Lazy Sunday......

An email I received from my oldest brother this morning commenting that I hadn't shown any photo's of "my home" made me think. It occurred to me that the things I see every day and take for granted and therefore don't think are that interesting, may actually be of interest to people I know at home. For example, my room to me is just that, a room. But when I think of the first time I entered the Redshed I remember I was curious to see where I would lay my head for the next year or so. I was also keen to explore the rest of the building to see what was on offer. In this blog I will try and give you a view of what it is like to live in the Redshed on a Sunday, and I'll also give you a brief look through the lens of my camera at some of the areas I frequent on a regular basis.

The Redshed, centre. Where I live.

So, Sundays are our only full day of rest. Provided you aren't a plumber that is. As I've said before, every day water has to be pumped from the melt bell and Sunday is no exception. This Sunday it was my turn (myself and the other plumber alternate each Sunday). So, after dragging myself out of bed at 7.30am (bear in mind the sun isn't rising until about 7.15 am here at the moment), I headed outside into -20.9 degrees, with another -19 degree wind chill on top of that, and trekked up the hill into a 37 knot headwind at 8am to record the previous days water usage, activate the pump, and make a few checks. It's not all that bad really as today is another spectacular day (the katabatic winds always blow strong here every morning), and seeing the sun climbing over a glacier as it does every morning is not a sight I'll become tired of viewing in a hurry. If I were to be truthful, the Met guys alternate on Sundays also. They have weather ob's to make, and a balloon to release every day at 4pm, so it's not just the plumber who has work to do.

With the water transfer taken care of I returned to the warmth and comfort of the Redshed for breakfast and conversation with one or two other early risers. It was a big night in the bar last night so there aren't many people about. Fortunately I was sensible (read "tired") and went to bed at 10pm, while some stayed until 4am?? We celebrated the birthday of Paul, our senior dieso, with a small pig on the spit and a Hawaiian luau themed night of cocktails and frivolity.



My room. The Aussies call  it a Donga. Note the chart of my beloved Bay of Islands on the wall.

After breakfast was done I returned to my room with the intention of reading for an hour, before I made a couple of calls to NZ for my weekly catch up with Deb. I've also decided to call my Mum and Dad once a month to keep in touch. Alas the reading was not to be. I instead received a visit from Robbie, one of our sparkies (who's also my next door neighbour) enquiring about the page that "we" received at 6.20am this morning. I say "we" because I didn't notice anyone other than myself in the BMCS room this morning at 6.20am checking the computer that monitors our systems. It's all good, it wasn't a major, and it gave me an opportunity to poke some stick at him. We have a computer system that monitors the temperature and flow on all our external site services pipework, and also temperature and ventilation in all the buildings. All our external pipes are heavily insulated and have a heat trace cable that runs along the bottom of the pipes to prevent freezing. It is critical in this environment that such aspects are monitored. The consequences of pipework or a building freezing would be very expensive and create an unbelievable amount of work for us tradies. Generally not an experience I want to have. Most times we receive a page the alarm has reset itself by the time we log into the BMCS computer system, and all we have to do is acknowledge the alarm. Now and then we might actually have to head out and investigate the problem further. Murphys law dictates that this is usually in the middle of the night during a 6o+ knot blizzard!! So far I've not had the pleasure, but I'm confident the opportunity will present itself in due course.

Now, you can only sit in your room for a certain period before you feel the need to get out, so I wandered down to the lounge to see what was going on. Surprisingly there was no one around. I ventured into the cinema and sat down with Charlie as he had just put a movie on. Not the most memorable movie I've seen, in fact I don't even remember what it was called, but it was a relaxing hour and a bit none the less. It turned out there had been a climbing session on down at the wall in the Green Store (the warehouse) that I was unaware of so that's where a few people were. Two others were downstairs in the brewery making beer (that is to be commended!). By this stage it was time for lunch.

Our kitchen here is one that would be the envy of many restaurants. Perhaps not the layout, but definitely the size and facilities. Our chef Kim goes out of his way to ensure we know we are all welcome here, whether or not he is present. Sundays are self catering (or catch and kill) as it's his day off. Monday is another day off for Kim so one of us is rostered on to cook for the rest. So far we have had some pretty good food from people who don't normally cook a lot. The pressure will be on when it comes to my turn. I'm not sure which of my companions here know, but I've spent the odd night or two in restaurant kitchens in my time.

