In 1959, twelve countries negotiated the Antarctic Treaty, declaring the continent “a natural reserve, devoted to peace and science.” They did it largely in secret during the Cold War. The original signatories were Argentina, Australia, Belgium, Chile, France, Japan, New Zealand, Norway, South Africa, the Soviet Union, the U.K. and the U.S. The Treaty aims to protect the continent’s fragile ecosystem and resolve territorial disputes. It was also the first nuclear arms agreement. Then the Madrid Protocol to The Antarctic Treaty in 1991 prohibited oil and other mineral exploitation for 50 years.
By 2012, 49 nations representing more than three-quarters of the globe’s population had signed the Antarctic Treaty—a rare achievement in a world beset by conflict.
In 2041 Treaty countries could possibly renegotiate the ban on mining. The resource race in the thawing Arctic may forewarn us of Antarctica’s fate. The future of all regions also depends how individuals, industry and politicians respond to climate change and consider the human and ecological impact of a new land and commodity frontier.
There are some 45 research stations operated by 20 countries with over 4,000 scientists and support staff based there during the summer and a growing number of ship-based tourists.
At times Wendy and I both thought maybe we shouldn’t go to Antarctica.
HOME
DECEMBER 21–31, 1996
{Carol Devine}
No one was daunted by hard work or the drab weather.
We kept pulling, cutting and bundling.
It got chillier, rain almost turned to snow. Job won’t be done today.
DECEMBER 21, 1995
WTFirst night in new home. Left blackout curtains open; fantastic light at 3:00 a.m.
CDI got a call from Wendy over in the Russian kitchen; she said I should come to meet the base commander and pilot visiting from Artigas, Uruguay. Friendly, one balding, one with silver-black hair. We had typical chit-chat—where are you from, how many at your base—and I explained what we were doing. They had come to meet with Sergey and see his new price list for logistics services which we helped him make in English.
After breakfast Lena and I went to the Chilean base next door to post letters but because of the time difference in Chile, it was not open yet. We forgot the bizarre one-hour time change. Then we worked on Canada House: more interior decorating in the living and dining room. We wrote out the Russian alphabet to adorn the walls. Then I mopped in Meteo house and set up beds. I looked for the propane hookup for the fridge and walked back to Canada House. The volunteers are coming.
Lena said there is a Russian belief, “When you sleep in a new place for the first time, you will dream of your fiancé.” She also said, “This is an expedition, you work as a team.”
Vlad was hungover today. Everyone felt a lot of compassion. We missed him at our party. Want to give back to all the guys helping us all the time. Wendy prepared an awesome feast for all. When she served us the loaf of warm braided bread everyone looked at it longingly and then looked for a knife. I knew from Wendy’s exhibition opening where she also served her bread that we were meant to pull it apart with our hands. “Someone rip off the first piece,” I said, “that’s what Wendy wants.”
Scientist Charles Swithinbank, on the first international (Norwegian-British-Swedish) Antarctic expedition, in 1949–52 said, “People have got more and more specialized now, whereas at the time we only had a few people and we didn’t have all kinds of specialists . . . I was there as a glaciologist but a glaciologist needs a map to plot his observations and there was no map, so we were making maps at the same time . . . You don’t have to be a genius to contribute to knowledge.”
—John May, The Greenpeace Book of Antarctica: A new view of the seventh continent, 1988
DECEMBER 22, 1995
CDWe’ve been preparing for today forever. The volunteers arrive. We can start the cleanup in earnest. I feel nervous but excited to get cleaning. But what is the best approach? And who are we anyway? There is no guarantee that after we clean up the stuff that the Russians will maintain or continue the cleanup. They are already recycling, meaning the way they use and reuse equipment.
Excellent to meet Sean and John. Now our staff is complete. Sean has a wry sense of humour, tall John is a bit awkward. John was saying how different yet the same Bellingshausen looks since he was here in 1968.
I was impressed with the first group of seven volunteers. They were well-travelled and bright. I was happy they were sincerely keen to work. Our Christmas group included a family from California—a fifteen-year-old boy with his mother and grandmother, Andrew, Jeanne and Marianne; a couple, Lou and Dewey; and two men, James and Bob. Bob is with Condé Nast Traveler magazine. He’s part of the reason I’ve been nervous. He’s writing a story on our cleanup.
