A Scientific Quest from Australia to Antarctica

Our joint team in Antarctica [Credit: Braydon Moloney, Northern Pictures].

In this week’s blog, Levan Tielidze tells us about his participation in a scientific expedition to Dronning Maud Land, Antarctica, during the 2024–2025 field season. The journey, commencing in Australia and passing through South Africa, led him to the “surreal” and “awe-inspiring” Antarctic landscape. The team, a collaborative effort from Monash University, and the University of Tasmania, focused on collecting rock samples for cosmogenic nuclide dating and installing seismic stations to understand glacial changes and ice dynamics.

Frozen Frontiers: Our Antarctic Journey for Science and Discovery

In the 2024–2025 field season, I had the incredible opportunity to be part of a scientific expedition to one of the most remote and awe-inspiring places on Earth: Dronning Maud Land, Antarctica. This adventure wasn’t just a journey across continents and icy landscapes — it was a mission to unravel Earth’s deep history and monitor its shifting present (Figure 1).

This expedition marked my second journey to Antarctica within just a year—following my participation in the 2023–2024 Denman Terrestrial Campaign in East Antarctica. With this latest mission, I became the only Georgian national in history to have traveled to Antarctica twice—a personal and national milestone that fills me with deep pride and profound gratitude. Each journey has not only pushed the boundaries of my scientific work but also deepened my personal connection to this stark and extraordinary continent. Antarctica tests your limits, sharpens your resolve, and leaves you forever changed. And I carry those experiences with me—not only as a scientist but as someone driven to share the story of this fragile, frozen world with others.

Scientis collecting rocks with a sun dog in the sky

Figure 1: Levan Tielidze collecting the rock samples for cosmogenic nuclide dating [Credit: Steven Giordano].

The Team

Our team was a joint force from Securing Antarctica’s Environmental Future (SAEF) Initiative, Monash University (Prof. Andrew Mackintosh, myself, Rebecca Hallas, Dr Sophie Holland, PhD candidate Naomi Monk) and the University of Tasmania (PhD candidate Ian Kelly), blending expertise in glaciology, biology, and geophysics. French and Australian mountain guides Steven Giordano and Luke Molineux took care of the safety of our team. Sydney-based film company Northern Pictures had been invited by SAEF to join the expedition to document this extreme science for an upcoming series on polar research. Cameraman Ross Mackay and Wildlife Filmmaker Braydon Moloney were welcomed into the team and shared in the trials and successes that come with working in such remote conditions (Figure 2).

The goals of the glacio-geo team were ambitious yet vital: to collect rock samples for cosmogenic nuclide dating and to install short and long-term seismic stations across several glaciers.

Figure 2: Our joint team in Antarctica [Credit: Braydon Moloney, Northern Pictures].

The Long Road South

Our expedition began in Melbourne/Hobart, Australia, and took us through South Africa, where we made final preparations, coordinated logistics with White Desert Company, and awaited the perfect weather window. From there, we boarded an aircraft bound for the Antarctic frontier (Figure 3).

Landing at Wolf’s Fang Runway in Dronning Maud Land was surreal. The endless white stretched in all directions, a landscape both desolate and majestic. The air was piercingly cold, the silence profound — interrupted only by the light wind.

Map of the world showing a red line for the route taken from Australian, to South Africa to Antarctica.

Figure 3: Journey map from Melbourne to Antarctica [Credit: Levan Tielidze]. Google Earth map was used as a background [© Google Earth].

Chasing Ancient Clues in Rock

One of our primary objectives was to collect rock samples at Sigyn Glacier, Wolf’s Fang Runway and Somoveken Glacier, ~80 km east from Wolf’s Fang. We were primarily searching for well-preserved bedrock surfaces or erratic boulders suitable for cosmogenic nuclide dating—a technique that allows us to glimpse into the planet’s climatic history. By measuring isotopes like Beryllium-10, Aluminum-26, or Carbon-14 formed when cosmic rays strike rock surfaces, we can determine how long rocks have been exposed to the atmosphere.

These tiny clues tell us stories of glacial retreat, erosion, and landscape evolution — giving us insights into how the Antarctic ice sheet has changed over tens of thousands of years.

