calculations made from there.
The Station had no chronometer. Expecting to overcome this by the use of regular time signals on radio skeds with WWV (Washington) or WWVH (Hawaii), I nevertheless took down an ordinary clock from the wall of the Rec room Pretty rough stuff for navigation. Just as well I took it, however. During the first ten days of our traverse the Antarctic was hit with the most devastating magstorm of the year. Even the powerful radio equipment at the McMurdo base was seriously affected for nearly a week, we learned later. And Mike Campbell, our Senior Radioman, in the rear seat of our leading Weasel 'Eva' coaxing his 'Angry 9' on the trek couldn't raise Wilkes in the early part of the trip So for a time I had to do my best with that wall clock. He couldnÕt get a time signal for over a week.
We laboured away patiently on the rest of it: scientific equipment, food, medical supplies, bedding, clothing, spares for all the vehicles, cooking gear, primus and spare, emergency gear and of other items large and small. Our wintertime meetings worked it all out, with tasks allotted to each team member.
The time had come to select the five I had decided was the optimum number for our venture. The choice of the team members was of great importance. As we had four Americans in this former U.S. base one position ought to be an American. The biologist (Richard Penney) and the met technician (Dave Yingling) however would be heavily involved at the time of the trip. The two senior members of the Met team Rudi Honkala and Angelo Spano, tied down with a heavy workload, declined with regret. A pity but we understood their commitment. Month after month their dedication had been producing by far the highest elevations of radiosonde weather balloons anywhere in Antarctica. On one occasion their equipment attained a height of 2 millibars of air pressure (40,171m in altitude).
Norwegian Jan Lunde had to go. Not only was he a highly experienced engineer, a lifetime of snow lore made him invaluable down south. In Norway he had lived above the Arctic Circle. And this quiet, modest Norwegian was admired by every one. I had got to know him in the Snowy Mountains where he was working on the Munyang Power station and the Guthega Dam. We had enjoyed many ski tours over the Snowies when he could get time off. He responded immediately when I told him of the opening at Wilkes. The choice of radioman was left to their team to decide. All radiomen down south, particularly in those days when much of it was by 'key' had heavy schedules at all hours of the day and night. The two left at Base would face even heavier demands. Mike Campbell, Grahame Burkett and Dave Ward. I knew that each of them was dying to go and that as close mates they would sort it out. In the event Mike drew the right straw and joined our band, toting his Angry 9 and collapsible aerials.
The plumber / carpenter was a logical choice as he was not tied down to any schedule and had already performed months of dedicated work on the caravan and the trail stakes. That left one more. The two junior Met men were Australians and the Met team gave their consent for one to go. Straws were drawn between Wim Lensink and Jim Harrop. Jim was the lucky one and we were lucky too because his contribution proved to be invaluable. (In fact although the second youngest member of our party, Harrop was appointed OIC to Davis Base in 1962 and performed an outstanding job.)
I made up the fifth member. At times I felt some concern at the high degree of responsibility I was about to assume. Risks to life on a long traverse in an unexplored sector of the polar plateau were not inconsiderable. My concern was not lessened when it emerged that no one else in the party had any real wilderness experience. In fact no one had even seen a sextant let alone used one, and I got the impression that a prismatic compass was a stranger too (probably not to Jan Lunde). In a funny way I think this surprise gave me more confidence.
I had been a very active bushwalker from the age of fifteen As well, 14 years of ski touring lay under my belt, and I had often slept in snow caves and igloos. Navigation in blizzards had been a commonplace experience. Enthusiastic caving and some blue water sailing (where I had learned the use of the sextant) had also been useful. At 41years I was the oldest member of the party - just.!
And so for month after month our preparations went on. We came together for meetings every few weeks, checking and rechecking details. If we had to find some vital spare on the trip it would be a long walk to the nearest shop. The dark of winter, by restricting outdoor activities gave more time for the months of preparation.
