Sunday stroll around the Bailey Peninsula.

The blizzard that raged all Saturday night stopped abruptly early Sunday morning. We were presented with crystal clear skies and a view to the north..... of open water. 

Our burgeoning sea ice pack was gone. Dreams of sea ice travel anytime soon vanished.

After being unable to (or uninterested in) leaving the Red Shed during the blizzard travel restrictions yesterday, I was itching to depart the 'mothership' for a mini-hike, as a dear friend of mine would say, a photo mission, just a general stroll around. 

Mat, Adam and I deceided to grab our survival packs and set out on a 3-hour walk to the Shirley Island ice bridge and around the Bailey Peninsula.

Jacque overlooking O'Brien Bay with sea ice blown out. Photo: Adam Roberts

The landscape is so dynamic, and at every turn was evidence of the conditions of the past 24 hours and how it changes and sculpts the terrain. Swirling shapes in the snow pack, glowing blue ice stipped of its snow cover by the wind, the sound of the remains of the sea ice pack moving and creaking on the currents between the peninsula and Beall Island in O'Brien Bay. 

Bergs in the distance. Photo: Jacque Comery

Shirley Island sign post. Photo: Jacque Comery

Shirley Island at the ice bridge. Photo: Jacque Comery

As you walk every step has a musical quality. The packed snow squeaks and creaks beneath your feet. The micro spikes on your boots  ring and tinkle as the strike the ice underfoot, and frozen melt streams add a disconcerting crack and thud noise all at once as hollow pockets collapse and move under your weight. If you stop and listen you can hear your own heart beating, in between the huffing and puffing of your breaths in the cold air.

 

McMullin Island. Photo: Jacque Comery

Sculpted Snow. Photo: Jacque Comery

Rocky outcrop on the Bailey Peninsula. Photo: Jacque Comery

Crossing the frozen melt lake. Photo: Jacque Comery

Snow trapped in the ice. Photo: Jacque Comery

Bergs and blue ice. Photo: Jacque Comery

Mat and Adam. Photo: Jacque Comery

Beall Island. Photo: Jacque Comery

Ice scoured of snow cover by the blizzard. Photo: Jacque Comery

Shifting snow. Photo: Jacque Comery

Jacqueline, on the way home. Photo: Adam Roberts

View over Newcomb Bay on return to Casey. Photo: Jacque Comery

The life sized snow globe.

This weekend saw the first decent snow fall blanket the Station, since I arrived here.
Over Friday evening snow started to fall and by Saturday morning  there was a lovely white cloak over everything perhaps 20 cm deep. The sight of such dry fluffy snow inspired those of us at breakfast to dream of skiing, snowboarding, getting stuck in tree wells, powder runs, and kicked off lengthy discussions of our favourite ski hills...
Meanwhile outside the flakes got bigger, and in the still air they just piled on up, deeper and deeper. By smoko we figured we had about 40cm snow depth, and by the evening it was getting close to a metre deep in places.
Then today, as quickly as it all accumulated, it disappeared. Winds from the east over 45 kts and gusting up to 60 kts blew up in the afternoon today on account of a nearby weather system, trapping us in a giant life sized snowdome! Station travel conditions moved to 'Yellow' for caution on account of the wind and no visability.  By the evening though, the winds died out as quickly as they had appeared, once again exposing the ice and rock around station. Our roads are once again clear, and in just a few hours all of the snow has been blown away.
A lovely reminder of how dynamic the weather and environment is down here, and I think, just a taste of what is in store for us this winter.

Entrance to the Red Shed. Photo: Jacque Comery

Site services slowly getting buried. Photo: Jacque Comery

The Haggs all plugged in on the "Go Line". Photo: Jacque Comery

Creative driving. Photo: Jacque Comery

Snow settling on the new sea ice. Photo: Jacque Comery

Blue Hagg floats over the snow, returning with the crew from Wilkins Aerodrome. Photo: Jacque Comery

Snow. Photo: Jacque Comery