The following day Jane boarded a British Airways flight from London Heathrow to Christchurch, New Zealand. From there she would catch a military transport plane to Antarctica and then a C-130 would take her a further one thousand miles to the Byrd Ice Station. A small plane would take her on the final four hundred mile leg of her journey to the expedition’s Ice Rift base camp on the Pine Valley Glacier ice shelf.
She settled back into the comfortable business class seat Richard had wrangled out of his future father in law. She found it hard to believe that tomorrow she would be in Antarctica. Though she assumed she had Barry to thank for her good fortune and Richard’s mysterious attack of gut rot and diarrhoea, she also knew she was the better person for the job, even if the impossible happened and a meteorite was found. There were two geologists on the team far more experienced and capable than Richard, who in her experience, didn’t know his arse from his elbow when it came to reading scientific data. How he’d achieved his degree was a mystery to more people than herself.
“Would you like a drink, Miss Harper?” enquired the stewardess, adding a bright smile.
With a fourteen hour flight ahead of her and to celebrate her good fortune, Jane smiled back at the flight attendant. “Yes, I think I will. Vodka and coke with ice, please.”
Four flights, thousands of miles and many hours later, Jane stared out the window of the small aircraft—owned by its pilot, Jack Hawkins—at the huge expanse of ice below.
Max Boyle, the only other passenger, stared at the woman who sat across the aisle. Her long brown hair framed her slightly full, but pretty, face. When he’d received the list of team members, which included photographs of them all, he’d detected sadness in her large, brown eyes. He broke his appreciative gaze and looked out of the window at the white wilderness. “It’s an amazing sight.”
“It certainly is,” Jane replied.
“Is this your first time in Antarctica?”
Jane tore her eyes away from the amazing landscape to look at her fellow passenger. Max, forty-four years old, had a full head of dark, slightly unkempt hair and a face bursting with character that reminded her of Walter Matthau with a hint of Anthony Hopkins. “Yes, though I’ve been to the Arctic a few times.” A stab of sadness entered her heart when Kyle’s face appeared in her thoughts. “You’ve been here before, I believe?”
Max nodded. “This is my second visit. My first was three years ago.”
“What’s it like?”
“Cold, damn cold. But as it’s the coldest place on Earth, that’s to be expected.”
“I needn’t have packed my skimpy bikini then?”
Max laughed. “Oh, I don’t know, it might come in handy. There’s an Antarctic tradition, a sort of initiation ritual for Newbie’s. You have to run out onto the ice, naked, but they might concede and let you wear your bikini—the bottom half, anyway.”
Jane wasn’t sure if Max was being serious or pulling her leg. The grin on his face did little to convince her one way or the other.
“It’s actually true,” he told her. “It’s also a good way of bonding with the rest of the team.”
“I’m all for bonding, but running about in my birthday suit in the freezing cold watched by a group of men is not the bonding I had in mind.”
“Well, give it some thought. I’m certain as soon as they discover you’re an Antarctic virgin they’ll mention it.”
“Did you do it?”
“Of course. It’s not that bad. A quick sprint in the cold and then back in the warm. Actually it’s quite refreshing. However, I’m a man and the team was all men.”
“I’m certainly not going to mention this is my first time. Hopefully, no one will ask as we’ve such a busy schedule.”
Max smiled. “Oh, they will ask, believe me, they will ask.”
Jane looked out of the window. All she saw was ice and snow. It looked very cold. “Did you know that in August two thousand and ten, a NASA satellite recorded the lowest Earth temperature ever recorded in Antarctica? It hit minus ninety-four point seven degrees Centigrade, that’s one hundred and thirty-five point eight degrees Fahrenheit. I can’t imagine anything so cold.”
“As I said, damn cold, but we shouldn’t experience any temperatures that low.”
“The rift is coming into view,” called out the pilot. “I’ll fly above it until we reach your base so you can have a good look.”
Jane and Max scanned the ice.
“I see it!” said Jane.
Max unbuckled his seat belt, crossed the aisle to take the seat behind Jane, and gazed out of the window at the approaching rip in the ice.
A few moments later the small craft turned to follow the wide, deep crevasse.
Jane stared into its depths, “The photographs don’t do it justice.”
“I agree,” said Max. “At eighteen miles long with an average width of two hundred and sixty feet, it’s the largest rift discovered. When it breaks off the ice island will be about twenty-one by twelve miles, big enough to fit Manhattan on, with room to spare.”
They stared in silence at the rift passing below them until the plane changed direction to once again fly above the ice sheet.
“Base camp ahead,” called out the pilot, a few minutes later.
The two passengers caught their first glimpse of their home for the following two months. Positioned about half a mile away from the rift, the small group of buildings was a speck in the white wilderness.
The passengers gazed at the prefabricated cabins, which included living accommodations for ten people, a small sick bay, well equipped laboratories, kitchen, showers, radio room, rest room and storage. Separated from the main building was a workshop, a garage for two Sno-Cats and two Ski-Doos, a generator room and a storage hut. All were heavily insulated against the freezing temperatures. Though Jane had been involved from the planning stages, she still found it incredible the base camp had managed to become a reality in such a remote area of the ice. Trails formed by snow vehicles from the camp led off in different directions. As they flew over the camp, three people wearing red and orange snow-suits paused from their labour to stare up at the approaching aircraft.
The small craft, battered by the constant wind, turned and began its descent. Jane watched the ice grow ever closer and noticed it wasn’t as smooth as it seemed from high up. A powerful jolt shot through the plane when the skids connected with the hard packed ice. The plane bounced twice before sliding across the wind-rippled snow that lay atop the thick layer of ice. The vibrations shaking the plane and its passengers decreased when the plane slowed and turned toward the compound and ceased when it came to a gentle halt a few yards away.
Jack turned and smiled at his two passengers. “We’re here, folks.”
Jane and Max released the catches of their seatbelts, stood and slipped on their padded thermal coats.
Jack moved into the back and opened the door. When a rush of icy wind entered the heated cabin, Jane quickly slid the zip of her Parka up to her neck.
“Climb down and I’ll pass out your bags,” said Jack.
Jane was first to step onto the ice. She shivered as the cold wind blew through her hair and pushed the fur-lined hood off her head.
Max disembarked and smiled at her. “I told you it was cold.”
“I’ll soon get used to it,” Jane told him, refitting the hood tighter.
“You never get used to it,” Max said. He looked at the main hut when someone came out. “Here comes our welcome party.”
Jane smiled at the man walking toward them. Though his hood hid most of his face, Jane recognized the white beard from the photograph in the team’s info of the man. Henry Sandberg, fifty six years old, a veteran of the ice and an expert in many fields and the man in charge of the expedition. Jane thought he had a kind face. His wife, Martha, who’d battled with cancer for almost a year, had died two months ago. She had made Henry promise that he would still go to Antarctica, whether she lived or died. She, Henry and Max were the only three English participants; the rest of the team were American.