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Antarctica is a surprisingly recent addition to scientific knowledge. While there are hints in the oral traditions of South America and New Zealand that some hardy mariners voyaged as far as Antarctica, the continent has no indigenous population, and it is only in the last few centuries that humans have certainly set foot there. Even in the 1770s, Cook circumnavigated Antarctica without ever seeing it, because he was held back by the ice. Instead, a concerted effort to reach the continent had to wait until the 19th century. Competing expeditions set off from Russia, Britain, and the United States, with the Russians encountering what they took to be an icefield on 27 January 1820, and the British sighting land three days later on 30 January. They had spotted the Trinity Peninsula, the northernmost tip of the Antarctic Peninsula, which juts away from the main landmass like an enormous panhandle, pointing in the general direction of South America. All certain human activity on Antarctica post-dates that 19th-century moment of discovery.
What the archaeology of Antarctica lacks in longevity, though, it more than makes up for with relics of the ingenious and determined – some might say stubborn – drive to chart and settle this most forbidding of terrestrial environments. When it comes to early exploration of the continent, many people’s minds will turn first to the notorious 1911-1912 race to the South Pole between Roald Amundsen and Robert Falcon Scott, with the latter’s expedition concluding with the tragic loss of his entire team. While remarkable remnants of these endeavours can still be seen, both teams wisely chose to begin their journeys on the Ross Sea, much closer to the Pole than the Antarctic Peninsula would allow. It was on that peninsula, though, that the story of a permanent human presence on the continent began. Today, the region is subject to claims by Argentina, Britain, and Chile, although all three recognise the 1959 Antarctic Treaty. This pivotal agreement established the freedom of scientific research on the continent, and set it aside as a place of peace and research.
The UK Antarctic Heritage Trust currently manages seven historic sites on the peninsula, which collectively tell the story of British science in the region. Alongside these, the Trust has recently added an eighth, rather different monument, to their tally of protected sites. This one lies east of the peninsula, in the depths of the Weddell Sea, and was only located in 2022. It is the wreck of the Endurance: the ship crushed by ice in October 1915, at the outset of Sir Ernest Shackleton’s attempt to make the first land crossing of the continent. This loss initiated an extraordinary story of survival against both the elements and the odds, with Shackleton and a small crew ultimately summoning rescue after sailing to South Georgia in one of Endurance’s lifeboats. This extraordinary feat is often regarded as the last major episode in what has become known as the ‘Heroic Age’ of Antarctic exploration. The very earliest human activity in Antarctica, though, was not inspired by the lofty aspirations of either exploration or science. Instead, it was geared towards rewards of the financial kind.
A very cold war
‘The immediate result of the discovery of Antarctica in 1820 was the arrival of sealing and then whaling expeditions’, says Camilla Nichol, CEO of the UK Antarctic Heritage Trust. ‘This proved to be quite a lucrative business, so in 1908 the British decided that, as there was an awful lot of activity going on, they should start taxing it. In order to do that, they needed some sort of governance over the area. This led to them claiming the Antarctic Peninsula, which was the busy part of the continent where all of the whaling and sealing was happening. Sure enough, this allowed revenue to be raised, until the seals and whales all but ran out.’
‘By then, another reason for taking an interest in the region was emerging from the geopolitical tensions of the 1930s and ’40s. In 1944, this led to Operation Tabarin, which was supposedly about sending some men to Antarctica to make reports from the Southern Ocean and keep watch for German U-boats. But that was just a cover story. The real aim was to keep the Axis powers under control, and Argentina was seen as part of that. Because of the overlapping claims to the peninsula, it was decided that a good way to keep an eye on Argentina was to establish a permanent British presence on the ground in Antarctica. And that permanent presence has endured to today.’