We focused on exposed nunataks — rocky peaks that jut through the ice — and other glacially sculpted landscapes. Sampling often involved long days of hiking, hammering samples in sub-zero temperatures, and carefully cataloging every rock’s location and context (Figure 4).

Scientists sat on a rock in Antarctica collecting rock samples.

Figure 4: Our team is collecting the rocks [Credit: Levan Tielidze].

Listening to the Ice: Seismic Station Installation

Our second major task was just as exciting: installing short and long-term seismic stations on and around glaciers. These devices are part of a broader effort to monitor Antarctic ice dynamics, including glacier movement, icequakes, and even distant tectonic activity.

Each seismic station is like a stethoscope pressed to the skin of the Earth — listening for tremors, rumbles, and shifts that reveal how Antarctica is responding to a warming world.

Setting up these stations was a logistical challenge. The equipment had to be transported by sled, with the team kitted up in crampons, over treacherous terrain, installed with precision, and configured to operate autonomously in one of the harshest environments on the planet (Figure 5).

Figure 5: Our team is crossing the Somoveken Glacier to install the short terms seismic sensors [Credit: Levan Tielidze].

Collaboration in the Cold

Fieldwork in Antarctica is not for the faint-hearted. Days were long, the cold was relentless, and everything — from eating to setting up camp — took twice the effort. But what made the journey truly special was the spirit of collaboration.

Scientists from Monash and UTAS brought different skill sets and perspectives, and the synergy was incredible. Every rock we sampled and every sensor we buried in the ice was a team effort.

There’s something profoundly bonding about sharing a tent in minus 20°C, troubleshooting equipment with frozen fingers, and watching the Antarctic sun paint the sky in soft pastels that never quite fade (Figure 6).

Ulvetanna Peak and surrounding rocky outcrops on the background of deep, clear blue sky. Taken in late December 2024, when the sun remains above the horizon in Antarctica.

Figure 6: Ulvetanna Peak and surrounding rocky outcrops on the background of deep, clear blue sky. Taken in late December 2024, when the sun remains above the horizon in Antarctica. [Credit: Levan Tielidze]

One of the most exciting aspects of the expedition was the opportunity to present our research directly from the field — sharing insights, engaging with the public, raising awareness about Antarctica and the Southern Ocean, and answering questions about our ongoing work (Figure 7).

Figure 8. Our team is presenting their work at the base camp at Wolf’s Fang Runway for tourists and the White Desert team. [Credit: Steven Giordano].

Figure 7: Our team is presenting their work at the base camp at Wolf’s Fang Runway for tourists and the White Desert team. [Credit: Steven Giordano].

What Comes Next?

Now that we’re back, real science begins. Our rock samples are being processed in labs, where they’ll undergo isotopic analysis. The seismic stations we left behind are silently collecting data, which will be collected in the coming years and provide a window into the Earth’s subsurface rhythms for years to come.

Through this work, we hope to shed light on the past behavior of the Antarctic ice sheet, improve models of future sea-level rise, and better understand the tectonic heartbeat of this icy continent.

Final Thoughts

Standing on the edge of the world, chipping away at rocks half-buried in ice, or feeling the Earth tremble through a seismic sensor — it’s hard not to feel both small and deeply connected to something larger. Antarctica is not just a remote wilderness; it’s a critical archive of our planet’s climate history and a sentinel of its future.

This journey was more than a scientific mission. It was a reminder of the resilience of the human spirit, the power of collaboration, and the urgency of understanding our changing world.

Acknowledgement

A trip of this nature would not have been possible without the exceptional support provided by SAEF and its partners. I would like to particularly thank each member of our joint team, as well as Steven Chown, Andy Cianchi, Jodie Weller, Genie Fleming, Anna Quinn, and Angela Firth at SAEF Monash, Jacques Scheepers in Cape Town, Stuart McFadzean, Luke Brauteseth and the entire White Desert team in Cape Town and at Wolf’s Fang Runway. Together, their efforts really did make mighty things possible, which I hope to repay through excellent science.