As it was in the days of Sir Douglas Mawson, maintaining the morale of Antarctic base workers is important for the success of today’s scientific expeditions. Here you can read about Jenna Kelley’s role as Canteen Manager at Scott base.
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What was/is your role in Antarctica and when have you worked there?
My role as Canteen Manager at at Scott Base (NZ) was not scientific, it was actually to run the shop and the bar of all things so I was a support person to all the scientific staff. I ensured my customers received the best customer service possible. I love people and I love the ice, what more could you ask for, although having an ice machine in the bar was a hot topic of humour!! I ensured the shop was stocked with essential items for staff and also with souveniers for staff to send home as well especially at Christmas time and for birthdays, as there were not a lot of other options around to enable staff to send a pressie home.
I also sold items such as hats, tee-shirts, jumpers, jackets, toy penguins, books, toiletries and chocolates (YUM!) Antarctic stamps for postage home, etc and ensured the bar was fully stocked and clean at all times, rostering of staff on the bar and responsible serving of alcohol.
Knowing that the ice has little smell and colour, I helped my colleagues keep their senses alive by stocking items in our tiny shop such as delicious smelling soaps filled with essential oils (it’s so dry there your skin really needs moisture and there’s not a lot of smell there either) from LUSH and ordering in Scott Base embroidered colourful polar fleece jackets to break up the Antarctic whiteness.
What physical changes have you observed in the landscape?
In October the sea ice was as flat as a pancake upon arrival. Then during the next few weeks the waves seemed to roll underneath the ice and freeze in formation to create this sense of a pristine white blanket being held by two people and shaken at each end, but it was like that blanket was frozen in motion, like a film that had been paused. Finally the ice rose as high as it could and then slit open into slots like a boil rupturing. It made the most incredible sound. It was like someone’s stomach was grumbling from hunger. It was also at the same time, very crunchy and dry and other times sounded like polystyrene rubbing together. The snow looked so unreal, being so dry; it formed into little tiny balls, often scooting along the ice.
The sea ice changed every couple of days, quickly forming large pressure ridges. Where the ice shelf joins to the land, immense cracks or crevasses can develop due to the ocean’s tides and currents. The ice crystals on the surface of the snow make it look like it’s covered in millions and millions of glitter spots!
Like the faces of diamonds, beautiful blue skies and bright golden sun lit the frosted, muscular Transantarctic Mountains. Golds and oranges defined the peaks of each precipice. The sky was at first a low ceiling of melting hues and shifting layers of fiery yellow and red. When the sun set, and at other times, it was filled with pastel pinks and blues. You could have been gazing at a painting in an art gallery. Over a period of about three weeks the days got longer, until there was only the sun, no matter what time of day it was. Imagine celebrating NYE on the sea ice in a tent at midnight in full sun! When there was no sun and only grey shark coloured cloud, or a total white out, it was very easy to get disorientated and lose your way.
The wind would whip up loose snow, making things look hazy, like you were peering through gauze, or it could clear the snow from around the buildings and unveil the clean browns and dusty reds of the ancient volcanic rocks. It could howl and scream like a banshee or whistle a tune through the guy ropes and wires on the base. The snow was blowing about everywhere as if in a raging fury. And yet it seemed to be dancing at the same time, swirling and spiraling. I could see the front of cloud rolling over, like a rolling pin over pastry, it approached like a stalker and then all of a sudden the wind hit me! After a storm the snow seemed to be more compacted, when you expected it to be soft. Antarctica can be a dark monster, which often lurks behind her beautiful façade.
Inside the Barne Glacier caves the light was a surreal cross between cobalt blue, light blue and purples. Within the caves, huge frosty icicles hung. The snow inside one cave was extremely soft and light, filled with millions of tiny trapped air bubbles.
From the air later, in the season, Erebus didn’t look as big or as hard to get to from the helicopter! We flew over broken up ice and icebergs locked into pools of water, like huge expansive jigsaw pieces, blindingly resplendent in the sun. I was in awe at the sight of the snow bridges crevasses and the ice blocks that were all frozen together to make magnificent blue ice falls. The sea ice loop has changed so much in just a week! There were lots of large melt pools forming, the sea was starting to melt, and the blocks of sea ice showed bottoms, tinged brown and pink by living diatoms
The day I left Antarctica, my tears descended endlessly to the snow and froze. They would still be there today, frozen in time, even if covered somewhat and ablated by the snow and ice from the devastation of a scornful winter. Until now, it had not dawned on me. A part of my body, my being, my molecular self and my essence, will now linger on the ice, incessantly, in my homeland.
Is there any data (visual, numerical, visual, or written) that you have composed that I could work with to visually represent the changes?
I took over 1200 photos and have some video footage as well, but mostly I wrote, as my passion comes from my heart, and, I find words are the best way to express what I see. I also wrote lots of poetry, some of which I have included for you below.
THE POEMS . . .
Antarctica
Ice in your veins,
Invading your body,
Like a drug.
The longing,
The craving,
The desire for it. Constant!
Thoughts and memories,
Sounds that ,
Trigger flashbacks,
And smiles,
Or
Tears.
Ice in your veins,
It’s a drug,
An addiction.
Unless you’ve been there,
You’ll never understand.
Legends
Icebergs licked with luscious blue light
Scintillating within the frozen sea
In a land of beauty, filled with delight
And dangers that should frighten me.
I’m filled with a yearning of times gone by
Of brave men sailing upon a hostile sea
Who saw the aurora and star filled skies.
I hear them whisper in my ear
‘Can you hear the silence calling?’
In a curtain of kisses they smile so near
While the moon and stars are falling,
And I feel the wild winds like a breath from the mouth
Of the legends, like Mawson, the men of the South.
White
White.
Endless white.
Sometimes blue,
Sometimes grey.
No sounds,
Except your breath.
When you hold it;
Nothing.
Nothing can be heard
Except, the silence calling you,
Like a long lost friend.
Enveloping you with a hug,
That only true friends can give.
I love the silence.
The white
The endless white.