Mid-Winter's Day in Antarctica. 49 years ago.

After four months at Scott Base, I arrived at Lake Vanda in January 1970 where I spent 10 months as a science technician. We celebrated mid-winter on 21 June 1970, some 49 years ago today .

Left: Our laboratory at Vanda station. For electricity, we used a wind generator to charge our 12 volt Nicad batteries. When there was no wind, we would use a small Petter diesel generator. Photo: Bob McKerrow



On reflection, the 13 months I spent in Antarctica was among the best of my life.

I remember vividly the last helicopter leaving us in early February and we knew it would be at least nine months before we saw anyone else.

i spent the winter with three other people, and still today, this is the smallest NZ group to winter-over in Antarctica.

At the end of the long winter's night where it was totally dark for four months, I looked in the mirror and saw myself for the first time in five months. I wrote in my diary " A man without a woman about him is a man without vanity."

A few weeks later while reflecting on the winter, I wrote " I turned 22 in March, it is now September. During the past five months, I have got to know and understand my worst enemy, myself."


The Wright Valley, View north through Bull Pass into Victoria Valley. The small stream flowing west (into Lake Vanda) is the Onyx.


The view of the Wright Valley taken from the survey station on the summit of Mt Newall (which now has a microwave tower on it).


We did long trips on foot in the late Autumn, throughout the winter and early Spring. Bob McKerrow left and Gary Lewis right, with frozen beards and faces. Photo: Bob McKerrow




Bath time at Vanda Station. Gary Lewis having a bath after six months Photo; Bob McKerrow


The old hand-painted sign outside Vanda Station

There was also the poem I wrote just before the long winter's night ended.

I journeyed south to an icy cage
The sun never shone, there was no day
When I looked into the jaws of night
Far off I saw the threads of life
Twisting themselves into an eternal web
That stretched unbroken from dawn to death
It was the Aurora that gladdened the eye
A frenetic serpent that snaked the sky
Pouring mellowed colours that sparkled rime
On icy pendants soon to sublime.
Yes high above towers all form
Soon will come the first blush of dawn
My life has changed my dash is done
O welcome the King, O welcome the sun
So today I will raise a glass of red to my old comrades who I wintered over with at Vanda Station, in that remore dry valley in Antarctica: Gary Lewis, Tony Bromley and Harold Lowe.

NORMAN HARDIE - 28/12/1924 - 30/10/2017 - NEW ZEALAND MOUNTAINEER & ENGINEER

NORMAN HARDIE - OBITUARY by Colin Monteath

I first met Christchurch mountaineer Norman Hardie in May 1983 outside my favourite old bookshop in New Regent Street. At the time I was Field Operations Officer for the New Zealand Antarctic Research Programme so I introduced myself and asked Norman if he fancied a 5-month stint as leader of Scott Base. I knew that Norman had been to Antarctica before as a survival instructor in the early 1960s and, in 1967, as a surveyor with Sir Edmund Hillary’s New Zealand expedition that went on to make the first ascent of the elegant Mt Herschel in North Victoria Land.

I felt sure that Norman's mana as an internationally-recognised mountaineer and his reputation as a skilled, no-nonsense civil engineer would be the perfect skill-set to take charge of not only the Scott Base staff but to solve the complex logistic puzzle that is New Zealand's summer science programme. Sure enough, a few weeks later, Norman sat beside me to start his indoctrination into how some 300 people would meld together into a cohesive team. A friendship started here at my desk and carried on during that summer at Scott Base has endured and deepened over the years.

Norman David Hardie was born in Timaru on 28th December 1924, one of three sons and five daughters of George and Mabel Hardie. He was educated at Timaru Boys’ High School then at The University of Otago and The University of Canterbury, graduating with BE in Civil Engineering. His first job, in 1948, was with the Ministry of works at Lake Pukaki. In 1950 he moved to the Wellington Hydro office. By 1951 Norman was in London and for the next four years he worked for a consulting engineering company on structural and water scheme designs. While there, in 1951, Norman married University of Canterbury friend Enid Hurst, daughter of Colonel H.C Hurst.

After his first expedition to Nepal in 1954 Norman returned to Christchurch to work for EGS Powell as a consulting engineer. From 1958 to1963 Norman was a partner in Stock & Hardie consulting engineers, then Hardie & Anderson, structural engineering consultants (1963-83). Norman was a site engineer for Baigent’s timber mill (1984-85) before retiring to work as a private consultant working from homes in Halswell and Cashmere.

