A bit of this and a bit of that, because thats what i do - lots of this and lots of that!
Monday, February 18, 2019
200 Hour Yoga Teacher Training, Rishikesh, India
Thursday, July 29, 2010
Tallin, ESTONIA



Estonia – land of the tall, blond men, or so it seemed. Estonia is the northenmost of the three Baltic countries, interestingly, its also the most expensive. I found some prices comparative to London, which seems odd, considering the vast difference in the worth of the 'krona' versus the pound. It reputedly has the highest suicide rate in Europe aswell – with a claim like that, you'd expect to see maybe lots of poverty and unhappiness, but its not the case. Healthy, young, vibrant, out-going these are the sort of words Id use to describe Estonia.
Sitting atop Latvia, with Russia to its east, and Finland an hour north by boat, Estonia has a prime location, both for its port and shipping, and for land travel. I arrived by boat myself – from Stockholm, Sweden. There is a regular passenger ferry that sails most days, and its a comfortable trip that leaves Stockholm late afternoon and arrives in Tallinn by 8am the following day. Sometime in the 80s one of these very ferrys sunk in the middle of the Baltic sea, many people drowned – morbid I know, so imagine how I felt when I saw that my bed was in a small room, down numerous flights of stairs, at the end of a long corridor, under the water line of the ship – not even a window. Such is the 'fun' of travel, I put it to the back of my mind by spending hours on the passenger decks, where I was befriended by a group of Swede's. Not only could they not believe I was from New Zealand, but I was on my own?!?! I was taken under their wing – to dinner, which included a crash course in drinking Schnapps. They all got a lot messier than me, it was a work do for them, a night 'on the tiles', so when I was tired enough, I made my way down the my room in the bowels of the ship, safe in the knowledge that I'd go straight to sleep anyway, and deal with a sinking ferry if and when needed.
Before I knew it, we were coming into the port of Tallinn. Wow, first impression - its incredibly medieval looking. It was a beautiful, clear mid-summers day, and I had a russian friend waiting to meet me through customs.
Id spent some months training (for bike racing) in Spain, and met the Estonian Triathlon Team, they were at the same hotel as me. Needless to say, friendships were formed, which is how I ended up staying in Estonia for a month – one week with my russian friend, in a 'russian quarter' and the rest of the time on the outskirts of Tallinn, with another triathlete and his family.
Russia and Estonia... they dont really get on, thanks to history. Most Estonians seem reluctant to use the Russian that was forced on them to learn, the Russians speak Russian, the Estonians do their signage in Estonian, even though a large part of their population is Russian... conflict continues to this day. One census claims there are 109 languages spoken in Estonia, with a large 83.4% of Estonian citizens speaking Estonian and 15.3% Russian speaking. Only 83.6% of Estonian residents are actually Estonian citizens – take my Russian friend – when the Soviet Union fell, his monther was straight away, banned from entering Russia again, because she was living in Estonia at the time. Only because of her sons athletic prowess, has he been given Estonian residency, a passport and freedom to travel.
The 'Russian quarter', where I stayed, about 20km from Tallinn was like something straight out of any other eastern european country I'd been to, blocks and blocks of flats of identical build, the soviet stamp of the past. Nothing flash, nothing fancy, I remember even the local supermarket was fairly sad looking – fresh produce was limp, wilted and wrapped in plastic, it was hard to tell what some of the foodstuffs were.
When I went to my other friends house, in Tallinn, it was easier to get around and explore, and I was a lot closer to town. Although his parents didnt speak english, the warmth and hospitality were still there. With them I witnessed the typical summer electrical storms, explored Tallinn and surrounding areas, learnt about tradition and days gone by, had a tour of what remained of the 'Red Army's Headquarters' not far from the house – my friends father served in the Soviet army, he'd been based at that same headquarters for a brief stint. He even got his projector out one night and showed me slide after slide of him doing a kayaking trip in the former Soviet Union, and other adventures.
Estonias flat – its highest 'hill' is 300m, Ive been over it! I remember the countrys roads being wide, straight and long, but in good condition – so easy to travel on, whatever the means of transport.
