by Chris Geater
Even though Steve was reluctant to authorise a traverse to the Ranvic Glacier he conceded in the end and called it a training exercise. When traversing past the station limits a permit was required and an emergency plan put in place. There were no shortage of volunteers and eventually they decided that the newbies would benefit the most from the training chaperoned by four trained and experienced crew. Allan, John, Steve, Natalie, a scientist who went by the name Bear, another mechanic called 'Spiz' and myself left a couple of days after my discussion with Steve once the weather forecast was favourable.
The route was to take us south west along the Christensen coast, through the narrows of the Hop and Filla Island group and then south to the glacier. Due to the topographical nature of the glacier where it met the ocean, or at this time of the year the sea ice, it was necessary to come ashore slightly to the north and then navigate the terrain to the location. Strapped to one side of one of the Haggs was a long boom.
Bear explained, “This piece of equipment is something you don’t want to be without on a trip like this. It’s a crevasse radar, I’ll be leading when we traverse the glacier and this will hang off the front of the Haggs to give us the heads up, driving down crevasses that are invisible on the surface is something you want to avoid even though the Ranvic is pretty stable and not treacherous, unlike the Chaos Glacier named such for all the right reasons.”
We left at dawn to take advantage of all the light available, one hundred and twenty kilometre round trip was a reasonable traverse in this part of the world and would take over six hours or more depending on how successful we were in locating the Russian equipment.
Spiz headed the convoy in a quad bike with the unusual high flotation tyres, essential on this surface. Bear drove the front Haggs with Allan and myself. Steve, Natalie and John followed in the second Haggs with a trailer containing our emergency equipment.
Even though the surface looked smooth and flat there were several dangers. Tide cracks create ice walls up to one metre high in places and these can be show stoppers. One section we were to navigate called the Narrows concerned Steve. Due to currents the ice can be quite thin and slushy. Spiz carried a hand auger on his quad used to check the thickness of the ice just to be certain.
The ice appeared to be smooth until you started driving on it in a short tracked vehicle designed to keep you warm but not a lot of thought to your kidneys. That being said, the scenery once we came out from the shadow of the headland heading south towards the Donskiye Islands took your breath away with its beauty. The towering blue rolling ice wall of the Sorsdal Glacier dwarfed everything around as it raced towards us, an ice land yet not land, an infinite landscape of stretching white plains and turquoise bergs, the surface alive as whimsical ice particles migrated at the mercy of the wind. Enormous long shadows cast by the early sun played out along the plains giving a pedestrian crossing effect.
We kept a steady pace until entering the narrow valleys between the islands, a preordained GPS shortcut. Rocky mountainous shores, a dark and threatening contrast with the bright envelope, our progress slow as Spiz, half a kilometre in front sampled the ice thickness. Emerging from the surrounding dirty land the Chaos Glacier appeared on the horizon to our left and we turned east to the rocky shore where we were to ‘land’ and make our way to the Ranvic.
Rumbling across the rough surface Bear kept a close eye on the radar, dark and light green shadows rolled down the screen, fortunately crevasse free data. The transmitter protruded like a long bowsprit bobbing in front of the vehicle where he attached it once we arrived at the glacier.
“Almost there,” Bear informed us and the others on his radio. “Two K’s to go.”
The terrain although undulating appeared formless, as we approached the location no evidence appeared to indicate that anything occurred here five months ago. Spiz waited for us to catch up as we slowed to a crawl, stopping on a slight rise. An obvious scar now stood out to our left in a small rift, not apparent until we were almost upon it. The ice piled up around a recently dug large hole, even the track marks could be seen indicating recent excavator activity.
Freezing air filled my lungs as I exited the warm enclosure, spikes on my boots keeping me steady on the slick icy surface. Coming from the cabin filled with engine and electronic noise the silence was welcome.
“Well, well,” said Steve. “The neighbours were up early this season.”
We stood around one side of the excavation, close to three metres deep, three sides steep but one more like a ramp. Signs of camping and human occupation surrounded the site.
I walked around to the other side and noticed a discolouration in the ice nearby. A closer inspection revealed the second burnt-out vehicle close to the surface. The Russian retrieval team were probably returning as we stood.
Scattered around the site were several blackened tool boxes and other paraphernalia covered in a thin veneer of ice, some warped steel tubes evidence of extreme temperatures.
Allan pointed them out. “Tubes for core samples. I'm surprised they left them here.”
Natalie removed one of her gloves and hovered her hand over one end of a tube without touching the metal surface, a wise precaution in these temperatures. “This is still slightly warm, I can feel it, how is that possible?”
I did the same and felt the steel of the nearest tube, the surface was obviously warmer than the ambient temperature.
Bear called out from a distance pointing to something in or on the glacier. “Looks like another one of those tubes,” he shouted, his voice travelling the distance with remarkable clarity.
Sure enough, just centimetres below the surface lay a long tube similar to the ones near the excavation only straight and shiny.
“Must have dropped off the rack before they experienced the fire,” Natalie observed.
