On 11 January we found the right sort of tabular iceberg. This specimen, about 50 metres high, with perhaps half a dozen times as much sitting below the surface, was ideal for the Scott Polar Research Institute experiment. Three scientists, together with six helpers from the ship’s company, were ferried by helicopter to the top of the iceberg complete with the impedimenta of scientific instruments to establish a semi-permanent automatic satellite transmitting station. The ship also launched a wave-rider buoy that was to give an indication of the sea state at any time. This berg was wedge-shaped, roughly one and a half miles long and a mile wide at the base of the wedge. It was also heavily crevassed at the apex, so those who jumped from the helicopter experienced the dubious pleasure of a snow bath up to their necks.
The plan was to dig a large hole in the surface to install a fleximeter. This instrument would provide an indication of how the iceberg flexed, and through that to form a judgement of what would happen if it was pushed to the north-east by the weather and sea. The idea was to try and predict whether these forces would cause the iceberg to break up. A transmitter, also mounted at the top, would provide satellite communication data that included position, course and speed. Ultimately it was hoped that the experiment would successfully monitor the life cycle of the iceberg during the course of a year.
Another scientific project was to explore what happens to the krill during the winter months. It was known that penguins tend to disappear in the colder months and whales and seals are also pretty scarce. One possible conclusion was that they followed the krill. But it was the view of some scientists that large tabular icebergs are concave underneath and swarms of krill could use these areas as their winter home. This research was at least part-funded by Arab money. The other side of the research coin was to consider ways in which icebergs could be transported to warmer climes as a source of fresh water and energy.
Although the Sandwich Islands are bleak and inhospitable, they abound with marine wild life and feature unusual rock formations and associated flora. As another part of our scientific programmes on behalf of the British Antarctic Survey we were to assess variations in microbe-flora for comparison with other places in similar latitudes. This work was to dovetail with the Attenborough filming projects. Aerial photographs were taken of all the seal and penguin colonies for an ecological study. One problem here was that high-level photography, valuable equally for ecological and for cartographic purposes, was going to be difficult, sometimes impossible, because of the low cloud and poor weather.
Visibility in the Antarctic can reduce very quickly. On the occasion when we had the Scott Polar team on top of the iceberg visibility suddenly reduced to below 100 yards. The ship remained within the vicinity for some hours waiting for an improvement. As daylight began to fail we edged to within 50 yards of the iceberg. It was brown trouser time when we caught a glimpse of the massive ice shelf mistily towering above us. Without being able to get an horizon it was too dangerous to fly the helicopters. All we could do was to remain in radio contact and wait. Fortunately the marines and scientists on the iceberg had emergency equipment and rations. They dug a snow hole and stuck it out overnight.
One of the Scott Polar team, the Norwegian explorer Monica Kristianson, was a natural morale booster. Indeed any lady who is as resourceful and gorgeous as Monica should probably be categorized as a secret weapon. Some years later she tried a solo run behind a dog team to the South Pole. She didn’t make it but did make her reputation. But I sometimes think about that night on the iceberg. They all had to snuggle up together. I wondered which hardy lad had the special responsibility of keeping Monica warm.
It was at this time that we received an SOS signal from the BAS base on the South Orkney Islands to say that the base was running dangerously low on food and essential supplies. The problem had arisen because the Bransfield could not make it into the base because she had been caught in the pack. We were forced to mount a rescue in deteriorating weather. This was my first view of pack ice. It was the radar that first picked up what looked like a coastline. In the daylight we saw a fog bank rolling towards us. This proved to be a northern extremity of the winter ice that had not yet melted. It had to be negotiated. It was still heavy pack, some 8–9 feet thick, but separating. The Endurance made necessarily slow progress. We rose up on the pack then down again. The bow rose and dipped like the nose of a veteran steeplechaser. On each fall there was a crunch like trampled bones as the ice split and shattered. For those of us who were in the Antarctic for the first time it was a memorable experience. Camera teams hung almost over the ice-breaking bow as we made best use of our ice-strengthened plating. This was not a time for reminding anyone that we were not truly an ice-breaker or that we were seriously underpowered for the task of ploughing through fast ice.
