<Send a Letter to the Editor><Subscribe><Submit  An Article> < Disclaimer><Return to Issue Index>

I looked up at the clock and noticed the time. It was 12:30 PM and the telephone rang. It was Robin Abbott, the helicopter operations coordinator, calling to tell me that I had 30 minutes to report with my gear to the helo hanger. Two of us were scheduled to fly up to a site called “Three Sisters Cones” on the side of Mount Erebus. At a height of 12,447.5 feet, it is the southern-most active volcano in the world and is located on Ross Island, Antarctica. We were planning to service a VHF radio repeater that we had previously placed there for the National Science Foundation (NSF). The name of the site refers to three volcanic cinder cones jutting off the southwest shoulder of the mountain at about the 5,200-ft. level. I quickly grabbed my gear bag and walked over to the briefing room where I met Steve Forguson, my partner for this flight. This story takes place in January 1995. I was a Chief Electronics Technician in the U.S. Navy, assigned to Naval Support Force Antarctica. Our mission was called “Operation Deep Freeze” and we provided all of the logistical support services for the NSF and their U.S. Antarctic Research Program. My job this season was to place radio repeaters on top of mountains around the McMurdo Station area. These repeaters allow science teams, working in valleys behind mountain ranges, to talk with the communications center (MacOps) at McMurdo Station.

The U.S. Coast Guard Cutter, Polar Star, pulls into McMurdo Station.

This electronic equipment had to be self-contained, able to withstand temperatures as low as –100 degrees Fahrenheit, and wind speeds up to 100 MPH. Back in Charleston, South Carolina, Bill Robertson a communications engineer with Naval Electronics Engineering Laboratory, designed an equipment package meeting these specifications. The module could be flown into remote locations. It consisted of a two-channel Motorola VHF radio, 6 car batteries, solar panels to charge the batteries, and had the ability to monitor and record wind-speed and air temperature. All of this was assembled onto an aluminum frame making the completed package look a lot like NASA’s Lunar Lander. The repeater weighed nearly 1200 pounds and we transported it by helicopter to selected sites.

When I arrived at the helo hanger I found Steve already there. He said that we would get our flight briefing in a few minutes and we discussed the work we would perform on the repeater.  It was a simple job, just checking the alignment of the transmitter and condition of the batteries. It should take us no more than an hour, but we had asked for two. We always tried to budget more time than necessary with the hope that we’d have some time left over to take photographs and enjoy the view. The weather had been fairly calm, but high clouds frequently dropped down to obscure the top two thirds of Mt. Erebus. This was right where our equipment was located and we’d been trying for nearly a week to get to the site only to find our flight canceled each day. Today was looking better though and we were excited to make the trip.

When we got the go ahead for the flight we grabbed our gear and ran out to the helo that was warming up on the pad. Our aircraft was a UH-1N (Huey), twin-engine helicopter, flown by a Navy crew from Antarctic Development Squadron Six (VXE-6). The crew consisted of a pilot, copilot and crew chief. Steve and I were the only passengers on this trip, which was great, because we both got window seats for the 30-minute flight up the mountain.

We put on our flight helmets, plugged into the comm system and settled back into the seats listening to the pilots get cleared for take off. The temperature outside was in the high 20s F. It wasn’t much warmer inside either. With a rumble, the engines ran up to speed and we lifted off the ground turning to the south and flew out over McMurdo Sound. Below us was open water. The U.S. Coast Guard Cutter, Polar Star, had cut a channel in the ice to provide a path for the fuel and supply ships into McMurdo. Several Killer Whales swam along the edge of the ice searching for penguins, one of their favorite meals. The aircraft banked to the north, passing around Hut Point and followed the edge of the peninsula toward our destination.  On the ridge below us, a group of hikers were making their way along a trail to an ancient volcanic lava plug named Castle Rock. The rock sticks up about 300 feet above the ice and is a popular destination for folks who want to get out of McMurdo for a few hours.

Ahead of us is the Erebus Glacier Tongue. Ice from the glacier flows off the mountain and out over the ocean. Around its base were a number of Weddell Seals. In early October, this glacier is riddled with ice caves that are filled with millions of beautiful ice-crystals hanging like stalagmites from the ceiling. Each year the search and rescue team surveys a safe passage into the caves for us to visit. By the end of November the caves begin to melt and become too hazardous to enter. This landmark quickly passed below us and soon we were climbing up the side of Erebus.
.

A group explores one of the many ice caves in the Erebus Ice Tongue.