The volunteers arrived off the ship a close group that laughed a lot. Lou said he felt it was privilege enough to be on land at a research station, let alone to visit other stations.
Bob is a cool guy. So eager to get Russian, Chilean and other stamps in his passport. Excited as this is the only continent with many countries and no borders.
WTLate arrival of ship. Bedlam on the beach.
Three Zodiacs full of food coming to shore—crates, boxes, sacks and a frozen lamb carcass, hooves to the sky.
In Antarctica you do everything, and now I’m a butcher.
Roast pork loin first night—thanks, Marcos.
DECEMBER 23, 1995
WTPizza night
Custard with rum sauce and candied almonds
Cooking hell. Will I get organized?
Deliver cookies to Chileans
CDSetting up the kitchen, common area and rooms for volunteers was exhausting. But now we've started the cleanup it’s totally exhausting.
I’m glad we had a big breakfast. Pancakes. We were a work team of 12: five from VIEW Foundation in our blue coats and seven volunteers in parkas and hats. We met outside Canada House. Sky grey, sulky. It was chilly. We piled into facing seats in the PTS like a penguin huddle. Sasha the awesome silver-haired driver took us to Stoney Bay. The tank rolled up and down the hills. We couldn’t see much outside the foggy little windows. At Stoney Bay, otherwise known as Fuel Tank Bay, were several tall fat rusted fuel tanks from the 60s. They were used to transfer diesel to ships. They sat on a long grey-black volcanic rock beach with small patches of snow. Behind us, hills. No penguins.
We surveyed the rubbish. Snakes of beige fabric fuel pipes with rusted nozzles, bits of metal, wire, plastic about. Got straight to work. Sean, Bob, John, Lou, Dewey, Dave and I heaved the first pipe across the beach, laying it out. The guys cut it with a stone-age looking saw. After we chopped the first pipe oil spilled out. Not cool. Well, it was not much. How old was the oil? John took a sample to check later. Sean will note how much spilled in the Environmental Impact Assessment. All of us including Sasha decided to wrap bundles of pipe in layers like puffed pastry dough. Took us about three hours per pipe.
I left the pipe team to check on Andrew, his mom and grandmom. They were hunched over collecting bits of metal and plastics and were pleased to show me they’d already filled the lower part of an empty gas barrel. How gorgeous this family joined us for the first camp and Christmas. No one was daunted by hard work or the drab weather. We kept pulling, cutting and bundling. It got chillier, rain almost turned to snow. Job won’t be done today. I will be sore tomorrow. Hope everyone felt as good as I did. I’m sure they were just as tired and hungry. Loved Wendy’s make-your-own pizza night.
Tonight I looked at a map in Sergey’s office. Queen Maud Land, the Sabrina Coast, Marguerite Bay. So that’s how women first got to Antarctica, without going. Their presence was missed after all. It’s notable where you find women. Jeanne, the wife of early 20th century French explorer Charcot, apparently left him on the grounds of desertion.
DECEMBER 24, 1995
WTWind. Snow. Gift from Fernando the cook at Frei base—Pan de Navidad.
To do:
&n
bsp; 1.Grill eggplant, zucchini and peppers for Muffuletta
2.Move produce to storage shed, split boxes
3.Play with Cinnamon Bun recipe. Make fruit nut ring/wreath
4.Christmas presents with Lena
Lunch
•Rosemary Maple Borscht
•pizza leftovers or Muffuletta
•fruit & cookies
Dinner Menu
•Mulled Wine or Cola de Mono*
•make your own fajitas: guac, lettuce, tomatoes, peppers, sour cream, cheese, onions, meat, beans & rice
•birthday cake
Christmas Day Meal Prep
•make GORP
•stuff stockings with oranges & candy
•gingerbread cookies
•Pan de Navidad
•Christmas wreath x2
•Russian Tea
•fruit salad with satin sauce
•soup
•bread & cheese
Christmas Dinner
•turkey with dressing
•roast daikon, yams & onions
•mash with gravy
•cranberry sauce
•corn on the cob
•asparagus with dill butter
•green salad with croutons
•Bavarian apple torte
* “Monkey’s Tail”—traditional Chilean Christmas drink
CDWe continued the pipe folding and bundling again at Stoney Bay. This is a much bigger job than one we can complete this summer. It’ll take serious remediation and heavy logistics to remove the fuel tanks. But we’re making a dent. Cold and damp yet great spirits. Volunteers who weren’t on pipe duty used plastic bags for collecting general debris. I was impressed they filled three bags relatively quickly with small bits, wire, bolts, metal bits. Everyone seemed focused and it makes it worthwhile. Wendy is making a special dinner. Lunch was genius veggie borscht.
