The US Antarctic Program supplies the Extreme Cold Weather (ECW) clothing for its visitors – parka, snow pants, ‘bunny’ boots, balaclava, etc, as seen here – standard issue gear which they know is of a high enough quality to keep their participants warm and safe. I, however, have to bring everything that goes under that, and while I am happy once again to be living somewhere that has winter, even the rawest January in Cambridge, with winds straight off the North Sea, doesn’t quite necessitate the same extent of clothing as the start of Antarctic summer.
I am lucky enough to have a mother who grew up on the Canadian prairie long before such technological clothing as is pushed for such conditions now, so the wisdom of how to dress practically and cheaply for extreme cold was instilled in me from a young age. A tight layer just next the skin, then fluffier layers to trap air, and a heavy layer on top. A bit of extra room in your shoes is preferable to that extra layer of socks if the latter would restrict circulation. Mittens are better than gloves as your fingers can keep each other warm. From my Antarctic reading since then, I can add: breathability is paramount, as trapped perspiration will ice up and negate the warming qualities of your clothes. Layers are necessary to adjust for changing internal and external temperatures (very important when one is exerting oneself). For the outer layer, a lighter fabric which is windproof is preferable to a heavier fabric which is not; the warmth comes from layering up underneath. Seal up the openings at wrists, ankles, and neck to prevent draughts and snow getting in.
For my own sake, I wanted to stick with natural fibres as much as possible, mainly because I find them more comfortable, but also for the sake of environmental responsibility and durability.
Now, I have been a big fan of wool since discovering, on moving to Vancouver for college, that wool is just about the only thing that keeps out damp cold. When the voices of experience were unanimous in favour of plumping for merino long underwear, therefore, I happily concurred and stocked up; it was the most expensive part of my kit, but I figured the thermal layer was where I ought to make the investment. Upper layers of clothing won’t need changing as they don’t come in contact with skin and sweat, so it was more important for me to have multiples of the base layer than anything else; not only will they be interchangeable, but they can be layered as well. The local outdoorsy shop had a convenient sale, but I also scored some heavier high-end stuff second-hand on eBay, which I’m hoping will be comfortably snug.
Soft, antibacterial, machine-washable, biodegradable; wool is nature’s gift to shivery humans
I have a body shape which was last fashionable in about 1880, so finding trousers that fit properly is always a challenge. Usually I solve this by wearing skirts, but a freezing windy wilderness is not an ideal skirt location, so I had to figure something out. To my surprise and disappointment, the charity shops in Cambridge were not replete with tweed, nor in fact any woollen trousers at all; I did find some promising corduroy, but for wool I decided to gamble and buy online.
My sister, who has more refined taste and more expensive experience, once gave me the tip that higher-end clothing lines often fit ‘classic’ body shapes better, so when some 100% wool Jaeger trousers came up on eBay I gave them a shot and lo, she was right. As I can’t even afford to breathe the air in a Jaeger shop it was a fun and unexpected way to make a connection with Antarctic heritage, as some of the men brought Jaeger kit with them in 1910 and spoke highly of it then. We will see if their 21st-century ladies’ trousers rise to the same standard.
Finally, a charity shop did provide a pair of baggy, light, windproof trousers which I will wear overtop the warmer layers. Their waist needs taking in to preclude draughts, but otherwise I think the layering theory will hold.
The autumnal chunky wool ones didn’t make the cut when it came to the final packing.
Of equal importance to thermal layers is proper footwear – ‘look after your feet and they will look after you.’ I needed some new hiking boots anyway, so was hoping I could buy a pair that would do double duty on the ankle-turning rocks of McMurdo and the country walks I love in the UK. But the outdoorsy shop was clearing out last year’s boots in anticipation of new stock, and there was a deep discount on some Seriously Warm Boots, so I erred on the side of caution, trying them on with two pairs of thick socks to get the fit right.
‘Those are Seriously Warm,’ said the shop attendant, ‘you’d better be going somewhere cold.’
‘Antarctica,’ I replied.
‘Hmm, yeah, that counts.’
Who knows, they yet may prove to be multi-purpose if/when I move back to Canada at some point in the future.
I had a few pairs of warm socks already, but it was a good excuse to buy a few more, as well as some high-wool-content tights to supplement the merino leggings. One can never be too careful with one’s feet, as Captain Scott would like to remind us.
My advisor was adamant that I not bring any thick sweaters, saying it was far better to layer multiple lighter ones. Being already a fan of wool, I was not short on these, but I did take the excuse to find a couple more to replace ones that didn’t fit securely enough around the middle, where I am prone to draughts.
If you have recently moved to a cold damp climate, are of a female persuasion, and are looking to stock up on woollen outerwear, let me give you a tip: men’s sweaters. Women’s clothing is designed to be flattering, whereas men’s clothing is designed to be warm, which means a proper thickness and length sufficient to cover one’s hips, even when one is doing something so unbecoming as raising one’s arms. You may not look like a million bucks, but you will be enjoying your own body heat so much you may not even notice.
For the top layer, a good friend and comrade on the graphic novel front was letting go of a jacket I’d coveted several years ago, and thankfully let it go in my direction – high wool content, again, tightly woven and with a windproof lining. When I inspected the label, I discovered it was designed in Denmark and manufactured in Poland, which might explain why it’s so much warmer than anything I found in England. Being well-loved already means that I have the freedom not to be precious with it, so I might sew extra pockets on it or make other adjustments as the need arises.
Any resemblance to the Terra Nova’s ‘pyjama jackets’ is purely coincidental.
The promised ECW parka will be my outermost layer, of course, but it will be pretty chilly in both Vancouver and Christchurch before it is dispensed to me, so I am also bringing my very old friend, a gaberdine trenchcoat with a removable fleece lining. When I moved the the UK I had to choose between this coat and my heavy wool one, and have not regretted the choice; it’s shabby and unflattering but extremely hard-wearing and warmer than anything else I’ve owned, and while I’ve had to mend most of its seams at least once, the fabric itself has held up well against the fifteen years of abuse I’ve given it. I waterproofed it again before I left, and mended it again on the plane. I never would have guessed it would come with me to Antarctica, but this coat has earned it.
They say you can’t make old friends … but you can mend them.
I will also be supplied with various garments to keep my hands warm, when I arrive at the Clothing Distribution Center in Christchurch, and I am sure they will do the job. I do, however, have slightly unusual requirements in that I’ll be sketching in the cold, so need a way to warm my hands quickly and accessibly without fumbling through my layers. Frankly, the old explorers’ fur mits looked like the best way of solving that problem, so I set out to make some, to the extent that I could. That project will be the subject of the next post.