I have always enjoyed cold climates and connecting to the environment. I used to work in a museum in northern Sweden during the Arctic winter, surrounded by the northern lights. Back then I lived in a cabin in the woods. In some ways, that existence is not too dissimilar to mine now – though in the complete opposite end of the world.
In November 2023 I joined the UK Antarctic Heritage Trust, the charity that looks after British heritage in Antarctica, as their postmaster and museum manager. It was a very long selection process to get the job, followed by two weeks of intense first aid and medical training. The massive packing list was a headache – I didn’t know how many socks I should bring.
There are five of us now living together in a Nissen hut in Port Lockroy, a harbour on the west side of the Antarctic peninsula. It was established as a British base in the 1940s and is on Goudier Island, which is the size of a football pitch, but feels much smaller against the stunning backdrop of glittering mountains and glaciers. As well as looking after the museum, we monitor the environment and keep track of our neighbours, the penguins.
We share the island with 1,000 gentoo penguins, who of course take precedence. They have their own highways they use to walk down to the shore and we get used to slowing down, always keeping our distance, and waiting for them to pass.
The base had been shut for winter when we arrived in November, so when we got off the ship, we had to dig through snow for a couple of hours before we could open the front door. The first thing was to install the gas and put the kettle on, then set up the electricity, which is solar powered, and comms channels.
We all have specialised roles, but everyone does a little bit of everything. Every two days we count the nests, eggs and chicks in our colonies, and feed that data back to the British Antarctic Survey. Maintaining the hut and our lives here takes a lot of work: we’ve got no running water, no flushing toilet, no showers, and there’s a lot of snow digging. Everything just takes a bit longer in Antarctica.
As postmaster, I’m in charge of sorting the mail that gets sent here, the southernmost post office in the world. In five weeks I’ve processed 20,000 letters, including postcards from stamp collectors who want a stamp from Antarctica. They request particular postmarks or stamps, and can be very specific about where they want them placed. My favourite letter was a note from two children asking questions about penguins.
Ships pass by and we’ll go onboard. It can feel like whiplash, switching from the peacefulness of the island to stepping on to a busy cruise ship. We provide a shop for those onboard or give presentations about the history of Port Lockroy, and if we can, we’ll use their facilities to wash our clothes and send emails to our families.
I have the nicest commute to work. The museum and post office is just a few feet from our hut – the original 1944 building where researchers would have lived and worked. Each day, I pass seals on an iceberg and I see the penguins through all weathers – sun, storms, snow and rain. It’s a lot to get used to: the sun never sets; the penguins are very noisy and sound like trumpets. There are also curious little white scavenger birds called snowy sheathbills who run on the metal roof and knock at the windows.
On our days off, once every two weeks, we enjoy going on long walks around the island, and even though it’s small, it takes a really long time – everything feels so stationary. We notice all of the small things, like seeing a bit of moss for the first time. When seals come on to the island, we can spend ages just watching them. You observe so much more and take more time for all the small things: the slight changes in the weather, the landscape and the animals’ behaviour.
Being in the middle of this vast landscape gives you time to reflect and to think about just how small you are. Sometimes I get emotional and teary just looking at the sun reflected in the water, or when the penguins put the first pebble into their nests.
• As told to Naomi Larsson Piñeda
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