Chapter 20 
Good leaders know when to show emotion
For the first six weeks of our expedition all air transport used our two Squirrel helicopters. The Squirrel is a tough, versatile helicopter that can carry up to four passengers and a small amount of luggage. They have a range of around 500 kilometres, give or take 100 kilometres, depending on the weather.
The planes arrive and the pace picks up
But a great deal of our science work, called ‘deep field’ work, took place much further away than the helicopters could go. Deep field work took place far inland on the huge layers of ice that cover the continent. Here the ice is more than 1500 metres thick and is incredibly dense. It has been laid down as snow over countless centuries and packed down into ice by each succeeding snowfall. Scientists calculate that if all the ice were to melt, the global ocean levels would rise by more than 5 metres. Climate scientists speak about catastrophe for our way of life if oceans rise by half a metre!
The scientists working out in the deep field areas did mostly seismic research and glaciology. At other stations ice core sampling is the norm. Scientists extract large cylinders of ice, digging deeper and deeper with each pass. By applying sophisticated equipment to the ice core, the scientists can date the ice and determine the makeup of the Earth's atmosphere at the time the ice was formed. Pretty cool stuff.
I must admit that the actual science of deep-drilling ice cores was beyond me. But what wasn't beyond me was my responsibility for the safe delivery and return of these scientists to and from their chosen location. The only way out to these areas, other than a hazardous and weeks-long overland trek, was by plane. We were awaiting two planes — CASA C-212 Aviocars — and they were late.
The planes were originally due to arrive in late December but an issue with the regulator, combined with poor weather, meant they were already two weeks overdue. My deep-field scientists were becoming increasingly agitated. What had been an eight-week window to perform their work was now at best six weeks. They would need to work around the clock to catch up if they were to achieve their objectives.
By now I was fully up to speed with managing flight operations. Overseeing and monitoring refuelling, take-off and landing, and weather broadcasts, and generally keeping all concerned happy, is a complex affair. With the arrival of the planes I would now need to seriously step up the speed and efficiency of flight operations.
Wednesday 5th January
I'm buggered. The CASAs arrived and things got really busy. I think they will settle down but for now it's crazy. I hope we manage to get our systems and processes up and happening so it can run itself a bit.
Got bawled out today by head office for not informing them about Margaret's fall. She slipped over on the ice and bumped her head. No blood, no stitches, no concussion. Not a big deal and no need to panic. What can you do? I didn't even think about reporting it. I know how annoying it is for them but I guess I didn't see it as an ‘incident’.
I think one or two people at head office are suffering relevancy deficiency syndrome. They are so important for half the year getting people ready but when we are actually in Antarctica they are largely irrelevant to us. Maybe this is where the us and-them culture gap has come from. It's almost like some of them are hanging out for gossip and are upset when they don't hear it first!
The CASA C-212 Aviocar is a multipurpose aircraft with a short takeoff and landing. Ours had skis as well as wheels for landing gear and had been converted to suit the unique requirements of Antarctica. When kitted out for civilian use the CASA can take 24 people. We were using ours like army paratroopers. Troop seats lined the walls, leaving a large area in the middle of the fuselage for cargo and supplies.
Depending on how much gear was being carried, our CASAs could take a payload of 1000 kg (12 people, or eight with gear) up to 750 kilometres inland, with an extra range margin of 100 kilometres if something was to go wrong. On a continent the size of Antarctica, 750 kilometres gets you nowhere near the middle, but it was sufficient for our scientific requirements.
The morning after the planes arrived I was besieged! It seemed like everyone suddenly had an urgent need to leave station! I got up early expecting a big day and during the short walk to my office I had beaten off 10 or so requests. ‘We have a schedule, we have a flight plan based on the scientific imperatives. We have been over this with a fine-tooth comb and no, there is no negotiation today’, I said as I walked into my office.
Thursday 6th January
Up at 0700 (oh-seven hundred) and finished at 2200. I need to practise my 24-hour times!
In my lunch break today I signed heaps of letters for stamp collectors. It made me think about the status attached to the Station Leader role. People around the world must see this role as very exalted and special. I wonder if people like the Prime Minister feel the same way — that they are too close to it to actually get what the fuss is about?
I'm really enjoying working with the CASA pilots. They are a highly professional outfit and are also a lot of fun. I'm learning an incredible amount from them and the engineers who came with the planes.
We deployed 20 people into the field today and that's the last we'll see of them for a while. The CASA will drop them some supplies next week and we'll keep in touch via the radio sched. I can't wait to get rid of more of them! (As much as I love them!)
PS I notice a hint of jealousy among the helicopter pilots. So funny. They are no longer top of the heap!
PPS I think if I wasn't hyper-organised this flight business would get totally out of control really quickly. As it is I still had moments today when I struggled to keep all the plates spinning.
How not to prepare for a sleepout in Antarctica
Despite their renewed sense of urgency and the months they had had to prepare, it appeared only some of the scientists were actually ‘ready’. One sparkling clear morning I was doing the final prep and check for a team headed out for three weeks on the ice. There were five going out this morning, but there were only four waiting at the plane.
‘Where's Stewie?’ I asked.
‘Oh, he slept in. He's just having a quick shower.’
I thought, these guys have been waiting two months for this day! How can he have slept in? ‘Okay,’ I continued, ‘let's run through some final checks. Ration packs?’
‘Yep.’
‘Glacier boots?’
‘Aww, forgot … we'll go get them.’
‘No, don't — not yet. Let's work out what else you don't have. Stove?’
