Fossil-Fueled
Ingenuity to the Rescue in Antarctica
Thanks to modern technology, those stranded
researchers didn't meet a fate that has befallen others.
By Anne Jolis in the
Wall Street Journal
A century ago,
Australian geologist Douglas Mawson led a perilous expedition through
Antarctica. His team's observations yielded unprecedented knowledge of the
frozen continent's wildlife, climate and natural formations, though at a steep
price: On the way, expedition member Lt. Belgrave Ninnis disappeared through a
crevasse, along with a sledgeful of supplies and several huskies. Mawson and
his remaining companion, Swiss ski champion Xavier Mertz, wound up having to
eat their surviving dogs. Mertz fell ill and died three weeks later.
Mawson made it back to
his base camp, only to find that he'd missed his boat and would have to wait
another year to be rescued. "Several of my toes commenced to blacken and
fester near the tips and the nails worked loose," he wrote later in his
memoir, "Home of the Blizzard." "There appeared to be little
hope."
Prospects were
considerably brighter from the start for the researchers more recently stranded
in Antarctica, who were rescued by helicopter on Thursday. The episode—it would
be hard to call the 10-day marooning an ordeal—began on Christmas Eve, when
powerful winds shifted dense ice sheets, barricading the Russian-flagged
research vessel Akademik Shokalskiy.
The Australasian
Antarctic Expedition had set out in November to retrace Mawson's journey. But
where Mawson barely escaped with his life, the icebound researchers, questing
after evidence of global warming, seemed most threatened by a storm of global
ridicule.
Beyond the obvious
jokes stirred by the story's basic outline, it's worth noting how much better
off today's adventurers were than Mawson's team, thanks to the wonders of
modern technology—much of it decidedly fossil-fueled.
The diesel-powered
Akademik Shokalskiy was equipped with depth sounders, automatic radar plotting,
various satellite positioning systems and a full array of communication links.
Instead of relying on sledges and huskies, today's expeditioners had amphibious
all-terrain vehicles to explore their surroundings. The ship also had enough
fresh and dehydrated food to last its 52 passengers (including the researchers
and tourists) until February, if needed. As for entertainment, the Shokalskiy
had an auditorium loaded with movies and a stocked bar—though one passenger
cautioned earlier this week that booze supplies were running low and might not
last much beyond a New Year's Eve celebration.
As the days passed and
repeated rescue attempts were foiled by harsher weather and thicker ice than
expected, the strandees seemed to stay in good spirits. The scientific
expedition's leader, climatologist Chris
Turney, blogged that "we are all keeping
busy," for instance with classes in "knot tying, languages, yoga,
photography." The passengers posted a steady stream of photos and videos
to social media, with a heavy focus on selfies with the penguins that waddled
up to inspect the humans.
"It's fantastic—I
love it when the ice wins and we don't," marine ecologist Tracy
Rogers told the BBC journalist onboard,
adding: "It reminds you that as humans, we don't control everything and
that the natural world—it's the winner here."
When nature really
wins, the moment usually isn't Instagram-ready. Those long-ago victims, Ninnis
and Mertz, knew too well what it looks like.
On Thursday, when
rescuers from a Chinese icebreaker sent a helicopter to ferry the passengers to
an Australian ship, many of those around the world who had followed the story
might have found it appropriate to raise a toast to human ingenuity and the
marvels of the helicopter—however big its carbon footprint. Maybe the
climate-change researchers even raised a glass, if they had any liquor left.
They certainly had enough ice. Just ask those Chinese rescuers: At last report
their ship appeared to have become stuck too.
Miss Jolis is an
editorial page writer for The Wall Street Journal Europe.
No comments:
Post a Comment