Fog, Snow and Holidays

“Right a bit, good line” Crunch, crunch, crunch, “Left a bit now, good line”. There is a joke that runs around base that whenever Hazel and I go on holiday the weather will inevitably crap out. We have always laughed it off but now we have had to come to the unfortunate realisation that it is true.

I was not able to write my blog last week due to rather a frantic weekend. We discovered in Midwinter week that the oil leak that we had hoped had stopped in Pipit has not. Erny, Paula and I took all of the week before last to investigate and try and figure out what was going on. Actually that should be changed to: Erny spent all week investigating and Paula and I tried to help/not get in the way. In the end it turned out that Paula could help while I mainly just got in the way so I did what I could and then continued to do all the other routine jobs while they worked on the engine (you can’t physically get three people in the engine bay so I really would just have been in the way). Erny had figured out that we needed to change the head cylinder gasket which is a big job and much better done inside. We had the last of the tide on Saturday with which to get her out and it was touch and go with only one engine but in the end we did it and Pipit has been in the boat shed all week. She also needs a new coat of nonslip paint, the current one is no longer non slip. So while Erny read up on the engine Hazel and I spent most of Saturday and Sunday chipping and grinding off what paint we could. This caused clouds of red dust to settle everywhere. It was quite remarkable where it got to. At the same time we had to pack for our holiday to St Andrew’s Bay. Once Paula has left (next month, far too soon) I won’t be able to get as far as St Andrew’s and since I was literally in the way she and Hazel both said it was time to go. When we decided to go it was forecast bright sunshine and beautiful weather and Jo, Hazel and I had just been for a glorious day out to Maiviken. We should have known that the instant we decided to go the weather would turn bad.

After an early start on Monday and many problems with RIB engines not wanting to start (a perennial problem and one that I am trying to fix) we finally made it to Sorling Beach with heavy packs and light hearts. We started walking in sunshine with crisp snow under our snowshoes but by the time we had reached the lake a quarter of the way into our journey the fog had descended and we had to work by GPS and compass.

The dreaded fog

Now I have described our maps before but I will take the time to do it again. In the UK, where the maps are excellent and there are features on them like rivulets and large rocks, navigating in fog can be boring but is very possible. In South Georgia the contours are at 50m. This means that a cliff 49.9m high can be in your way and you would never know. The maps are also very feature poor. There can be one large river on the map but when you look up from the map there are actually three running past your feet and there is no way of knowing which one is the one on the map. Normally, in the UK both Hazel and I would have navigated happily by map and compass but here we simply couldn’t. We descended into Hound Bay which was out of the fog and had a chilly lunch there contemplating the next three hours of travel uphill. We continued on until we literally could not see 5m ahead of our footsteps. At the foot of Mount Skittle we cached our tent so we wouldn’t have to haul it back up the hill when we returned.

So now we are back at the beginning of this blog, with me holding the GPS very firmly in one hand and guiding Hazel back onto the track, while stumbling in the bad visibility behind her. Through teamwork we finally got to the hut and I think I have rarely been  so pleased to see a small damp hut as I was to see that one. We had a meal of ‘rat packs’ (dehydrated ration packs) and large mugfuls of hot tea and cheerfully got into our warm and cosy bunks for the night. The bunks at St Andrews are HUGE. They are bigger than our Pitroom bunks back at the base, and rather comfortable.

The next day saw us rising not very early and tidying up the hut from the night before when we had arrived and literally just dumped everything in our hurry to eat and sleep. We tried to patch the waders that were in the hut so we could cross the rivers to get to the colony. It was still foggy and fairly chilly but even if the fog hadn’t lifted enough for us to see the yellow snow patches under the penguins,  half a million penguins do make a fair amount of noise and smell so we literally just followed our noses until we arrived in the middle of thousands upon thousands of the little fellows. The adults were sleek and beautiful, looking at us in a rather haughty manner as if to say “More paparazzi? Well if you must, but please get my good side this time. ” The chicks were just huge balls of fuzzy brown. They were looking a little damp round the edges because of the fog and had their tiny heads tucked right down onto their huge bodies to keep warm but they were the most enchanting things ever. I had to work very hard to stop Hazel from kidnapping one and bringing it home. I think only the thought that it would make her pack heavier stopped her.