During lunch I discussed with Paul the possibilities of making a "priest" (club) for dispatching the game fish I am intending to catch on my return to NZ. He was quite interested in the idea and came up with some great suggestions. The dieso's have in their workshop all sorts of machinery and different metals that enable them to fabricate parts from bare metal if they need to. I've just provided them with a need. It will be a good project to focus on for a while.

And here I now sit (recline actually) on my bed typing my latest entry in my blog. The rest of the day will be equally as relaxed. It's still a beautiful day here and I may go out for a walk later. Yesterday was a similar day and I enjoyed a nice solo stroll across the other side of West Arm. The beauty of this is that you can get far enough away from station that you can't hear the generators and you can experience one of the things I most enjoy, complete silence. Not a sound at all. It's just perfect when you're gazing across the frozen water at a glacier that glistens with the suns rays. Dinner will be a simple affair, and then no doubt someone will choose a movie later on to finish the weekend.

Alternatively I might head along into the Dog Room with my Kindle. The Dog Room is a very special room for me. It is a quiet, sound proofed room that has been built as a shrine or memorial to all the huskies who were the backbone of the Antarctic program for many years. It has one of the best views in the building. These hard working dogs gave their all for their men up until the early nineties, when they were removed due to the fear of disease being transmitted to seals. As a dog lover I love the fact that the AAD has honoured these faithful animals in this way. They are all named on a tree that shows their bloodline, and there are photo's of various dogs on the wall. It is obvious that the dogs were loved and valued by the men that worked them. I wish the dogs were still a part of our life here. Having dogs to run and care for would be the icing on the cake for me. Still that would make it even harder to leave when my time to RTA arrives.

So, in a very small nut shell, that's what life is like here at Mawson Station on a Sunday. I hope that may satisfy any curiosity some have had.

Chef Kim and friend.

Charlie, my fellow plumber, in his best Hawaiian gear.

Hawaiian night. Yeah, looks more like a beard competition.

The bar and Hawaiian tourist patrons.

The bar minus patrons.

The Dog Room, and PLC, one of the sparkies.

The Mawson Lounge.

The kitchen.

The author, relaxing after a hard day of relaxing.

Glacier travel, crevasses etc. Part two.

Right then, so where was I?

Ah yes, the aurora. Well at some stage I drifted off to sleep again and woke at around 6.15. I soon realised that J.B. was already packing up his bivvy so took that as a sign that I should be doing the same. After a quick breakfast we all piled out onto the ice to do a bit of navigation around the locality of the hut, using both GPS and compass. These are essential skills to learn and maintain if you wish to continue field travel in Antarctica. Many times visibility has been lost due to an unexpected blizzard creating a whiteout, and when this happens you need to be able to navigate your way to safety. Once this was taken care of we quickly tidied up the hut, loaded up the quads and headed on out across the glacier.



Left side foreground you'll notice a big boulder. This side of it is where I made my bed for the night, sheltered from the prevailing wind, not that there was any.
 

Our next waypoint was Fang Hut. This is about an hours ride across the ice, and again we encountered some fairly deep drift. This time though we managed to navigate through after three or four attempts, as it was on a slight slope so we were able to reverse out for another attempt. Fang Hut is situated in a sloping valley between two peaks (Fang and Elliot), and looks out down the valley, through a shute and onwards across the glacier to the South Masson Range. It is yet another spectacular view, and with some consideration probably the most beautiful view I've ever seen. The hut itself is small and cosy, with a window that overlooks the valley. It's the kind of place I'd like to spend a quiet weekend chilling with a good book and taking in the view. In the mountains around the hut there are some good walks, all of which have different viewpoints. We walked straight up from the hut and ended up at a fair elevation. From here we did some more navigation and plotted our position on the map using a compass, triangulating by taking bearings on three known landmarks. All good skills to have when you are lost in a blizzard. Where our climb ended was basically at a bluff that looked directly across at Mt Parsons, with not a lot in between. Two more steps and we'd have been plummeting to our death. It was a fairly intimidating sight, but breath taking all the same, and a great opportunity for more photography.

The view from Fang Hut. South Massons in the background climbing up out of what looks like cloud, but is actually glacier.
 

Fang Hut, below Fang Peak.

By the time we had descended to the hut and had lunch the day was getting on, and we still had a good two hour ride back to Mawson, so it was with a little disappointment we made the call to postpone a side trip to Henderson Hut (Hendo). On the way back we detoured to the SLA (ski landing area) where we will collect our incoming summer crew in November.