Tonight we were invited to the church service at Frei base, in a little blue wooden church on a rise. Five of our volunteers, four VIEW staff and Lena attended. I was asked to do a reading in Spanish. The sermon was on peace amongst people from different countries. After the service a distinguished gentleman approached me: the Chilean ambassador to the UN visiting Frei for Christmas. He wanted to hear more about our work.
Wendy gave Zuniga and his family Christmas cookie treats as a present.
With this first volunteer group we have three more days until we travel back to Argentina. I love this work I don’t want to go back to the Foundation in Toronto but have to. I have other projects to plan and supervise: Costa Rica. Sean, Wendy, Lena and John will do a superb job. What a team considering how quickly we assembled.
I opened my present from my mom. Was hard to hold off. It was a small silver adult penguin and chick in an embrace. It made me teary. My mom and dad are supportive of all I do. I laughed though because while it was from my mom, the penguin caring for the chick was likely the father.
Fantastic dinner with the volunteers. We invited some guys over to sing. The only song the Russians knew in English was “Yellow Submarine.” Bob said they’re going to forever think the Beatles write Christmas carols. Sad to leave in a few days. The best Christmas ever.
Russian base: Bellingshausen, foreground (multi-coloured buildings), Chilean base: Presidente Eduardo Frei Montalva, background (red buildings), Collins Harbour on the Fildes Peninsula, King George Island on the Antarctic Peninsula. The 7 km long Fildes Peninsula at the southwest tip of the island is ice-free in summer. The island is 95 km long and 25 km wide at its most extreme points. 1996
{Wendy Trusler}
Wendy, left. Carol, right, Bellingshausen, 1995
{This image of Carol Devine and Wendy Trusler was taken by Lena Nikolaeva at Bellingshausen in 1995.}
VIEW Foundation Camp 1 cleaning up abandoned fuel pipes at Stoney Bay, 1995
{Carol Devine}
DECEMBER 25, 1995
WTCloud, strong wind, rain. Delivered wreath to Russians. Out of the deluge. All the volunteers are chipping in. Last night some helped knead dough and folk are taking to dish duty even though they’re on holiday. Bob was on last night and chatted about long distance relationships—funny how the farther you go away from civilization the more you learn about people. Clever gifts from him at breakfast. All made from the dump. Mobile of cutlery and glass bits for me. For the boy in our group, a make-your-own penguin kit with bones from the beach. Great feeling of warmth and goodwill.
CDI’m filthy, no time.
DECEMBER 26, 1995
CDI don’t want to leave. I said goodbye to Sergey. He said he was impressed with the work we did on Canada House and that it is the nicest place at the station. That Stoney Bay was already looking better. He promised everyone would be well taken care of after I left and all was set up. I look forward to following the adventure (and surely trials) I know the VIEW team will face. They’re diversely skilled, competent and game.
Yesterday the Russians gave us all individually addressed Christmas cards with stamped envelopes and a greeting.
I’m disappointed someone else from VIEW will go to help close camp, not me. I wish I could return for the final camp, the budget won’t allow it and this is why we hired Sean. Better to be grateful for what I have than wish for more.
Bob’s Xmas card note was sweet, “You have an inspired view. Keep on with your vision.”
Lena came as I was shoving things into my bags. She took my hand and said, “This is a tradition before I leave a place. Sit on the bed for a moment.” After a few seconds I jumped up. I saw my favourite toque under Wendy’s bed. I hugged Lena. “You see, it is good to pause; it can change your perspective,” she said.
