A heritage of wilderness and cold places…. that is what comes from my Canadian birth.

Memories of winters snowed in to the roof line, of having to wear snowshoes to walk to school, of cold so intense it freeze-dried the wet towels hanging on the clothesline…All that is as part of my early life as the accent, eh?

As a history teacher, Dad gave us an intense love of history. As a woman who did not relish the cold, my Mom gave us a love of sensible winter clothes. Add to this a pioneer spirit of exploration, and you have the foundation for bold adventure.

When Dad passed from this life 5 Christmases ago, the best way to use his unexpected financial inheritance was to be the bold, daring and adventurous person he always encouraged me to be – to visit the land of dreams, extremes, of unimaginable hardship — the most dangerous place on Earth. Living and growing up in Australia has by no means eradicated the ice in my blood.

Antarctica is the only place on Earth where you can walk into history and actually be there!

It is a pioneer place preserved by God, and Ice, in the exact same way the Explorers saw it and lived it. Their buildings are still there, lone and forlorn, a testament to the Human Spirit.

As a Spinner, I preserve a pioneer skill, one with practical application and with loving connections to the people of the past. To physically return to the location of the last century and offer my own pioneer skills for Australian Antarctic History was an easy decision to make. I would spin the yarn and knit a replica of Sir Douglas Mawson’s balaclava, and have it auctioned to raise funds to help with the restoration of the Huts and historic site!

In contrast to the Aurora,

Sir Douglas Mawson’s wooden sailing ship, fully laden and tossed on the Southern Ocean for weeks of travel to Macquarie Island and then on to Cape, the spinning propellers of the expedition cruise ship MV Orion (satellite navigation, daily weather reports, and luxurious appointments) took us smoothly to Commonwealth Bay and the shore of Cape Denison where the Hut half buried in ice and snow, rose from the rocks a stark pyramidal shape in antique weather-beaten wood.

The men of the Australasian Antarctic Expedition came from diverse occupations and countries, to a place so isolated and so far from civilization that there could never be any hope of rescue, should there need to be one. Those men came to do a job, in the cause of science and for King and Country. They were so determined, so committed, enduring cyclonic isolation and barely livable low temperatures of this barren landscape, which came to be known as the “Home of the Blizzard”.

This day, the hut is not quite as cold as the expected minus 10C, yet still preserved in a state of knee-deep, ice-covered protection.

And all around us (the modern explorers) the books on the shelves, the clothes hanging on the pegs, the canned food in the crates, the bottles on the bunk and the stove with marks of constant use, Frank Hurley’s darkroom chemicals, the ghosts of seals and penguins – all these shadows of the past — try to communicate their stories to us, if only we would listen. And over it all — a faint, unfamiliar “flavour”, a smell somewhat animal and somewhat faint and definitely old – the smell of burned smokey blubber

Arriving on shore, the sun was high in the sky. Gathering all my equipment: –Backpack, Majacraft Double Treadle Little Gem spinning wheel, spinning bag, Dyed blue Corriedale Wooltop, snow boots, extra clothes in case I was cold while sitting, deck chair borrowed from Orion and my Camera– and stepping carefully over the ice, around the penguins, away from the seals, I made my way on up to the Hut. About to start the physical production of the project that would add to the history of this very spot, I paused, mindful of my surroundings and the crisp, clear air.

Watched in puzzlement by the other Orion passengers, I assembled the wheel and set out the fibre.

Observed from afar by the multitude of local penguins and seals, I filled bobbin after bobbin. Visited by one bravely curious Adelie penguin, he made sure I was spinning correctly before he left my company for that of his own family. By the time I had completed the fibre I had set myself to do, the overcast sun was still high in the sky and only my watch had moved to 930pm! God’s blessing of no wind and zero degrees gave me 6 hours to spin, my tired legs and stiff fingers were happy enough to leave in the last Zodiac back to the ship. The first part of the project was done…..

Several years ago, I re-visited the land of my birth and found it both changed and unchanged. Canada had gone on without me, and the remembered places of childhood had shrunk with time, seen with adult eyes, but the places were there still. The funny thing is, I arrived there at the start of autumn (September), so the snows of my childhood had not yet come. Being Canadian, I could smell that it was nowhere near time for snow. There was only chill in the air….

Breathing in the chill air of Antarctica, you can feel the liquid cold fill your lungs.

It is crisp and clear, yet fresh, and to be relished at every moment. Sharing the same air as the explorers of the last century, you know that you also share their history of unimaginable hardship and triumphant survival. For a while, I became part of that….We are all influenced by the past; with such an influence and inspiration, ordinary people can achieve extraordinary things.

PS: The Balaclava sold at auction raising $1100 for the Foundation.

– Marion