‘Nowadays, the aim is science, but back then the plan was to create bases that essentially acted as gateposts at the top of the peninsula. One was intended to be at Deception Island, and the other at Hope Bay. These are both key strategic points that ships would pass in order to sail down the peninsula, allowing them to be observed. In the event, though, things didn’t go quite according to plan. Because it was wartime, and all of the diesel ships were in service, the operation had to make do with some rather inadequate ships that made up the back end of the British fleet. Many of them broke down on the way, and, when they finally reached Hope Bay, they couldn’t get in because the ice was too thick. Instead, they went to a place called Port Lockroy, because they knew it was a safe harbour. Until about 1930, it had been used by whalers, who would tow in a whale and butcher it there. But, because Port Lockroy was a pretty good location, and you could still see what was going on from there, it became the first base – even though it was never intended to be! After the war, for a decade or so, there were still a lot of disputes, often involving flags. The British would see Argentinian ships come in, follow them, pluck out their flag, and stick ours in. Likewise, the Argentinians would take any British ones they found. That all came to an end with the Antarctic Treaty in 1959.’
Although the initial British bases in 1944 were designed to create a strategic presence on the continent, government-sponsored science got under way at the same time. This was largely down to the man nominated to lead the expedition: Captain James Marr. He had served on Shackleton’s final expedition in 1921-1922, while still a Boy Scout, and got bitten by the Antarctic bug. By the time of Operation Tabarin, he was hugely experienced and also a scientist. As the plan called for people to be in place for a minimum of two years, Marr found himself wondering what everyone could do to occupy themselves through the long Antarctic winter – when the sun sets in March and does not rise again until September. Reasoning that scientists could always think of something to be getting on with, he ensured that they were present in the polar party. Thanks to that, a range of data were collected, including some that still serves as the benchmark for the region. This is particularly true of the study of lichens, although continuous meteorological records stretch back to 1944, too. In this latter regard, Port Lockroy proved to be a slightly unfortunate location, as it turned out that the site lies within something of a microclimate, making it less indicative of the wider peninsula than originally hoped. Even so, science continued at Port Lockroy until the base closed in 1962. By then, it was only one of numerous scientific bases on the peninsula.
At the peak of British scientific activity on the continent, nearly 20 bases and associated refuges were operating. Many lay further to the south of Port Lockroy, allowing wide-ranging expeditions to depart on sleds pulled by dogs. Given the number and range of potential historic sites on the peninsula, this raises the question of how the UK Antarctic Heritage Trust ended up with the eight sites that they are responsible for?
Heritage or waste?
‘In the 1990s, an environmental protocol was added to the Antarctic Treaty’, explains Camilla. ‘Before that, there hadn’t been any environmental protection, so there was a nuclear power station on Antarctica, and there could even have been potential for mining. That all stopped when the new protocol came in. No nuclear activity; no mining; no more hunting or eating penguins and seals; no more non-indigenous animals, so all of the sledging dogs had to be removed. The other thing that changed because of the protocol was waste-management. And, as all archaeologists know, heritage and waste can sometimes be quite closely aligned. In this case, the protocol said that all nations operational in Antarctica had to go and review everything they had ever built on the continent. If it wasn’t being used, it was waste and needed to be removed. The exception was for significant sites, where there was potential to protect them as historic monuments. So all of the different nations involved with Antarctica had to do surveys.’
‘The UK sent in conservation architects who evaluated every single site and scored them using international heritage charters. In the end, they landed on seven UK sites on the peninsula that were of particular significance individually, and as a suite tell a story of British science there, too. As you’d imagine, the huts of Scott and Shackleton on Ross Island were also designated as super significant, and they are under the care of New Zealand, which claims and operates in the Ross Sea region of Antarctica. After the seven UK sites had been selected, they were taken to the Antarctic Treaty table, and it was agreed by consensus with the other nations that they would be protected. After that, the remaining sites were either removed or handed to other nations for continued use. One was sold to the Ukrainians for £1, and is still an operational station. As the remaining historic sites were now protected under international law – with the equivalent of Grade I-listing status here in Britain – that brought a responsibility to care for them.’
