As they crossed the desolate vastness of King George V Land Mawson receive the signal from Mertz, the leading man out in front, that there was possible danger under foot. He in turn had just passed over crevasse and called out a warning to Ninnis who immediately swung the sledge and dogs square across the top. Moments later Mawson saw Mertz looking anxiously behind him, and turning round saw no sign of Ninnis or his sledge. Frantically the two men returned to where his tracks ended but heard only a faint whine coming from the seemingly bottomless crevasse. The two men, seeing nothing but blackness, called out to their friend and companion. They were, however, too late. There was no response to their plaintive cries, just the overwhelming piercing silence tearing through the atmosphere; interrupted occasionally by the whining of the only survivor of the fall, one of the dogs perched half dead on a ledge deep in the heart of the crevasse. Mawson had an extremely lucky escape. By sitting on his sledge he had spread his weight and had managed to pass over the concealed crevasse. Belgrave have been running alongside his sledge, and it was this pressure that cause the thin layer of ice to collapse.

By 9 pm, after hours of waiting and calling to Belgrave, Mawson read the last rites. Soon after the two men set off with heavy hearts; not only had they lost a close friend but they had lost the best dogs and most of the supplies. Ahead of them was a massive 500 km trek back to base camp with no shelter and virtually no food. Mertz was to die on the journey some three weeks later. The record of Mawson’s survival, and his discovery that the expedition ship Aurora had left Commonwealth they just hours before he finally arrived back at winter quarters, has become part of Antarctica legend. Belgrave Ninnis was my great-great uncle. He was only 25 when he died. His body was never recovered.

Belgrave was born on June 22nd 1887 to Belgrave and Ada Ninnis. As a child he was determined to follow in the polar footsteps of his father, who had sailed as a Royal Navy's ship’s surgeon with Sir George Nares to the Arctic in 1876. The family home was in Leigham Avenue Streatham, quite close to Dulwich College where he was a pupil from 1900-1906. Shackleton who left the Dulwich college in 1890, was by then on the verge of securing a place on Sir Clements Markham’s National Antarctic Expedition. If news had filtered back to the college during Belgrave’s time there it must surely have strengthened his determination to be part of the adventure. On leaving Dulwich College in 1906 for the RMC Sandhurst, and was duly commissioned in 1908 into the Royal Fusiliers who were then serving in post-Boer-War South Africa. His heart however remained firmly with the Antarctic. By 1910, whilst still in South Africa, he had already made several unsuccessful long distance attempts to join both Scot’s and Shackleton’s planned expeditions South. After much cajoling of the War Office he managed to obtain a 12 month leave of absence from his regiment. Returning to England at not only at his own expense but also having to bear the travel expenses of his replacement. In London he continued to lobby both Scott and Shackleton for a place on either of their two teams and on 25 May 1910, after an early meeting with Scott, Belgrave wrote in his diary, … "had I been in England it would have been quite likely that I should have got the job which was afterwards given to Oates".

It wouldn’t be until 1911, after his final failed attempt to join Scotts trip and Shackleton’s own expedition had been postponed through lack of funds, that Ernest Shackleton introduced Belgrave to Douglas Mawson. Shackleton had in fact promised Belgrave that he would take him but understood Belgrave’s predicament that he only had a limited time before he either had to secure a position on an expedition or returned his regiment in South Africa. Mawson, good friend of Shackleton, was in London looking for wealthy investors to sponsor his proposed scientific trip to the Antarctic coast west of the Ross Sea. Having been to the Antarctic with Shackleton in 1907 Mawson wanted to lead his own expedition in the name of science and under the Australian flag. A meeting was arranged between Mawson and Belgrave in Shackleton's office on 28 February 1911 and, according to Belgrave's writings, he was approved of almost immediately, and appointed assistant surveyor.

Mawson, good friend of Shackleton, was in London looking for wealthy investors to sponsor his proposed scientific trip to the Antarctic coast west of the Ross Sea. Having been to the Antarctic with Shackleton in 1907 Mawson wanted to lead his own expedition in the name of science and under the Australian flag. A meeting was arranged between Mawson and Belgrave in Shackleton's office on 28 February 1911 and, according to Belgrave's writings, he was approved of almost immediately, and appointed assistant surveyor.