WTVolunteers changeover today. But Carol left and I’m quite sad. Spent time with Lena after dinner, conjugating verbs. First real sit-down Russian lesson and I feel better. Too tired to write. More later.
I work – Ja rabotaju
I go – Ja idu
I can – Ja mogu
Thanks, I can do it myself – Spasibo, ja mogu eta sdelat’ sebya.
Chivalry not dead here.
Camp 1 Debris Collection (Dec. 22–26)
Stoney Bay Area 1: mixed waste & piping
DECEMBER 27, 1995
CDI’m with the first volunteer cleanup group on the Ioffe. I’m seasick. It is awful. I suppose I’d like some company.
It was a sad goodbye yesterday to Wendy, Lena, Sean, John and the guys. I’m sure my seasickness has more to do with the Drake than our drinks last night.
Warm and lovely reception from staff and tourists on the Multanovskiy.
At dinner for some reason we talked Antarctic horror stories: the homicidal Uruguayan man they had to lock up. The Russian doctor who had an attack of appendicitis and decided to commit suicide but the other expedition members persuaded him they’d help him do the surgery on himself and assist with mirrors. Apparently he agreed.
Bob sent word for all the VIEW group and whoever else to meet at the bar. He worked hard at Bellingshausen and is the life of the party. His goal was to have the highest bar bill ever on the ship. He was treating. I wonder if we surpassed the record.
It didn’t pay to be nervous about him coming on the project but I sincerely hope he found it useful, even if symbolically.
DECEMBER 28, 1995
WTCamp 2. Odd group dynamics created by the nineteen-year-old kid. Never met anyone who could push my buttons this way. Never actually threatened ever, ever, ever, not to feed someone—not that he heard. Arriving fifteen minutes late to dinner was one thing, but ransacking the kitchen for ingredients to make himself an omelette when I had set aside dinner for him really set me off. I can see the others are weary of his antics. Gloria and Chizulko from Alaska coached me with understanding looks. They must have teenagers at home. Thought I’d made headway when he offered to do dishes until I found him up to his elbows in suds wearing my only set of baker’s mitts. They’ll take days to dry. Thank goodness for Lena. Laughed until we cried.
Things a little weird down in camp, too. At lunch Volodya Driver showed Sean my arm and asked “Pochemu?” (“Why?”), as if it’s Sean’s fault I’m covered in soot. And this afternoon a guy knocked on the sauna door as I was leaving and gave me a package claiming it was a Russian tradition: three pairs of bikini underwear with a colourful Spanish motif.
Lena seemed pleased to hear I didn’t make a big deal about it and feigned disappointment when I told her. “It can’t be much of a tradition; I didn’t get any panties.” Man, she’s got good delivery. Helped diffuse the lingering creepiness of the way he repeated, “mirar, mirar,” as if he wanted to see me in them. Checked my Spanish dictionary. Mirar: to look; to watch. Poor guy, he’s got bush fever or the permafrost equivalent.
DECEMBER 29, 1995
WT2:00 a.m. Carol, my friend, wish you were here and we could rehash the day.
Lena, Ilya, Radio Sasha, and Dima arrived 12:30 with Scotch to toast Sasha’s birthday and I feel included. Ilya has wood-burned two signs for us on weathered planks: a Canada House sign for our door and one for my kitchen, Dietary and Aesthetic Laboratory. It’s as if now that John and Sean are here it’s okay to see Lena and me socially. Weird but good.
You’d be pleased with John and Sean; they’re team players. Sean is pretty upbeat and has slid naturally into the camp manager role, but he could have waited a day or two before plastering all those site maps and work details everywhere, especially not in the dining room.
Stove still acting up. Kitchen walls are blackened, as is anything I bake or roast. Me too. No one knows for sure what is wrong, but we are dealing. Volodya Driver is making a valve in Diesel to control gas flow and Sean has found a passage in Lashly’s diary that puts things in a poetic perspective. He had the bright idea of reading it at the beginning of each camp or on an as-needed basis—ours smokes when the wind is in the north.
The Antarctic Book of Cooking and Cleaning: A Polar Journey Page 6