Norman was the Chairman of the Canterbury Branch of the Institution of Engineers (1969-71) and a Director of Farrier Waimak Ltd., (1971-84) Norman was made a Distinguished Fellow of the Institution of Professional Engineers.

Norman Hardie ( centre)...with Geoff Harrow ( left) & Bill Beaven...members of the 1954 NZAC 'East of Everest' Himalayan expedition.

Norman’s mountain life started during the late 1930s as a government deer culler mainly in the Canterbury high country, work he continued during his years at university. On one hunting venture, after cycling from Timaru to Bealey, he shot four deer in the Waimakariri river basin. Tired out, he broke into Cora Lyn farmhouse to sleep the night, leaving a note about his actions upon leaving in the morning. Twenty four years later, he and Enid bought that house, owning it for 22 happy years.

During his final university years Norman’s interest in hunting led him to join the Canterbury University Tramping Club and this soon fostered a desire to take up mountaineering. Climbs at the head of the Rakaia followed in 1946, as did ventures into the Landsborough river catchment, a region that held a life-long fascination where he completed numerous new routes on peaks such as Mts Dechen, Strachan, Fettes and Elliot. During Norman’s time at university he fostered enduring friendships with climbers Jim McFarlane, Bill Beaven, Bill Packard and Earle Riddiford who all went on to join the New Zealand Alpine Club. As fresh graduates bound for employment at the end of the 1947 summer, Bill Beaven, Earle, Jim and Norman completed the first ascent of the still-rarely climbed South ridge of Sefton, approaching it from Fyfe Pass, the Landsborough and Harper’s Rock.

Based at Pukaki in 1948 as an engineer Norman was awakened one night by Bill Beaven to tell him he was needed to help rescue Ruth Adams who lay badly injured close to the summit of La Perouse. Adams had fallen during a climb with Ed Hillary and guides Mick Sullivan and Harry Ayres. Ruth's subsequent lower down the West Ridge of La Perouse and epic stretcher-carry down the Cook River to Fox has entered New Zealand mountain folklore, with Norman’s role being written up in his autobiography On my Own Two Feet (2006). Norman told me in recent years that he felt the rescue became a pivotal point in New Zealand mountaineering whereby amateur climbers like Ed Hillary who had always climbed with a guide saw what other amateur climbers were capable of; in turn, the amateurs learning much from the professionals. The bushmen who cut the track up the Cook river taught much also. Norman and his mates realised that the time was right for them to tackle bigger objectives, with luck overseas. As one, their dreams turned to climbing in the Himalaya.

Photo left: Ed Cotter and Norm Hardie. These two great NZ mountaineers died a few weeks apart,

Engineering work and marriage in London followed, interspersed with climbs in the European Alps. While in England he befriended famous English climbers Eric Shipton, Bill Tilman, Charles Evans and John Hunt. Lacking Himalayan expedition experience, his application to join John Hunt’s 1953 Everest team was turned down. However, as a mountaineer based in London, he was asked by John Hunt to volunteer his time and expertise to co-facilitate the ground work for the 1953 Everest expedition that was sponsored by the Royal Geographical Society.

Norman finally got his break to climb in the Nepal Himalaya by sailing out to Bombay to join the 1954 New Zealand Alpine Club Barun valley expedition led by Ed Hillary. Some 20 new climbs were completed in what is now the Makalu-Barun National Park, including the 7000 metre plum Baruntse. I always envied Norman’s first ascent of Pethangtse, an elegant outlier of Lhotse that straddles the Nepal-Tibet border. He used the summit as a survey station as part of his expedition mapping programme. Charles Evans was invited on this highly mobile Kiwi trip, in part as repayment for New Zealanders being invited on British expeditions starting with Dan Bryant in 1935.

Norman’s friendship with Charles Evans deepened and this led to him being asked to be deputy leader of the 1955 British expedition to Kangchenjunga, the world’s third highest mountain. Norman helped to refine the oxygen equipment for this venture that was ostensibly a reconnaissance though it quickly turned into a full-blown assault on the summit. Joe Brown and George Band reached the summit first with Norman and Tony Streather summiting the following day; all four climbers avoided treading on the actual summit in deference to local beliefs. I always liked Norman’s tale from base camp of Evans asking him to take two of the climbers who eventually summited aside to teach them how to use crampons.

