Stories of Polar exploration and adventure have always fascinated me, even in my early youth. There was a certain satisfaction in sitting in front of a warm fire and reading accounts of the doings of the Nansen, Peary, Shackleton or Scott Expeditions. I would try to imagine myself amid such surroundings and wonder what the intense cold would be like. Then the fireside would always seem a little warmer and easier than before.

One afternoon in December, 1929, I was in the middle of trying to get the "bugs" out of one of Radio Limited’s new models, in the old Commerce Buildings in Anzac Avenue (at this time our manufacturing staff consisted of four only), when a rather excited member of the office staff handed me a. telegram which had been opened by mistake. The text of this read, "Would you agree join Byrd Expedition ship City of New York as assistant radio operator leaving January reply urgent Tapley Dunedin." One can imagine my feelings at this unexpected turn of events. A rapid decision had to be made. Leave was obtained, and I was very soon on the train bound for Dunedin.

I will pass over several weeks spent in Dunedin, during which we built and installed transmitting and receiving equipment for use on the ship. I had brought with me from Auckland one of the new models, complete with "bugs" still in it, and this was duly installed alongside the ship’s main receiver. With the assistance of my senior, Lloyd Berkner (from U.S. Bureau of Standards) the troubles were soon straightened out to our satisfaction.

Admiral Byrd and his main party had already spent the winter at "Little America" on the Ice Barrier, and had quite recently successfully completed his flight in the old Ford plane over the Pole itself. Our trip south at this time was scheduled to carry out some further exploration eastward from the "Bay of Whales," and finally to bring the whole party back to New Zealand. The "City of New York" was a sturdy ship, a barque with auxiliary engines, of 500 tons gross, and built originally as an icebreaker by the Norwegians.

All preparations being completed, the "City of New York" at last left Dunedin and headed into the teeth of a southerly gale. As sail was out of the question, the engines alone had to be used to keep the ship headed into the wind. This meant burning precious coal, with little chance of replacement. For the first day or so very little progress was made. As the weather improved, and with all the sails net, we proceeded more steadily and certainly more comfortably. All hands settled into routine work with a will, and the trip became more enjoyable as time went on.

The radio was kept working overtime handling traffic to New York and to Byrd at the base camp on the ice. Only when one is concerned with such traffic can one realise the tremendous amount of organisation connected with an expedition such as this. The question of stores, coal, ice conditions ahead, etc., kept us very much occupied in sending these reports back and forth. At certain times daily we tuned to 2XAF, Schnectady, when personal phone messages to crew members from their relatives in U.S.A. were broadcast throughout the ship. Replies to these personal messages were forwarded back via the New York Times station WHD operating in Morse, as also were long press accounts of the voyage.

After approximately two weeks a: sea, we sighted our first iceberg. It was quite small compared with others to come, but, being the first, it held a special interest for me, as I had never seen one before. About the same time we began to run into "growlers." These are small irregularly shaped ice formations that dot the surface of the sea and are formed by the dissolving of pack ice, portions of which having drifted northward into warmer water. Probably their name originated from the strange grinding noises they make against the wooden hull of a ship as it passes among them.

All this time the nights were becoming shorter and the days longer. It soon became quite light at midnight, which was fortunate because we would certainly have crashed into one of the many icebergs that now began to dot the ocean in every direction, had we not been able to see them. Some of these bergs were of enormous dimensions, but almost all of them were similar in shape. They were flattish on top, with precipitous cliff-like sides, and slightly overhanging at the edges. Several bergs we passed close to measured up to a mile or more in length and perhaps half a mile wide. The average height above water was about fifty or sixty feet, with about four-fifths of their mass under water. These bergs all had their origin in the Ice Barrier further south. Huge pieces of that great ice plateau break away, and are carried north by the currents and winds, to break up into smaller bergs and finally to be dissolved away.

Our journey by now was becoming intensely interesting and enjoyable. All this was what I had read about in the books, but which I had certainly never expected to see. One of my main impressions at this stage was that the temperature was comparatively mild, provided there was but little wind blowing. Under these ideal conditions the beauty of the area through which we were passing impressed us all. Scattered on the ocean in all directions were portions of pack ice. These had an effect similar to oil on the sea, and broke up the surface roughness so that the water assumed a glass-like surface. The swell from distant parts coming through caused all this ice to rise and fall in sympathy, resulting in an unusually beautiful effect, which was added to by the intense whiteness of the floating ice. At times there would be no swell, so that there was a strange and eerie stillness, broken only by the cry of some Antarctic sea bird, or by flashes of aurora often still visible in the dim light of midnight.

We were soon to force our way through about sixty miles of pack ice, which is a more or less permanent belt of broken ice bordering the Ross Sea to the north. This was a most interesting section of the trip. The edge of tile ice pack is quite sharply defined, and the ship entered it under steam by charging directly between two masses of ice, each about the size of a small house. The impact forced our bows upwards, then the great weight crushed the ice away till a little space was left. Another charge was made, and more ice crushed or forced away. In this manner, slow but gradual progress was made. Control of the ship under these conditions was done from the crow’s nest at the mast head, instructions being shouted down to the man at the wheel. It was a tricky business, because a false move could wreck the propeller on submerged tongues of ice.