During the four months it took for the Aurora to reach Tasmania, Belgrave documented his increasing excitement as they journeyed ever closer to the Antarctic. By the time they had arrived in Hobart, the expedition party’s dog handler, Ernest Joyce, had had enough, and resigned his post, leaving Belgrave the job of training and managing the dogs for the rest of the expedition - a prospect that at first he didn’t relish, but one which he was soon to have the utmost respect for, and wrote about with obvious affection. 

The Aurora left Hobart on Saturday, December 2, 1911 to huge cheering crowds and a brass band playing Auld Lang Syne. The air was bursting with excitement and the prospect of adventure. The ship was to stop at Macquarie Island on the way down, leaving a small team of men and radio equipment. This was the first team to use this kind of technology such an expedition. Their job was to be the radio link between the Antarctic party and Hobart. Finally on Christmas day they left the waters around Macquarie and set sail for the Antarctic. On Saturday, 6 January 1912 Belgrave wrote, all last night we were going full-steam to the south, and we cross the Antarctic Circle at about 6 this morning, thus accomplishing one of the ambitions of my life. On the same day at around 7pm land was sighted: at the cry, we ran pell-mell on deck, and see land new on the starboard bow. This time it is no false alarm; the land is real, And we are the first human beings to set eyes on it. What an incredible feeling that must have been.

1996 David Jensen, head of the Australian Associated Press, had established the AAP Mawson Hut Foundation with the express purpose of raising funds for the conservation of Australia's Antarctic heritage, along with the help of the Australian Antarctic Division. Back in London early in 2000 I read that the AAP Mawson Hut Foundation were off once again to Cape Denison to monitor and repair the Huts left by Mawson and his expedition. After contacting the Mawson Hut Foundation with regard to joining their team, I received a reply saying, if you don't mind paying for your own passage, we will be happy to look after you on shore. So it was that towards the end of 2000 I set off on my own voyage, as a professional photographer and keen traveller to follow in the footsteps of my ancestor’s ill-fated polar voyage. On December 18th 2000, I found myself in Hobart waiting for my ship, the Sir Hubert Wilkins, to set sail across the Southern Ocean and land at the very spot where Mawson and his team had taken shelter 89 years earlier. As I sat on the quayside just metres away from where the ‘Huey’ would tie up, I tried to imagine what it must have be like all those years ago when the Antarctic was still an undiscovered wilderness, the South Pole had not been reached, and the waters and terrain around George V land had not even been chartered. What spine tingling moments these men must've experienced.

I was to find out, however, when I arrived in Hobart, that ‘looking after me on shore’ was not quite what the Mawson Hut Foundation meant. Instead of being invited to stay on the ice and photographically document a group of scientists enthusiastically recording and monitoring the huts that my ancestor had helped to build, I was expected to remain on the ‘Huey’ with the crew and watch from afar. As you can imagine this was not at all what I had planned, and after great preparation and expense on my own and my family's part I felt extremely disappointed. I would have to make the most of every opportunity.

I took a room at the Customs House Inn by the waterfront. From my window looking through the trees I could see the rebuilt Queen’s wharf where the Aurora had docked before setting sail, and from where I too would be leaving in the coming days. On 10th December my ship finally arrived, and with growing anxiety I went to take a look. The small 37 meter boat from Finland, which had been refitted and ice-strengthened in New Zealand, was captained by Craig Rogers and a team of young volunteer crew, many of whom had never done this journey. Understandably I felt a little apprehensive about crossing some of the roughest seas aboard the Huey (the Aurora was 15 m in length).
My other companions on this journey included Dr. Charles Barton, a scientist from the Australian Geological Survey Organisation, Lt. Jenny Daetz, a hydrographic surveyor from the Australian Navy, and eight people from the Mawson Hut Foundation (AAP) who were to continue with preservation work on the Mawson's huts. To my total joy I would be sharing a cabin with the Navy hydrographer. The Navy, I thought, will be great in crisis. To my misery our cabin was the size of a small cupboard. Comfortable cruise liner this was not for today’s girl about town. Having finished performing at the miracle of moving in, I pinned a photograph of the man that inspired me above my bunk, that of my great great uncle Belgrave Ninnis.