Norm Hardie (left) talking to Bob McKerrow at the the talk Norm gave to celebrate the 60th anniversary of his ascent of Kanchenjunga.

After the Kangchenjunga climb Norman and some Sherpas set out to walk all the way to the Khumbu where he met Enid. This journey forms the basis of Norman’s first book In Highest Nepal (1957) that was later translated into German and Japanese. Following Norman’s participation in Ed Hillary’s 1960-61 Himalayan Scientific and Mountaineering (Silver hut) Expedition that wintered under Ama Dablam, the Khumbu became central to Norman’s life for several decades. In 1963 he developed and constructed an improved water supply from a spring above Khumjung village. He played a key role in the functioning of the Himalayan Trust, remaining on its board from 1966-88. During this period Norman and Enid made 14 visits to Nepal for school building, national park work and re-afforestation programmes. In 1986, sponsored by the New Zealand Government, Norman went to the Khumbu to report on the state of their forests and to make recommendations for their future care, which eventuated in the establishment of the Sagarmatha National Park.

Norman served for 21 years on various New Zealand Alpine Club committees and was NZAC President from 1973-75. He also served on the Arthur’s Pass National Park Board from 1967-79 and on the Craigieburn Forest Park Committee 1980-87, being Chairman for two years. He was a member of the Christchurch Civic Trust Board 1988-92 and The College House Board 1971-97. In 1992, Norman was awarded the Queen’s Service Order for services to mountaineering and conservation. He was an Honorary Life Member of The Alpine Club (UK) and The Himalayan Club and Life Member of the New Zealand Antarctic Society and the New Zealand Alpine Club.

Norman retained a deep interest in engineering and mountaineering throughout his life, attending and giving lectures and offering advice to younger climbers who found their way to his door. He helped innumerable authors get Nepalese facts straight as well as offering editorial advice to draft manuscripts and journal articles. Many of New Zealand’s top climbers owe a debt of gratitude to Norman’s mentoring and instruction during their formative years.

While living in a semi-rural property in Halswell, Norman and his ‘ Last of the summer wine’ enthusiasts bottled their own wine. It’s time to raise a glass to Norman Hardie, one of New Zealand’s outstanding mountaineers.

Memorial Service - College House - University Of Canterbury -100 Waimari Road - Friday 10th November....2pm Ice Axe Avenue led by Andrew and David Turton. All are invited to join in.

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Norman David Hardie: Born; 28 December 1924 - Died 30 October 2017
Norman is survived by his wife Enid and daughters Sarah Jane Hardie and Ruth Wells and grandchildren Henry, Tamar and Roslyn Wells and David Turton.

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Still working for Red Cross 45 years later

It took me a while to find a picture of Bob that exemplifies this larger-than-life man as I know him. He's a polar explorer, writer, manager, humanitarian, bon-vivant... but most of all he loves life with an infectious enthusiasm. (Joe Lowry)

Some time ago Joe Lowry asked me to write an article for his blog, 'what it is like to be a man.'

I find being a man is a mixture of roles: protector, provider, clown, outdoor educator, trainer to my children and wife (I have seven children), sensitive to all the females in my life, and a good friend to my mates.

The biggest influence on me was my Mum. She was the one that really shaped me and led me to humanitarian work. Eileen, was born deaf, as was her younger brother Ray, and in those days, anyone born deaf was considered deaf and dumb. But my Mother was a bright woman, she enjoyed Shakespeare, read poetry and she taught me to sew and knit, and to write well.

I loved my Mother dearly and was horrified by children’s cruelty towards her. I remember older kids throwing clods at her and then as a five year old, running down the road chasing after them and trying to knock the shit out of them, but often they would knock the shit out of me. I learned that being a boy (man) was defending yourself and other less fortunate. Bloody knees, black eyes and continuous cuts and bruises were my medals of honour.

When you have a disabled member of your family, someone you love dearly, and people discriminate against them, you grow up with a huge awareness of discrimination and where it occurs.

For me, being a man, is knowing where you come from and drawing strength from that. Explorers, surveyors,  blacksmiths, ploughmakers, shoemakers, labourers, clerks, sailors, miners, bushmen, and strong sensitive woman linked me through the past 150 years across the water to the highlands of Scotland, to the rivers of Prussia, the theatres of England.  My Auntie spoke of having Maori blood  through the village of Colac Bay in Southland and my family tree shows I am related to Buffalo Bill Cody and Charles Laughton, the Shakespearian actor. Perhaps, the most famous connection is to King James V, from whom the McKerrow historian says we have descended, albeit from the wrong side of the blanket.