All of the sites are owned by the British Antarctic Survey (BAS), the body that is responsible for British science on the continent. Initially, they managed these monuments as well, but in 2006 the BAS got together with the UK Antarctic Heritage Trust and the Foreign Office. It was decided that henceforth the scientists would focus on the science, the heritage organisation would take on the heritage, and the Foreign Office would provide support. These sites are not just preserved to keep them standing, though: they also welcome visitors. During the months when it is not pitch-black 24 hours a day, Antarctica has a tourism industry. About 100,000 people visit the continent every season, with some observing from the decks of boats, and others landing. As a result, Port Lockroy, which is now the flagship UK Antarctic Heritage Trust site, welcomes around 18,000 visitors per year. As well as being a pivotal site for understanding British involvement with the Antarctic, it is home to a small team who run the southernmost post office in the world. Visitors can send their postcards, and enjoy an on-site museum that displays a selection of artefacts from the sites.
Of the remaining original seven sites, the closest to Port Lockroy is Damoy. This bright orange hut was effectively a waiting room, as it lay next to a skiway – essentially a glacier – where aircraft could land when the conditions were right. Many Antarctic scientists would arrive by boat and then while away their hours at Damoy, waiting for a ride south. Among the bases that lay in that direction was Stonington – the second British hut to be raised on the peninsula. It was built in 1946 and used as a base for sledge expeditions until 1950, before gaining a second lease of life from 1960 to 1975. A hut on Detaille Island had a rather shorter lifespan, being built in 1956 and then abandoned in 1959. Today, it displays something of a Mary Celeste quality, as evacuation of the base was conducted with considerable haste when sea ice prevented the resident team from being resupplied. Another early facility lay on the Argentine Islands, where Wordie House was built on the foundations of an earlier hut in 1947. It is named after another alumnus of a Shackleton expedition, this time James Wordie – and it served as an important meteorological station. The two final sites are both associated with Horseshoe Island, where long-distance dog-sled survey trips once departed from Base Y, while a nearby refuge provided a safe pit stop for humans and dogs when the conditions turned against them. Needless to say, all of these sites bring distinct heritage challenges.
Conservation and restoration
‘We look at every site on its own merits’, says Camilla, ‘and establish what our objectives for it are. So Port Lockroy, for example, has been restored. When it was protected in the 1990s, it was in a pretty parlous state. We have returned it to its 1957 condition, using items taken from sites of a similar age that were being removed as waste, and so no longer exist. Its purpose now is to be a tourist destination that tells the story of science in Antarctica. That’s very different to Detaille Island, which is not heavily visited, because the problems they had with ice in the 1950s are still problems that we have today. While Port Lockroy has been reassembled, Detaille is a place that we are conserving as found: it’s a site that will change very little. We will never paint the outside of it black again, as it was in its operating state. Instead, we’ll leave it in its weathered state. It looks beautiful; it sits in its landscape very comfortably. But maintaining it as it is does mean we may have to do more work than at Lockroy. It’s all about keeping the building envelope intact. If we can do that, there’s a fighting chance that its contents will still be there in another 80 years.’
‘When Detaille was evacuated, the men had to grab what they could, put it on the sledges, take the dogs, and go. There are still cigarettes in an ashtray that look like they were burning yesterday. Most of the contents are in remarkable condition, but some things aren’t. The tins of fish are terrible. We’ve got a big task ahead in terms of the artefact programme, because the tins of food all need emptying. They are rotting from the inside out. We’ve got all sorts of food: corned beef, porridge; everything was supplied from the UK as government-issued goods. Even the buildings were made in Norwich. They were created by a famous manufacturer of sheds and garages called Boulton & Paul, who designed an Antarctic model, which they evolved over the course of a decade or so. Their buildings would be packed up, put on a boat, and then assembled in Antarctica, often by non-experts. You might have one carpenter on a team, with the rest marine biologists, lichenologists, meteorologists, and such like; so sometimes the windows are upside down.’