Next stop along the way was F10. Our travel on the glacier is guided by GPS. We have several waypoints, such as Rumdoodle, Fang, Hendo etc, and along the way are canes that have been placed in the ice to act as route markers, which we must follow carefully as this is the proven safe route. Every so often one of these canes has its coordinates logged on the GPS. F10 is greatly significant. It is right next to a crevasse field. We parked up the steeds, dismounted and walked toward certain death. We first encountered a continuous depressed line in the ice that contained snow. J.B. pushed his ice axe handle into the snow and it just disappeared. It took me quite by surprise. The next couple encountered were of similar width, then we came across a depression about six hundred millimetres wide. Step on to this and you'll fall a long way to your death. We cleared away the snow and peered downward unable to see the bottom. It just disappears into a blue that reminded me of water we encounter when game fishing back home. So, that was scary enough, but we carefully stepped over it and soon encountered a crevasse big enough to swallow a vehicle. We didn't need to see any more, and left this one undisturbed. Apparently the bigger crevasses can be undermined and therefore are very risky to step too close to. Finally we returned and mounted our machines and blasted toward Mawson Station, a hot shower and a good nights sleep.

Deep blue endless terror. I do not want to become a victim of one of these.

This is the widest crevasse we saw. It extended off down the plateau as far as we could see.
 

Field travel has added yet another dimension to my experience here at Mawson. When I arrived here five weeks ago I was overwhelmed by the surrounding beauty, and I still am most days. The outgoing plumbers who we took over from had both commented to me "just wait until you get up on to the plateau". Now I understand. It is such a unique experience it's hard to describe accurately, but I had a moment where it occurred to me while standing admiring the view at Fang that I am in the fractions of a percentage of humans ever to have seen this beautiful vista "in the flesh". I think that is a part of what made it so beautiful. It was another very special experience that I will probably never forget, and one that I will hopefully be able to see again before I sadly leave this incredible continent for Hobart some time in February or March next year.

For now, ka mutu, te korero,
Haere ra.



Fang Peak

 

Near the edge of the bluff, Mt Parsons behind me.

Looking below us to the hut, and the quads parked in the snow. Just to give some perspective.

The interior of Fang Hut. Kim doing his thing with lunch, J.B. admiring the view.

Glacier travel, crevasses, mountains and aurora. Part One of a two part adventure.

Kia ora whanau,

Well after a near two day delay, my opportunity to leave station and travel up on to the plateau finally eventuated. We were originally scheduled to depart at about 11am on Friday morning, but Friday arrived and presented to us gale force winds, blowing snow and poor visibility. Conditions such as this are not ideal for glacier travel ("sub-optimal" in the words of Trev, our comm's guy). Never mind, we used the delay to get in some early training we'd normally do around one of the huts up on the plateau, in the hope that we'd be able to get away early Saturday morning. Once again the weather spirits were not in agreement with that plan. At long last the weather broke and at 4.45pm we climbed aboard our trusty steeds (brand new Honda 350cc fuel injected quad bikes, mine had 1km showing on the clock), and headed on out of town.



Three quarters of our posse and our trusty steeds.
 

Our posse consisted of myself, Kim (our chef), Paul (one of the diesel mechanics) and of course the legendary J.B. (seasoned Field Training Officer, veteran of 13 Antarctic campaigns!!!). First stop was station limits to record our departure with comm's, then it was on up the hill to Gwamm. This is basically the point at which you radio comm's again and let them know you've made it up the hill, as at most times the hill is just an icy slope, which ends a long way down the hill, at a very long drop into a very icy ocean (that's if the ocean is not frozen, as it is most of the year). Fortunately our quad bike tyres are equipped with studs to make them safe for icy conditions. In our case the studs I refer to are actually 10mm tec screws, as the new studs sent down for the tyres do not fit the tool supplied for the job. Alas!! A bit of ingenious thinking saw the idea of tec screws being tested, and what do you know, they do the job perfectly.



The view from Gwamm

The view from Gwamm is pretty spectacular. You look out over the tail of the glacier, on to what seems like forever, over endless bergs that remind you of ships anchored off the coast somewhere. Something that takes a bit of getting used to here is the clarity of the air, leading to almost unlimited visibility. Believe it or not it actually makes it hard to judge distance. You can be looking at a landmark estimating that it's around ten kilometres away, and when you check a map realise that it's actually more like sixty, and yet you can make out features clearly.