Not normally a museum person, Im not sure why I went into the 'Maritime Museum' but I was mind-blown when I got inside, definitely recommend it! It has the most amazing bits and pieces, and lots of information, and its located in a 16th century bastion, one of a half dozen or so that still stand, along with the brick walls inbetween them, as a border around the old town itself.
In Tallin, check out 'St Olaf's Church' – easy to spot with its high tower – 123m, which you can go inside of for a view out from near the top. It used to be 159m, but its lost height after being hit by lightning 8 times, and burning down to the ground and being rebuilt some 3 times. Also, the Russian Orthodox Church , in the heart of the old town. That is if its still standing, I heard, when I was there, that the Estonians were going to pull it down, thus getting rid of another piece of evidence of the stronghold russia had over them previously.
I visited Tartu, 185km from Tallinn – a university town. I went to the university, my friend was going to attend so we went to an open day. We picked up a hitch-hiker on the way, its a very normal thing to do in Estonia, people hitch with their briefcases, on the way to work, with their groceries etc, and Estonians stop and give lifts. No-one gets murdered, and no ones paranoid, its a normal part of Estonian life, like saunas, and showers, with no base, so that most of the bathroom floor gets wet, nothing a few wipes with a rubber mop towards the drain doesnt fix.
I didnt use any form of traveler accommodation while I was in Estonia, but if the rest of Estonia is anything to go by, im sure it would be fine. They're a modern, open nation. They joke about the Finns coming over by the boat load to drink, where its cheaper than home. I never saw it, but with boats everyday to and from Tallinn and 'expensive Helsinki', why wouldnt you!
Take in the old town of Tallinn, with its cobbled streets, cafes and shops. Ride on the trams that run throughout the city, visit the museums, drink the coffee etc! A lot happens here, despite it being a 'faraway' place. And if you're lucky enough to be traveling through by land, take your time. Check the place out, its really really worth spending some time there.
Kandovan, Azerbaijan (Northern Iran)
Situated 60km southwest of Tabriz, capital city of Irans northern province Azerbaijan - Kandovan is a village steeped in history, (800 years of it) and wonder, and it functions still today - all be it with the added ‘luxuries’ of the little things in life like power, dvd players and tourist dollars.
Iran - Tour of Tehran (Road Cycling)
An invite for a free trip to Iran is impossible to turn down! If it ever comes your way, jump at the chance! I did have to get a new passport – mine had just expired, and the trip was only just over two weeks away. Luckily, it arrived hassle free and came a lot sooner than the travel details – my first experience of 'Iranian time' and it had happened before I left New Zealand! The day before we left is when I got all my confirmed travel details.
Iran was putting on the 'Presidency Tour of Tehran', a five day bike race in and around the capital, and they invited a team from New Zealand to race – five riders and 3 people in management – a team manager, a mechanic and myself as a massage therapist. Ive done a lot of this work in the past and raced for many years, hence the invite came my way.
Never one for sleeping on a plane, its a torturous 20 hours or so from New Zealand to Dubai, and then a couple more onto Tehran. We'd gotten Euros in New Zealand, and changed them into 'rials' in Iran. Iran is a cardless country – no eftpos, no credit cards and no ATM's, and a limit on currencies that its possible to change – go prepared!! Around $120NZD worth of Euros gives you a thick wad of bills worth thousands of rials – I struggled to get my purse zipped up and in the end had to leave it half undone.