A portion of 500,000 penguins



Hazel restraining herself from kidnapping him



It's so fluffy!

I am not sure that there is any way I can actually describe what 500, 000 King penguins looks, smells and sounds like. The adults give off this harsh klaxoning call while the chicks whistle. There was just so much going on all around us that you didn’t know where to look. Everywhere were adults feeding young ones. The chicks would come up to their adults and whistle enticingly while tapping gently at their bills or necks. The adults would then stretch their necks up as high as possible and proceed to retch noisily until they had regurgitated a sufficient amount of fish and then would bend over the chick, open their bill and the chick would feed from it. It was incredible to see behaviour that most people will only ever see on TV happen right there in front of us. When not watching that we could see other adults herding the young ones away from where they obviously weren’t meant to be going, by tapping them gently with their flippers. Others were quarrelling noisily and yet more were just moving around in one glorious mass of penguin existence.

Kings of the castle

Poser

Preparing for dinner



Reflections



Hazel's hand vs. Giant Petrel's footprints

We read the hut visitors book that evening to see who had been here and in it there was a couple of entries from a BBC camera crew who had been there to film for ‘Frozen Planet’. In the older hut books there were also entries from some of the military chaps who had been there on patrol, including a couple of entries from the Gurkha regiment. I am not sure why but it seemed very odd to see Nepalese written in a book on a bleak beach in the middle of South Georgia.

The next day dawned, yep you guessed it: foggy and damp. We redonned our wet socks (dried in the lid of the pasta pan the evening before) and the sodden waders (no, the patching hadn’t worked very well) and made our way back to the colony. This time we copied the locals who I had noticed crossing the river by a much shallower route during my morning ablutions. We went further than the day before, right to the other end of the beach and had our lunch watching the migration of Kings from one end of the beach to the other. They all seemed to be wanting to go to the North end of the beach and we couldn’t figure out why on earth. It was very amusing to sit and ‘people’ watch during our lunch, the variety of sizes and shapes was extraordinary and there were quite a number of fat ones who were having great trouble waddling along. It was wonderful. The best bit was watching them cross rivers. It was as if they didn’t want to get their ‘hands’ wet. They would lift their flippers high above the water and wade through the current. Sometimes it would get to be too strong or too deep for them and they would dip their heads and swim the rest of the way but if they could they would stay wading. Such silly birds.

After hearing the forecast for the last few days of our sojourn we decided to leave on Thursday afternoon, find our tent and then camp at Hound Bay (which is about half way). There was snow forecast and the first part of the route above the hut is steep enough that it could have caused us problems if the snow got any deeper. We started out in the afternoon with packs that were lighter than when we had arrived (through having eaten food and used fuel) but still heavier than we could wish. My knee was still playing up so Hazel, saint that she is, broke trail the entire way, while carrying the heavier pack (I could not persuade her to give me more, no matter how hard I tried). I am not sure how she did it since the snow conditions were miserable and for the first hour or so every two steps we took we would slide one back. I navigated us back to our tent and after that, even though our packs were slightly heavier, we walked with a lighter step knowing that we wouldn’t have a cold night in bivvy bags and that the hardest bit was behind us.

We camped as low as we could above Hound Bay, ensuring that we could clear enough snow so as not to be lying on the stuff but yet had enough to use for water. We thought it would be a cold night but actually in the end it wasn’t too bad at all, much warmer than both of us thought it might be. It snowed constantly through the night, not too heavily, but enough for us to be sure that we had made the right decision to leave on Thursday. After a breakfast of ‘Hot Cereal Start’ (a rat pack that has 702 calories, perfect for starting a hard day’s work) and slightly kero tasting tea, we broke camp and headed back to Sorling Beach for our pickup. As we arrived at the beach we saw the first sun that we had seen all holiday, it was still covered in fog but it was there. Annoying.



After a night at Hound Bay



The only sun we saw all holiday

We arrived back to find Pipit’s starboard engine still in multiple pieces over the boatshed but progress has been made and it seems to be going well. I will spend the next week helping where I can, trying to stay out of the way and doing the other routine maintenance, till the weekend, when hopefully they will have finished and I can get going on the chipping off of the old paint and painting on of the new stuff. I just hope I can get it done in time to catch the next tide. It looks like next weekend could be a little rushed but then that is how boating works.