So, from Gwamm, our mission was to travel to Rumdoodle Hut (not sure who named it that, but they need to come back and restock the rum, there was none left). Rumdoodle is actually the name of the mountains that climb up out of the ice above the hut. We arrived at about 6.30pm, after getting three of the quads bogged in a massive snow drift. Luckily we had plenty of hands to help drag them out. The hut sleeps six, at a squeeze, and is equipped with a gas stove and heater, lighting if you have a generator, an outhouse and a small deck. Very comfortable considering your surroundings. The huts are used frequently as a getaway for expeditioners who want some time out from the hustle and bustle of "town".


Rumdoodle Hut, with the sun setting over the David Ranges in the background.

Now, my mention of the comfortable conditions the hut provides was only judged from a brief dining experience which came after we'd "rehydrated" our dehydrated dinner outside on shellite fuelled pocket rocket burners. Yes we stayed overnight, but did we get to judge the comfort of the bunks? No we did not. Not for our hardy crew was the plush luxurious comfort of single bunks contained within four walls and a roof. No, no, no. As part of our field training we get to experience the wonder that is "bivvying". And no, these are not flash mod-con small tent like bivvys. Now, I've heard the bivvy affectionately described as chip packets by some of our crew that went before me. Think of the shape, and the noise when screwing up a chip packet, you'll understand. Actually in reality, I enjoyed a very comfortable night, once I'd more or less done away with the bivvy and relied solely on my sleeping bag. You see when you exhale, as we all know a certain percentage of that air is water vapour, which given the right conditions becomes condensation...............on the inside of your bivvy. In sub zero conditions that condensation quickly freezes, until of course you move and disturb the ice, which falls on you and becomes water again. You can see where I'm going here, hence my decision after a couple of hours to sleep mostly out of the bivvy. Surprisingly I was not cold even though the air temperature was around -7. I had layers on, but the sleeping bags we have are of exceptional quality, and I had my spare one under me as a mattress. I enjoyed it, and I'll do it again.

So, sleeping under the stars, yes. I have always been fascinated by a clear sky at night and I often find myself staring upwards on such nights, trying to get my head round all the possibilities that such vastness presents. It's something I've done since childhood, and there's nowhere I've seen that presents a starry night better than Antarctica. I lay awake for the first hour just gazing. I saw meteorites, several satellites, endless stars and planets, and something unusual, the southern cross more or less directly above me, as opposed to being in the southern sky as I've been used to for most of my life. Things like that take you by surprise. However, all this fades in comparison with the main event of the night. I woke again at about 1.30am and thought I'd take advantage and get some more star gazing done, which was when I noticed an odd wispy cloud that kept disappearing and then reappearing. I realised after a few minutes that I was watching an aurora for the first time in my life. What a spectacular show. Ghost like wispy shapes that flicker and wave all over the night sky, light up and dance at random. It was a special moment that I will long remember. The aurora was not spectacular as auroras go from what I'm told, but wow, it was spectacular to me. I'm still pretty excited about it now.

Anyway, it's getting late and I'm getting sore eyes from this computer screen so that's it for today. There's a lot more to come in this tale, so call back in for more in the next day or so.

For now,
Haere ra.

J.B., on the deck of Rumdoodle Hut on a spectacular Antarctic morning.

Sunset over the David Ranges, which are about 15kms away from where I took this photo. To me they look a lot closer.

Here we go......

 

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Well everyone, welcome to my blog. I'll use this in conjunction with Facebook, and hopefully I'll keep motivated and manage to post here regularly. I'm starting this primarily as an alternative to emails, as it's easier to load my photo's on here. Our emails are restricted to 50kB, which does not allow any more than one small image. Also, I will be able to review this in the future as a sort of diary.

So, here I sit in the upstairs lounge of the Mawson Red Shed (our house effectively), overlooking the tail of a glacier which is framed on one side by barren rocky islands. In the foreground we have a juvenile seal who seems to have come to visit for the night. He's only about 15mtrs from our front door and is not looking too relaxed about it. He's not aggressive, but appears a little nervous. Every ten seconds or so he lifts his head and looks back over his shoulder. It's as if he might have arranged to meet someone here and is just wondering "where the bloody hell are they?" Down below him on the icy beach we have about fifteen adult seals who seem to be perpetually asleep. All lying around they remind me of dairy cows laying in a paddock. The difference is they aren't cows, and it's not green. Green is not a colour that features naturally here. It's very, very white.