The time came for straight talking. Although nothing had been said, I thought I could detect some concern beneath the surface about the coming traverse. I could fully understand it. Except for Lunde the others had little concept of what lay ahead. I could imagine the question 'How will the O.I.C. handle it all 'way out there?' They knew that I had spent the IGY year at Macquarie Island but the continent poses a vastly different challenge. Would I get them back safe? A good question. So I laid it on the line.
"The Antarctic plateau rarely forgives mistakes. We must think safety at all times. The main concerns are crevasses, blizzards, carbon monoxide poisoning, and loss or major breakdowns of our vehicles. Unless someone wanders away in a blizzard the real worry is crevasses. There will be many crevasses on our route. However if we lose a vehicle down a slot the other two will take you home. And the stake line will ensure your return. As to the vehicle leading the way, I will be driving that - all the way - so you can imagine how careful I will be! Taking safety to an almost absurd length, the rear vehicle will be towing our plastic banana sled on a long rope. This sled will contain a polar pyramid tent, sleeping bags, a primus and food, basic medical supplies and some navigation gear. So if the really worst comes to the really worst you can leave me down the slot and safely follow the stakes home." I wasn't sure how seriously they took me but I think they got the safety message.
During the winter I had been puzzling over a basic problem encountered by all Polar explorers. How to run a straight course? It was easy enough for the explorer to set up an accurate heading using a compass But how to keep to that course on the run? No trees, rocks or mountains to sight on in most areas and because of the lack of a sighting point the driver weaves a serpentine course over the landscape, corrected from time to time by stopping, and taking another reading with the compass well away from the false reading given inside the vehicle. Late in the year, in the middle of the night, puzzling over it all, an idea came to me.
There IS a feature on the polar plateau. It is the tracks your vehicle or your dog sled leaves behind. How could it be utilised? Gradually the concept came together in my mind. A system of mirrors mounted to keep the vehicle tracks in front of the driver! Next day I sketched it all out, then went to the library and searched the literature for confirmation. Nothing there! So it couldn't work or others would have used it. A plunge into disappointment. But hold on! Why wouldn't it work? It should work. Having put together a shaving mirror, a larger mirror from a U.S. Traxcavator and a welding rod I discussed it all with the engineer. He undertook to carry out the mountings in due course. But his preparations had now made him the busiest man on the station. The installation was made just prior to our departure, the shaving mirror with a fine line down the centre mounted outside the windscreen and directly in front of the driver. The angled large mirror was mounted above it and the welding rod fastened vertically at the rear of the vehicle. All three were set in the precise longitudinal axis of the Weasel. But would it work? Because of the last minute rush in getting all gear loaded and all vehicles ready I was unable to test the equipment until we left S2 station some days later. At the last minute I fitted an astro compass to the roof of the Weasel.
The vehicle line up was to be as follows: The OIC's Weasel 'EVA' would lead the way with trusty Mike Campbell in the rear seat, jammed in with his transceivers and a host of other equipment. It would tow a sled with six 44 gallon drums of diesel plus all the trail markers, and towing a US sled carrying food, spares and general stores. Next in line Don Butling was to drive the second Weasel towing the caravan 'ANEATA' and the second US Sled carrying glycol, range fuel, gasoline and more drums of diesel. Following at the rear came the Sno Cat 'SNO-CATHIE' loaded with more food and stores and towing another US sled with diesel, food, spare Weasel track, gearbox and other spares. Behind it at the end of a long rope trailed the lonely little banana sled with its survival gear. (Essential items such as food, spares, and fuel were all carefully distributed throughout the train.)
Lead Weasel 'Eva' behaved well as a result of the work put into it by the engineering group. On the trail it covered 620 km (387 miles) over a month or more as it towed two tonnes of gear, despite some hard going through very high and rough sastrugi.
