Vicky Inglis: Looking back on Lockroy

19/06/2020

The last three months have been a strange time for all of us, and certainly not what I'd anticipated for my return from Port Lockroy. Reunions planned with friends and family were tempered by the COVID pandemic response, filtered through window glass and laptop screens, and those "what next" plans I'd made were left on ice. Potential opportunities for future work drifted away over the horizon or sank without trace, and other responsibilities have surfaced in their wake.

So despite an abundance of time that's been available during the lockdown, it's been exceptionally difficult to find the right mental space to reflect on my time at Port Lockroy. Part of that is also the challenge of finding the right language to articulate all the experiences, thoughts, emotions, and ideas I felt in Antarctica, and distil those down to something palpable, unmasked by superlatives that a place of such outrageous beauty demands. Over the 110 days of our stay I took thousands of photographs, made several short films and sound recordings, and filled my journal and sketchbook with observations. But still, it sometimes feels as if the whole thing wasn't quite real.

The thing that had most appealed to me about the opportunity was the prospect of spending an extended period of time in a location which most people only get a snapshot glimpse of. To be witness to the progression of time and the changing season. And that was undoubtedly my highlight; to pay heed to changes in our surroundings, melting snow, the movement of ice on the tide, and the increasing day length followed by the returning night and star-filled skies. More subtle, yet still captivating, the ever-changing play of light and shadow across the landscape, the movement of clouds and the feel of the wind.

And of course, the wildlife. The continuous cacophony of life in the penguin colony. At first glance it's a chaotic avian comedy show, as they waddled around us with the naïve inquisitiveness of small children, but in reality we watched a wholly unsentimental and more elemental existence. Life and death on a daily basis, alternately heartwarming then heartbreaking, but always fascinating.

Though they demand the most attention, the penguins are not the only creatures that leave an indelible mark on the memory. Other birds, from sleek terns and curious skuas, to monstrous giant petrels, and the ever-lovable sheathbills. So many seals; cute crabeaters, weddells singing their uncanny songs, the lurking, ever-watching menace of leopard seals, and a small island that yawned and transformed itself into a bull elephant seal. And the whales, sometimes unseen and heard only as a deep sigh, sliding down in to silky flat water on a foggy day. Or blown spray and flashes of tail flukes glimpsed across the Neumayer Channel on a golden afternoon by the landing site, once the day's guests had gone.

 

Port Lockroy is a rare place in Antarctica, a tiny island where the human story of the continent is writ large. Around us was the evidence from early whalers through to Operation Tabarin and the construction of Bransfield House/Base A, and the stories continued with the people we met through the season. Oral histories that we played in the museum were supplemented by experiences of field guides, expedition leaders, scientists, and the former BAS and UKAHT staff that passed through, welcoming us to the Antarctic family like we already belonged, letting us become part of the history of the place.

Standing on the aft deck of the ship that would take us back to Ushuaia I could feel the undeniable magnetic pull of the island, and a sudden snap as we rounded the headland and Port Lockroy was lost behind the rise of Doumer Island. I think it was a little piece of my heart being left behind.

Finally, all that remains is to say what a privilege it was to share such a profound experience with an incredible team of people, who started the season as my work colleagues and after four months of living in each other's pockets are firmly life-long friends. By endurance we sauna.

Vicky