Thinking of my heritage make me feel strong in the many difficult situations I have had to face. These have included Taleban soldiers threatening me with rifles, thieves in Colon Panama trying to knife me for my money and the cold barrel of an AK 47 pushed against my temple at night in Vietnam. I find my background gives me the cool-headedness to look them in the eye and ‘be a man.’  I find antagonists back down when you stand up to them. I suppose I have never been afraid of men particularly when comparing them to my tough Father. He was a strict disciplinarian and used to bring out a WWII German belt and beat us very hard if we misbehaved. But he was also an excellent handyman and I recall many happy days helping him do repairs around the house,  grow vegetables, cut hedges, lawns and resole shoes. He had two books on how to repair motor cars but being a labourer with five children, a car was beyond our family finances. 

 I go to my diaries from my early 20s and this is what I rediscover.

“For nearly two years I had been a part of all male mountaineering expeditions to Peru, Antarctica, and between times, on all male trips to Mount Cook and Fiordland.

“After nine months in Antarctica I looked in the mirror, and I realised a man without a women around him, is a man without vanity. Winsome, how I loved her. I wrote hundreds of letters to her during that dark, long winter’s night. She was at the airport with her new boyfriend to greet me when I returned from Antarctica.

Mountains and women – they were, and are, a huge part of my life. Brasch, our great New Zealand poet said “Man must lie with mountains like a lover, earning their intimacy in a calm sigh” . In “Leaves of Grass” Walt Whitman’s says “ A woman contains everything, nothing lack, body, soul.”

The a close relationship I had with my Mum, with two older sisters and my Nana (and the distant one I had with my Dad) convinces me that women were the one who encouraged me, gave me my reference points in life.

Why was I spending so much time with men ? Was I having to prove myself? Well I had proved I was physically capable of climbing some of the highest mountains in the world, running marathons, and surviving a year in Antarctica with only three other people.

Yet I felt at a cross road. There was something compelling about leading a life of an itinerant mountaineer, explorer or traveller. I cast back my mind Peru to 1968 and the poverty that moved me so much . My first adult poem was prompted by the injustices I saw throughout Peru in 1968. I flirted with Marxism, read Nietzsche, Che Guevara.  Thoughts from Bolivian diary by Che  Guevara swirled in my head. In New Zealand Norm Kirk was emerging as a national leader, an engine driver who was about to railroad our country away from the clutches of racist conservatism. Being a man was being aware of the wider world around me.

These were heady times.  The music -  Dylan, Joan Baez, Leonard Chen The Beatles, Joplin, Woody Guthrie and Leadbelly. The Vietnam war was becoming ugly - why the hell did New Zealand have troops there? Protests were strong.

During these weeks of running and frequent bouts of drinking at the Captain Cook pub, I came across an advert in  December 1971 in  the Otago Daily Times  wanting personnel to work in South Vietnam for a “ New Zealand Red Cross Refugee Welfare Team”. They wanted nurses, an agriculturalist, water-sanitation special, rehabilitation guidance officer, and a mechanic. Shit, this was for me. I could travel and do something structured for the people like those I saw in Peru.

Chris Knott and I had just got back from our miserable trip to Fiordland and we were together licking our wounds. We had miserably failed to climb Mt Tutoko and after a week of torrential rain we almost died of exposure and later were swept away when a swollen river picked up our tent as we slept.

The doorbell rang, and there at the front door was the telegram man with a message for each of us, inviting us to go to Wellington, for interviews for the New Zealand Red Cross Refugee team to South Vietnam.

A few weeks later I was elated on receiving news I had been selected to go to South Vietnam.

Chris missed out. He was to go back to England and spend the next three years working for the British Antarctic survey. I was the lucky one to have broken out of the mould being set for me to continue the lonely life of an adventurer

Defending my Mum on a number of occasions made me realise at a young age that discrimination is to be found everywhere, and that committed and motivated people were needed to stand up against it. That led me to the Red Cross, at the age of 22.

I wanted to be the protector, rescuer and change agent for all these people brutalised by uncaring soldiers in war, and to change the minds of the uncaring bureaucrats who were designated to care and help them.

Forty five later I am still  working for Red Cross in Bangladesh and feel I have the drive, committment and energy to go on another ten or more.