As to navigation charts for the area, for the first time I was confronted with completely blank sheets. But with the work of Brian Wall (Radiophysicist) and Keith Jones (Magnetician/Seismologist) these sheets were overdrawn with anticipated lines of magnetic force along the proposed route in an endeavour to offer some level of veracity to the use of the vehicle's magnetic compass. On November 11 a special issue of clothing was handed out to all hands: underwear, sox, mitts, mukluks etc, new windproofs, sleeping bags and air mattresses. Ice axes, spades, picks and similar equipment were distributed as needed. Skis and snowshoes were loaded.
The very steep climb from the coast on to the plateau would have been too heavy a strain imposed on the three light vehicles. This problem was overcome by using the huge US Traxcavator to tow all trailers up the steep pitch, over the ice and through the rock outcrops, past the striking feature aptly called the 'Tit' up to the gently ascending white plain of the ice cap itself. The powerful Traxcavator would haul the heavy sleds to a point 80 km beyond S2 before returning to base.
November 13
So at 10.30am on Sunday 13 November the support party of Doc Frank Soucek and Tom Edwards headed up the long steep climb. Most of the cameras on the station were on hand to record the extraordinary sight. In one long connected line behind the mammoth Traxcavator trailed a motley looking collection of vehicles. US cargo sleds, Nansen sleds, the caravan, the 'solid platform' sled on which Soucek planned to pitch their tent (wannigan fashion), a small sled with fuel for the tractor, with the tiny banana sled trailing in the rear. A radio sked at 1845 reported that they were only fifteen miles from base and camped in a howling blizzard. The same weather hit Wilkes that evening as snow streamed off the plateau. So we postponed departure. (I liked Tom Edwards' radio description of travel in the Traxcavator monster: "It's like riding in a ruddy cocktail shaker!")
November 15 Under Way
Next day at 10.30am on 15 November we bade farewell to Wilkes as cameras clicked off all around. Jan flew the Norwegian flag on his Snocat; Don an American flag on the Weasel he was driving and my Weasel flew the Australian flag. At the last moment our excellent chef 'Monty' Graham handed over delicious goodies he had cooked. The three unladen vehicles began their lazy rumble up the steep moraine and on to the plateau. Later that day we arrived at S2 Station. Over the next two days vehicles and trailers were re-sorted and coupled up, loads rearranged here and there. Because of mechanical problems with the Traxcavator we aborted the plan for the Traxcavator and gave our thanks to Frank and Tom as they headed homewards.
November 18
A check had shown the compass in the lead Weasel was playing up. Jan and Mike spent hours working on the problem: laying out a stake system to swing the compass properly, and to juggle the magnets and compensators to reduce deviation to a minimum. As a check against track slippage on the snow surface, the vehicle's odometer was checked against a precisely measured distance. On average the vehicle 'mile' was shown to be some 80 feet short. Mike reported that the radio blackout was continuing. It was time to set up the new navigation system. The prismatic compass was taken well away from the vehicle and all its metal 'contamination'. Correcting for magnetic variation, and checking with the astro compass, a heading of 180 degrees true was set up between two well-separated stakes. I then drove my lead Weasel precisely along the line of the stakes, thus establishing the set course for the traverse.
Southward Ho !
After final checks on equipment we headed south at 8.15 am on a cloudless and windless morning. After the many months of preparation there was subdued excitement all around.
Starting at 1200 m. altitude, we gazed in the direction of our chosen route. 80 degrees south somehow seemed a logical course to take. The great Antarctic plateau, an area approaching the size of Australia and continental USA put together, stretched massively before us. Here the surface was smooth, with a gentle rise to the southern horizon. No rock, mountain or other major surface feature was visible then or on any subsequent section of the journey.
We covered only 27 km (16 miles) on that first day. Weasel 14 developed a carburettor problem which was due to a build up of dirt, causing four hours delay. Wilkes warned us of bad weather approaching and we lashed down the vulnerable caravan. A 100 km\hr blizzard struck that night, losing us a day's travel. OIC and Harrop carried out anemometer runs at heights of 3, 6, 12, 25 cm, the respective velocity readings recording 12, 22, 26, 29 knots. A 'saltation' profile of blowing snow was collected at 3,6,12 cm levels. Slides were exposed to record the nature of snow particles at the various levels.