This week wasn’t the most fantastic in terms of weather and navigation but we had a very enjoyable time with the penguins and that colony is something I will NEVER forget.

My Midwinter Week

As I write this we have passed midwinter and slowly, incrementally, as the northern hemisphere starts its gradual descent into winter, we in the Southern Polar regions begin our rise into the sun. Midwinter is the most important celebration in the Antarctic. It is the time when finally the nights will start to get shorter and for those on the continent it marks the time when they can start the countdown to seeing the sun again. Here on South Georgia we never lost daylight. The days have been short and we have had no direct sunlight on the base for a month or so but we have never had to experience what our colleagues at Halley station are going through. They are currently in continual darkness with temperatures of -40’C and winds of up to 50kts whirling the snow around their base. 

Across Antarctica all but the most necessary of work stopped and we have all had a week of relaxation. We have had Midwinter greetings from most of the bases on the continent: the French, Norwegians, Chinese, Koreans, Japanese, Argentineans, Chileans, Brazilians, Americans, New Zealanders, Australians, the other British bases and many more all sent photos to every other base and we sent ours back. We got a Midwinter message from David Cameron and Barak Obama. It made me feel much closer to the Antarctic community than I have ever felt before and made it seem as if we were part of a family. 

Our Midwinter message to all the other bases

 As part of the Midwinter celebrations the British Bases all have a ‘pubcrawl’ at some point over the week. We did ours on Monday night. Everybody who wants to sets up a bar with a theme and then we all traipse over the base visiting them. We started with the Docs Bar up in the surgery, which I had spent some of the afternoon helping Hazel to decorate. She made ‘Death in the Afternoon’ a cocktail created by Hemingway which is a mixture of absinthe and champagne. It was a very civilised way to start the evening. We then moved on to the Techies Bar in the welding bay. The drink here was homebrew that Joe has been making for a while. It isn’t bad at all. From there we made our way up to the Base Commander’s office which Rod had filled with balloons for a very fun bar. Then it was the ‘Boaties Bar’; Paula and I  made them all dress up in oil skins and gave them ‘Salty Seadogs’, a mixture of vodka and grapefruit juice with a rim of salt. The challenge of having to tie themselves to each other using only one hand to tie a bowlin went down well and then we moved on to Shack Villa for the GO’s bar. This was a Vicars Tea Party with Pimms and scones and Jo dressed as the vicar and Keiron dressed as the vicar’s wife. The last bar of the night was the Beakers (scientists) Bar in the sauna, a beach theme. It all went off very well and everyone had a very enjoyable night.

When I said that only the most necessary of work went on during the week, unfortunately taking the GOs to inspect krill boats was necessary. We had three boats to inspect but it went well and I even managed to get some training in for Rod and Hazel coming alongside the ship. The only bore was it taking an hour to dig the boats out so that we could use them. There must have been about 3 feet of snow on them which is a lot when you have to dig it out carefully so you don’t damage anything. The snow was also falling off the roof in front of the doors of the boat shed, meaning that we had to dig out the doors. I, for one, started running in and out of the door as fast as possible; I did not want to have a pile of that snow fall on my head. 

A lot of snow on the boats

Boatshed doors dug out

 Unfortunately it snowed most of the week which meant that the track round to Grytviken was closed. This meant we couldn’t leave base. The restrictions actually made me feel rather closer to the explorers of Scott or Shackleton’s time, when they couldn’t leave their bases and were stuck inside most of the time preparing for the travel of the summer. The effort that went into their Midwinter dinners just goes to show how important it was. They kept certain things back for the celebration and made a real effort. There was one famous trip done in the depths of winter: Dr Bill Wilson, Apsley Cherry-Gerrad and ‘Birdie’ Bowers went in search of an Emperor Penguin colony to attempt to collect eggs for the scientists in the Natural History Museum back at home. If you want a tale of unimaginable suffering and courage then read ‘The Worst Journey In The World’ by Apsley Cherry-Gerrard. I guarantee it will freeze your blood no matter where you read it. 

 In corners of the dry food store, the cold food store and the freezers have been little boxes with the words “For Midwinter” scrawled across them. They held little goodies or things we were running out of, like marmalade, so that we could have a treat over midwinter. Bringing them out and finding myself happy at remembering that we had olives or tinned pineapple again made me feel a kindred spirit to the explorers of Shackleton’s day and made it even more special. 