So, life on station is pretty comfortable. We have a chef to cook for us (Kim). He's pretty good. Every morning we have fresh baked bread (seriously, it's hot when we get it), and something hot for smoko. There's always soup or something else hot for lunch, and dinner usually consists of two choices, none of which I've disliked so far!! Our rooms are small but cosy. I have plenty of storage for my belongings so have even managed to prevent the occurrence of the storage style I've been noted for, the Floordrobe!! It's early days though.

Our weekly routine here is work Monday to Friday, with a couple of hours on Saturday morning (while we have reasonable daylight and weather). We have communal duties we are required to perform after work on Saturday, such as cleaning communal areas, the "Gash Run" (rubbish delivery run to the incinerator building (affectionately known as Warren, more on him later) or whatever the station leader has been notified needs doing . Week days work starts at 8am, and we knock off at 4.30pm, with half an hour for smoko at 10am, and another half an hour at 12.30pm for lunch. The end of the day usually sees a few of us gathered in the lounge upstairs overlooking the glacier, with a beer in hand. The bar is just across the other side of the room. A very well designed building.......

So, every morning I walk up the hill from the Red Shed to the Tank House to make daily checks, record the previous days water usage, and turn the pump on which draws water from the melt bell. The melt bell is basically a cavern under the ice, which we circulate hot water through flow and return pipework, which creates a melt, from which we draw our fresh water. This has to be carefully managed to ensure it does not melt through to the rock. It has never been proven, but it is suspected that if we melt through to the rock the bell will leak, and we will lose our water supply. Not a good option.

After "making" water every morning we (myself and Charlie, the other plumber) often end up in the office of our workshop, checking emails from the "Div" back in Kingston. We have scheduled work we have to do, but often we'll have other tasks to attend to. Either way, our work schedule is not too stressful. The powers that be back in Kingston realise that for various reasons, work here does not go as quickly as it does in the real world. Actually, it is taking a bit of adjustment to stop thinking about the time factor of a job, and reflecting on my achievements for the day (or lack of....). I'm so conditioned to considering the value of my time in the commercial world it is hard to feel like you are getting anywhere when you add in the weather and other factors down here.

One of our other regular tasks is checking in on the "Chocolate Factory".  No, this is not an Antarctic branch of Whittakers or Cadbury. Use your imagination and you'll figure it out. Lets just say it's where all the chefs good food ends up. Many of you will be screwing your noses up now that you've figured out what I'm talking about. Yes, it's the Waste Treatment Facility, or WTF! It's actually not a bad place to hang out once you get over the methane smell. It's quite fascinating when you understand how it works and the quality of the outflow it produces (yeah, perhaps it's a plumber thing). The Australians can really hold their heads up and be proud of the way they look after the environment in Antarctica. The minimum standard (known as "The Madrid Protocol") is that human waste should be macerated and poured into the sea. Yes, minimum standard is raw sewage, munched up by a pump, then left to flow into the ocean. We go far beyond that standard, so our waste water is relatively clean by the time it ends up in the ocean. In addition to this we RTA (return to Aus) all our non human waste product that cannot be burned. Believe me, not all nations are this responsible. And these high standards create great expense for the AAD. I'm quite proud to be able to say I'm part of an organisation that has such high standards in caring for the environment and protecting this amazing part of the world.

Another regular task is the "burn". We have a building that houses the incinerator. We call him Warren. He was built by Warren Engineering. Warren is a nice old character, covered in scars from years of faithful service. He's the warmest machine on station, and we treat him with care. He's more than outlasted his RTA date, but amazingly he puffs his way through up to na couple of hundred kilo's of burnable waste whenever we do a burn (usually every three days or so). The emissions he produces are very clean as he has a secondary combustion chamber, which mean all that comes out of the stack is the haze from the heat. You can probably tell, I've already developed a soft spot for Warren. He's just another example of the Aussies going the extra mile in their waste disposal.

Anyway, enough of work. On Tuesday I will be heading up on to the plateau with two other expeditioners and the field training officer (FTO). We go out for two nights, three days and one of those nights we bivvy out on the ice. I'm guessing it'll be the coldest night of my life. Still, it'll be an adventure, and something I've never done before.
I'm looking forward to getting up around the mountains for some exploring. We'll travel for the three days on quad bikes. It'll be a great opportunity to see something completely different, and get some more great photo's.