When musing over the likely precision of the new navigation apparatus, I had assumed that cloud or falling snow would easily obscure the vehicle tracks, making the system inoperable at times. The solution however was simple. The rear vehicles were required to travel strictly in the lead Weasel's tracks and at a distance of from half a mile to two miles. This provided an ideal little black blob to line up with the hairline down the centre of my 'driving mirror'. Perfect! Whenever a vehicle had to swing around large sastrugi or a crevasse its altered silhouette became immediately apparent and I waited for the small black blob to reappear before sighting on it once more. So we drove on, day after day.
November 21
Breakfast and dinner at night were our only cooked meals. In order to save time we restricted ourselves at lunch to snacks and a drink from a thermos. During the year at base we had learned well the blizzard lesson of rapid snow build up around vehicles at the end of each day's run all vehicles and sledges were carefully sited to avoid burial by snowdrift downwind. As well, we followed the strict practice at the end of each day's run of refilling the vehicle fuel tanks immediately and adding alcohol to take up any moisture, thus avoiding moisture contamination.
On the run we followed a set routine. Because the Weasel odometer was calibrated in statute miles I halted every mile, allowing a small percentage additional for slippage of the tracks in the snow. (Because of this practice our daily mileage runs differed slightly from the expeditions that followed in 1961 and 1962.)
At each mile Mike hopped out of the vehicle, hurried to the trailer, unfastened the next numbered stake and placed it on the snow. While this was going on, at each five miles run I climbed on top of the Weasel roof and checked direction with the astro compass Ð when the sun was visible. As well, at every five miles I made a hurried measurement of snow density, and sastrugi amplitude and direction as an indication of habitual wind patterns. When Don Butling in the following vehicle reached the dropped stake he hand drilled a hole in the surface and planted the stake to the depth indicated by the saw cut. In general the dropping of the flag in the first instance and its subsequent implantation in the second, was carried out in little more than a few minutes. (Five months later Nev. Smethurst's party found only the tops of some of our stakes visible. A few had entirely disappeared under the snow.)
November 22
The 96 km marker from S2 was reached at 3pm on Tuesday 22 November. Everyone set to work. Jan greased the Snocat Ð quite a job. Jim and Mike rearranged the sledge loads. Don worked on his Weasel then cooked the evening meal. A glaciology pit recorded stratigraphy, grain description and size, hardness and a range of densities. Temperature ranged from minus 13.3C at the surface to minus 21C at the base of the borehole. It was about midnight when I crawled into bed.
The day had been notable for a number of mirages which irresistibly gave the appearance of an ocean at times and at others rose up the plateau surface into walls and barriers dancing in the light of the sun.
November 23
By 6pm we reached the 75 mile mark, travelling in whiteout conditions most of the afternoon.
November 24
A blizzard blew at 30 knots much of the day on Thursday 24th November so we had a rest day. Except the OIC and Mike! The OIC felt impelled to make one of his blizzard measuring runs and was given staunch support in the unpleasant conditions by Mike.
And so, day followed day, as we headed south in fairly good weather. We had been caching a drum of fuel every 50 km for our return trip. Then we started to descend, dropping some 400m below the level of S2 station and we knew that we were traversing across an inland section south east of the Vanderford Glacier. Then the slope rose again and we began to strike areas of hard sastrugi, which slowed us down considerably. Occasional light blizzards made pauses necessary but in general we made good progress.
But where were all the crevasses? The answer was that hundreds of them were beneath us, covered over by recent blizzards. The visible ones were easily bypassed. Although unaware of the many slots yawning below we certainly found them weeks later on our return with lightened loads and thanked our lucky stars for the heavy blizzard, which had piled deep snow over them before we left Base.
Mike Campbell and his radio kept us in touch with Base whenever conditions were favourable, and picked up world time signals to correct the clock for its navigation role.
