The ice of the Antarctic continent consists of the grounded ice sheet (layers of ice on top of bedrock), floating ice shelves, glaciers and frozen streams. The grounded ice contains by far the majority of the Antarctic ice. However, it is in one particular ice shelf that I am most interested (for obvious reasons!): The Ross Ice Shelf, or “The Barrier” as it used to be called.

“As we approached the land under all studding-sails, we perceived a low white line extending from its eastern extreme point as far as the eye could discern to the eastward. It presented an extraordinary appearance, gradually increasing in height, as we got nearer to it, and proving at length to be a perpendicular cliff of ice, between one hundred and fifty and two hundred feet above the level of the sea, perfectly flat on the top, and without any fissures or promontories on its seaward face.”

This was how James Ross described his first glimpse of the Barrier in January 1841. Exciting as it was to be the first to discover it, there was also the frustration at realising that it couldn’t be surmounted, to uncover what lay beyond.

“Meeting with such an obstruction was a great disappointment to us all, for we had already, in expectation, passed far beyond the eightieth degree, and had even appointed a rendezvous there, in case of the ships accidentally separating. It was, however, an obstruction of such a character as to leave no doubt upon my mind as to our future proceedings, for we might with equal chance of success try to sail through the Cliffs of Dover, as penetrate such a mass.”

This enormous mass of ice continued to be known as “The Barrier”, and still is on occasions, notwithstanding that it has been officially name as the Ross Ice Shelf.

Of course I was aware of how immense this ice shelf is. However, it was wasn’t until I saw it on a chart, that I really understood its magnitude. I now have two New Zealand marine charts on the doors of my bedroom wardrobe. They are both of the Ross Sea region, and I am imagining my journey next year, when I will take the charts with me and mark our course on them.

The Ross Ice Shelf is mainly afloat, with only a small area either resting on land (at its southern edge) or loosely attached (at its eastern and western edges). While it is easy for us to get information like this from reliable sources on the internet and elsewhere, for Scott this fact was an hypothesis. During the winter of 1911, when the members of Scott’s Terra Nova expedition spent the dark months at the winter lodgings at Cape Evans, they entertained themselves on occasion by giving lectures to their fellow team members. It was on one of these evenings that Scott delivered his lecture on “The Great Ice Barrier and the Inland Ice”, during which he drew from research and findings from his earlier Discovery Expedition and expounded his theory that the ice shelf was probably afloat. The manuscript of this lecture is now available, and I couldn’t help myself but obtain a copy.

In the lecture, Scott lists a number of reasons why he came to this conclusion. Firstly, Scott refers to the fact that the outline of the edge which Ross made on his much earlier expedition was different from the outline in 1911, leading to the conclusion that the edge had receded. Scott also went on to talk about the crevasses; the fact that their uniformity would be unlikely if the ice was moving across bedrock. Moreover, the temperature taken down the crevasses rose, suggesting warmth from the sea below. Scott also put forward a suggestion as to why the ice shelf moved, having concluded that the “sluggish glacial movement” couldn’t be the sole driving force. Rather he explained (giving credit to Dr. Simpson for the idea) that deposits of snow on the surface also contributed to this. We now know that the freezing of the sea below the shelf is another factor which causes ice shelves to move.

 

 

Meanwhile, I thought that it would be good to share some of the interesting information about the Antarctic which I have discovered. I’m not going to reel off large numbers of facts and statistics. There are numerous sources from which to obtain this. One of these is the Cool Antarctica website. While I haven’t read through the site in detail (I have my work cut out for me reading books at the moment), I have often ended up on this website when I wanted to research something from one of my books.

So, what I am going to do is select a small number of things about Antarctica which have caught my interest so far.

Katabatic wind

The first thing to challenge my concept of logic was a meteorological wind phenomenon called katabatic wind.  Wind patterns over this continent are quite different from those across the rest of the world. Rather than being governed predominantly by atmospheric pressure,  they are influenced by the shape of the icecap. In short, wind flows downhill with the force of gravity. (Feel free to research elsewhere for the scientific explanation of why this happens). The concept is quite mind-blowing! (Pardon the pun)

Crevasses

And then I would read about the explorers’ encounters with crevasses. I must admit to finding this quite terrifying. Imagine the prospect of sledging while knowing that you could drop into a crevasse at any moment. The problem was that the crevasse might not be visible, as they were often spanned by ice bridges which were then covered in snow. The weight of the sledge, the dogs and the men would be too much for the bridge to hold them, and the whole team could end up dangling on the end of their harnesses (dogs included) while the sledge precariously balanced atop. Or worse.

