The extreme medic: An Antarctic day trip That night was warm (relatively): -4C in the tent. Our days are long, lasting much more than 12 hours with no real end due to the constant daylight. After breakfast I sorted out a couple of first-aid kits and did a consultation. I stumbled into breakfast just before the daily meeting. Mairi, the acting field operation manager, wandered over as I was pouring out a strong black coffee. Fancy a trip to Thiels? Yes please! I replied. "Good" she continued, "we need someone to mark a new ski-way and dig out some fuel barrels." I get to leave camp and travel closer to the South Pole. Thiel refers to a mountain range approximately half way to the pole from where we are. We sit approximately 700 nautical miles from the South Pole and the twin otter plane requires refueling at around half this distance. It just so happens that a group of injured service men is being dropped off at 88 degrees south to walk to the South Pole and there is room for a couple more to do some essential work on the weather station. This is a special treat. Some of the other staff have not even left camp and I have been out on the skidoo most days. I packed my bags and the wind suit that I have been dying to wear. Along comes the medical grab bag, some oxygen and finally I convince the pilot that I probably also need the huge ice drill to knock off the tops of the larger sustrugi that make the current skiway bumpy. What fun is going to be had? The safety brief for the twin otter is like none I have heard before. The front of the aircraft contains sledges and kit for the expedition. There is not much room free and so in a thick Canadian accent the co-pilot says "we have two emergency exits over the wings of the aircraft which are completely obstructed by all of your equipment. If we crash then pull your stuff out of the way and try and extract yourself out of the small hole. Good luck! The twin otter fires up her engines and we launch ourselves into the cold air. I should get some sleep on as the 24 hour sunlight makes routine difficult. But, however hard I try I cannot sleep. The views are spectacular, a white blanket of snow with mountains and nunataks (small areas of rock emerging above the ice and glaciers) popping out adding definition to the otherwise white landscape. We land at Thiel, and I pull out the emergency kit, survival rations, stoves and tents. The last trip that came up here ended up staying a week and I plan on enjoying my time if that happens. We get onto fixing the weather station, our first job. Celine, one of the communication officers and ex British Antarctic Survey over winterer, is giving me directions while I climb the mast. I manage to unclip the protecting glass that has been worn away like sandpaper by the winter winds. This is the windiest continent on Earth. Underneath is the webcam we use for weather readings. It is solar powered and can be accessed online for a couple of minutes every hour. As I clip in my harness I notice the camera switch on and I wave to whoever chooses to pick up the picture. Celine climbs up to help, we then move around the flags and I saunter back for some lunch, a warm drink and some cool sandwiches kindly made by the Latvians who just about keep our camp running. It gets cold when you stop here and I put on the extra layers. Time to move again. I pick up the shovel and we mark out the "Celine and Rob Memorial Skiway" for the return of the twin otters. Radios remain on and we make a satellite phone call home to check our communications work. I then move down to the runway with the large snow drill and carve away at the snow drift to try and flatten them off for future landings. I have helped make runways in Southern Africa for evacuations but this is slightly different. Bin bags mark out 100 foot distances at around 65 foot apart, just over double the twin otter's wing span. Not bad for our first skiway. The pilot radios through and gives us a 10-minute warning and we sit back down with a warm drink before they arrive. I love the silence. No one around for around in a 400 miles radius. Isolation. The plane lands, survives our skiway and we refuel, pick up some empty barrels and head off back to Union Glacier. Sweet child of mine blares loud in my ear at 12,000 feet over the West Antarctic plateau as our two twin otters fly in formation. This has been a good day. No - it has been a great day in fact, all in -15C. I watch the ice roll by as the clouds throw an amazing shadow, making it look like a sea of rolling waves. This is one of best jobs in the world.....probably. Read Robert Conway's previous columns