We’ve seen the thermometer drop bellow –20 degrees on a few occasions, although it fluctuates wildly, and even reached positive 4.5 degrees a few days ago!!! A May record for Casey since records began! 
In terms of blizzards too, winter has definitely arrived. We had more blizzards in April than all other months combined since our arrival on October 30, and our most recent blizzard actually took our wind anemometer to the tantalizing speed of 99 knots (183km/hr) as a maximum gust! Anywhere else in the world, that would equate to a force three category cyclone, but inside the safe confines of our trusty buildings we carry on business as usual. In some parts of the Red Shed in fact, the sound of the wind is barely audible. Above was a photo taken by Tod, of me, and I can now see why the ropes are put up around station: that sort of wind has some serious power! 
The days are becoming significantly shorter now too. The sun, while technically above the horizon for 6.5 hours or so, makes such a shallow arc in the sky that at midday it is only about 25 degrees above the horizon (see the wonky photo of me above, with the Red Shed in the background). Of course, due to the angle it comes up at though, our sunrises and sunsets last for hours now, which is great on a clear or partly cloudy day. And we’ve been having a few of those lately. 
The shots above and bellow were taken from one of my favourite places in the world! It’s a hill called Reeve Hill, only 500m or so from station, but the view to the north-west is just brilliant! It’s actually one of the few places left here where we can be guaranteed to still see some animal life. Snow Petrels, which seem to be one of the only creatures game enough to winter with us by the look of things, along with seals, love playing around the steep rocky slopes. In the mid-ground you can also see Shirley Island. After proper sea-ice drilling and testing in mid May we should be able to head back over there for the first time since December! Which will be great, despite there being no penguins left any more.
Theres nothing like a fine and sunny day to be out of doors in Antarctica. The sharp light really highlights the bergs and other ice features, which you just don’t get to see on those cloudy and gloomy days, so the idea is to just make the most of it when the sun is out! The great thing about the people who come to Antarctica is that a good percentage of us are into ‘the outdoors’ and exploring: Craig, Tom and Tod are always up for getting out and about, so I’ve added a few photos bellow of just that. 
Craig took this on a recent overnight hike we did to the Wilkes Hilton. In the background you can see that the bay just in front of station was completely iced over… however, a few days later and the katabatic winds blew it all out to sea. That’s why sea-ice travel is pretty much not done in most areas around Casey: you need lots of good islands just offshore to hold the ice in when the strong winds blow, and we just don’t have many of those.
On another walk, Tom and I ran into this Waddell Seal (bellow). Although they look like huge sea slugs from a distance, they do have quite a cute face. We’re told to expect to see these seal all year round, and if you travel 40kms or so south, to the Browning Peninsula (the only hut I haven’t been to yet), you’ll get to see a large elephant seal colony. I’m really looking forward to that once spring comes round. 
In the absence of people who might care about our appearances (ie girlfriends), Tom and I both thought we’d road test some new hairstyles. Back in late February Tom got a Mohawk, and I all but shaved my head… something I haven’t done since I had nits in year two. But lets face it, even a second grader would’ve known better than to shave his head coming in to an Antarctic winter! 
I generally detest beanies… they remind me of pubescent teenagers with hooded jumpers and skateboards, terrorising old people, and showing too much of their silky boxer shorts… but lately I’ve been a little less scathing of their functionality.
The sun continues to move north now, but even shorter days, colder temperatures, and strong winds won’t stop people from getting out and seeing some of the surrounds. Now, just a month and a half away from mid-winter, the first half of the year seems to have flown by. But the nights are certainly getting longer, and the phrase perpetual darkness is meaning more to me every day.
However, the winter and wild weather we are coming into now was all part of the allure for me in the first place - and has always been. It’s really quite an amazing place: where else to you see the moon and sun setting, simultaneously, on opposite sides of the horizon, like this? 
But for the most part we have been very lucky with the weather so far. For a few weeks after the ship left we had lots of low cloud, and not much sunshine, but generally light winds. A little way into March though, the cloud disappeared (probably went to somewhere like Mawson or Davis), and we were treated to two or three weeks of fine and sunny weather. The clear night skies here are great, and even better when you get to see something like this…
As much as I like these photos however, I will admit that they give a somewhat warped idea of reality. While nothing can really compare to watching this light show in person, the necessarily long exposure of the camera, 40 seconds or more, definitely enhances the colour. To give you an idea, the snowy foreground was almost pitch black to the naked eye, but the camera picks up the colour very well. 
I must have stood outside (in –15C or so, which isn’t really that cold unless you’re standing still taking photos) for over an hour that night (I was excited), but the aurora itself actually lasted for 3 nights (albeit faintly). The third night of which Craig and I had decided to ski to Wilkes again.
This was to be my second visit to the Hilton in a week – a place that for me is becoming a home away from home away from home… Whats more, it was to be my third jolly in as many weeks, after a trip to Jack’s Donga the previous weekend. Its hard to resist the only wood fire in all of the Australian Antarctic Territory. 
