Journalist Matthew Denholm joins a group of scientists, attempting to save Macquarie Island, which lies halfway between Australia and Antarctica...
\n
I am stumbling, blinded by tiny missiles of ice and snow driven horizontally into my face by a howling gale. One minute I’m blown backwards. The next I’m leaping skyward in undignified panic as a foot narrowly misses an outraged elephant seal. Squinting painfully through torchlight, I’ve little hope of seeing the beasts.
........................
Later, inside a cosy hut, sporting a patch over the sorer of my eyes, I have to admit that it probably is. This is, after all, the sub-Antarctic. Or to be precise, Macquarie Island: a sliver of land conjured abruptly from the vast wilderness of the Southern Ocean. The darkest, coldest months are generally the quietest time of year for human activity here, but this year is different. I’m with a team of scientists who are undertaking a seemingly impossible task: to rid the entire island of every rabbit, rat and mouse.
........................
Next morning, I abruptly change my mind, however, when I awake to a view that justifies the three-day voyage to this remote outpost of Australia. After overnight snowfalls the island is painted white, from highland plateaus, with frozen lakes, to rocky black sand and pebble shore. All glistens in rare sub-Antarctic sunshine. Besides, the previous afternoon’s discomforts were entirely our own fault.
........................
The delay while we doubled back made it impossible to reach the hut before dusk. I had also blundered, deciding snow goggles were unnecessary. We had been taught a valuable lesson. While officially part of Australia, this island is a different world. Different rules apply. Every move must be planned and precautions taken because of the dangers posed by climate and terrain.
........................
This extreme isolation means no activity is easy on the island. Our first challenge was getting ashore as there is no safe anchorage. But when we eventually reached the beach, I could instantly see that the island’s reputation as ‘the Galápagos of the south’ is justified. Over the next few days, seals, penguins and a host of seabirds are a constant presence. As in the Galápagos Islands, some species are abundant – there are an estimated 100,000 seals and four million penguins. Though hunted in the past, these days the main threat to the island’s fauna comes not from man but from our legacy.
........................
Unaccustomed to the herbivores’ teeth, the island flora has been overgrazed and reduced to stubble. The hills and plateaus are pock-marked with holes and soft surfaces are undermined by their burrows. On this treeless island, the overgrazing has also left the homes of native birds exposed. Petrel and albatross chicks are thus more vulnerable to predation and the harsh elements. The devastation reached such a point that in 2007 the World Heritage Convention discussed whether the island should lose its World Heritage status.
........................
However, the status was also conferred because of its ‘outstanding natural beauty and aesthetic importance’. Given that the wild hillsides that should be lushly covered are bare, and are animated not by the movement of wind in tussock but by rabbits running amok, it is not surprising that the world was beginning to ask whether the description still applied.