This week, I have been mostly climbing electricity pylons. Not only did I spend the week climbing, but I was paid to climb, AND I received a certificate of some kind. I assume its for drinking cider and pissing off hotel guests, because Somerset has fantastic cider farms everywhere. I say we not as the royal we, but as a term used to describe ac ollective of people. I met up with the rest of the gang this week, and what a super fantastic bunch they are.
I’ve been working at BAS (British Antarctic Survey) for over two months now, and I’ve not met anyone going to Halley. I’ve met an abundance of people that have visited Halley over the years, but not one person summering/wintering this season. This was about to change however, and in Taunton of all places. I walked into the hotel lobby, knowing that other BAS people had already arrived. I spied a collection of misfits, and instantly knew they were likely BAS candidates, so I walked up to one of the lads and sparked up a conversation, as you do.
I asked his name, it was Dave. I immediately realised that he was Welsh, what are the odds I muttered to meself! Not only that, but his name is Dave Evans (with mine being Dean Evans) – bizarre. So there Dave was, the first person of the motley crew that I’d met, and that I’d be spending the next few years with … and his name is virtually the same as mine, we both sound the same, we’re the same age and we’re going to the same base. The first day of the course amplified the crazy when we walked into the classroom, there were name tags on the desks, both with D Evans placed next to each other. The instructor commented on this when he walked in, and when he heard us both speak he couldn’t help but smile and take the piss slightly. Cheers Mike, you big git. Dave’s a third (1/3) of the met team at Halley, affectionately known as metbabes. These lovely people are responsible for reporting the weather, checking the ozone levels, launching balloons and Hindenburgs, making the coms manager coffee and a lot of other important stuff that I dont know. Probably.
We only had one other Halley person along with us, and it was a bird. Get in, back of the net and cashback all at the same time. Wait though, she’s got a serious boyfriend, gutted. Tamsin, or crazy woman as we call her behind her back (not really if you’re reading this Tamsin, we call you ‘Crazy ho’), will be a fantastic addition to Halley. Tamsin’s the second third (2/3) of the metbabe team, with the third, erm third (3/3 – Kirsty) already on base on her second winter. Not only is Tamsin funny, but she’s a cannie Geordie like, so bound to be interesting and unpredictable to boot. She’s mad on cheese too, like, chemically addicted to the stuff. Let the good times roll!
The rest of the gang were Rothera based. Firstly we had Matt, the data manager or electrician or electric technician or sparkie or electric engineer or something, I dont think even he knows what his job is. Sound bloke, and the voice of a constipated angel on crack . How do I know he can sing? Cos he was the singer of our impromptu band thats how. Dave brought a guitar and Tris brought a fiddle, so we all met up in Matt’s room one night, with a gallon of local cider in the bath (not literally in the bath, it was filled with ice) and the music flew much like the golden syrup in our glasses. Until the hotel manager knocked our door and told us to shut up that is.
Rob, the Rothera Metbabe, is Scottish, so naturally he has a flair with the fiddle. I say flair, but I mean he plays it like its a part of his face. This guy can play, but he cant drink cider while playing so he’s not getting on X-Factor any time soon. He also jumps hedges pretty well, he managed to clear the big one without a scratch – I on the other hand had a big gaping hole in my forearm, and covered myself in blood… nice.
We had a few other faces, namely Gareth the Vehicle mech for King Edwards Point, and Andy … sorry Andy, I dont remember what you did (yes I’m a bastard, but in my defence I spent most of the week pissed on cider).
Anyways, the course was absolutely awesome. Climbing electricty pylons with permission isnt quite as exciting as climbing them without, but learning the techniques, watching Tris attack the pylons with gusto and enthusiasm unseen since the days of the space race and watching Tamsin get stuck was highly entertaining. My initial fear of freezing up top soon diminished, after the first few steps actually – the training we had was very detailed so we all felt at home suspended 20 metres in the air, with nothing but a length o rope keeping death at bay. Some of us even had the chance to drive a baby tractor, even if it was my idea you bastards. I’m not bitter tho.
The evenings were just as manic. We mostly spent the week eating cheese, 10-pin bowling, jumping hedges, and trying to get the company cars into the swimming pool. We succeeded on the most part, but the cars stayed dry … for now.
The following week was spent at BAS HQ in Cambridge, where we actually built masts. Again, we spent all day climbing, but with a lot of building thrown in for good measure. I’d like to say our mast was the best mast in that particular enclosure, and easily the straightest. But then again it was the only mast there …
Ticket Received – Some climbing one. Fully qualified in determining which cider to buy from local farms.
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