After weeks of horrid weather, including 2 days of an Antarctic freezer blast, the weather on South Georgia has changed. It's now almost like an sunny autumn day in England.
The research vessel 'Ernest Shackleton' was just off South Georgia during that Antarctic blast, 6 weeks ago. The Captain later told me that in thirty-five years at sea, that particular 'force 12' night rated high up in his top 10 of 'perfect storms'.
So we go from one extreme to another. Blizzard to balmy. Or should that be barmy, as in mad? Mad ratters on a mad-weather island?
So finally the wind-sprites have given us a break. Sun, blue sky and nil wind. The northern coastal zones of South Georgia we had been waiting so long to finish, have been flown and baited. The southern baiting zones, so fickle to get to due the massive interior ice fields, are begun. It's time to move the camp in order to save transit time.
The 3 aircraft, the 3 Kiwi expert baiting pilots and the loading teams decamp to the south side of the Island. To Peggotty Bluff or as the pilots have named it, due to the turbulence and cold they have experienced there, 'Purgatory Bay'.
Not everyone leaves; there is redundancy built into the plan. One doctor remains behind. A chef. Spare manpower for general duties and bait loading and me; a spare pilot.
The helicopters flew off and suddenly what I knew would occur, when the camp moved, had actually happened; I'm now a pilot without portfolio. Man without machine.
The 3 Kiwi baiting pilots, Peter, Tony and Dave, quite rightly, have flown the 3 helicopters across the Island. I am now the reserve pilot in the reserve camp. I'm so far from the action; I don't even have air traffic type flight following to keep me busy. The camp seems empty to me; my pilot colleagues, new aviator friends from distant lands, have departed.
The core of personnel left with me has a wealth of skills that have been honed in some of the most extreme environments in the world. Construction, software development, engineering, hard core Antarctic living. What can I learn that could be useful to me back in the UK? Glacier crevasse extraction? Building a camp on floating ice 500 foot thick?
Perhaps not.
Learning to quad bike? Yes. Essential to our base camp and we have a quad kindly loaded by the South Georgia Government. Essential for collecting our fresh water. Time to get to grips with it. Massively long grey graveled beaches, old glacial moraine, perfect for the quad bike ab-initio student!
What next? Software lessons…..hmmm. Basic engineering………….I don't think so.
But who else is here? A chef (actually a professional landscape photographer) who has worked in 2 star Michelin restaurants back in the UK. Now we are talking useful UK skills!!!
I eat eggs a lot now since I trimmed 50 pounds of excess body fat in 2008. OK, eggs are in short supply in South Georgia and rationed for special days. A few weeks ago Oli the photograper chef served a few of us still at the camp one lunchtime, absolutely perfect poached eggs.
The kitchen our Michelin trained landscaper photographer chef works from is a 4 metre by 4 metre red and white plastic tent. From the door one can see, just 20 metres away, an inlet of calm water full of cavorting seals and just a mile from jagged mountain ridges that soar from the waters edge to sapphire skies.
Time to learn. Vinegar in the water? Nah. Swirl the water in the pan? Nope.
I now know the trick. And like the answer to a magicians trick, I am sworn to secrecy. An 8000-mile journey to the perfect poached egg. Mad ratter's tea party indeed.
The weather is like a glorious summers day. Mirror-glass, azure blue water. Sunbathing seals. Shimmering mountains in the background. Blue, blue sky. But no flying at the base camp. At the moment I'm like a spare bridegroom at a wedding. No escape for me. No helicopter flight to help me put out my hand and touch the face of God.
We get news from the baiting frontline. A fantastic day! More done than on any other day so far. A triumph. The capricious island had held us ransom for so many days, but the team is on a roll.
Tomorrow the forecast sounds better than today. The prayer is that the sea fog will not roll in on the south coast and the baiting will continue at breakneck pace. But what will we do at base camp?
We have a mountain guide, and a doctor to boot. An expedition leader with worldwide mountain experience.
Those peaks just behind our base camp are calling.
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