November 25
Reached the 82 mile mark.
The vehicles soon had to slow down and be nursed in areas of even higher sastrugi (150 cm or so in height). Here great care was needed to protect the vehicle track and suspension systems. Each vehicle was nursed slowly up a vertical ice face, teetering on the top, to crash down the other side. Far in the rear poor Jan and Jim must have had endless patience. The parlous condition of the sprocket wheels on their vehicle demanded the utmost care, which usually meant they finished the day an hour or two behind us. But they made no complaint. As to navigation, because Mike had been unable to contact Wilkes by radio for the first week or so I had to rely for my sextant sightings on the time provided by that wall clock. Later on, on some occasions I was able to establish position lines from the sun and the moon almost simultaneously, always a convenient quick fix. Because of the problems with accurate time due to the long radio blackout, plus poor visibility of the sun through cloud or blowing snow, it was five days before the first real navigational fix could be made. Because of an inaccurate L.H.A. our course was found to be running 1.25 degrees eastwards. Accordingly our course was altered westwards by the same amount over the next ten miles.
November 26
Inspection showed that Weasel 14 was showing a rapid loss of rubber on its drive wheels. It was decided to park the vehicle at that point, together with both heavy American sleds plus spare food and equipment. The new order of march was the Nav Weasel 'EVA' towing both Nansen sleds, one with gasoline and trail markers, the other with food and a variety of spares and equipment. The Snocat to haul the caravan plus manhauling sled and its emergency food and equipment.
A considerable amount of data was collected throughout the trip. Using the Met instruments mounted on the side of one of his sleds Jim Harrop carried out Met obs five times daily including totalising wind runs. Every five miles I carried out snow density measurements and sastrugi observations. As opportunity offered, boreholes and pits were excavated to provide neve records giving a profile of density, grain size, summer/winter snow bands. etc. On five occasions advantage was taken during blizzards to record a profile of the relationship between wind velocity and snow drift at differing levels. Under the conditions this was always a challenge, in the face of the low temperatures as we steadily gained altitude.
We did not expect to sight any birds but recorded one Antarctic Petrel, one Silver Grey Petrel and, some 96 km inland, some Storm Petrels and Snow Petrels. The biggest surprise was three Skua Gulls, which landed next to us 240 km south of S2.
As a minor study during the year at Wilkes I had kept up observations of the ethereally beautiful solar haloes, which appear in the presence of minute snow crystals created in conditions of intense cold. Exhibiting all the colours of the spectrum, they form vertical circles of various diameters, displaying parhelia or mock suns, tangential arcs, sun pillars and even horizontal parhelic arcs encircling the horizon. Because of the lower temperatures they are much more frequent inland. The minute crystals, in the form of plates, rods and bullets, are commonly called 'diamond dust'. As at Wilkes, the crystals were captured for description and measurement using a mixture of polyvinal formal and ethylene dichloride spread on glass slides. Entombing the crystal the mixture recreates its precise morphology. The mean crystal size was c.30 microns, with a few up to 300 microns. Colour photos were taken of this most beautiful of phenomena.
Visual observations of the surface during our run had brought to light some surprising formations. What some of our party called 'ocean waves' became visible over much of the surface in the later section of our traverse. These were irregular large undulations with wave lengths of five to fifteen kms and amplitudes of seven to fifty metres. Similar ice cap waves had been reported by the Russian glaciologist Dolgushin well inland from Mirny and briefly from French scientists inland from Dumont Durville. In 1961 Bill Budd was able to measure these waves.
Halfway along our track and unknown to us, the bedrock begins to dip very steeply. The geophysicists in subsequent traverses recorded ice depths of some 4,500 m, where the surface elevation was only about 3,000m above sea level, locating bedrock some 1.5 km below sea level in that region and presumably indicating a large 'bight' in the coastline. The glaciologist in the 1961 party, Dr (Now Prof.) Bill Budd, and Alastair Battye (1962) unlocked a great deal of data during their years, leading to a spate of scientific papers on the glaciology of the region.
