However such preoccupations did not bother us then. We were on a flight of discovery, and wanted to see things and record them.

—Robert Byrd

Monday, 11 November was the day we were scheduled to do our recon flight over the field area. This was very important for the success of our expedition as it gave us the opportunity to closely examine our sledging route up the McCleary Glacier to see if there were any visible signs of crevasse fields, and to look at the mountains to get some appreciable idea of where the most accessible fossil-bearing rock layers could be found. The prime purpose of the flight, though, was for the benefit of the aircrew, as the VXE-6 pilots would not usually land a Herc in a remote location unless the landing spot had been carefully examined and photographed. The pilots were all very experienced at polar flight and, thankfully for everyone concerned, would take no unnecessary risks.

Our flight took off about 4:30 P.M. in one of the US National Guard Hercules. In 1998 the National Guard took over the job of VXE-6 Squadron after its 43 years of service to the US Antarctic operations. This trip in 1991 was during the time when the National Guard pilots were just getting their flying experience in Antarctica. It was a fine clear evening, with excellent visibility over the Transantarctic Mountains. We commenced our journey by flying up the Wright Valley, past Lake Vanda and over the twisted maze of rocks called the Labyrinth. We zoomed past Mt. Fleming, down alongside the Royal Society Range and then cruised slowly over the vast white snow plain of the Skelton Névé.

The vista of the mountains was stunning. They are made up of layered light-colored rocks of the Beacon Supergroup, composed of mostly whitish-yellow sandstones and greenish red shale, interspersed with deep black dolerite sills and wedges extruded randomly through them. In some places it appeared as if the extrusion of doleritic volcanic rock had rapidly eaten up the placid sandstones like an incurable cancer. These mountains were now the ancient sentinels guarding the secrets of Antarctica's rich prehistoric parade of past life.

As we flew over the Mulock Glacier with its enormous, regularly spaced crevasses, we headed south alongside the Cook Mountains towards the Darwin Glacier, at 80° south. Our chosen landing site for the expedition was to be in the middle of this glacier near some isolated rocks dubbed Roadend Nunatak.

We flew several circuits all around the glacier and over the fringe of the Darwin Mountains, carefully scrutinizing the landing site and searching for alternative sites in case of any last minute changes in plan. We were all flat out during the three hours of that flight taking photographs almost non-stop, checking the maps for accuracy as to topographic references and making detailed geological notes. Fraka also made a video of most of the flight so we could ponder over our sledging routes later in the comfort of Scott Base. There were many large crevasse fields down there, most of which were clearly marked on the topographic maps. As Brian was primarily responsible for our safety on the ground, I was pleased to hear that he had visualized a safe route up the McCleary Glacier, although he mused with a wry grin that the head of the glacier might be “a little tricky” due to a steep incline with ice falls on both sides.

On the flight back to base we flew over the Skelton Névé, identifying the camel-humped shape of Mt. Metschel, the towering Portal, mighty Mt. Crean, and the pyramid-shaped Mt. Fleming. From high up there it seemed like fairly easy going on the flat snowy expanse of the Skelton Névé. Crevasse fields were clearly visible close to any mountainous outcrops, as this is the normal result of massive volumes of hard ice flowing around an immovable object. Crevasses are merely pressure cracks developed in regular patterns perpendicular to the direction of the ice flow.

We flew into the Wright Valley and suddenly the Herc dropped a few hundred meters as it passed directly over the Airdevron 6 ice falls. The plane then cruised over the sea ice and came in for a soft landing at McMurdo at about 7:30 P.M. Back at Scott Base we quickly ate dinner then had a few beers in the bar to mull over what we had seen on the flight. The route up the McCleary Glacier was our main concern because at its origin, near Festive Plateau, it had only narrow access surrounded by cascading ice falls on either side. This meant that crevasses were certain to exist in the area, hidden from our aerial view by the recent snowfalls.

The next few days were spent hanging around the base waiting for our final put-in flight. Conditions once more had to be perfect for the flight. On Tuesday, 12 November we did a final check on our two skidoos at the garage. They were fairly new Alpine skidoos. The only problem we would have to be aware of was that at high altitudes the jets on the carburetors would need changing, so we were shown how to do the job. Then we had to do it ourselves to the satisfaction of the head mechanic.

On Wednesday, 13 November, I kept working on the computer in the science lab on an article for our museum dinosaur club magazine about the various dinosaurs that had so far been discovered in Antarctica. Back then there were only a few to speak of, and none had been formally named or described in detail. Ankylosaur bones from James Ross Island and some ornithopod bones from Vega Island, both on the Antarctic Peninsula, were the only published record of Antarctic dinosaurs, but we had heard on the grapevine about the discovery of a nearly complete meat-eating dinosaur skeleton from Mt. Kirkpatrick the year before. This was the Cryolophosaurus, which I mentioned at the beginning of this book, but at the time we knew virtually nothing about the beast.

That afternoon we made our expedition sledging flags. Every major deep field expedition does this. We planned our design and chose our colors. Two flags were made so that at the end of the trip the New Zealand team leader could have one and I would keep the other one for my museum. Each flag bore a design showing the outline of the Antarctic continent with a fossil placoderm fish (a Bothriolepis) sewn over

it. The words “K221-A136 Devonian Beacon Studies” were written over the motif. They were in green and red with a yellow map of Antarctica. At every camp we would fly the flags from a tall bamboo pole to serve as a visual beacon of our site, and to determine prevailing wind directions. My flag was donated on my return to the Western Australian Museum history collections because it signifies the first official Western Australian Museum expedition to Antarctica.

On Thursday, 14 November, we received the good news that our put-in flight would be the first event scheduled by VXE-6 for the next morning. We spent the day finishing odd jobs, like our washing and writing our last postcards to home, and just generally relaxing, saving our energy for the big day ahead.

That evening we went for a short ride on the skidoos. It was −4°F outside and the wind-chill gave the air a bit of a bite. We all went to bed early that evening.

That night I rested uneasily. The excitement was too much to contain. We would be in the remote deep field for the next two months, at the mercy of the cruel Antarctic weather, and in the hands of fate as to whether we would actually find anything interesting, anything that might be new to science. I kept thinking how I was now locked into this extreme course of action, with no recourse to back out. The next day the journey would begin in earnest.