Tiger Rock wind scour on the Mitchell

Tiger Rock with its stripey strata is an obvious and distinctive navigation aid on the Mitchell. The huge wind scour around it is invisible from the top when you pass by it even in good visiblity. This is a good example of the hazards that form around features as a result of blizzards and prevailing winds, and why we try and avoid travel in low viz conditions.
The melt lake around the rock is frozen, and has the most wonderful bubbles captured beneath its smooth dimpled surface. As you walk around on the ice, the crunching of the microspikes on your boots echos off the rock cliffs forming a mini percussion section that breaks the overwhelming silence of a windless Antarctic day.
Andrew, Elise, Adam and I spent close to an hour here marvelling at this juxtaposition of light, colour, texture and sound. Whilst I post them anyway, these pictures just don't quite capture the stunning surrealness of this spot.

Sunshine over a frozen wave. Photo: Jacque Comery

Tiger rock wind scour. Photo: Jacque Comery

The rock that gives Tiger Rocks its stripes. Photo: Jacque Comery

Frozen melt lake at Tiger Rock. Photo: Jacque Comery

Elise, Andrew and Adam. Photo: Jacque Comery

Frozen bubbles. Photo: Jacque Comery

Ice crack. Photo: Jacque Comery

Photo: Jacque Comery

Adam. Photo: Jacque Comery

Andrew at Tiger Rock. Photo: Jacque Comery

Discovering freedom on the Mitchell Peninsula

Recently I headed out to explore the Mitchell Peninsula (see Windmill Islands Map 2 or 5) with a few of the crew on a beautiful sunny Sunday afternoon. One of the things about the Antarctic landscape is the feeling of unbounded space. Aside from the texture of snow, and the colour of the exposed ice,  there are few features to catch your eye. Rocky outcrops and nunnatuks interject upon the dominating whiteness, providing a visual reference here and there, but on the whole a feeling of boundlessness prevails.

Checking out the tide cracks at O'Brien Bay. Photo: Jacque Comery

Sea ice ramp M-03 from the north side of the Mitchell onto O'Brien Bay. Photo: Jacque Comery

Whilst we normally travel along set cane line routes, the Mitchell Peninsula is one area that due to having less environmental hazards, is available for us to travel freely.
Such a strange feeling this is. As modern humans most of us spend our entire lives working within boundaries. Be they physical barriers, virtual no go areas established by rules and ownership, or barriers that we have created for ourselves in order to provide a structured world in which to operate, we suffer restriction. It is not until you are faced with such a wide open space that the weight of this truth is wholly apparent. Only those who have spent time on the open sea would understand this feeling of boundlessness. However the terrestrial experience is different.

Sparkes Bay ice cliffs. Photo: Jacque Comery

O'Brien Bay. Photo: Jacque Comery

For most of us, so comfortable in our structured worlds, the removal of guidance and limitation, creates an uneasiness. Where should I go first? And why? What should I do there?
Not only are we restricted in where we go, we also maintain a high degree of structure over ourselves in why we travel along our paths. When was the last time you wandered aimlessly with no objective. We are busily forging from place to place along set routes to achieve tasks, fulfil obligations, reach goals. Reflect on the last 24 hours and think about  where you went. Why did you go there and  how much freedom of choice did you enjoy in getting there, physical, or virtual.
My point you ask?
As I stood out on the Mitchell I realised that I could go in any direction on foot, cross no boundaries, challenge no territorial or ownership boundary, and it was strange. To feel overwhelmed by freedom of choice of movement; what a special thing to feel. Something that many people by way of environment, circumstance or by oppression of freedom will never know.

View from Keny out to Warrington Island. Photo: Jacque Comery

Above the ice cliffs looking over Sparkes Bay to Robinson Ridge. Photo: Adam Roberts

We expeditioners working with the Australian Antarctic Program, are lucky enough to work within a system which encourages recreation and exploration of our immediate environs, a luxury not afforded participants of many other nation's programs. So I grasp this opportunity wholeheartedly and make the most of it. This winter will probably be one of the few times in my life that I have the pleasure of feeling the remoteness, isolation and freedom from the modern world.

Adam and I inside Kenny Hut. Photo: Andrew Donald

Sea Ice access ramp from M-04 onto Sparkes Bay ( The black shap on the ice floe is a seal). Photo: Jacque Comery

A regurgitated Skua bolus tells a story of what these birds are feeding on. Photo: Jacque Comery

Kenny and the Hagg. Photo: Jacque Comery

Sled haul to Wilkes Station

The abandoned Wilkes Station lies to the north of Casey on the Clark Peninsula. Origainally set up by the US Government, it was handed over to the Australian Government in 1959. More on the history of Casey Station  here...http://winterat66south.blogspot.com.au/p/abou-casey-station.html
On the Saturday before Easter four of us set out to walk over to the old Station. We walked out along the A-line and then cut across below the Loken Moraines from waypoint A-05 directly to W-02 (check out the Windmill Islands Map 1 of 5 Click Here), keeping clear of the crevasse zone around the coast line. This is one of the few areas where we are approved to deviate from the cane lines and go 'cross country'. We had originally intended to ski this route, but high winds in the preceeding days had scoured all of the snow from the surface leaving the blue ice well and truely exposed.
The winds picked up along the way and it felt colder and colder, despite walking along at a cracking pace and hauling our survial packs. I was wishing that I had on thicker pants as my butt and legs were freezing!
Our survival packs - containing the same contents that I used to sleep out under the stars in my bivvy a few weeks ago - are required to be carried when we embark on any travel outside of Station limits. They have everything that we should need should we be required to go to ground in bad weather or an emergency. On this day, rather than carry our packs, we elected to drag them along in sleds.

Unfortunately on account of my hands also being freezing i didn't take too many pictures enroute. Despite wearing liner gloves and thick work gloves my fingers were going numb, so I graduated to mittens, and was not interested in unwrapping my fingers to play with my camera!
Once we arrived at the hut, we were met by the trusty Blue Hagglunds which had driven out to drop off a few guys spending the night at the Wilkes Hilton. We piled in and hitched a ride back to Station, stopping to snap a few photos along the way, and made it back in time for a hot shower, dinner and a few drinks. I can't wait to get back out to Wilkes to explore the area and embark on a Wilkes photo mission, from the warmth of the hut!

Stopping to play with my camera, as usual. Photo: Mark Grainger

On the W-Line to Wilkes Hut. Photo: Mark Grainger

Mark, Misty and Watto stop for a photo break. Photo: Jacque Comery

Crossing below the Loken Moraines. Photo: Mark Grainger

Old packing crates in the snow. Photo: Jacque Comery

Abandoned crates at Wilkes. Photo: Jacque Comery

Abandoned equipment at Wilkes. Photo: Jacque Comery

Cold, but still smiling! Photo: Mark Grainger