On this day the very rugged nature of the surface gave rise to the description 'the badlands' likening it to the surface of the moon. The whole surface was scarred and gashed with impressive wind-carved formations. Every fifty metres very hard sastrugi rising to about a metre or more in height and thirty metres in length, with deep trenches in between, often filled with soft snow, kept diverting us from our course. It took a heavy toll on the vehicles.
November 29
Cached a full drum of fuel at 160 mile mark. Now a beautiful day and windless. At this point we came to a crisis point. Over the last 100 miles Jan Lunde had been pressing for a return to Base owing to the rapid deterioration of the vehicles and his fear that we might not get them back. As a very experienced engineer his view had to be given due weight. As we pressed on, the surface became even rougher and we were reduced to a crawl. Looking ahead it was apparent that the surface for many miles to come was just as rough. The decision was made to terminate at that point 289 km south of S2 and 370 km from Wilkes at an elevation of 2,500m. I called it a day. "Tomorrow" I said, "I was about to call a rest day. But we have work to do and then the following day it's Hi Ho Silver for home!"
December 1
And tomorrow was a most beautiful day. Blue sky, not a breath of wind all day! Everyone set to with preparations for the return trip. Intensive checking of the vehicles, re-arranging of supplies, scientific studies, navigation obs, and so on.
A check of our sextant now revealed two problems. It was considerably out of adjustment, having developed both side error and a considerable increase in index error. However the D.R. position appeared to be fairly straight forward. Another beautiful solar halo put in an appearance in the form of two 22 degree parhelia with a sun pillar above and below the sun and an iridescent arc above the sun.
On a completely windless morning I spent hours with pick and shovel, with some useful help, excavating as deep a pit as possible to gather data on the successive neve layers. Sweating in the hard work I soon had my parka off, then my sweater, and finally the shirtÉ with the temperature at minus 18C! A little later the faintest of breezes arose and everything went back on quick smart.
We awoke to a 20 knot wind with lots of drift and complete whiteout conditions. No travel today! Meteorology obs, and wind velocity \ snow drift gauging was carried out every day of our enforced six days stay at our furthest south.
A slight sense of uneasiness had arisen in one or two hearts I suspect, because we were a long way inland. Our relief ship was due in a few weeks. Any hold up due to prolonged bad weather would be a worry. While we had enjoyed our year down south none of us wanted to miss the boat home. Full of confidence I announced in the caravan that night "Tomorrow we head for home!" But the weather gods had other ideas. During the night we were hit with the strongest blizzard of the trip.
Each day we awoke to the howl of the blizzard, blowing at 40 knots for long periods and gusting to more than 50 knots. The air was full of blowing snow. For a long cold week the tiny caravan became our world. The cramped bunks fitted in three of us but we felt rather sorry for Jan and Jim - outside in the Sno Cat, their sleeping bags lying on top of a jumble of boxes and underneath the cold steel of the vehicle roof. The only warmth in the caravan came during meal time with the lighting of the tiny Primus stove. With the gale howling outside and the temperature dropping we often had to move around in the cramped quarters to try to keep warm. Listening to the continuous scream of the blizzard we were not unduly worried for the first couple of days but ÉÉafter five days of unrelenting wind and nil visibility our concern started to rise... And it WAS cold! I shall never forget the sight of our Norwegian friend Jan Lunde, cooking breakfast in the freezing caravan one morning with a long, lugubrious face he intoned, as he stirred the pot: "This horrible place! It is the only place I have been where the porridge is boiling on the inside - and freezing on the outside!!" In the bitter cold everything was difficult. And of course blizzards throw up other challenges. An interesting decision had to be made when venturing outside for a call of nature. When dropping the pantsÉwhat to do? Face into the wind with all its icy consequences? Or face back to the wind and have the pants fill up with snow in seconds? Ah, the challenge of polar travel!