As we came in to land in Iran the women onboard all started covering up, from head to toe, because Iran is a shi'ite muslim country, with strict laws on what can be shown or not, especially for women. While they dont have to cover their faces, their hair, arms, legs and necks must be covered. Traditionally, this was achieved through wearing a 'chador' – an ankle length, 'hooded cape', grasped and held together under the chin, so only one hand is ever free. Nowadays, for the more fashionable, a mid thigh length jacket / coat, (a 'montoux') buttoned up at the front, with either a scarf to cover the hair, (tied under the chin), or a 'magneh' – a traditional, black fitted hood that leaves only the face exposed, is worn, especially in the cities, and by the younger generation. They liven them up with the colours they choose and make-up, big hair, big sunglasses and fancy footwear adds the final touches. Before we went, I wondered if id get some leeway as a visiting foreigner, and allowed my 'western ways'. No way! Of course, I respected the cultural and religious requirements, but I did wear my headscarf in a bandana style, tied around my head, as opposed to covering the neck and throat, and long sleeves only when I wasnt in the team car or the hotel. Great dressing for bad hair or fat days!! but the heat got a bit much. Apparently I looked Jewish because of the way I wore my headscarf, which wasn't desirable, and the days I wore my 'thai fisherman' style pants I looked kurdish (apparently apparently!) – especially undesirable while I was in Tehran, not so bad when I ended up right up north and nearer Kurdistan. For the men, legs have to be covered at all times, the exception being if your a cyclist, then the usual of shaved legs and lycra applies.
Our hotel was the 'Laleh', which backs onto a big park of the same name. Of all the books Ive read on Iran it seems every visitor stays there. Its certainly up there with western standards though. Arriving that first day, famished and tired, we literally fell into lunch which was an amazing, tasty feast, but, after 5 days of the same things, it fast lost its appeal, especially since dinner was the same food all over again. Chicken, rice, chicken and rice, rice and chicken, rice, chicken, kebabs, breads, lettuce and carrots...
Breakfasts were a variety of breads, all of them were pretty good and fresh, soft cheese, eggs, sausages, jam and yoghurts and some cereals. It was the one time of the day we could get brewed coffee, the other alternative was 'nescafe' (yes, instant) ordered from room service, or a burnt tasting brew from the cafe in the lobby. Iran is a nation of tea drinkers and it was only through our great interpreter that we tracked down decent coffee. I dont drink tea with sugar in it but I had a go at the Iranian 'sweetening' system - you put a sugar cube at the front of the mouth and hold it there with your teeth. Every sip of tea is sweetened and the cube gradually melts away.
Early one morning I went into Laleh Park for some exercise and 'fresh air' – what sights!! The place was teeming with men and women exercising. The women were all still fully covered and there werent chic Adidas or Nike alternatives to what I saw them in everyday – the only difference in the park is they were wearing trainers. I heard voices on a microphone so assumed there was a mosque near-by, but what I discovered was 'Iranian aerobics'! It was something else to!! Big, buff, immaculate men with headset microphones taking the masses, and I mean masses, through their fitness paces. The music was cranking, the public were packed in, men and women, the women, of course, remained fully covered...
With around 17 million population, Tehran is so big and sprawling I never really got a sense of where 'town' was – like any huge city, everywhere was a busy hustle and bustle. The smog sits like a thick snot over the city – and much as I felt for the guys racing in it, I even found it difficult to breathe myself. Ive never experienced smog like it, a dry mouth and throat that no fluid can 'quench'. Ive since read that every day, 27 people die from pollution related illnesses.
We drank only bottled water, and although all teams were told that under NO circumstances were any riders to urinate on the side of the road because of Islamic culture, it was a rule that couldn't stand the length of the tour. Especially because most of the racing was done on highways, so there were never toilets nearby. I even had to bend the rules myself and take hasty squats, rustling around in the grasses and bushes, like a dog, to get as hidden as I possibly could.
There was no shortage of race spectators and being a kiwi was a sure fire way of receiving attention. The Iranians seem almost paranoidal in how they think the west perceives them, but they are definitely a warm, hospitable country and as per the usual in a foreign land, if they can practice english with an english speaker, they do! I learnt by about day two that its 'normal' to be asked if you're married, but not so normal for me to answer no, especially when Im working with a team of men and Im not married to one of them.
It would be fair to say our performance was average – for various reasons. There were teams from the likes of Uzbekistan (easy to spot from their mullets), Kazakhstan, Japan, Germany, Qatar and numerous Iranian ones. Iran is at altitude, the lowest point we got to was 1200m – the highest around 2600m (further north). Needless to say, living and training in altitude meant the Iranians were a formidable lot on their bikes.