‘Yep.’
‘Have you tested it?’
‘First aid kit?’
‘Hmm …’
And so it went. If their very lives didn't depend on each piece of forgotten equipment it would have been hilarious. But I laughed anyway and made a mental note to ensure the first-time scientists really understand the nature of the environment they were headed out into and prepared themselves properly.
The next day was quiet. All the aircraft were away at other stations or in the field. There were only 40 or so people actually on station and it was blissful. I took some extra time to think about the dynamics of this incredible workplace.
Saturday 8th January
A return to normal today. Well, sort of normal. Sam had just come back from being with the Russians for the last week. Apparently they had commented that I must be ‘a very strong woman to run a station’. It made me realise that in an international context my background is very different.
The Station Leader at Zhongshan is a former submariner (he'll have the close-quarters living thing down pat). It's amazing that until recently the AAD also mostly recruited from the military. It's only been in the last 20 years that things have changed. But it's ironic because many military people would by design be quite precise and regimented and would expect the same from their people. This would be the worst style of leadership for Antarctica — or really any leadership role other than military! There's a time and a place for a ‘command and control’ leadership style — but it ain't Antarctica. A person who thought only in black-and-white terms would also really struggle. You need to find the grey areas and be confident with handling them. It's a great training ground for adaptive leadership.
In Antarctica you have to be flexible, adaptable and able to deal with ambiguity. I'm still learning that bit!
It's funny how the AAD is weak on some of their processes, where I'm quite strong on processes and systems. One of the things I have done is implement the whiteboard system for flight scheduling so that everyone can see who's going where and when. I didn't realise it was an innovative approach to solving an old problem until several of the old-timers commented on it, and how it made a big difference. To be honest, I only did it to get a bit of peace around here! Who knew?!
Unauthorised cricket and a taste of things to come
Three deliveries of fresh food were scheduled for our year in Antarctica. Fresh is of course a relative term. When a lettuce is picked, packed, delivered to a market, collected by a distributor and trucked to the supermarket we still call that pretty fresh. We're happy with that level of freshness at home. But when that supply chain is extended by a month and involves docks, crates, pallets and a three-week voyage across the Southern Ocean, fresh takes on a whole new meaning!
So fresh fruit was a major treat for the month or so it lasted, and only fruit with real staying power would survive the journey south. Which is why we had no bananas, but we did have oranges. They keep well and we had enough for the rest of summer. That was, until it was time for cricket.
It was late, probably 2 am. They were drunk, which is never an excuse, but perhaps it is a reason.
They (who will remain nameless) had decided that it would be ‘fun’ to play cricket, indoors, with oranges. Let's face it, what red-blooded young Australian has never whacked a piece of citrus with a stick! I know I have, and I hate cricket.
But this was a different time, a different place and with different rules.
Matt, one of my winterers, was first on the scene in the morning. The mess was one thing, and it was annoying. But what galled the winterers was that these irresponsible summerers had destroyed our winter food supply.
Sunday 9th January
My winterers were all growly today because of the oranges. Several of the boys visiting from Casey got through nearly a third of our oranges last night. There are pieces of orange all over the mess hall. I found those responsible and made them clean it up straight away, but the mess is only part of the problem. I can see why my winterers are pissed off. It's our home for a year, and the next resupply has already left Hobart. Anything that gets broke, stays broke.
I'm so angry. Surely, they knew that those oranges were the last ones we'd eat for almost a year? I actually think it was just thoughtless — they simply didn't think. They were shocked at my reaction as I rarely get cross, but I reckon using emotion appropriately shows strong leadership. So when I told them in no uncertain terms that their actions were selfish as ‘they would be back home soon and could eat bloody oranges every day if they felt like it, but we couldn't because they'd just destroyed our supplies’, the penny dropped and I saw remorse on their faces. Good. I'm glad.
With some of the summerers’ lack of understanding (or is it empathy?) of the winter, it's easy to see how us-and-them scenarios are created. Right now with 120 people in and around the station it's quite easy to ignore someone who is pissing you off. We also have a dynamic where the winterers are ‘united’ against a common foe — summerers. They roll their eyes and many of them have said ‘I can't wait till they go’.
I agree it will be different when they go but it means we will probably then turn on each other. With months of darkness ahead and no other distractions we will fight among ourselves, I'm sure.
In bed at 7.30 pm. I'm overtired and getting irritated by things that really shouldn't irritate me so I figure it's best I go to bed. Oh the joy of leadership — you need the self-awareness to know when to step in and when to step out.
The station leadership team meeting was flat today but I just didn't have the energy to bother about it.
I found the WHOLE PLACE annoying today and for the first time I feel lonely. Even though there are 80 people here at the moment I still feel alone. I'm not really close to anyone, which has also been my choice. I'm not even sure what's pissing me off really. Probably just tired. Jeremy, Janine, Mike all corrected me on trivial issues today. Maybe I should just stop writing and sleep! And exercise. But not now. Zzz
Tuesday 11th January
Felt awesome all day today. 12 hours sleep made all the difference. I can't believe I wrote all that drivel yesterday. What a self-indulgent thing I am when I'm tired. Lucky no one will ever read this. Lesson to self: YOU MUST GET YOUR REST!
What I learned
- Strong leaders know how to show emotion. The right emotion at the right time tells people how you really feel, not just what you're thinking.
- Look after your body. Make sure you take time to rest during crazy busy times. It might not seem like you have the luxury of time but it is critical to maintain your mental acuity and keep your emotions in control.