Masses of ice such as this reflect a white glare into the sky in the distance (called the "ice blink"). When there are darker patches in this glare, open water lies in that direction. Thus the ship is directed towards these open water channels for swifter progress. The passage through the pack took approximately 36 hours, under ideal weather conditions, the temperature still remaining a little above freezing point. That Antarctic weather can be very temperamental, however, was soon to he forcibly impressed upon us.

No sooner had we broken free from the ice pack and entered the Boss Sea proper than a raging southerly blizzard burst upon us with surprising suddenness. Very shortly we were struggling through mountainous seas which continually broke right over the ship. The temperature had dropped to around zero, so that every wave as it receded left a film of ice behind on the decking. For several days the blizzard continued unabated, while the "City" took on the appearance of a ghost ship, almost totally encased in ice. This began to cause much anxiety because the bowsprit, estimated to be carrying about twenty tons of ice, must have produced terrific stresses in the stays, accentuated by the continuous and heavy plunging into mountainous seas. Fortunately for us, everything held. Suddenly there was much excitement on the bridge. Someone shouted, "Land ahead," and there we could see, through a break in the storm, a wild and wind-swept mountain some twenty miles away and directly ahead.

This unexpected sight was soon identified as Mount Erebus (l4,000ft.), close to which, at McMurdo Sound, Scott made his base camp, and from which he set out on his ill-fated dash to the pole. This showed us that we must be at least 150 miles westward of our estimated position. This was not surprising, the ship’s compass now being useless for navigation, as we were well south of the magnetic pole. The compass pointed south-east instead of north, and was subject to erratic changes. As no sight of the sun had been had for days, navigation had been by dead reckoning only, no easy task in such conditions. We were also handicapped by the absence at the base of a radio transmitter suitable for direction-finding purposes.

Soon after we made our landfall the gale abated, and away to the east could be seen a great white glare in the sky. Only the Ice Barrier could cause such an extensive "blink." The ship’s head was turned eastward, and after several hours we came into calm water and sunshine once more, under the lee of that great ice cliff. I think we were all secretly pleased to have been off our course, for now we were to travel 150 miles along the Barrier, an opportunity which otherwise would have been denied us. No words can adequately describe the immensity and beauty of that mass of ice, estimated to be about 400 miles in length. It rises from 80 to 150 feet above sea level, but its under-water depth is not known accurately. Southwards it extends several hundred miles to the polar plateau. It is solid ice throughout and has its origin similar to that of a glacier. The "cliff" edge slightly overhangs as with the icebergs. We could see great cracks, and here and there were separate floating masses starting on their distant journey north, finally after several years to be dissolved away by warmer waters.

As we moved steadily along, keeping the Barrier a few hundred yards on our starboard side, we could see a line but steady cataract of snow, blown by the polar winds, to fall in a fine mist into the sea below. As midnight came, the sun, just showing over the Barrier surface, shone through this fine snow, and with reflections made coloured Prince of Wales leathers in the sky above. Quite often we passed through patches of "frost smoke" or low-lying fog. Our masts remained in sunlight, while the water surface was covered with a fine mist, caused by some temperature changes as the colder wind drifted across from the ice.

The temperature at this time was just below zero (Fahrenheit), which was not unpleasant, wrapped as we were in suitable clothing. Everyone was in the best of spirits and thoroughly enjoying things. Colds and similar illnesses are unknown in polar regions, as germs do not thrive under such conditions. Likewise, rain never falls in those latitudes; it always snows instead.

After two days’ further progress along the Barrier the "City" arrived at its destination, the Bay of Whales. Plans were made originally to explore further eastward, but were abandoned, as the season was getting late and the sea surface was showing signs of freezing over. Had that happened, our ship might have become immovable, with the possibility of the whole party being marooned for the winter. Our arrival at the base was greeted with enthusiasm by those on the ice, and we on the ship were glad to go "ashore" to stretch our legs. Admiral Byrd and his party had moved from their main camp at Little America to a new place a mile or so away called Floyd Bennet camp, to which I journeyed by dog team. The temperature here had dropped to 20 degrees below, this being somewhat less comfortable than previously, but I soon found that by discarding sea boots for skin "mukluks" and by keeping moving when in the open, the low temperature did not cause much discomfort.

Loading of stores and equipment on to the "City" now began, and in the intervals some of us went for short trips on skis to neighbouring parts and examined ice formations, etc. I was struck by the intense whiteness of all our surroundings. There being no land within many miles, there was also no dust or small particles of matter to relieve the whiteness, so that goggles were essential for comfort.

During most of our short stay on the Barrier, as on the journey down, our radio contact with New York was maintained regularly and many thousands of words, both press and private messages, went back and forth. One marvelled at the great boon of radio for modern exploration, by comparison with earlier expeditions with no such facility.

Our journey back to Dunedin was less eventful than the outward trip, but nonetheless interesting. My first impression on seeing the coast of New Zealand again was the conspicuous greenness of the countryside by comparison with so much ice. Members of the main party who had seen none but their fellowmen for over a year had this as well as other impressions on returning again to normal society.

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