‘The first two-storey building in Antarctica was at Stonington. Unlike Detaille, it was carefully evacuated and emptied, so it feels very abandoned. There’s paint peeling off and it has a kind of whiff of Chernobyl about it. When Stonington was built, they put in the bottom section, and then made the second storey smaller, which left a catwalk running around it. From a weather point of view, they probably thought that was fine, but instead snow built up there and started rotting the building from above. Now, though, it’s climate change that is the biggest challenge facing us. I’ve been involved with the UK Antarctic Heritage Trust for 11 years, and I’ve seen a huge difference in how wet it gets. Port Lockroy, for example, was not built with gutters, because water pouring off it was never really a problem. But now there’s more rain – actual rain – and it just cascades off the roof, down the walls, and rots the window frames. To tackle this, we’re replacing some of the windows. They’re handmade and based on the originals, but with a subtle adaptation so that there’s a little lip that directs the water away. Aesthetically, it looks the same, but it should stop the rot.’
Journey of discovery
If water is increasingly an issue at Port Lockroy, it is nothing compared to the situation at UK Antarctic Heritage’s latest site: the wreck of Endurance in the Weddell Sea. Although the resting place of the ship was only pinpointed during the Endurance22 Expedition, which was conducted by the Falklands Maritime Heritage Trust in 2022, its rough location was already known from the records of Shackleton’s team. In a feat of forethought, this allowed the wreck to be pre-emptively protected back in 2019, even though its condition remained completely unknown. As a result, when Endurance was successfully located – and the stunning level of preservation could be appreciated – there were already constraints concerning what could be done. While the wreck could be filmed and scanned, and data could be gathered, it was not possible to retrieve and raise artefacts. Even so, the current level of protection for the site places it in the same category as the other heritage sites. In practice, while it would be both difficult and expensive to pull off, this means that anyone with means could theoretically apply for a permit to visit the site and set off with a submersible. While there is a management plan for the wreck that sets out how people should behave at the wreck, its guidelines fall into the category of being respected rather than legally binding. As a result, the UK Antarctic Heritage Trust is currently working towards securing a higher level of protection for the site. This endeavour means that Endurance is once again at the heart of an attempt to secure a historic first.
‘We’re applying to make it the first underwater Antarctic Specially Protected Area or ASPA’, says Camilla, ‘and that would make it somewhere that you cannot go, unless you have a specific permit based on a justified scientific or heritage purpose. It would ensure that accidental visits can’t happen, and that tourist ships don’t decide to pop over with a submarine. We know that some aspirations of that sort exist. As you would imagine, trying to close an area of the ocean has created some contentious issues, particularly concerning fishing. So, what we’re doing is creating a protected box that is 3,000m deep and 3,000m across. It starts 20m below sea level, which means that ships can still sail over the top. The whole process takes three years, and we’ve just completed Year 2, so we’ve scaled two hurdles.’
‘As for the wreck itself, we won’t be raising any artefacts from it. We’ll be protecting it and digitising it, but also keeping it intact. We feel that’s really important. If you went and took the ship’s bell, for instance, then you could put that in a maritime museum. But you’d be denuding and devaluing the wreck, too. There is something incredibly powerful in the fact that one of Captain Frank Wild’s boots is lying on the deck, and you can also see in the pictures the flare gun that he fired as the Endurance went down in 1915. We know from the records that he shot the gun, threw it on to the deck, and jumped off the ship. If you took that away, it would be just another flare gun in a museum. Its power is that it’s still there. And that just tells a story. I think it’s something very special.’
Further Information: For more details – and the opportunity to take a virtual-reality trip to the preserved base on Stonington Island – visit the UK Antarctic Heritage Trust website: https://www.ukaht.org/
All Images: courtesy of the UKAHT (UK Antarctic Heritage Trust), unless otherwise stated
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