The surface of the mountain is covered with monstrous crevasse fields. The only safe places to land are the few spots where solid rock pokes through the snow and ice. This was the case at Three Sisters Cones. Our repeater was on a rock outcropping between two of these cinder cones. Soon, we were circling the site, looking for a safe landing area. As the helo settled onto the ice, clouds of snow and ice crystals swirled around us as the rotors slowed to stop. Steve and I unplugged from the comm system and stepped out onto the ice. The air was frigid. Each inhalation caused the exposed edges of your nose to sting. If you were not careful to turn your head just the right way, your exhaled breath would immediately condense and freeze into a thin sheet over your sunglasses, blocking your vision. Grabbing our gear bags from the cargo hatch, we dragged our equipment and a survival bag over to the repeater. One of the pilots had a camera and the crewmen were posed for a few “Hero” photographs. Then they got back into the aircraft and started the engines. The crew chief told me that they had another job to do moving cargo at one of the science camps on the base of the mountain. He said it would take them a couple of hours and then they’d fly back to pick us up. With a loud roar the helo ascended into the sky and dove down the slopes toward the sea. The sound from the engines quickly diminished and we were alone.

This wasn’t a good sign. With trepidation, I picked up the radio and called MacOps. I told them we were done with our work and ready to leave. There was a long pause and then they came back to tell us that, because of the weather, the helo would not be able to pick us up. We were told to make plans to stay on the mountain until conditions were better. This was not what I wanted to hear. We could be stuck up here for a week. This was supposed to be a quick in-and-out trip. I had even forgotten to bring the case for my contact lenses and had no desire to spend the night on this mountain. Steve felt the same way and the two of us simply sat on the rocks and looked at each other.

You couldn’t walk anywhere. The only safe ground was the immediate area around the repeater. Crevasses were clearly visible where the glacier passed on either side of our site. After about an hour Steve suggested that we open the survival bag and set up the tent. By this time I was pretty sure we were going to be up here for awhile, so we might as well get comfortable. All field crews are issued a survival bag that contains a tent, sleeping bags, camp stove, and enough food for about a week. The thought of spending that much time trapped on a 100x100 square foot area was not too appealing. I didn’t even bring a book on this trip and there wasn’t much we could do to relieve the boredom. I found myself thinking that if I drank two of the juice drinks that come in those waxed cardboard boxes, I could light the stove, melt some snow, and rinse out the boxes to make a container for my contact lenses. Of course, I hadn’t brought my glasses either, so I was pretty annoyed with myself for this bit of poor planning.

The survival bag is quite an interesting tool. I applaud those folks who pack the gear into it. When you open the bag, it’s similar to a child’s jack-in-the-box toy. The gear practically jumps out and there is no way that you’re going to put it all back into the container. Setting up the tent was a quick task, but two hours later we were both still sitting on the rocks looking into the distance willing the weather to clear.
..

Another hour went by and Steve said he thought the clouds were lifting. Pointing toward McMurdo, he asked me if that was Castle Rock in the distance. It sure looked like it and soon we could just make out the end of Hut Point. This was promising. I got on the radio and called MacOps. Unfortunately, yes, the weather was clear enough for a pickup, but the helo had gone off to another job and it would be hours before they could attempt to return to our location. I looked at Steve and we both shook our heads. At that moment another voice with a Kiwi accent came over the radio. New Zealand has a research facility two miles from McMurdo, called Scott Base. One of their crews had been monitoring our situation and said that they could pick us up if it was okay with MacOps. Hallelujah! Get us out of here! The Kiwi pilot said they’d need about 20 minutes to reach our location. We furiously began disassembling all of the equipment we’d unpacked. Everything but the tent was stuffed back in the survival bag when we heard the “whop, whop” sound of the helo approaching. Try as we might, there was no way the tent would fit into the bag. Our ride passed above and to the north of our position. The pilot could not see us. Steve pulled the pin on a red smoke grenade and tossed it onto the ice. Plumes of magenta smoke drifted across the ice. I called to the pilot and told him he was up-slope from us. We couldn’t see the helicopter, but the sound from it echoed loudly off the mountain. They were close. With a bit more talking over the radio, we guided the pilot to our position. Seeing that big green Huey materialize in the mist was a most welcome sight.

A VXE-6 helicopter delivers a radio repeater to a site on Mt. Erebus

Thirty minutes later we were dropped off in McMurdo and soon I was back in my quarters with a warm drink and feeling very thankful that we were home. As it turned out, the clouds dropped lower right after our rescue and it was three days before we could see the mountain again. Thank you to our Kiwi friends!

If you’re interested in going to Antarctica, there are many such adventures to be found. Raytheon Polar Services is the current employer for the U.S. program. Their offices are located in Centennial, Colorado and they hire hundreds of people each season to staff the three main facilities of McMurdo Station, South Pole Station, and Palmer Station. A job fair is held each year in April to provide staff for the next summer season in Antarctica, which begins in late September and continues into February. Their employment web page is: http://www.polar.org/hr/employ/index.asp Of course, they have many more applicants than available positions, so good luck!
.

Editor’s note: The author has spent nearly 3 years working at McMurdo Station. He has wintered over twice and completed three summer seasons. You can view many of his Antarctic photographs and stories at his web site, http://www.geocities.com/kcdreher

. .

<Send a Letter to the Editor><Subscribe><Submit  An Article> < Disclaimer><Return to Issue Index>