December 6
On the seventh day the wind dropped to a mere 35 mph. I announced, "We've got the line of trail stakes to help us. Let's go!" But first we had to celebrate our modest foray. Still and movie pictures were taken of the setting up of the 180 mile (from S2) marker and the raising of the Australian flag. To salute the achievement of being the first party to explore this region we fired off some Verey pistol cartridges, making a spectacular sight as they sent red balls of fire bounding across the snowy surface.
So at last we were on our way. Peering through the murk, occasionally sighting traces of our old tracks, and hunting through the blizzard from one stake to another. Visibility ranged from 50 to 200 yards. Now and then, with no sign visible we sent a man ahead tied to a long rope as he searched left and right for the next stake. The storm slowly abated over the next few days and we drove the lightened sledges for long hours on the homeward trail. Many crevasses yawned before us they had lain there all along but snowfalls had covered them during the inward journey. We had been very lucky.
Vehicle trouble had eluded us so far but at the 140 mile stake, in the midst of a minor blizzard the Snocat broke a spring. Two brave souls in the form of Jan and Don laboured underneath the vehicle to tackle the repair. They spent two hours on their backs in the snow and freezing wind.
December 8
After a long run of 60 miles (shades of the horse heading for home theory!) we stopped for tea. The party was keen to press on to S2 throughout the night. I expressed the view that 60 miles was a good run for the day and I saw little point in driving all night at that stage. However the weather did give a hint of worse to come so I said that I would accept the wishes of the majority providing the regular 5 mile glaciology observations were maintained. Accordingly we set off again at 2230 hours. (The O.I.C. vacated the driving seat for the first time on the trip and curled up for a sleep on the rear seat.) However a cloud layer descended and the deteriorating light brought the attempt to a halt and we were forced to camp at 0020hrs at the 43 mile mark.
Later the most spectacular optical phenomenon of our year developed. The common 22 degree halo appeared with an extensive segment of the parhelic circle intersecting it. Two parhelia then appeared at the intersections. The rare Parry's arc featured as a bright iridescent arc on the top of the halo, and concave to it. Two iridescent segments followed at the upper and lower points of the halo. A most entrancing display!
The Snocat broke another spring and Weasel W14 stayed to assist. The navigation Weasel carried on to carry out glaciology obs at the 15, 10 and 5 mile stakes, thus completing the full set of obs from S2 to the furthest point south. At 1745 we arrived at S2, a very welcome sight.
December 9
A great pleasure for everyone was the chance for a hot wash after a month without a shower or bath of any kind. (Fortunately, as all polar field parties come to realise, body odour is rarely a problem because of the cold.) After a late rise, time was spent on writing up the Met and glaciology notes and field logs.
December 10
Next day while we rested I turned my attention to making the second annual measurements of the extensive stake system spread over many square km around S2, a study set up by the Americans to establish the dynamics of the ice sheet as it flows very slowly towards the coast.
S2 station, an American 'Jamesway' insulated canvas building had originally been installed on the surface but now, four years later, it was completely buried under some five metres of snow. The approach was through a wooden hatch down some steps cut in the ice, through a door and into an eerie dark world festooned with long icicles. In the gloom shelves dug into the ice walls were found to hold a great quantity of cases and cans of food and other gear. A generator was available for lighting and cooking and there were rough bunks. During the year most of the party had spent a week or so, in pairs, in this troglodyte abode, as a 'holiday' of sorts away from the routine of Base. The biggest danger was CO poisoning if the stove flue snowed up in a blizzard as easily happened. During the year one of our groups had a close shave with this problem.
