STORIES
A Small Expedition
Antarctica / Halley VI Research Station / Summer Season 2025/26
It started with a few old photographs.
Men standing in the snow, wrapped in heavy clothing and enormous boots. A small tent, flags fluttering in the wind, skis and equipment scattered across the frozen landscape. Some stood proudly, others sat or leaned against their belongings, looking serious, tired, or perhaps a little pleased with themselves. They were explorers from the heroic age of Antarctic exploration, posing for photographs that would eventually become part of history.
Scott’s party at Amundsen’s tent, South Pole, 18 January 1912. Photograph by Henry Robertson Bowers.
Scott’s party at the South Pole, 18 January 1912. Photograph by Henry Robertson Bowers.
I thought it might be fun to make something similar.
There was no particular reason to do it. Nobody needed these photographs. There was no scientific purpose, no operational requirement, and certainly nothing important to be achieved.
I simply liked the idea.
There was one obvious advantage. I was already in Antarctica.
I mentioned the idea to Dan the Station Leader, who brought it up during a managers’ meeting. To my surprise, everyone agreed. I had my explorers.
The next challenge was finding something for them to wear.
I asked Vicki, one of our field guides, whether the field guide department had any old clothing, boots, gloves, skis, sledges or anything else that might look as though it belonged to another century. She was happy to help. Some things were genuinely old, others considerably less so. Historical accuracy wasn’t particularly important. Looking convincing was.
We also needed a tent. The obvious choice was a pyramid tent, similar in appearance to those used by early Antarctic expeditions. Unfortunately, putting one up would have taken too long.
We settled for a toilet tent instead.
It was smaller, easier to manage and, from a certain distance, looked reasonably convincing. I doubted anyone would notice. A tent was a tent.
Katy, our General Assistant, even made a flag especially for the occasion. Our expedition was beginning to look official.
Video: Katie Grayson
On the day, the weather was gloomy. The horizon almost disappeared into the pale sky, leaving our little arrangement of equipment looking like a theatrical stage in the middle of nowhere.
I had already worked out where everyone should stand.
The managers arrived after lunch, dressed for an expedition that wasn’t going anywhere. I explained what I had in mind and began arranging them around the tent.
“Tell us what you want. You’re the artist.”
That was reassuring, although I suddenly felt rather responsible for the whole thing. Everyone had been generous with their time, and I wanted the photographs to be worth the trouble. I also didn’t want to become too demanding. After all, this was supposed to be fun.
Then I noticed Dani’s boots. They were far too modern. Everything else looked reasonably convincing, but those boots had to go.
Katy disappeared and returned with a more suitable pair. The expedition could finally begin.
Conor, Dani, Jerry, Dan and Jane — the managers, assembled for their unofficial official portrait.
A moment when the formal portrait became less formal.
I took the photographs in about fifteen minutes.
Four gentlemen also approached me about having their own expedition photograph taken. They dressed up, arranged themselves around the equipment, and posed with serious expressions.
The four gentlemen, with their own expedition portrait.
At some point, they decided that standing around wasn't quite enough and suggested pulling the sledge. It seemed like a reasonable thing for Antarctic explorers to do, so I photographed that too.
Their suggestion: take the expedition somewhere.
One of them was Paul, our Irish machinery operator, who decided the occasion deserved a few portraits of his own.
Paul, making the most of the opportunity.
He sat on a wooden box with a coil of rope in his hands, looking as though he had just returned from somewhere terribly important.
A quieter moment with Paul.
For a brief moment, in Antarctica, something entirely unnecessary seemed like a perfectly reasonable thing to do.
The expedition camp, after everyone had gone.
The whole thing had started with a simple idea and turned into a small adventure involving several people, borrowed equipment, a specially made flag and a tent normally reserved for rather different purposes.
A little historical imagination, a few practical compromises, and fifteen minutes of photography.
Our expedition was over.
I enjoyed the whole thing. I hope everyone else did too.
Nobody had discovered anything.
But we had some photographs.