After thirty-six hours of this slow progress we landed the emergency supplies at Signy. The Attenborough team also came ashore to take advantage of a rare filming opportunity. They managed to capture some remarkable marine life footage.
Our next destination was Beauchene Island, south of the Falklands and right in the weather course of low pressure areas tracking round from Cape Horn. This is a severe area when the weather is bad but David wanted to take the opportunity to land if possible. I was concerned. There could be a problem getting them back if the weather worsened. It would be tricky setting a course for the helicopters and the rough sea added to the risk. We just got away with it by using the lee of the island to provide a modest amount of shelter.
David was thrilled to bits with the island. They filmed albatrosses taking off along grassy paths as if they were 747s on runways, and he also filmed skuas and a variety of petrels.
Our side of the operation began with the problems of getting the helicopters and personnel ashore, and ended with some rather fraught moments as we retrieved the team in the late afternoon. At one point I had visions of acres of newsprint carrying the obituary of a very distinguished film maker, not to mention a gallant aircrew.
This first work period ended when we returned to Port Stanley. Following the long Antarctic silence the small town seemed both lively and welcoming. Now it was back to playing guardship. We said goodbye to David and his lively lieutenants, Hugh Maynard, Ned Kelly, and Dickie Bird. We also said goodbye to Peter Wadhams and his iceberg research team which included the eminent glaciologist Olaf Orheim and the delectable Monica Kristianson. Our sailors were particularly sad to see her go.
‘And I’m so sad to say goodbye to my boys,’ she said and meant it.
I accepted an invitation to inspect the resident Royal Marine detachment, Party 8901, commanded by my old friend from HMS Nubian, Major Robin Gilding. This was a deservedly popular detachment which had become utterly integrated into island life. But in numbers the detachment was utterly inadequate as a serious deterrent to an invasion force. They had a tactical plan for defending the islands, but this was primarily planned as a response to the kind of incidents that had already occurred. Indeed, they did an excellent job in dealing with an incursion on West Falkland.
For the next work period we were to embark HE the Governor and his wife, Mavis. This was to be Rex Hunt’s first visit to the Antarctic. We also welcomed a Pebble Mill documentary crew led by the production experts John Smith and Peter Hercombe and presenter Bob Langley. This team, which was steered by Marion Foster and Carol Morgan from Birmingham, had already built an excellent reputation for location work.
The plan was to make a series of six programmes in the Antarctic, the Falklands and Argentina. The outcome was extraordinary not just in terms of enlightening and entertaining television but also in the parts that proved to be prophetic. The greatest drama occurred with an unintentional re-enactment. The Endurance was stuck fast in the ice for a couple of days in the Weddell Sea. The irony of being very close to where Shackleton’s Endurance became fast was not lost on the documentary makers. Happily we managed to escape rather more quickly.
During my briefing I was warned abou
t the possibility of being stuck in the pack and fast ice; when it happened my concern was not so much for safety, but how to do our work. The longest period that any British Antarctic Survey ship has been stuck in recent years is fifty-four days. If something similar happened to us it would end the season with a great deal of work uncompleted.
While the wardroom and the TV team were enjoying themselves at a Burns supper I was on the bridge trying to work out how to break free. Our options seemed limited to trying to blast our way out with demolition charges, or to wait for a change in wind to push a large sheet of flat ice in a direction that would open up a channel for Endurance to back out of. The sailors were massively entertained by the predicament; they played football on the pack ice. The TV team were equally delighted; here was real Shackleton-style adventure.
My main anxiety was possible damage beneath the waterline. We were listing slightly to port which, although not worrying in itself, could be an indicator of something more sinister. Happily the ice opened up for us naturally and we continued our passage southwards with increasing certainty of no significant damage.