In the floor at the far end of a tunnel the American glaciologists had dug a pit about five m. square, dropping vertically 35m. A ladder ran down one side. A line of small black pegs, close spaced, had been installed all the way to the bottom. From the base of the pit a circular tunnel of two-metre diameter ran horizontally for some five metres. More black pegs ran in a vertical circle around this tunnel. The purpose of these measurements was to keep tabs on the dynamics of the ice cap, on a macro level, in its long slow oozing to the coast. Early in the year I had descended this pit for the initial measurements but not without considerable care and checking those challenging vertical ladders. Once again I measured, with Don's help, the precise distances between each of the hundreds of tiny black markers down the side of the pit and in the tunnel at its base. Calculations of the summer/ winter neve layers in the pit indicated that the snow at the base had been laid down in 1783 (before Governor Philip landed at Sydney Cove, as ran through my mind during the work down there.)
The other main glaciology task at S2 was a re-measurement of the twelve square mile strain network grid adjoining the S2 station. Because of the distances involved and the lack of markings on the stakes they were very hard to sight except in the clearest weather. After a long search each stake was measured for accumulation. Using a tension scale to place a constant tension on the tape, Lunde and Harrop slowly and carefully recorded the precise distance between the base stakes A and B. A round of angles was then taken between stakes A, B, C, and D on the outer perimeter of the grid. The project took two hours.
December 11 The Home Run
Having cleaned up the station and loaded the vehicles we set off for home at 1245. We arrived back at Wilkes at 2030 hrs on 11 December, to a warm welcome from our friends who, under the leadership of 2IC Rudi Honkala had already performed miracles in preparing the base for imminent change over. The incoming party on "Magga Dan" was well on its way.
That evening Jan Lunde commentated that he had enjoyed it all immensely. "However", he commented, and he meant every word "If we had had spare drive sprocket wheels for the Sno Cat we could have doubled the distance we made.!" That remark made by the most honest of men made us all feel even more pleased with our performance. During the whole of 1960 our Wilkes party of fourteen Australians and four Americans had turned out to be a great bunch of expeditioners. Our year had gone well. No accidents, no major equipment damage. The Base in good shape. Record Radiosonde heights achieved by the Met men. A whole lot of happy husky pups sired by the famous Oscar. Valuable scientific data in ionospheric physics, the aurora, geomagnetism, seismology, meteorology, glaciology, solar haloes, marine biology. Because of their performance several of the party were chosen to venture south again.
But one of the top achievements of our year had been the close bonding of Australians and Americans, leading to the friendliest of parties during our year. The very close ties continued for many years as evidenced by those American friends who revisited Australia several times to join in reunions with their Aussie friends.
Completely unscheduled on our official program, and despite very poor equipment we had carried off the first extensive inland exploration from Wilkes base. Our efforts in blazing the trail had made traverses in subsequent years considerably easier, as acknowledged in Bob Thomson's book on his 1962 Vostok trek 'The Coldest Place on Earth'.
In Melbourne for the 5Oth Anniversary of ANARE a few years ago I met 'Gringo' Collins and 'Pancho' Evans again after many years. Both had done sterling work on the famous Vostok traverse. They told me "Bob Thomson is here you know!" "Can't be", I said, "He lives in America". So they dragged me off amongst the throng, to meet a man I had last met in the Glaciology section of Melbourne University in 1961, nearly 4O years ago. The four of us had a lot to talk about concerning our traverses on the ice cap. Bob Thomson concluded by saying: "Your know we would never have reached Vostok without your navigation invention". "What makes you say that?" I asked in surprise. "Simple. We were able to drive a straight course. If our course had wandered around as all polar expeditions in the past have done, our fuel supplies would have run out long before we reached Vostok". So that was nice to hear and I passed it on to other surviving 1960 Wilkes expedition members. As I commented at the beginning of this article, that choice of choosing a direct southerly course in 1960 was a fortunate one. Fortuitously it provided a second factor making possible that historic trek to Vostok by the members of the 1962 expedition.
Exploring an unknown sector of the Antarctic plateau on a shoestring had been one of the great experiences in the lives of every one of the five men who cooperated so well in the venture. They were an excellent team. And it looks as though it was all worthwhile.
Harry Black, OIC Macquarie Island 1957, OIC Wilkes 1960.