During our stay we got invited to a 9 day race in Azerbaijan, Irans northern-most state. Only one of the riders could extend his stay and I could also – jumped at the opportunity. So, when we said our good byes to the rest of the boys adventure number 2 began!
We spent a couple of nights holed up at Irans huge Azadi sporting complex, on the outskirts of Tehran, before heading north. Along with other stadiums there was an outdoor velodrome and the national football stadium – with seating for 100,000. Athletes live-in for training in their various sports, and we were eating all our meals in their dining hall – the food was surely a step up from the hotel and fresher. I noticed only about three other females during our stay there. I was quite comfortable there because I had been given the coaches suite to stay in at the velodrome – a certain luxury when compared to what the men were sleeping in in the 'bowels' of the velodrome.
To get to Tabriz, the capital of Azerbaijan, we were promised a flight but put on an overnight bus, about 9 hours, another sleepless night for me, and deposited at the 'Petro-Chemical Hotel' – with a name like that you cant help but wonder if you're going to stumble across a nuclear secret, but we didnt. Petro-Chemia are a major sponsor of one of Irans better cycling teams.
This race was quite a different experience to Tehran – a test on patience for both myself and riders, due to many and varied reasons. Its where the saying 'en'shallah', heard in all muslim countries, was really put to use. It means ' as God wills it' and it was their answer to everything from trying to organise tickets to get my fresh lot of riders over from Europe, to organising management, gear, team clothing etc .... in the end, after being promised a mechanic and an interpreter, I did the job of three people, a massage therapist, mechanic and manager, rolled into one. Also, while every team had six riders, we started with only four, after the Iranian federation reneged on their offer of lending us 2 Iranians. All in all though, it was a great opportunity for a good look around Azerbaijan – most nights we were staying in different hotels so it was a lot more varied than Tehrans tour. On the second to last stage there was about 20km of racing along the Iranian, Azerbaijani and Armenian border, quite unique and spectacular mountainous landscape of deep earthy tones, rich blue sky and occasional armed soldiers. It was while on this tour that we had a short sharp lesson in a couple of things, like supplying our own coffee because it just isn't to be found at any of the hotels, and not being one minute late to breakfast or wed be left unfed. Need something from a chemist? It seemed nothing was impossible to get with stacks of drugs available over the counter and a well informed chemist ready to serve. We had nights of not enough beds and days of feeling left out of the loop. There were less interpreters and fewer people speaking English, so one question could take hours to be answered. I was the only female but was treated very well. The one thing that seemed elusive was our details for flights home, and we found them out the day the tour finished, three hours before we were due to leave.
Five hours later (Iranian time again!) we were loaded onto a bus with the Kazakh team, bound for Tehran. We stopped for dinner at a road-side diner (Iranian style) and had chicken, rice and bread...
The fun really began when myself and the rider who had stayed on from the Tehran tour, went to go through customs. We were turned around and directed to a 'police counter' – our visas had originally been given for 9 days, we were leaving 21 days after that visa had expired. Of course, this wasnt explained to us, the guys we were sent to just ignored our pleas and frustrations – thats SO frustrating!! Doubly so because this took place around 4am, straight from our over-night bus trip. Thankfully, Id been using an Iranian sim card while I was away, and who best to wake-up with a frantic call than our trusty interpreter from the Tehran tour! Eventually we we were back to the sports complex , along with the rest of the team whose flights back to Europe were a good 24 hours away, and it was a further four days before we could get a flight out. In a flash of 'brilliance' I called the New Zealand embassy to share our situation – by now the Iranian Cycling Federation were saying they werent going to pay our tickets home, they were doubly pissed at us because our 'overstay' had cost them around $900 USD. We owe a lot to our interpreter and also a Kiwi at the New Zealand embassy, he was awesome. We lunched two days in a row with him, at the embassy, and got to make calls home and use the internet, read newspapers and drink coffee etc. The worst thing about our delay was that our baggage had left Iran and gone on to Dubai – after we had been assured that no bags ever leave without passengers. This time they did, and my mp3 charger was inside, dam!