Midwinters day dawned and I woke up to clear a path from the sauna to the sea for later activities. We had the BC’s breakfast (a combined effort from Rod and Paula) at 1000 which was the works, everything you could possibly want in a cooked breakfast. Then once we had semi digested that, at 1130 we steeled ourselves and all went for a Midwinter swim. The air temperature was about -2’C but the water was a balmy 4’C so in we all jumped. I can’t say that we stayed in very long and soon we were all ensconced in the sauna getting feeling back into our toes. It was very refreshing though.

At 1400 we had the Mid Winter Present (MWP) giving. We had all taken names out of a hat in April and had to make a present for that person. I got Jo Cox the GO. She is also a Master is the Merchant Navy and has her own boat so I decided to make her a set of navigational dividers, a stand for pencils and slide rules for her chart table and a box to put the dividers in. Daniel  made me a box very cleverly fashioned to look like a Jet boat. Jo made Joe a backgammon set inlaid with a picture of South Georgia. Joe made Sue a clock and a book stand for her recipe books. Sue made Rod a box with a lid inlaid with an engraved picture of Grytviken. Rod made Keiron a picture frame with one of his fantastic photos of Adelie penguins in it. Keiron made a table out of wood from Discovery House for Erny and Erny made a milking stool for Daniel. Paula had knitted a hat, glove and scarf set for Hazel and made earrings out of reindeer bone and a knife with reindeer bone handle. Hazel had made Paula a set of 4 light boxes with x rays inside them. I had helped her make them and it was very intricate. Everything was wonderful and very well thought out for each person. It really was amazing since none of us have experience in this type of thing. I think I may have got the creating bug though and I might find myself in the carpenter’s workshop (Chippy Shop) a lot more now. 

All the Midwinter Presents

My present from Daniel

 

My present to Jo Cox

The Midwinter Dinner was a huge affair and everyone pitched in to make it a fantastic evening. The dining room and table were decorated, we all got dressed in our formal wear and the food that was produced was unbelievable. We had a starter of king prawn and scallop on black pudding with bacon and a balsamic dressing. Then we had a palate cleanser of gin and tonic sorbet. This was followed by a main course of roast goose (provided by the builders from the Falklands) and all the trimmings. The pudding was white chocolate ice cream and then a cheese board and port with chocolate truffles. All in all it was a huge success. 

Scott's Midwinter Dinner

 

Our Midwinter Dinner

 I don’t know if this will have been only the first of many Antarctic Midwinters for me (I have a feeling it might not be my last) but it is certainly one that I will always remember.

A World of Liquid Light

On Saturday it snowed a little. On Sunday and Monday the skies opened and snow, big fluffy flakes, crystalline and so big that you could see each individual one, floated from the sky like cherry blossom in the spring. It has been cold here. The mercury hasn’t risen much above -4’C all week. This has been good but it has meant that the snow hasn’t bedded down yet, resulting in billows of pinprick cold every time you kick it.  The snow is knee deep which means that until we got tracks run into the snow around base your boots would fill unless you took great care. Doing my earlies rounds on Tuesday I tried to follow Rod’s footsteps in the snow but he is 6 foot something and has an enormous stride so I found myself flat on the floor in the snow laughing at my own predicament. I think I might start wearing my waterproof socks!

On Monday Hazel taught me how to ski. I have never skied in my life and I will admit to the fact that the thought of it doesn’t fill me with all the warm fuzzy feelings it should. I have bad knees and I am not looking forward to learning how to go downhill. On the flat and uphill it is fine. It is easier than snowshoeing and actually quite fun once you’re in someone else’s tracks. In this snow however, breaking trail is a real trial and very hard going.