I'll finish this blog off with my observations of the changing season here at Mawson. Two weeks ago the shoreline was completely rocky. Tonight as I look out the window, everything at water level is encrusted with a ring of ice. Not long now and the sea will have frozen over, probably by the end of the month I am advised. The high today was around -9 c, whereas two weeks ago we were having highs of around -1 c. It is hard to describe how, despite the harshness of this environment, it is just breathtakingly beautiful.

I am so, so fortunate to have been given the opportunity to live and work here for a year.Read more (151 lines)

West Arm, a perfect photo ruined by two guys in hi viz.

Aurora Australis in Horseshoe Harbour, looking toward Mawson Station from West Arm

The ship has gone!!

Looking southwest from West arm.

This photo suggests that man was not designed to survive in this environment. None of these graves were victims of the climate. RIP.

The first place I've been in the world where the eastern horizon is more beautiful to view during sunset than the west. None of these photo's have been doctored, they are straight from the camera.

Sunday arvo stroll, and then winter arrives.....

Well, Sunday was just a spectacular day. The wind dropped early (it normally blows at least 25 knots every morning until midday) and the sun was shining. It was a balmy -6 degrees and finally, after sitting inside admiring the day through the window, I ventured outside.

East Arm was my destination, a part of the Station I had not previously explored. This is the area that supports most of our radio and Met antennae. It is also the final destination of our WTF outfall. It is not as picturesque as West Arm, which I posted photo's of in my first Blog episode, but it has an appeal of it's own. That appeal is the wild life. So many times I very nearly walked into multiple penguin. The Adelie penguins actually get a little aggressive when you venture too close. They aren't quite in the category of "attack" penguin, but they let you know when they aren't happy. I probably encountered forty or so on my journey. Along the way I passed the "front paddock" where the seals hang out. These guys were not interested in me at all, in fact all of them, with one exception, were fast asleep and had no idea I'd come so close.

On my return to the Redshed, some of the team were enjoying the sunny conditions and having a social beer in the backyard. Not being a rude man I joined them. Our Sunday Sesh lasted all of two beers before we got too cold and moved it inside.

As is often the case here in Antarctica, every picture perfect day has a price to pay. That price arrived yesterday afternoon, in the form of what I've been warned was a very minor blizzard (in fact I'll get grief for even mentioning the word in relation to our recent bad weather). It started snowing yesterday morning and it was quite nice while the wind was gentle. Snow started to settle on the ground. I set my GoPro on time lapse to capture the transition from bare rock to winter wonderland......... Only to return an hour or so later to see the wind screaming past the window carrying all the snow that had settled, away and out across Horseshoe Harbour! This morning the snow was even heavier, and the wind just as strong, so much so that my beard ended up frosty and white after a five minute walk between Warren and the Chocolate Factory. Ah, the novelty. Pretty soon it will be an every day occurrence.

The forecast for the rest of the week gets worse before it gets better. Tomorrow is forecast to be up to 55 knots. Our field training is now postponed until Saturday. Hopefully well be granted three crystal clear and calm days for our first time up on the plateau and around the mountains. Not likely, but it pays to be positive.

Anyway, enjoy the photo's. Until next time.
Haere ra.

The front paddock

 

 

My best "sleeping seal" shot so far....

This little guy followed me as if he wanted to come for a walk.

Angry bird(s)

The calm before the storm

Sunday Sesh, Antarctic style

The payoff



The silver shed is our hydroponics house. Seriously.
 

Food!!

Reposted from Saturday.....
 

Slow cooked pork belly, duck with quince sauce, asparagus and roasted veg.
 

 

Well, it's Saturday night, and the end of a mostly relaxing day. I did a small amount of work this morning, then my chores which involved a bit of vacuuming and cleaning 1 x toilet in the bar upstairs. The rest of the day has involved cleaning my room and doing my laundry.

My real reason for this entry is just to demonstrate the level of quality food we are being forced to eat here on a regular basis. Saturday night is always a special dinner, held an hour later at 7pm. We tend to dress in our best gear out of respect for the extra effort Kim puts in for us. Tonight was a choice of slow cooked pork belly with chili jam, or duck with quince jelly sauce. I don't think anyone made a choice, we each had some of both...... And then crème brulee to finish. Mmmmmm, gym tomorrow perhaps.

We finished the night in the cinema, watching Dukes of Hazzard. Not the greatest movie ever produced but good light entertainment all the same.

Tomorrow is Sunday, a day off after we've pumped water, and then Monday is a public holiday (Labour day in Tasmania). We can work if we want to and bank the holiday. I'm undecided at this stage.