Despite the 'character-building' aspects and vast cultural differences that proved testing at times, Iran is an amazing experience, an eye opener and a massive learning curve. The people are amazing, the women, beautiful, the food basic but (apparently) organic, and I have to admit, I felt pretty good while we were there, no jet lag, lots of energy and eating food that I dont usually eat. I think the altitude helped, even at the New Zealand embassy we were at 2000m.
After a bit of pressure we were finally taken to Tehrans biggest bazaar. We got two cars and the Swiss team came with us. The drive there was something else, after four lane highways for some of the trip, the rest was on tight, busy back streets and we wondered if it was a ploy to confuse us! Our team manager was driving the second car, and though we lost him a couple of times, its got to be said, he was a natural!!! Its definitely a country of 'pick your line, toot your horn and put your foot down'! Surprisingly, we saw little carnage although the wheel arch of a massive truck did manage to rips some shreds off our taxi on a day out. 'En' shallah'!!
Tabriz has the biggest bazaar in Iran. It was also the biggest and most important one during the trading days of 'The Silk Road'. We had an afternoon there and ended up being chauffeured around by a local not only keen to practice english but also very knowledgeable about the place. 35Km of covered market, with narrow 'streets' and lots of people. Its divided into sections – gold, clothing, footwear, food etc.. As in Tehran, I couldnt help but notice how few women there were working in the stalls and shops. Even those specialising in womens wear. Even underwear, which really surprised me. Not even a common occurrence in the west.
I was stoked to be offered a gym to use in Tabriz. Advertised as part of the hotel complex guests could come and go as they liked, and we had 5 days to fill before the tour started, great! Of course, there were separate gyms for men and women but it was a gym like any other – and the weights and cardio room looked down onto a 25m lap-pool. Being 'different', I did, at times, feel like a celebrity and was treated amazingly. Each time I went, I'd be approached by a woman wanting to practice english, to know about me and to invite me for dinner or a guided tour of Tabriz. Given phone numbers, email addresses and smiles all around. In a land of raw onion eaten at most meals, it was also new to inhale (there was no escape) the smell of onion that literally 'exuded' out of these women as they exercised. Even opening the windows to get fresh air in was of little use – the windows were all 'shielded' with covers that sit just off the outside, heaven forbid a male getting a view of women exercising..
I had a massage at the gym one day, always nice to get one yourself after doing so many. The therapist did not speak a word of english but her massage was one of the best Ive ever had, albeit under slightly 'unusual' circumstances. The room was big and bare, much like the massage table, covered only by a sheet of plastic. I was told to wait and someone came to put a sheet over the plastic, it was old, worn and didnt cover the table but I didnt care. She gestured for me to take everything off, which is fine and normal, but there was nothing I could cover myself with – luckily it was a hot room, however, we must have had half a dozen 'visits' from the curious manager (who knew a little english) and whoever else wanted to come and see if I was ok, happy, at ease etc. The door wide open with these happy, smiling faces that were so eager to know that I, 'from New Zealand' was enjoying my experience.
Recommendations? Dont forget to arrive with cash on you! And keep your cultural sensitivity with you at all times. I know as 'the kiwis' we enjoyed some jokes and being the way that we are, but its not til I look back at our time there that I can see we did pushed the limits a couple of times! The small things we take for granted in the west, like being able to meet with someone of the opposite sex simply to chat, is seen in very different eyes in Iran, although theres definitely a share of people there, mainly from the younger crowd, who want to push the limits – they do know their boundaries though.
Auschwitz / Birkenau - POLAND



As gruesome as it may seem, the first place I visited in Poland was Auschwitz, the largest of the Nazi concentration camps. I arrived in Krakow, settled into my hostel for a much needed sleep, and then got up early on day one for a bus to this poignant remainder from WW2.