Obituary Kevin Pain. 1928 - 2015

Kevin Pain dedicated a lot of his life to working in the mountains using his carpentry, mountaineering, rescue and skiing skills for the benefit of others.
Kevin Pain found solace and peace in the mountains and had the all-round skills, attitude and survival mentality to have a crack at anything, and not be intimidated by others or hostile environments.

Kevin was born in Westport on 15 January 1928. He left school when he was about twelve and worked in a Butcher Shop. Kevin spoke little of his upbringing but it was a hard one and he knew the inside of orphanages.

At the age of 15, he moved to Christchurch in 1943 and started a 5 year apprenticeship with the Railways on the 15/7/43 as a carpenter   He completed this apprenticeship on the 23/7/48 at the age of 20.

He started on 10 and a 1/4 pence per hour and in his 5th year,  he was earning one shilling and 5 1/4 pence per hour. He stayed in Christchurch after his apprenticeship for a couple years working on new subdivision in the city.

When he first arrived in Christchurch at 15 years he boarded with the Fifields who became lifelong friends.  Jack Fifield also did an apprenticeship at the railways.  On most Friday nights the two of them would board the 6pm train to Arthurs Pass to go deer stalking.

 A montage of shots of Kevin Pain provided by his Antarctica sledging companion Pater Otway

The only stop the train made was at Arthurs Pass but these two always wanted to get off a bit earlier so they would slip the train driver a couple of bottles of beer and the train driver would slow the train down at the given point where they would jump off the train (while it was moving very slowly) signal the driver with a torch all was OK and the train would continue.

While in Christchurch Kevin played rugby for Albion and he often talked about those days – he could name every pub down Moorhouse Ave!

In early 1950 Kev moved to Franz Josef working on a number of projects including the Church.  He also worked in Queenstown, Wanaka and Milford.  Climbing was a passion and sometime in the mid 50s, he took up a job for the Ministry of Works at Mt Cook. While at Mt Cook he became heavily involved in Mountain Rescue, Guiding, Fire Brigade and of course climbing.  A friend told me he “climbed almost every peak including Mt Cook we think 3 times.” Because Kevin never wrote articles, few of his climbs are recorded although one of his ascents of Aoraki Mount Cook is recorded in Jim Wilson’s book Aorangi, in a party with Harry Ayres, and Gil Seymour on 7 February 1959.

In 1962 he did quite an amazing dog sledging trip in the Axel Heiberg Glacier area of Antarctica with a party led by Wally Herbert, Vic McGregor, and Peter Otway. Kevin Pain, was described by Wally Herbert in his book as "an experienced Mt. Cook guide" .

They surveyed a large area of the Queen Maud range and followed Shackleton (1908) and Scott's (1911) route up the Beardmore Glacier. Denied a request to proceed to the South Pole, his party ascended Mount Nansen and descended a route taken by Amundsen in 1911, thus being the first to retrace these explorers' traverses.

A mountain in Antarctica was named after Kevin. Pain Mesa ( 73°8′S 163°0′E Coordinates: 73°8′S 163°0′E) is a large mesa just north of Tobin Mesa in the Mesa Range, Victoria Land. Named by the northern party of New Zealand Geological Survey Antarctic Expedition (NZGSAE), 1962–63, for Kevin Pain, deputy leader of this party.

In 1969 when I was at Scott Base, the NZ Government announced that Kevin Pain had been awarded the Polar medal for his services to Antarctica.

An important part of Kevin’s life involved Lake Ohau and particularly the skifield 

He was a founding member of the Ohau Ski Club and worked away on the tow, the building and ski patrol. Kevin started the Yeti fever at Ohau

There is a type of fenced off area near the access road used for experimental grasses.

Kevin used to tell the kids it was a Yeti pen where they captured and kept Yetis

That story still lives on  - and the Yeti pen is still talked about. And the kids still look out for the Yeti that may have escaped

Kevin Pain repairing Palaeau Hut roof after it was blown off in August 1972. This to me epitomises Kevin, in the mountains, fixing something and in damn difficult conditioms. Photo: Bob McKerrow

When I lived at Mount Cook from 1971 to 1973, I got to know Kevin quite well, through our love of mountains and common experiences in Antarctica. I spent a week in Plateau hut with Kevin and a few others putting the roof back on after a storm tore it off. It was freezing and someone said the temps dropped to minus 20oC one night. When skiing out from the Grand Plateau down the Freshfield glacier I had a bad virus, and felt very weak. At the bottom of Haast ridge I took a rest, and dozed off. Kevin came back and shook me awake and had it not been for Kevin, it may have been my last sleep.