What I particularly like about visiting these huts is that it gives you an idea of what it was like for the real explorers… even if its just an idea. We live in such comfort and luxury that I can sit at my window in the evening, reading a book with a cup of tea, and 2 feet away, on the other side of the window, the temperature can easily be 30C or 40C lower and blowing 30 knots. If you forget how things freeze here, and how quickly you can get cold outside, visiting these huts if a nice reminder. 
We turn the bar-heaters in the huts off at night for safety reasons, and at Wilkes the fire will go out. Ventilation means that by the time you wake up in the morning the hut has more or less dropped to ambient outside temperatures (-10C or so), and it will be a while before it heats up again. But for us this is just one night in many, for Scott it was every night, and he didn’t have bar-heaters… 
But the wood fire isn’t all I like about Wilkes. It is, as I have mentioned before, a historical site, quite literally frozen in time. 
It’s a black and white photographer’s dream… and a nice place for a novice like myself to try shooting off a few too. 
My take on Wilkes is this: it was positioned terribly by the Americans, who seemed to have landed in Newcomb Bay and thought “right, where is the most snow accumulating, the most wind blowing, and generally the worst looking area?” and started building at Wilkes. They then got sick of digging the station out of the snow every time there was a puff of wind, and gave over power to the Australians. 
After about a decade (50s or 60s I think) they too got sick of it and decided to pack up and leave. No… wait a minute… they didn’t pack up anything, they just left! As I am going to do now. Arrivederci!
Although the season feels distinctively like Autumn (in the Natural sense), for those of us left here on the ice, in a hominal sense, Winter has well and truly set in. Voyage 4, the Aurora Australis, our summer colleagues, and any contact with the outside world (at least physical contact) departed Casey on February 14th. Forgive the dramaturgy, I know it sounds extreme, but the day V4 left us was without a doubt one of the strangest days of my life! It’s a difficult thing to describe: that day, quite literally, 19 of us were deserted in a more or less lifeless place with the prospect of bitterly cold winds, blizzards lasting days at a time, at times constant total darkness, and were told, “stay here, we’ll be back in November”.
As the last barge ferrying people from Casey to the ship slowly pulled away from the wharf, the reality of this finally began to sink in. I don’t think I’ve ever felt so literally deserted.
Having said this, it wasn’t necessarily a sad or scary thing for me… more exciting than anything, which was a little surprising considering there were quite a few people visibly upset that afternoon. Many a tear was shed on the afternoon of the departure, but not before we on station gave the AA its customary send off: apparently flares make a regular appearance as the ship departs at the end of summer.
One of our diesos, Brad, seeing off the AA on departure day.
Once again the moon seemed to be in tune with the station mood just a few days later, rising auspiciously between partial cloud, marking the recent return of night-time to Casey. Now, almost a month later, we are experiencing around 12 hours without sun each day, and losing an hour or light each week. Things seem to be hastening to the darkness of the true Winter.
The day after the ship left we had a Casey-wide day of rest, to mark the end of the busy resupply. It was a well-earned day off for many, who decided to kick their feet up for the first time in a while. But for some, a day of rest meant we could do what we came for… jolly. The indefatigable Todor, Curly, Doc and I decided a day ski trip to Wilkes was in order, so we donned the survival packs and went. 
Anyway, that’s probably enough of the old-fashioned grandpa in me… take a look at this photo of me and a penguin :)
Now, mid-March, most of the wildlife is starting to desert us. Pretty soon we’ll be the only life-forms silly enough to want to stay here, but for now there are still a few straggling penguins, moulting in preparation for their trip north, the odd weddell seal, and a few elephant seals south of Casey, who are all expected to head off within the next few weeks.
[Aurora Australis at night from Casey]
Essentially, resupply is about providing the station with enough food, fuel, material (plumbing, building, electrical supplies etc), and winterers’ cargo (the rest of mine and others’ personal luggage) to last until next summer. Bellow is the contents of one-of-five food containers on the floor of our Green Store, which I helped unload with the vested interest that it is to last us/Casey for another 12 months. 
As an extra however, there are often many A.A.D. (Australian Antarctic Division) head office employees, science related ‘round-trippers’, and others, who visit the stations on these voyages for various reason, and who have certain projects to complete during the Resupply week. I was assigned to accompany one such BoM employee on a trip to the Wilkins A.W.S. (automatic weather station) during this week, giving me a pleasant day away from the station. 
The only free vehicle at our disposal on station being the Noddy, (Latin name: Warpus speedus), at least 6 hours of our time was spent bouncing up and down therein. It was however one of the clearest, calmest, and most pleasant days of all time at Wilkins – and, being so, we enjoyed a very civilised alfresco luncheon of antipasto ingredients at the Antarctic Circle. 