James Ross Island, our next stop, was to be the site of some geological work for the British Antarctic Survey. It was a place almost unknown and therefore greatly in need of preliminary hydrographic survey. After three days of trouble-free steaming it may have been easy to be lulled into a false sense of security. But the Antarctic has a way of reminding you to take it seriously. Without warning the depth of water suddenly reduced from about 30 fathoms to three in the space of a few hundred yards. We went full astern then paused to assess the situation. Our instruments suggested an underwater pinnacle of some size. We avoided becoming impaled by no more than a few seconds. This rocky pinnacle has since been named Barker Bank. It has been suggested that I earned an appropriate kind of marine immortality by giving my name to a serious hazard to shipping.
These moments of anxiety were captured on the Pebble Mill film. They always astonished me with their ability to whip out camera at the first hint of drama, or when things were at their most fraught. This perhaps begins to explain why no movie producer has ever approached Nick Barker to play the Kenneth More style of stiff upper lip hero.
On the deck immediately beneath the bridge the Governor and his wife had a special double cabin. On the same deck there were two smaller cabins housing the Flight Commander, Lieutenant Commander Tony Ellerbeck, and the Navigating Officer, Lieutenant Commander Bill Hurst. On the starboard side was my day cabin, sleeping cabin, and a small bathroom. Aft was the wireless office, the main communications centre, which became the Operations Room during the Conflict.
The other room on that deck was a pantry used by my leading steward, Deacon, whose misfortune it was to take care of me for almost three years. He did an outstanding job, particularly as his duties extended to looking after our star guests. During the first work period he looked after David Attenborough who also took his meals in my cabin. For the second work period Rex and Mavis Hunt followed the same arrangement, except of course when they accepted hospitality ashore. This meant three meals a day at the Captain’s table, an arrangement that may be delightful on a cruise ship, but which could become culturally claustrophobic on board Endurance.
In order to save our honoured guests from continuous helpings of Barker anecdotes I invariably asked other officers to join us for dinner. Apart from adding much-needed stimulation to the conversation it also gave the Governor and his wife the chance to get to know all the officers in the ship. And just in case this routine began to pall I also invited senior ratings for dinner or drinks. As the weeks went by Rex got to know every face on board. And when we finally left our Falklands station thirty months later most of the ship’s company had enjoyed reciprocal hospitality at Government House in Port Stanley.
We had planned to do geological work on James Ross Island with Dr Mike Thompson of the British Antarctic Survey. It had been a season of troublesome transport for them and typically Mike was marooned on one of the British Antarctic bases on the Peninsula. The plan had been that he would fly up to the area in a Twin Otter aircraft but the plane had been grounded due to poor weather and minor mechanical problems. In the end he was forced to supervise the geological work from a distance. I spoke to him twice a day on the radio and we exchanged information on fossil collection and earth and rock samples. I relayed his instructions from the bridge and our sailors and Royal Marines were deployed to collect the samples from the areas he designated. The island was divided into a grid and each day we would go to a selected square either by boat or helicopter. It was a strange feeling to be working in areas where man had never even stood before. It was certainly true to say that parts of the island were completely unknown territory.
Despite working in this unusual way we managed to complete nearly all the geological and palaeontological work and a significant amount of the survey. To accomplish this both our helicopters were flying almost constantly. This was not without risk as the Wasp has one engine. If it fails, and the helicopter goes down, the only real chance of rescue is by the other helicopter. Because of this there were restrictions on the range from the ship that a solo helicopter was allowed to operate. Whilst the safety implications were obvious, it was also a limiting factor in the ground we could cover.