Colin Monteath  has another story around that time, and said, “ I remember working with KP in the dark on Herm roof …when a huge section of roofing iron blew off in a storm… It was dangerous as iron was still flying about. KP yelled at me for he was not impressed that my nails were being driven into the new iron in a straight line!!…will never forget that

In 1988, Kevin retired in Tekapo where he built a house.

Graeme Murray, a friend of Kevin's has a lot of information on Kevin's life.

Just before last Christmas we took Kevin down to Moreh Home in Fairlie and introduced him to that wonderful lady in there called Allison. 

Can you fancy Kevin, the life-time loner moving in to an Old Person’s Home. What a test of character that must have been.

But they welcomed him with love and compassion not to mention the good meals being served up.

So in the end he never hesitated.

So he moved in for Christmas 2014. But underneath he knew he was in big trouble. His Engine Room was running down  – although incredibly his friends  never heard him complain once.

His health had steadily deteriorated from January on and so after a mighty battle he finally succumbed and quietly passed away just five days ago in the loving arms of his family.

Bob McKerrow

Coldest Journey ever in Antarctica.

In 1970 I spent the winter in Antarctica and traveled extensively on foot  in various parts of the Wright valley in temperatures below - 50 o C. Here I got to know how difficult and dangerous it is to travel in winter in the Antarctic.
 Again in the winter of 1986, we trained on Iqaluit (Baffin Island) for our unsupported dogsled journey to the North Pole. 
At the end of February 1986, I met renowned British explorer Sir Ranulph Fiennes at Eureka weather station on Ellesmere Island. We were both heading for the north pole. He was with Dr. Michael Stroud and was planning to manhaul. We were an 8 person team using a 50 huskies pulling sledges.

It was there in Resolute I met Sir Ran and we discussed the dangers of setting off at the end of February/early March when temperatures drop to below minus sixty degree centigrade.  When Ran announced that he was attempting to cross Antarctica in winter I shuddered as I knew using motorized tracked-vehicles would not offer the versatility that dogs offer. Dogs are warm, metal is unforgivably cold.

So spare a thought then for the Coldest Journey team, stuck on the Antarctic plateau in temperatures of about -50C.

The five-man team have had to abandon their attempt to cross Antarctica in midwinter, which would have been a world first.

They had only managed to complete 313km of their near-4000km journey since setting out from Crown Bay in Queen Maud Land three months ago.

They were supposed to reach McMurdo Sound, near Antarctica New Zealand's Scott Base, before the official end of winter on August 19.

The team's leader, British veteran polar explorer Brian Newham, said that after travelling through a difficult mountain range, they had encountered a massive field of crevasses that appeared to stretch a further 100km south.

All their research in the five years leading up to the journey's start indicated the terrain would have been easier in that area.

"It wasn't quite as easy as we thought," he said in an update posted on the expedition website. "Progress has been incredibly slow."

Ground-penetrating radar and foot reconnaissance were used to try to find a safe route through the treacherous area.

Snow was bulldozed into crevasses and bridges were built to slowly winch their heavy vehicles across.

"But now we are in the permanent darkness of winter and the crevassing, if anything, has got worse."

There was a risk the large deep crevasses could swallow their vehicles.

"In my judgment, there is no real choice. I believe it would be reckless and irresponsible to press on and risk the obvious dangers while incurring excessive fuel consumption," Mr Newham said.

The men plan to stay put until warmer temperatures allow them to backtrack to the coast, where they'll be collected by ship.

They plan to spend their time expanding their science and education programmes.

The expedition had travelled the furthest and highest of any expedition in winter months in Antarctica.

Pictures on their website of ice sneaking around window seals into their caboose bedrooms at -50C highlighted the challenging living conditions they faced.

Renowned British explorer Sir Ranulph Fiennes was originally the expedition leader and had planned to ski the entire route.

He had to withdraw after suffering frostbite in two fingers of his left hand prior to the journey's start.

The other team members are British engineer Ian Prickett, British doctor Rob Lambert, Canadian mechanic Spencer Smirl and Irish mechanic/driver Richmond Dykes.

They still hope to raise $12 million for the charity Seeing is Believing, which tackles preventable blindness in developing countries.