Auschwitz is the German name for the Polish town of 'Oswiecim' (pro: Osh-ven-chim), where the camp is situated. Actually, there are two camps – Auschwitz 1 and Auscwitz 2 ('Birkenau'), the polish word for 'Birch' – the camp has a birchwood forest at the end of the railway inside. The camps are 50km west of Krakow and easy to get to by bus from the central station. The day I went, the bus was full and I imagined it was probably often the case. Its about 4km distance between A1 and A2, but the camps have their own regular bus service going between the two throughout the day.
We were dropped off at Auschwitz 1 and inside the entry building are various photos and information, a small museum and a film running hourly showing 'liberation day' footage. There's also a cafe but I was keen to start looking around so headed off.
The words 'Arbeit Macht Frei' are written across the top of the gateway of Auschwitz1, and I saw those same words time and again at each camp I went to in Europe (about seven in total) if rhw evidence of proof of the camp hadn't been destroyed by the Germans that is. It means' Work Makes You Free', and each day, when prsioners at A1 marched under those words on their way to work, an orchestral piece of music was played through speakers for them to hear, setting them up for a good day?
There are a lot of buildings in A1 camp but not all of them are open to visitors. A1 was the original concentration camp where around 70,000 Poles and Soviet prisoners of war perished. It was also the administrative centre for the entire complex made up of three camps, Auschwitz1, Auschwitz2 and Auschwitz 3 (Monowitz) - a labour camp for the Buna-Werke factory. Remains are all intact – railway, fencing, buildings etc and the more blatant reminders - an execution wall, peppered with bullet marks, and wreathes and flowers laid to rest at its base, a set of gallows and proof of medical experiments, a gash chamber and crematorium, but it was the torture building that left the biggest impression. I cant recall every detail, but the 'standing cells' in it were gruesome. They were made of brick, and the top two thirds of bricks had been removed so that you could look into them. They had doorways similar to a dogs kennel, and were standing room only for up to four prisoners at a time. So, the prisoners were made to crawl into the cells via the small door and then left standing overnight, with no fresh air and no chance of movement. If they survived, they were sent out to work the next day, but survival was low. The basement of this building had a 'starvation cell', where prisoners were left, unfed and unwatered, until they died. There were also 'solitary cells' where a prisoner was left in a dark, sealed room to die. They'd die from breathing – once the oxygen in the room was used that was it. Sometimes, for a quicker death, a candle would be placed in the cell with them.
Another building had prisoner remnants kept in rooms with glass fronts, which was slightly disturbing. There was mountains of hair in one, all prisoners had their heads shaved upon arrival, suitcases, piled high, and still clearly labelled filled another room and there were still more rooms heaped high with items like spectacles, prosthetic limbs, shoes and pots and pans.
After a good look around A1 I jumped on the bus for A2 and the first thing that hit me was the entrance – a building/ watch tower with a train track running beneath it. Its shown numerous times in the movie 'Schindlers List', I recognized it straight away. (Schindler saved Jews frrom the 'Plasow' camp, situated very close to his factory in Krakow. Nothing remains there now, its barren except for a huge memorial of a cross with barbed wire wrapped around it. Hence Auschwitz was used for the movie) I went inside, upstairs and looked across the camp. I was blown away at the sheer size of the camp, absolutely massive. I could barely see the end of the railway line which was some 1.5 – 2km long, allow a few hours to get around the entire place!
Everything still stands, except for gas chambers were evidence bombed by the Germans before they left. But, there was plenty of other evidence still standing - I walked through sleeping barracks (small bunks would have up to four prisoners in them), shower blocks, latrine blocks, a 'de-lousing room', where heads were shaved on arrival, before showering (there were photos inside on the wall, taken from prisoners, all of children. Very heart wrenching..). Then there was the birch forest right at the end of the 'line' – so many birch trees and apparently with lots of russian soldiers buried amongst them. It was in here that I noticed the lack of birds singing, Id always heard that they dont sing at the camps, and wondered about it.. Definitely no bird-song the day I was there.
I went into one block of barracks for a look and the door eerily creaked shut behind me. Walking through shower blocks was unnerving and standing at the end of the railway and looking back, the entrance was dwarfed by the enormity of the camp. Its massive.