“Would it be a big job to dig it out, maybe take it back to Davis with us, a souvenir?” I suggested.
“Not sure if that would be neighbourly,” Steve said. “Sort of stealing.”
“More like salvage,” I replied. “We could always return it to our friends, doing them a favour really, getting all the hard work done for them, giving them back a clean piece of equipment, jolly generous of us.”
Natalie piped up, “I reckon Harry has a point. Wouldn’t hurt to have a look at some of those samples.”
“I think we should leave everything as it is,” John said surprising us all.
We turned to him, outspoken candour was not really his thing.
“Its Russian gear, belongs to them, should leave it,” he added with emotion.
“Nonsense, it's lying in the middle of Antarctica, fair salvage.” Allan wasn't to be robbed of his opportunity to study the core samples.
“I insist,” he insisted stepping over and straddling the pipe.
“What's going on John?” I asked. This guy was an enigma.
He just stared back, hostile.
Natalie stepped forward, “It's not really up to you John, we insist also and if it's okay with Steve we’re taking this sample.” She moved to make her claim.
He stepped forward and gave her a stiff arm to the chest. She executed a lovely inverted roundhouse kick to a specific area between his legs in the exact style taught to me during my training on Swan Island by taekwondo expert Master Hait. Her response took him by surprise, as it did for all of us. John reacted quickly revealing speed and experience, almost avoided the snap of the instep but alas he fell onto the ice groaning. Steve looked bewildered, I liked the girl.
I turned to Steve, “Well now that we’ve established John’s feelings how about we cut this thing free and take it with us, what do you think?” He just nodded.
Violence wasn't foreign to him, he had a career of dealing with it, just not something he expected in his polar utopia.
“Could be invaluable to understanding the unusual events occurring here over the past few months,” Allan agreeing with the consensus as scientists do. “I mean, look at those ol
d tubes in the rack, they weren’t subject to a diesel fire, it was something else.”
Steve exited his reverie and relented, “Alright, we’ll need to crack on then, time to return to base. Temperatures dropping, could be a storm.”
Bear brought the Hagg up with the trailer and pulled out a rechargeable concrete type saw to cut through any ice surrounding the tube. He turned to the task and the diamond tipped blade made short work of the ice as he ran it along each side. Spiz chipped the surface ice away using a long handled ice pick and in a few minutes they both lifted the tube and dragged it from its grave. Using a small ice pick Allan took an orange sized sample and placed it into a square insulated container.
“It's too long to fit into the trailer, I'll strap it into the radar boom rack, should do the trick,” Bear suggested.
The combined mass of tube and sample required three of us to place it into position on the rack. At twice the length of the Hagg it hung out in front a few metres in competition with the crevasse boom. We secured it with sections of rope and commenced our return journey.
John recovered to some extent and limped into the rear Hagg, Natalie decided to return with Bear, Allan and I.
The surface was awash with ice particles as an increased wind whipped them into a frenzy. We didn't make very good time on our return arriving at the station as the long afternoon shadows crept across the terrain like a large sundial. Bear pulled up at the laboratory. One of the technicians met us at the entrance to a section of the building cluttered with field equipment where it was suggested the core sample tube could be off loaded and stored while the samples were analysed. Allan, Natalie and myself pushed Steve pretty hard before he agreed, on the condition we returned the tube to Progress at a future time.
Bear and I held the ends of the tube while Allan removed the bindings. The technician arranged two pallets on the concrete floor. Once in place Allan discussed with the technician the method of removing the sample and how to carry out the analysis.
Standing there I could smell hot water or steam and looked around for the guilty heater or boiler. Wisps of vapour hung in the air around us, none of the equipment seemed responsible. I turned, the mysterious mist emanated from one end of the sample tube, floating white oozed out along with a trickle of water.
The hair stood up on the back of my head, “Ahh, gents, I think this is something we should be worried about,” I suggested and pointed.
Allan turned but didn't seem all that surprised, “Wow, okay, quick, lets get this outside.”
Even as we bent to pick it up steam and water began to puff with enthusiasm.
I grabbed one end, dropping it immediately, my skin burnt through the thick gloves. One of the pallets began to smoke and then ignited into a flame quickly followed by the other. The technician grabbed an extinguisher, clouds of white powder did little to reduce the inferno. The explosions became so violent they began to rattle the steel walls of the enclosure. Visibility was down to only a few metres.
“Do you think it’ll blow?” I shouted at Allan.
“It might,” he replied.
“How long before it does?” I enquired.
“Soon.” He shrugged.
Immediately a piece of deafening artillery discharged, the tube shot through the exterior wall taking several sheets of metal cladding with it.
Soon is such an ambiguous word.
Scientist and technicians exited the doors of the building at a similar pace to the steam, one brave soul sprinted up the hill away from the scene with impressive alacrity while another pushed his colleague and ran straight over the top of him, all thoughts of gathering at the muster point put aside in favour of expeditious evacuation.
