That’s Antarctica, baby – time to say goodbye
Dear readers,
All of a sudden, everything goes so fast. The year is over, we’ve helped our successors get settled in and officially handed over the station. A few of us are still away on traverses / inland expeditions, others are taking care of a few last tasks or taking a last trip to the ice shelf. All in all, things are winding down and somehow you get the feeling that it’s time to go. But how do you say goodbye to a place that’s grown so close to your heart, where you’ve seen and felt so much? How do you say goodbye to the Neumayer Station, which was our home sweet home, full of warmth and so many memories? To Atka Bay and the Ekström Ice Shelf? To a place you may never see again?
Ideally, you don’t – or you do it in a whirlwind. Literally. Our scheduled flight is just five days away and suddenly our so-called weather window – that is, our timeframe for flying out of Neumayer – is rapidly closing. A storm is brewing, and a phase of “whiteout conditions”, i.e., when it’s impossible to fly due to the lack of visibility, is on its way. We’ve probably already said it two or three times, but in Antarctica, the weather always, always calls the shots. The qualifier “weather permitting” is added to every plan. Right now, the weather will only permit us to go for a very short time, so the motto is: now or never. A decision is quickly reached. We’ll be flown out to the Norwegian Antarctic station “Troll” today – just six hours from now. Three of us ÜWIs who are still on expeditions and trudging their way back to the station in a snowcat (ca. 13 km/h) are picked up with the much-faster Skidoos. Thank goodness they’ve already packed in the unlikely event they’d have to leave at the drop of a hat. Half an hour before departure, they roll into the courtyard amidst the flying snow, covered in caked snow and out of breath, but in high spirits. In the meantime, everyone else has packed and tried to take care of any unfinished business. Oh well, at least this way we don’t have to go through the heartache of a difficult, drawn-out parting. We have to get moving, make sure everything works, and do it right now. Beside the airstrip, we say goodbye to the summer guests and our successors. There are big bear hugs, thank-yous, well-wishing and a few tears. Then we get on board. The AWI aeroplane Polar 5 will be flying us out – since the crew have been our “Neumayer neighbours” for some time, it feels a bit like a family outing with friends. Now it all goes very quickly. We buckle up and taxi to the airstrip amid plenty of cheers, then the plane takes off and we climb through the blowing snow and beyond. Neumayer looks smaller and smaller, we push our noses against the windows, our eyes glued to it. We see Atka Bay with its iceberg that looks just like a mountain cottage, with our cherished “Rumsgebirge” (roughly translates to “surprise mountains”)” and what we called the “fish’s mouth”, an ice shelf formation that we’d always wanted to see closer up. After that, it’s just unfamiliar white expanses, the glacier, ice shelf, sea ice and, in the distance, the shimmering blue Southern Ocean. That’s Antarctica, too – lonely, endless and incredibly beautiful. Before us lies uncharted territory, in every sense. What a great last adventure, what a turbulent departure, what a farewell just as a storm is approaching. “T-A-B”, as Antarctic pilots like to say: “That’s Antarctica, baby!”
As for our successors – who you’ll soon get to know through this blog – we wish them from the bottom of our hearts a wonderful overwintering, plenty of team spirit, plenty of fun together, and plenty of chances to be amazed by the wonders of Antarctica.
All that’s left now is to say thank you: thank you, Antarctica, thank you, Neumayer Station, and thank all of you who supported us from a distance throughout the year. It’s been a blast!