On Wednesday I had to do some night boating. This is rather a palaver here. We need three people on board, rather than the normal two. You have the coxswain (me) then a deck crew and an icelight operator. The icelight operator also maintains a radio watch while the cox and deck crew are on deck dealing with transfers. In the coastal waters of the UK there is nearly always light at night. Whether it is the coastal towns casting their orange glow over the bays or the reassuring flash of the guardian lighthouses guiding you home, there is nearly always light. In London, where I do most of my lifeboating nowadays, going down the Thames at night is literally like floating on a river of light, with all the lights from the city reflected under the hull of the boat. Going to sea at night is a strange experience, even when you can see the lights on the coast; your other senses are pulled compellingly to the fore. Hearing becomes more important but I find that your sense of smell becomes incredibly powerful. Whenever I was out in the Bristol Channel at night I could always tell when I was close to a river by the smell of the freshwater hitting the sea. It is quite difficult to describe but it is intensely powerful. You can imagine what going out at night here is like. There is only the lights from the base and the leading lights on the shore to orientate you (leading lights guide you in through a channel; as long as you keep them in line, you are in safe water). Once we had picked our slow careful way out of the bay, avoiding the kelp only by seeing it lit up in the icelight that Joe was sweeping across the bows, the only light we could see was that of the ship we were meeting. Her icelight swung across the bows, mimicking ours and her deck lights lit up a patch of sea around her hull. You could almost smell the snow as well as the kelp giving off its familiar ozone tang. Everything can be a bit disorientating in the dark and you have to take much more care while out boating but it all went fine and we returned to the safety of the lights of the base and Rod’s excellent bean burgers.

Hazel, Jo and I tried to get to Maiviken on Friday, for a night off base, but in the end the snow and the rapidly gathering darkness defeated us. Instead we skied around Grytviken and the bay and enjoyed the cold, crisp sunset. The sky wavered from cloudless blue to pastel pink with the mountains on the Barff painted an exquisitely delicate shade of coral. As time went on the pink darkened to purple and above the mountains the air was a deep electric blue. It looked too real to be true and we just stood and drank it all in, listening to the pancake ice on the bay crackle as ripples made it sway in the water. Hazel and I took up Jo’s kind offer of dinner at Carse house that night and we had a really nice evening on her sofas just chatting. When it came time to leave we wandered out into the cold air and found that the new moon was picking out every facet of every snow crystal on the ground, making it feel like we were walking on diamonds. We looked up and I suddenly felt very, very small, with the whole weight of the universe towering over me. I have never seen skies like that. There was no black. The illusion of darkness was only there when you didn’t focus your eyes on the stars that were in every corner of the sky. The Milky Way swept across our view like a brush stroke of light across a canvas of velvet and while we were transfixed a shooting star suddenly flashed. across the sky. It was breathtaking, literally breathtaking and a sight I don’t think I will ever forget. I was reminded of a phrase in C.S. Lewis’s ‘Voyage of the Dawn Treader’. Eustace says “In our world a star is huge ball of burning gas”. He is answered by Corriakin (a star resting on earth till he can take up the dance once more): “Even in your world that is only what a star is made of, not what a star is.”

This week is Midwinter’s week and it is going to be quite busy, with krill boats to licence and Midwinter activities to do. I won’t write another blog till after Midwinter so I will say Happy Midwinter now and leave you to enjoy your week.  

            Dawn                            (Photo by Hazel Woodland)



Me working - not very hard!   (Photo by Hazel Woodland)

Me driving the JCB                             (Photo by Hazel Woodland)

 

Sunset with Ice on the Bay                    (Photo by Hazel Woodland)






And Then There Were Ten ...

Well nine actually. There are meant to be ten people on this island over winter. The eight members of BAS staff and two government officers. One of the GOs, Keiron, had to be shipped out to the Falklands with the SGHT (South Georgia Heritage Trust) team for a dental problem but it has all been fixed and he is on his way back as I write. Once he returns the full team will be here. It is a rather odd feeling sitting at dinner and knowing that the eight other people in the room are the only people for hundreds of miles. We dropped down to nine on Thursday. Before that we had an incredibly busy three days. 

On Monday HMS Argyll arrived fresh from South Africa. Close on her heels was RFA (Royal Fleet Auxiliary) Black Rover. The Black Rover is essentially the tanker ship for HMS Argyll and allows her unrestricted movement in remote locations. Since we only had the nine wintering team, Richard McKee (the Executive Officer for the government, down on a visit) and Andy Black here it was all hands on deck. We actually lost Joe (sparky) and Erny (mech) because they were working on the hydroelectric plant. We have been having a fair amount of trouble with the power and the manufacturers had sent an engineer down to help them fix it. Poor Joe, Erny and Tom (the engineer) worked from early on Saturday morning till late on Wednesday evening trying to fix the system. So far it seems to have worked and we have had steady power since. It did mean however that we were two people down for helping to do things with our visitors. 

