Engineers can find themselves in some strange places and never more so than in the Heroic Age of Antarctic Exploration. However, regardless of the challenging and possibly dangerous situation one might find oneself in, a good engineer always maintains standards and never more so than at Christmas.

Sir Douglas Mawson was leader of the Australasian Antarctic Expedition from 1911 to 1914, having turned down a place on Robert Scott’s ill-fated Terra Nova Expedition. As a trained engineer, he intended to take the latest equipment and apply the latest science to Antarctic exploration. Bringing a Vickers R.E.P Type Monoplane with him, to be flown by fellow engineer Francis Bickerton, he hoped to survey much of the then-unmapped King George V Land and Adelie Land, the sector of the Antarctic continent immediately south of Australia, from the air.

As many of that age were discovering, however, Antarctica had a way of foiling the best-laid plans. Following a crash before even leaving Australia, Mawson ordered the monoplane to be converted into an ‘air-tractor’ for pulling supplies across the ice on skis. After just one day working in Antarctica, the engine seized and the plane had to be abandoned. The expedition would have to resort to the usual sled teams, five of which set out on 10 November 1912.

Again, things did not go quite to plan. After five successful weeks, one of his party, a Lieutenant Ninnis, fell through a crevasse. The six best dogs, most of the rations and their tent disappeared into the cavernous hole. Ninnis was never seen again.

None of which seems very Christmassy. But Frank Hurley was about to change that. Hurley, the expedition photographer, was not a man to let the tribulations of exploration get to him, as his diary shows. His group continued walking through December right up to Christmas Day but, with supplies almost exhausted, they decided to put off their celebratory meal which they had prepared on their outward journey until they reached the nearby ‘Lucky Depot’ on 27 December.

At Lucky Depot, Hurley decided to prepare the Christmas feast. Of course the provisions were not lavish. They had to drag them all from base camp in the first place and whatever they could prepare had to be cooked on a simple Primus stove. Yet Hurley was determined that Christmas demanded a Christmas dinner and so, as the elected chef for the day, he set to work.

The hors d’oeuvre he called ‘Angels on gliders’ and consisted of “a raisin on top of a chocolate bar, previously fried.” This was followed by ‘Roast, frizzled pemmican on fried biscuit’ and an ‘Extra thick and greasy sledging ration’.

Yet Hurley’s pièce de résistance was the sweet, a traditional ‘plum pudding’. For this he grated three biscuits with a saw, adding sugar and seven raisins which he flavoured with three drops of methylated spirit. The mixture was then compounded with melted snow and boiled in an old sock for five minutes over his Primus stove.

Of course a suitable drink was needed to accompany the meal (and to toast the King). This was provided by fellow team member and civil engineer Bob Bage. As Frank put it:

“We brewed a strange mixture by boiling five raisins in a little of our primus-methylated spirits – a drink known as ‘tanglefoot’ and the recipe of one Bob Bage. It was a distasteful as its appearance, and could only be drunk in gulps holding the nose and breath.”

The raisins proved a little hard so had to be ‘pre-chewed’ before being boiled in meths, and strained through a sock, making the drink, if anything even less palatable. And yet the company ate their fill of pudding and toasted the king with ‘Gutrot 1912’. Frank Hurley wrote in his diary that evening:

“We enjoyed our dinner thoroughly – probably because we were mightily hungry, and I never knew a happier and more jolly Christmas, than this one.”

Engineers can find themselves in some strange places and never more so than in the Heroic Age of Antarctic Exploration. However, regardless of the challenging and possibly dangerous situation one might find oneself in, a good engineer always maintains standards and never more so than at Christmas.

Sir Douglas Mawson was leader of the Australasian Antarctic Expedition from 1911 to 1914, having turned down a place on Robert Scott’s ill-fated Terra Nova Expedition. As a trained engineer, he intended to take the latest equipment and apply the latest science to Antarctic exploration. Bringing a Vickers R.E.P Type Monoplane with him, to be flown by fellow engineer Francis Bickerton, he hoped to survey much of the then-unmapped King George V Land and Adelie Land, the sector of the Antarctic continent immediately south of Australia, from the air.

As many of that age were discovering, however, Antarctica had a way of foiling the best-laid plans. Following a crash before even leaving Australia, Mawson ordered the monoplane to be converted into an ‘air-tractor’ for pulling supplies across the ice on skis. After just one day working in Antarctica, the engine seized and the plane had to be abandoned. The expedition would have to resort to the usual sled teams, five of which set out on 10 November 1912.

Again, things did not go quite to plan. After five successful weeks, one of his party, a Lieutenant Ninnis, fell through a crevasse. The six best dogs, most of the rations and their tent disappeared into the cavernous hole. Ninnis was never seen again.

None of which seems very Christmassy. But Frank Hurley was about to change that. Hurley, the expedition photographer, was not a man to let the tribulations of exploration get to him, as his diary shows. His group continued walking through December right up to Christmas Day but, with supplies almost exhausted, they decided to put off their celebratory meal which they had prepared on their outward journey until they reached the nearby ‘Lucky Depot’ on 27 December.

At Lucky Depot, Hurley decided to prepare the Christmas feast. Of course the provisions were not lavish. They had to drag them all from base camp in the first place and whatever they could prepare had to be cooked on a simple Primus stove. Yet Hurley was determined that Christmas demanded a Christmas dinner and so, as the elected chef for the day, he set to work.

The hors d’oeuvre he called ‘Angels on gliders’ and consisted of “a raisin on top of a chocolate bar, previously fried.” This was followed by ‘Roast, frizzled pemmican on fried biscuit’ and an ‘Extra thick and greasy sledging ration’.

Yet Hurley’s pièce de résistance was the sweet, a traditional ‘plum pudding’. For this he grated three biscuits with a saw, adding sugar and seven raisins which he flavoured with three drops of methylated spirit. The mixture was then compounded with melted snow and boiled in an old sock for five minutes over his Primus stove.

Of course a suitable drink was needed to accompany the meal (and to toast the King). This was provided by fellow team member and civil engineer Bob Bage. As Frank put it:

“We brewed a strange mixture by boiling five raisins in a little of our primus-methylated spirits – a drink known as ‘tanglefoot’ and the recipe of one Bob Bage. It was a distasteful as its appearance, and could only be drunk in gulps holding the nose and breath.”

The raisins proved a little hard so had to be ‘pre-chewed’ before being boiled in meths, and strained through a sock, making the drink, if anything even less palatable. And yet the company ate their fill of pudding and toasted the king with ‘Gutrot 1912’. Frank Hurley wrote in his diary that evening:

“We enjoyed our dinner thoroughly – probably because we were mightily hungry, and I never knew a happier and more jolly Christmas, than this one.”