In his book, “South with Mawson”, Charles Laseron describes an incident on the journey which Mawson, Mertz and Ninnis made in 1912.

“On the 12^th of December, 300 miles from the base, all was well with the party. The surface was good, with only an occasional old snow-filled crevasse to suggest possible danger. The dogs were pulling well, and Mertz, ahead on his skis, led the way. Behind him came Mawson, with one sledge and team of dogs, and some distance in the rear Ninnis with the other sledge. Presently Mertz looked back and waved his ice-axe, the signal for any unusual feature. Mawson, riding on the sledge, came to the indistinct margins of a crevasse, similar to thousands which they had already crossed. It seemed quite old and probably filled, so he hardly noticed it, except instinctively to wave the usual warning to Ninnis behind. Ninnis noted the warning and swung his sledge to cross it at right angles. Suddenly Mertz, waving frantically, brought Mawson to a standstill. He looked behind, but nothing was visible save the unbroken horizon of ice to the west. No sign of Ninnis, the sledge or the dogs. Unable for a moment to realise what had happened, both raced back to where a hole yawned in the lid of the crevasse they had just crossed.”

Within a month, Mertz had also died. Ninnis had been his closest friend on the expedition, with whom he had developed such a close bond that Laseron, in his book, had likened the affection which Mertz had of Ninnis as being almost maternal. After Ninnis’s death, it seems that Mertz became depressed, and hunger, fatigue and ill health obviously being fed by sorrow, gradually wore him down. Mertz died on the 7^th January 1913.

There are two glaciers between Adelie Land and George V Land. They lay next to each other. One is called Mertz Glacier, the other is called Ninnis Glacier. When I look at a map and see these names, the tragedy of how they died is strangely intertwined in my mind with the memory of the bond these two explorers had forged in such extreme circumstances.

On that same journey, ten days later, and now travelling on his own, Mawson narrowly escaped death himself…

“Suddenly plunging through space in a hidden crevasse, in a fraction of time the thought flashed through his mind that this was the end. But, with a jerk that drove the breath from his body, he pulled up, swinging round and round at the end of his sledging rope. A few feet above him was the half sledge, wedged at the top of the crevasse, on either two sheer walls which went down to the depths below, and affording neither hand nor foot hold by which to climb up. He hung for a while taking in his surroundings. Weakened by his previous trials, it seemed hopeless to reach the surface, but at least he would make the effort. Hand over hand he hoisted himself up; then, when at last he had his arm over the edge, it again collapsed, again precipitating him to the length of the rope. Then came the greatest temptation of all. His knife was in his belt – one cut, and his suffering would be over. He wrestled with the idea, but putting it behind him, he again essayed the climb. Inch by inch he went up, until it seemed he would never reach the top. With the last ounce of his strength he seized the sledge, then painfully, feet foremost, pushed himself out on top.”

I have yet to read Mawson’s book, “The Home of The Blizzard”. Mawson’s journey back to the base on his own is one of those remarkable feats of perseverance and courage which I am looking forward to reading more about, not to mention the amazing work which he and his team did to add so extensively to the knowledge of Antarctica.

Sastrugi

Such a strange word. And no clue in the word to give one an idea what it means. Sastrugi are formed by wind erosion of snow on the ice, similar to the way sand dunes are formed and appear. In fact, they have been referred to as frozen surf. I wonder if I’ll get to see any of these.

Blizzards

I don’t need to explain what blizzards are. Reading the explorers’ encounters with them, though, did lead me to a greater appreciation of the mercilessness of nature. With a limited supply of food and fuel, and with dwindling energy, the sledgers would sometimes have to stay camped to wait, helplessly, while a blizzard abated, until they could continue their journey.

I read about the noise of the storms. The following quote is taken from Apsely Cherry-Garrard’s book, “The Worst Journey in the World”, when Bowers, Wilson and Cherry-Garrard went on a winter journey to the rookeries of the Emperor Penguins.

“In the early hours of Monday there was an occasional hint of a lull. Ordinarily in a big winter blizzard, when you have lived for several days and nights with that turmoil in your ears, the lulls are more trying that the noise; ‘the feel of not to feel it’. I do not remember noticing that now. Seven or eight more hours passed, and though it was still blowing we could make ourselves heard to one another without great difficulty. It was two days and two nights since we had had a meal.”