Sir Edmund Hillary pioneered Antarctic crossings by tractor, becoming in 1958 the world's first person to reach the South Pole by motorised vehicle. However, his expedition took place in the summer.

Thanks to  Fairfax NZ News for permission to quote friom ntheir article.

A 21 year old in Antarctica for 13 months. 1969-70

I flew from New Zealand to Scott Base Antarctica on 17th of October 1969 on a Super Constellation. This was the first flight after the long winter. I loved the solitude and walking through the pressurized sea ice. ( All photographs by Bob McKerrow)

I was fascinated by the seals, penguins and later in the season, the Killer whales.

With the arrival of field parties, I traveled by C 130 to interesting places such as the Robert Scott Glacier, about 100 miles from the South Pole.

I spent a lot of time with Chris Knot our dog handler, and used to drive the second team. here are my two lead dogs, Mike and Kulak.

Chris would drive one team, and I the other, and we often did big trips to places like Cape Royds, 30 km away.

Sir Ernest Shackelton's hut at Cape Royds, base for his 1909 South Pole Expedition. 

                                                            Penguins at Cape Royds

Here I saw my first penguin, first seal and first ice-breaker. At just 21 years of age I found this so exciting.

After 3 months at Scott Base, I moved to Vanda station, a small 4 -man scientific base in the Wright Dry Valley. This was an enchanting place with amazing rock formations and spiky peaks.

Looking towards the Upper Wright Glacier and ice which flows from the polar plateau.

Mount Boreas in the Upper Wright Valley. Gary Lewis with his trusty Mountain Mule pack.

Our laboratory at Vanda Station where our electricity came from wind generation.

We had this strange outdoor toilet with Tony Bromley giving a demonstration. We used it all winter long, even when temperatures dropped to -45 degrees Centigrade.

Mid winter's Day, Vanda Station, Antarctica, 40 years on

After four months at Scott Base, I arrived at Lake Vanda in January 1970 where I spent 10 months as a science technician. We celebrated mid-winter on 21 June 1970, some 40 years ago today .

Our laboratory at Vanda station. For electricity we used a wind generator to charge our 12 volt Nicad batteries. When there was no wind, we would use a small Petter diesel generator. Photo: Bob McKerrow

For hygiene purposes, our toilet at Vanda Station was outside. Here is Tony Bromley on the thunder-box. When it got below - 40 degrees Celcius. it was dangerous as ones backside would stick to the painted seat and rip skin off. To solve this problem we made polystyrene seat covers to protect our bums. Photo: Bob McKerrow

On reflection, the 13 months I spent in Antarctica were among the best of my life.

I remember vividly the last helicopter leaving us in early February and we knew it woulld be at least nine months before we saw anyone else.

At the end of the long winter's night where it was totally dark for four months, I looked in the mirror and saw myself for the first time in five months. I wrote in my diary " A man without a woman about him is a man without vanity."

A few weeks later while reflecting on the winter, I wrote " I turned 22 in March, it is now September. During the past five months I have got to know and understand my worst enemy, myself."


The Wright Valley, View north through Bull Pass into Victoria Valley. The small stream flowing west (into Lake Vanda) is the Onyx.
On reflection, the 13 months I spent in Antarctica were among the best of my life.


The view of the Wright Valley taken from the survey station on the summit of Mt Newall (which now has a micro-wave tower on it).


We did long trips on foot in the late Autumn, throughout the winter and early Spring. Bob McKerrow left and Gary Lewis right, with frozen beards and faces. Photo: Bob McKerrow




Bath time at Vanda Station. Gary Lewis having a bath after six months Photo; Bob McKerrow


The old hand painted sign outside Vanda Station

There was also the poem I wrote just before the long winter's night ended.

I journeyed south to an icy cage
The sun never shone, there was no day
When I looked into the jaws of night
Far off I saw the threads of life
Twisting themselves into an eternal web
That stretched unbroken from dawn to death
It was the Aurora that gladdened the eye
A frenetic serpent that snaked the sky
Pouring mellowed colours that sparkled rime
On icy pendants soon to sublime.
Yes high above towers all form
Soon will come the first blush of dawn
My life has changed my dash is done
O welcome the King, O welcome the sun


The Aurora Australialis

So today I will raise a glass of red to my old comrades who I wintered over with at Vanda Station, in that remore dry valley in Antarctica: Gary Lewis, Tony Bromley and Harold Lowe.