The recalcitrant warped and twisted tube continued to sizzle and pop in the exterior ice surrounded by impressive clouds of steam. A fire alarm sounded in the background, a team of people raced towards a red shed marked ‘Emergency Vehicle Shelter’. A ubiquitous Hagg appeared dressed as a fire truck and emitted a tribe of personnel armed with extinguishers while the others ran out a hose from the rear of the trailer. The two pallets were extinguished, fortunately the tube had run its course and other than some bubbling water and steam the danger was over. A babble of voices as the excited station members filled with adrenalin chatted about the fire.
Steve stood there shaking his head, the offending pipe lying before him, “Well that worked out a little differently to what we expected.”
“Isn’t it something,” Allan all excited, eyes lit up.
“Any ideas why this happened?” Steve asked him.
“Well, yes and no,” Allan replied. “But theoretically some of the organisms that survive in these extreme climates have unknown capabilities.”
“Maybe prior to us bringing the Russian bomb back to our home might have been the time to bring this hypothesis up,” Steve growled.
“Yes, well, it's impossible to allow for all hypotheses, you'd never leave your bed. Just be grateful this didn't happen on the way back, glad it's a cold day.” Moments later he raced off into the recently evacuated science building with the small container containing the sample, unnoticed except by me. I hope he knows what he is doing.
“We’ll talk about that later,” Steve not happy at all. “Lets get this all cleaned up. The paper work's going to be a nightmare.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
I found Allan in the library section of the recreational room reading a marvel comic book.
“Science versus science fiction Allan, interesting hobby.” I sat across from him on the comfortable lounge.
“You’d be surprised,” he replied. “If you read some of the old comics and stories from fifty or sixty years ago, much of it has come to pass.”
He leaned over and passed me the colourful literature.
“See that watch Mister Fantastic is wearing, he’s communicating with his base and receiving maps and pictures. That was written almost sixty years ago when mobile phones were not even heard of, yet here he is wearing what is essentially an apple watch.”
I mustn’t have looked as impressed as I should.
“I think it’s interesting,” he said leaning even further forward. “Guys like Stan Lee were capable of great fortuitousness, I wonder if inspiration for many of our technological breakthroughs came from stories like this, or even authors such as Jules Verne.”
“Indeed,” nodding my head trying to look impressed. I passed the comic back.
“It occurred to me that you haven’t brought Steve up to speed regarding a small field sample,” I tried to sound like a conspirator not an accuser.
“I can't believe nothing was said,” he replied. “And now here you are.”
“Why the secrecy? Surely as a scientist this is exactly why you’re here?”
“Not really,” he replied. “You see, for all intents and purposes I'm here to carry out research on the climate, much easier to gain access to government facilities if you talk about the climate and melting ice, not so easy if you mention weird yet natural phenomena, not as credible.”
Are any of us on this station really who we say we are?
“If I were to ask you to think like Stan Lee and come up with an explanation for the incident with our piece of pipe and maybe even our friend Michael the mechanic,” bless his pyrotechnic soul, “what would be your response?” I asked him.
“Good question Harry. The Antarctic holds many undiscovered mysteries that have yet to be revealed.” Oh no, not another Rogering.
“Each year scientists are discovering new and exciting extremophiles, organisms that are natural bioreactors in extreme environments, the stuff of science fiction as you so aptly put it.” He was excited, I was confused.
Allan’s file revealed that he held a doctorate in biology specialising in micro organisms. His resume placed him in various locations around the world where extreme conditions existed, both hot and cold. Many of these positions were with NGOs or Government departments like Australia’s CSIRO. I wondered if he
was here due to Michaels situation or was it a coincidence?
“Extremophiles, bioreactors, I am just a simple safety person, that type of stuff is way above my paygrade.”
Allan settled in to deliver a lecture to the child sitting opposite. “Extremophiles or extremozymes are organisms that have adapted to exist in extreme conditions hence the name which comes from Latin, extremus meaning ‘extreme’ and Greek philiā meaning ‘love’. They thrive in physically or geochemically extreme conditions that are detrimental to most life on Earth, and many of which are these natural bioreactors. They produce some unique by-products.
Our man-made artificial bioreactors are complex engineered devices. In order for them to operate, continuous nutrients and pure oxygen need to be added, the effluent is then extracted and the organisms separated, everything goes through a sterilisation process, not simple at all. Unique to the Antarctic our extemophiles known as chemolithotroph actually metabolise hydrogen. These tiny microorganisms separate oxygen and hydrogen in water, like Jeff does for his balloons only he uses electrolysis and large amounts of electricity to bring about the separation.”
“Maybe he should use these extemophiles, reduce his power consumption,” I contributed to the scientific discussion.
“Closer to the truth than you think Harry,” Allan kindly replied. “The potential for a source of power like this, it's the holy grail. If it could be carried out efficiently and with a low power input, we would solve all our energy problems. The issue is that these microorganisms operate at very low temperatures. For us to extract the gas they would have to operate in a super low temperature fluid with the same H2O ratio as water which is something quite difficult to create.”
“Your samples, why didn't they behave like the ones in the tube?”
