Base Camp

                                                                                                                    

The Ancaster's bow was held on the engine, against the edge of the ice whilst Boz and his companions disembarked.   They were joined by a small group of burly matelots with sledge hammers and spikes who quickly made the coleyfishtrawler fast.  A relatively flat area of ice-shelf was selected for the camp and the tents pitched.   The supplies were unloaded and three large wooden crates winched safely from the deck.   As the sailors set up a fuel dump and established radio contact with ship and HQ back in Limehousesailortown the Lord Ancaster slipped away from the edge of the ice and turned South.   The party watched her grow small and disappear below the horizon - a last puff of white smoke against the turquoise sky, reflected in the glass like sea.
"No time to get comfy." said Boz, grabbing a claw hammer and setting about one of the crates.    Strawberry and Bert Wold took up jemmies and attacked a second.   After some frantic action the group found themselves admiring two steam powered Brockhouse Corgi snowmobiles with sledge trailers, surrounded by potentially useful firewood.   Meanwhile Ferdy and Ginsbergbear had been delicately unscrewing the top and side panels of the third crate to reveal an Avro 620 autogyro in magnificent fire-engine red.   Strawberry emerged from one of the bell-tents with his atlas and a plan of action which he was desperate to convey to the others.      

Boz and Phoebles joined Strawberry in a huddled conference while a man-mountain of a Petty Officer rolled towards Ferdy carrying a drum of aviation fuel on his shoulder and holding a hand pump in his free hand - the autogyro would soon be ready for the off.   However, even with the best efforts of the naval detail the construction of an airstrip took most of the day.   By dusk it was completed, straight and flat, with an orange wind sock to the side at each end.   Ginsbergbear was relaxing in a campaign chair outside his tent, drawing on a catnip filled Peterson bulldog briar as Ferdy approached the others, still engaged in animated planning.   He winked and jabbed the mouth piece in their direction.

Eventually, late, by the guttering light of several Tilley lamps a consensus emerged and it was possible to retire.   The matelots, lubricated with Pusser's Rum and worn out by their vigorous postprandial horn-piping had long since fallen silent.

At first light Boz was up, clip board in hand, dishing out orders.

"Ferdy, you will take off as soon as you are ready.   Follow a bearing for Edinburgh and when you're over the castle turn due north.

"Bert, you go with Strawberry in the second skidoo.   Strawberry, if you insist on driving you must lend Bert your atlas so he can navigate, but don't go off on your own, follow us.

"Phoebles, Ginsbergbear and I will lead 'cos we have the compass."   He proudly produced his prized Dan Dare Club Junior Space Cadet's compass in its red and yellow plastic case.   "We must get off the sea-ice as soon as possible.   North Shields should be pretty well due west from here.   Once we are on shore we will make straight for Strathbogie."

He strolled over to a tent at the base of the tall radio mast which the sailors insisted on calling the Shack and addressed the Wireless Operator.   "When we are close to our destination we will ring Wick Radio on Ginsbergbear's i-Phone, so listen out to them."   Finally he conveyed their plans to the CPO whose party was detailed to maintain the base.

It would be a while yet before the skidoos had steam up so the adventurers lined the runway to wave Ferdinand off.   He emerged from his tent in flying helmet and goggles, sheepskin flying jacket and boots.   He gave them a casual wave as he scrambled into the rear cockpit and could be seen adjusting the heading on the gimballed compass.   The forward cockpit was stuffed with supplies.   One of the ordinary seamen spun the propeller and the Armstrong Siddeley Genet Major five-cylinder, air-cooled, radial engine sputtered into life.   The craft gathered speed down the runway, the rotor blades began to turn and she lifted skywards.   Ferdy circled the camp once and then receded towards the NNW.   Phoebles found he was still waving as the tiny red dot disappeared.

Turning now to the duties of the overland party, Strawberry mounted one of the snowmobiles with Bert Wold perched on top of the sledge's cargo, wielding the atlas.   Boris took the second vehicle with Phoebles behind him on the sledge.   Ginsbergbear made himself comfortable amongst the luggage and called up the GPS app on his i-Phone.   With the exception of Strawberry in his orange furs they were distinguishable, in identical reindeer parkas, only by their head gear.   Boz wore his Red October black fur hat with Soviet Navy cap badge, Phoebles a khaki budionovka pixie hat with large red star, Bert his best Keir Hardy flat cap and Ginsbergbear a rainbow Peruvian woolly bobble hat.   With a twist of the throttles, a wave to the Naval detail, in a cloud of steam, they were on their way.

The Brockhouse Corgis whispered chuffs, belched thick, oily smoke, the ice beneath the runners shushed and scraped.

SEA ICE

Sea ice is not still

It heaves and surges

Throws up pinnacles

And towers

Cliff walls of dragons' teeth

Tilted slabs

It pulls apart into valleys

And canyons

Sea ice is not silent

It moans and groans

Cracks and snaps

Pops and bangs

Booms and boings

Sea ice is not empty

It is littered with sea-junk

With barrels and spars

Bottles and jars

Buckets and spades

Like the belly of the tagareen man's

dinghy

Ginsbergbear, beat poet

North Sea

2011.

Barely had the skidoos disappeared over the horizon than a charabanc loaded with architects arrived at the camp.   Within weeks the shanty-settlement was extended to include a tavern, barber's shop and a mall complete with MacDonald's and multi-story car park.   Shortly after completion a flow encompassing the entire settlement detached from the pack-ice and drifted off in the direction of Belgium.