Russian Antarctic Station Records 191-Degree Frost

Press, Volume C, Issue 29402, 3 January 1961, Page 10

Russian Antarctic Station Records 191-Degree Frost

Twelve Russians at an Antarctic research station experienced the coldest weather ever recorded on Earth late in August. The thermometer showed a temperature of minus 88.3 degrees Centigrade, or nearly 191 degrees of frost. Vasily Sidorov, chief of the Vostok research station, which is at the South Geomagnetic Pole, nearly Bpo miles from the South Pole, describes in an article in the “Soviet Weekly” the effects of the low temperatures. At that temperature diesel fuel becomes a sticky mass, anti-freeze crystallises and metals become brittle. So it is not, perhaps surprising that, after three days of these very low temperatures, the bed-plate of our main diesel generator eracked and left our research station dependent on the quite inadequate output of one emergency generator, he says. Our research programme was in danger and our living quarters s were becoming very cold. We had to put things right at ■any cost. The diesel was taken off the bed-plate, but we could not weld the crack because there was not enough oxygen for the welding unit. After a short conference, we de- ' cided to dig out an oxygen cylinder dropped from a plane the previous autumn. It had broken away from the parachute and gone deep under the snow. We had tried to get it out at the time, but after digging a pit more than 13 feet deep, we hadn’t been able to find it Gave Dp We had plenty of oxygen then so had given up digging—merely covering the pit with tarpaulin and putting up a marker—in case of emergency. The missing cylinder was over a mile from the station. It seemed out of the question to get to the snot in such weather and in the darkness of the polar night but finally a way found.

A guide rope was stretched to the excavation by the light of torches. Then we began to lug over equipment little by little, especially anything that could burn; provision boxes, rags, spares clothes, used lubricants, and oil.

A huge camp fire burst into flames the next day. Using it as a source of light and heat, we pitched a large tent qver the shaft. Inside our mechanics installed a cast-iron stove. With the exception of three who remained at the station all of us had moved to the tent Work was soon humming. The depth of the shaft soon reached 32 feet. Snow was winched out and poured into boxes. Mountain of Snow Soon a regular mountain of snow arose around the tent. Every half hour Nikandr Byystrov. the station’s doctor, gave the signal for a break. Those who wanted could have a swill of strong coffee and some snacks our cook, Gleb Nikolayev, had improvised on the stove. After 30 hours of continuous work, the shaft was about 50 feet down—but there was no cylinder. The general enthusiasm was appreciably lagging. Then Igor Ivanov and Gleb Nikolayev suddenly signalled to be lifted up the shaft Everyone looked down and saw their smiling faces. Nikolayev was holding a piece of rope—the end of which had been attached to the cylinder. Everyone got down to it with redoubled energy. The shaft was 58 feet down before we discovered what we were looking for. That was a moment of triumph for everyone!

Tn an ks to the oxygen, we were able to weld up the craek in the bed-plate and on the fourth day after the breakdown the main diesel was in operation again.