The frozen continent: Dream of empire on the ice

In the final part of our series, award-winning science writer SIMON COLLINS talks to the hardy souls who winter over in the coldest place on earth.


Scott Base, Capital of the Ross Dependency. Population 85.

The sign that greets you as you cross over the hill from the untidy mining-town look of the Americans' McMurdo Station is meant as a bit of a joke.

For a start, New Zealand's right to the "Ross Dependency" is recognised by hardly anyone. Under the 1959 Antarctic Treaty, all countries parked their territorial claims to one side - not renouncing them, but agreeing that people from any nation will be subject only to the laws of their own homeland while on the ice.

And the population figure: 85.

Hardly a "capital" of anything, especially compared with McMurdo's summer tally of about 1000 who make up a quarter of Antarctica's total summer residents.

In fact, when the Herald visited in a typical late November week, there were just 54 people at Scott Base and 52 others on New Zealand science projects in the field.

From late February, when the last summer projects end, through to October, when the next ones begin, the entire Kiwi population on the ice will be just 10.

And all will be cooped up in Scott Base - for most of that time in total darkness. It's a situation made for madness, and the New Zealanders oblige with high-jinks that their American neighbours, worried about lawsuits, would never countenance.

There's the "polar plunge", which involves stripping naked, getting strapped into a safety harness and jumping through a hole in the ice into freezing water. "Under Scott Base regs, swimsuits are not permitted," visitors are told.

Another tradition is "manhauling" a sled in the midwinter dark to spend a night out in tents. The winter before last, three people returned to base with frostbitten fingers and had to be flown home in August.

Most people suffer from a winter condition called T3, caused by the cold and constant darkness, which makes them forget what they started doing just moments before. They also become lethargic and depressed.

The conditions are so severe that Antarctica NZ will not let anyone stay for two winters in a row. Yet this year six of the 10 winter staff have already wintered over in the past decade and are back for more.

"It gets in your skin," says Chris Knight, a mechanic from Palmerston North who was last down in 2001-2002. "When I left, I didn't think I'd be coming back. But in New Zealand, even in 11 months there's not a lot of change. All your mates are still doing the same thing. Down here it changes every day."

There is always "a bit of aggro" in the winter team, he says. "You just sort it out amongst yourselves."

Carpenter Dan Mathers was attracted by a sense of adventure the first time, but says: "The second time round there is more to see."

His summer work is mainly turning old shipping containers into field huts or "wannigans" for scientists, and then helping them to set up their camps on glaciers and ice shelves.

Brad Eyre, 29, an electrician from Taupo who got engaged just before he left for a year on the ice, says: "I have done every continent. This is such an incredible place and not many people get to know it."

Scott Base itself is like a boarding school, a collection of mostly single-storeyed wooden buildings linked by creaky corridors. Staff live two to a room, visitors four to a room, with shared bathroom blocks. Mealtimes are fixed.

The culture is work hard, play hard. Official working hours are 8am to 5pm, Monday to Saturday. You wash your own dishes, take turns on the pots and pans, and get rostered to work evenings in the bar and to stay on base for one week in three in the duty fire crew.

On Sundays the staff help to run the ski-lift and familiarisation trips to historic huts and penguin colonies.

But they also get out on helicopters and snowmobiles if there is a spare seat.

"When something like a chopper trip comes up, you are given permission to drop your duties and go," says Barbara Rennie, 30, a Christchurch foot surgeon who is the base's part-time first aid officer and part-time cleaner.

After nine years working 55 hours a week in her own surgery, she was happy to sign up for winter. "I was bored. To get the full experience, the idea of doing the full season really appeals."

Chef Donna Wightman, the only other woman who will winter over this year, plans to do the South Island's Coast to Coast race when she gets back, and has already tackled Mt Erebus and the inside of the Imax Glacier.

"It's a challenge, but I've always been people-aware," she says. "I can see if someone's down or feeling a bit grumpy. Iknow not to feed off that."

Ms Rennie says the interview for Scott Base was the oddest she has ever had.

"A lot of it was about what would annoy you about a room-mate, what are you like in a bar situation?"

With no television, the bar looms large as the only social meeting place outside mealtimes. The pool table is in constant use, but drinking is moderate.

"They are looking for people who are not going to drink to excess and become an issue - good normal people with a reasonable level of intelligence who are going to work hard," Ms Rennie says.

Although three science students wintered over last year to study sea ice and the ozone hole, this year there will be only one science technician to tend atmospheric monitoring gear and send data home.

Eight countries, including Italy and Spain, have automated their bases so no one needs to stay in winter.

But Antarctica NZ operations planner Peter Cleary says it would be difficult to automate everything at Scott Base, and the winter is useful to overhaul vehicles and renovate buildings.

"There is also the sovereignty issue. That shouldn't be under-rated," he adds.

Italy and Spain were not among the seven nations that claimed Antarctic territory before 1959. Forty-five years later, New Zealand apparently still dreams of a southern empire - with 10 people stuck in a very confined space this winter to prove it.