The Wasp is not the ideal aircraft for the Antarctic. Because of the single engine and the possible need for a quick exit, they normally flew with the doors off. This might have been OK in the Mediterranean, but in an already cold climate the added airborne chill factor made it a pretty uncomfortable ride. The air crew were plugged into their heated suits, but passengers had to rely on a bulk of clothing that made them look like competitors in a Paddington Bear lookalike contest. Despite these precautions, at the end of longer trips exposed skin was tinged with blackness. I experienced this most days, either flying to one of the international bases or to a work area. Despite the discomfort it was thrilling to be airborne in this ice-clad corner of the world.
The Pebble Mill team were now concentrating on a film recreation of Ernest Shackleton’s epic trip from the Weddell Sea to Elephant Island. For the latter part of this re-enactment the ship’s company became instant movie extras as ‘Shackleton’s intrepid crew’. This filming took place on the same beach where Shackleton’s crew had been marooned. It is a forbidding place, but it was impossible to recapture the essence of Shackleton’s epic voyage of in a small boat from Elephant Island to South Georgia. Despite this heroism, it was almost a year before the crew were rescued. They had created shelters from the inverted hulls of the Endurance’s other two boats.
Much later, during the run up to the conflict, when contact with home was sparse, the Pebbles kept us in touch with letters and news videos. This made an enormous difference. The extraordinary thing is that Bob Langley maintains to this day that it was just a matter of routine courtesy. For ‘courtesy’ of that order I am eternally grateful.
Another member of the team, John Smith, later joined forces with Lords Buxton and Shackleton, Sir Vivian Fuchs and others, to set up SWAG – the South West Atlantic Group. This was a kind of ‘Friends of Endurance’ with a fair amount of political clout.
The Pebble Mill ‘South Atlantic’ series proved to be more than perceptive, particularly in terms of the politics. It is perhaps rare for media people to have such a thorough grasp of issues as convoluted as the Argentine claim to the Falklands. I have no doubt that Rex and Mavis Hunt, their co-hosts for many dinners, had a great deal to do with that. The ‘Pebbles’ were primarily concerned about the future sovereignty of the islands because of the potential threat to living resources and the management of scientific projects. They were also ahead of the game when it came to painting probable political scenarios. The programmes made it abundantly clear that the Argentine threat should be taken seriously.
Even without a military threat the dangers of sailing in Antarctic waters are real enough. Night orders for the Officer of the Watch invariably included an instructio
n to keep a lookout for bergy bits and growlers. These are colloquial names for types of small icebergs. At 10 or 12 knots they could make quite a dent in the hull of even the relatively well-protected Endurance, They could easily pierce the side of a modern thin-skinned ship. Infra-red binoculars are needed to pick them out.
Coastal navigation in those waters is full of hazards. Two large icebergs can create a temporary channel through which the water is funnelled fast. If this causes you to lose steerage way the tidal stream is sufficient to slew the ship across an ice-made channel. This happened to us once when we glanced an iceberg quite hard. The damage was minimal only because we were making way slowly. The Officer of the Watch recovered a thin strip of red-painted metal which was later to be taken home and mounted on a commemorative plaque. I have no doubt that even 15 years later this conversation piece evokes the moment.
The Endurance also called on the Argentine, British and American bases in the area. Rex Hunt was particularly impressed with the atmospheric science projects in progress at the British Faraday Base and the biological work on penguins and seals at the American Palmer Base. For reasons that can only be described as political, Rex was not permitted to visit the Argentine bases. Wherever possible I did my best to represent him. Unlike other bases, where serious scientific work was in progress, the feeling was that the Argentine purpose was primarily to create political precedent. Two such bases were on Seymour Island and at Hope Bay where Argentine families were accommodated. There were also temporary bases in the Lemaire Channel, known as the Kodak Gap because of the fjord-like scenery. The Antarctic has a trick of making the most spectacular places most difficult navigationally. Here there are icebergs great and small, pack and fast ice, and a chill blast of weather funnelling down from the high peaks on either side of the channel. While a stint on the bridge demanded the ultimate in concentration, the ship’s company clicked away with their cameras from the upper deck.
Beyond Endurance: An Epic of Whitehall and the South Atlantic Page 7