A2 was partly staffed by prisoners. Some were 'kapos' (orderlies) responsible for keeping order in the barracks and others were 'sonderkommandos' (workers at the crematorium) , they prepared new arrivals for gassing. They ordered them to take off their clothes and give up their personal possessions. After gassing the 'sonderkommandos' would take the bodies from the gas chambers to the furnaces, they'd take out any gold the victims may have in their teeth firstly though. 'Sonderkommandos' were killed periodically. 'Kapos' and 'Sondekommados' were supervised by members of the 6,000 strong SS staff employed at the camp.
Seeing what I saw, actually being 'in' such a museum, didn't really hit me until I afterwards, when I had my photos developed and actually looked closely at them. Id shot predominantly in black and white, which added to the impact. What an amazing piece of history, what a huge impact it had, globally. Its a lot to take in, a big day out – start early and allow yourself a full day as it is mind blowing once you get there.
Ive always had an interest in WW2 and what happened to the Jews. So, even though most people cant understand my interest, I visited quite a few camps. In Poland I went to Auschwitz, Majdanek, Plasow, Treblinka and Stutthof, Dachau in Germany and Terezin in the Czech Republic. Terezin is a small town. The Germans used it as a 'case point' to the Red Cross when they wanted to investigate how prisoners were being treated. On the outskirts of the town lies a different story – the usual, cells, rooms for medical experiments (with equipment still intact), execution wall and crematorium etc. One of the weirdest things is people actually live in Terezin now. The camps are all fairly accessible and the preservation work and maintenance on them is first class.
Cape Evans, Antarctica

One of the best things about working in Antarctica, for the New Zealand base, is the ability to get out and about off base. From organised days out, to simply the ‘freedom’ to roam about on-foot or skis, it was these varied experiences that really made my time there more amazing.. And the second weekend there, a small group of us set off to make the trip, in a hagglund, to Scotts hut at Cape Evans.
Cape Evans on the western side of Ross Island, was used as the headquarters for Scotts 2nd Antarctic Expedition in 1910-1913. The hut, built by the expedition team, still stands, containing many of the items used by the expedition, in the same state as they were left - including glassware, bunsen burners and an emperor penguin, awaiting dissection. Among the team were a number of scientists (mainly biologists and geologists) who carried out basic studies.
Scott ran the expedition as a military operation, with officers and ‘enlisted’ men. The hut is large - 15m long and 8m wide and against that main building is a stable to house the 19 siberian ponies that were used to pull the sledges (much like the exploreres, the ponies didnt fare too well either).
The day we visited the weather had deteriorated to a ‘condition two’ - low visibility, high winds - perfect setting for visiting such a site. Once inside the hut I was amazed at the ‘insulated’ feeling - both of warmth and lack of noise. The screaming wind was shut out once we stepped inside, and though not hot inside, you could definitely imagine that the team staying there did manage to get the hut nice an warm. They insulated with seaweed, sewn into a quilt and then placed between double-planked inner and outer walls. The roof is a sandwich of three layers of plank, two layers of rubber ply with more quilted seaweed enclosed inside. With acetylene gas they had lighting and the heating came from the kitchen and a suplementary stove - coal fuelled.
I think the thing that struck me most was the lack of ‘age-ing’ - no cobwebs, dust, mould or decaying. Seal skins stacked up neatly between hut and stables, still with blood and lots of visible fat, not to mention the smell.. a box of eggs, never did find out from which bird, but looked far too big for chickens eggs, tools hanging on the wall, clean and ready to go - things left as they were found, as if the guys could walk back through the door again any time soon and pick up where they left off.
On a second visit to the site, in nicer weather, I was able to see more of the outside, including the view from the memorial cross standing on the hill just outside. Completely different concept and view, nice to get a sense of direction and placement.
Must also make a mention of the amazing work the team from Antarctic Heritage Trust are doing in their pledge to restore and record the Antarctic huts and their workings, a truly remarkable piece of history.