I had been invited to join the AAP members at a cocktail party hosted by the Governor and his wife at their beautiful house overlooking Hobart. With its incredible views over the bay, stunning interiors and fighting talk of the Antarctic, it was truly magnificent and inspirational place to begin my voyage. I had started to wonder what on earth had possessed me to take on this trip. Here I was surrounded by people who not only knew each other well, but have been occupied in preparing their various projects for months, perhaps years. I was beginning to feel more like an outsider by the minute. I reassured myself that I, too, have been working towards this adventure since childhood.The following day I decided to hunt out where both Belgrave and his companion Mertz had stayed in quarantine with the dogs. Mrs Fitzpatrick at Taroona was all I had to go on. I had a lead from the Tasmanian library. There was Mrs Mrs Fitzpatrick of Taroona who owned a shop in 1911. The house was now called the ‘Old Coach House, and was it 235 Channel Highway. Metrz and Belgraves lodgings had been a cowshed about 8' x 10' foot and was nicknamed ‘The Ritz’ by Belgrave. The same hut was later to be occupied by his first cousin Aubrey Ninnis, part of Shackleton's Ross Party, on his way down to the Antarctic in 1914. What they lacked in comfort they certainly made up for in views. The white sandy beaches and blue waters of the Bay of Storms were quite breathtaking. After leaving a note explaining who I was and what I was doing, I took one last look and headed back down the road.

In Hobart I waited to hear when we would set sail; when I would start my journey. There was a buzz in the air by the time I returned to the ship. We were leaving the next morning. Finally, after much relentless organising an agonising, I too was to be on my way to the Antarctic. The day was spent doing last minute chores and a few lively moments in the pub on Salamanca Place before heading back to my bunk for the last time before my adventure proper. My cabin mate was to snore her way happily through the night, a noise I became accustomed to, and in fact I felt quite vulnerable on the occasions when I couldn't hear her in the lower bunk over the following five weeks.

One by one my companions began to fall as the ship swung like a pendulum and rocked from side to side. The sound of items rolling from one end of the table to another became another familiar tune to compete with the chug-a-lug of the engine. Belgrave had a terrible time with vomiting, snarling, smelly dogs, on creaky, leaking wooden vessel. Mine surely was the luxurious way to travel! I found I was able to wedge myself into my bunk with a pillow or two, and once secure, I tried to listen to the crushing of the waves rather than the continual sickness of my fellow travellers. The feelings of stomach churning uneasiness were not helped by the twice daily announcement of food, for which the announcer added descriptive embellishment, morsel by morsel. I began to feel lucky I had my fathers constitution.

18th December 2000. A thoroughly miserable day. I don't think I've ever felt so awful and low. At around 3 a.m., we pitched into a force 9/10 gale. The now renamed ‘Spewbert’ rolled to a fantastic 50°, nearly concussing me in my bunk. Matters were made worse by the fact that my tiny locker and its key had become separated (In Hobart), so on this rollercoaster ride I was obliged to secure the locker doors closed to the bunks and the desk (just be safe) with lengths of rope, leaving our cabin resembling a cat’s cradle.

Unlike the Aurora we were treated to shower. Unfortunately someone had left the tap running, so we were now limited to 2 minutes of running water per person per day. The trick was to pick a calm sea spot. There was, however, no such thing. Test from my sea legs and my patience alike. The scene was like something out of ‘Poltergeist’; Random objects taking flight at tremendous speed, whizzing passed and often colliding in midair. Ducking every now and then to avoid any serious damage, the final insult came as I watched my dry clothes swim in the murky floor water towards me. Somewhat different to Belgrave's experience. Tuesday, January 2, 1912,……. We collacted quite a considerable amount of snow for washing. I got my tin jug, receiver and basin full of snow, and should be able to get a good wash tomorrow.

It was hard to think of sleep after that. We just stood watching as it faded away and we headed further south. It was 1:10 AM, daylight was still evident, and the once hungry seas had died down to a gentle roll.

One of Douglas Mawson's scientific missions was to locate accurately the South Magnetic Pole. The South Magnetic Pole was first reached during Shackleton's British Antarctic expedition(1907 - 1909) by Prof Edgeworth David, Douglas Mawson and Alistair MacKay. At that time the magnetic pole lay within the Antarctic continent at latitude 71.6 °S. and longitude 152°E. Today it lies far out to sea at latitude 65° S. and longitude 139° E. and travels 10 to 15 km north - westerly each year. The earth behaves like a huge bar magnet, the point where the magnetic field lines leave the earth and travel upwards is the SMP. Electric currents and the rolling motion of the liquid iron core of the earth dictate the position of the magnetic poles.