Argyll had two hundred people aboard and Black Rover forty and they all wanted to get ashore for a leg stretch, a visit to Shackleton’s grave and the museum, so we lent a hand with boating. This meant that from 0900 to 1530 (civil twilight and the limit of our day operations) Paula and I were running a ferry service back and forth between the two ships and the jetty in Grytviken. While we were doing that (each of us took either the morning or the afternoon and spent the other half of the day acting as back up and doing other odd jobs necessary on base) the other winterers either had to be our crews,  man the museum, take the post office on board the ships or help with social events (there was a lunch at Carse House on Monday,  on board Argyll on Tuesday and Black Rover on Wednesday). Everyone helped out or went to at least one of the lunches and they were very nice. I went on board the Argyll and we had a lovely lunch in the Ward Room (the Officers' Mess) and then got a tour around the ship. It was fascinating, because different to other naval vessels I have seen.

Paula and I had a bad time on Tuesday; while I was on the Argyll she discovered an oil leak in Pipit’s starboard engine. This meant that Pipit was out of action until we could fix her. Very annoying. 

As soon as we bid farewell to our guests on Thursday morning Paula, Erny and I headed down to the jetty and then spent the rest of the day in the engine bay testing and checking, retesting, fiddling and trying to figure out what on earth was wrong with her. We couldn’t see anything (but then Paula and I are not engineers so it was not surprising we couldn’t see anything) but after some testing and some deep thought by Erny she was declared operational within Cumberland Bays. We have to keep a close eye on her and if anything untoward happens then we will have to strip the engine but till then (and we all have our fingers crossed that nothing will happen) we can use her which is the main thing. 

As a reward and thank you for all the hard work we had done Jo Cox (GO) hosted a pizza night on the sofas of Carse House. It is wonderful to just be able to sit on a sofa in somewhere which is actually a house and not a base and just feel normal for a while. 

During all of this we have had every type of weather possible. Last week we had had a glorious covering of snow but then we had some torrential rain that managed to sweep it all away. At the same time it swept large parts of the track to Grytviken into the sea and started some landslides. Very unpleasant. We had snow and sleet on Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday interspersed with brilliant bouts of sunshine. On Thursday we awoke to large amounts of ice in the bay which had blown in there. It cleared again but is now back with a vengeance. 

Last weekend was the first in a while that I hadn’t gone off walking and I felt the lack of it by the end of the week so Rod, Hazel and I decided to get out no matter what on Saturday. We started early in bright sunshine with some haze, hoping it would lift so we could go to Glacier Col again and walk along the tops. As we paused for smoko at Upper Gull Lake it started to snow so we decided to make our way to the Ice Cave we had found before and decide on a plan after that. No matter the weather, the grandeur and grim beauty of this place always grips me. Walking along the bottom of a valley, surrounded by steep hills with their tops hidden with veils of snow slanting through the air was very special and invigorating and I thank my lucky stars every day that I am here. 

En route to the Ice Cave

 

Hazel and me in the Ice Cave       (photo: Rod Strachen)

 

I actually get paid to be here ...        (photo: Rod Strachan)

The rest of the weekend has been taken up with my Midwinter Present. I am not sure if I have described it before but we all draw a name out of a hat and have to make a present for that person to be presented on Midwinter’s Day (21^st June). People take it more or less seriously depending on their nature. I think that as long as it isn’t horrifically bad and you put some effort into it,  it is the thought that counts and the fact that you have spent time making something for someone that is important, so I am not worrying about it as much as some people. I am very much looking forward to seeing what everyone has been doing shut up in the workshops for so long though. After an afternoon yesterday and a long morning today I think I am pretty close to finishing. I need to bolt something together, put a lid on a box and then it is a matter of sanding and waxing till I am happy that it is done. 

Speaking of which I think it is time to go see if my box has glued together. 

I hope you have a good week, we are counting down till Midwinter week now. 

In the meantime, here are some more photos I thought I would share with you all:

Funny Face     (photo: Rod Strachen)

Hazel, Daniel, Rod and me at the Hamburg Lakes     (photo: Rod Strachan)

 

I seem to be a midget! (a very chilly midget)             (photo: Rod Strachan)

Hazel, Jo and me on Glacior Col        (photo: Rod Strachan)

My room

The Bar