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I could also hardly believe that so much time had passed and so much had happened. Part of me was reminding my inner self that I been there for 499 days, 2 Christmases, 2 New Years even since last century! On the other hand my other half was saying I had only just arrived. My head was awash with lots of different feelings, and I wasn’t able to sort out what I should really be thinking so I blindly kept packing and working on completing my work tasks. I had often wondered what I would feel like when it came time to leave, but I had no idea that it would be as confusing as this. Does living in such isolation caused time to pass so quickly, or was it just that my perception of time was so warped? On the afternoon of March 3rd 2001 I walked up the hill to Aeronomy for the last time. As I went into the cold porch I hung the ASP jacket which was handed down from engineer to engineer onto the hook and gazed around the lab thinking back over all the good times, experiences and adventures that I had enjoyed. Aeronomy had been my home. I spent more time there working and doing my own thing than any other place on station, yet, for some strange reason I didn’t feel very attached to it. The last summer had been strange without anyone to replace me and not being able to ‘hand over the keys’ was a disappointment. After the final station barbecue the people departing and the remaining winterers wandered down to the wharf. Based on previous experiences of heading home on a ship I had expected an emotional departure, but for some reason I was strangely contented and I still don’t really know why. Mawson is a strange place. While it is always home to somebody, it is never always somebody’s home. Perhaps this is why I didn’t become attached to it quite like I would if it was a house I had owned and cared for. Waving goodbye to the 2001 winterers, we boarded the jet barge at the wharf and headed out across the harbour to the Polar Bird. This was the last phase in my Antarctic adventure and it was only just beginning. Later in the evening as the mooring lines on the Polar Bird were released, I stood on the rear of the ship looking back at the buildings of Mawson. I couldn’t stop thinking "Am I really doing this?" "Am I really going home?" I looked at Cosray and my android feeling told me that I should go and make a last check – but my logic reminded me I couldn’t. This certainly was a weird way to leave. The ship turned around and we sailed out past the end of West Arm which was now covered in the traditional orange smoke of flares released by the 2001 Winterers. It was strange to look back at the same thing that I had done the previous year. Looking at them I felt a heart wrenching urge to be back there with them, doing it all again and not wanting to wakeup from my dream.
Late in the evening as we sailed north out through iceberg alley away from Mawson something hit me. It was the sensation of seeing new things and often in a different way. This is what I had forgotten and now it was coming back. My sense of awe and excitement was returning as we headed off to Davis, Heard Island and Australia. Living on an Antarctic station seems to have these weird effects on you and it felt like a blindfold had been released from my mind – another emotional peak in the continuing adventure.
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