Let’s wrap this up

Dr Nina Purvis is a British medical doctor (MD) and astronaut health researcher, who spent 13 months at Concordia station – also known as white Mars, a place more remote than the International Space Station – doing biomedical research on herself and the crew for the European Space Agency, to help inform medical considerations for astronauts on missions to the Moon and Mars.

Concordia station is located on a glacial plateau 1100km inland from the nearest coastal station. Its altitude 3200m above sea level results in chronic hypobaric hypoxia (a lack of oxygen) and a humidity level so low it is classed as an ice desert. A place of extremes, temperatures can drop to –80°C in the winter. The Sun does not rise above the horizon in the winter during the polar night, and does not set in the summer, impacting circadian rhythm and mood. The crew must live in complete isolation and autonomy for nine months of their mission – the stakes are high. The station is a collaboration between the French Institut Polaire Français Paul-Emile Victor (IPEV) and Italian Programma Nazionale di Richerche Antartide (PNRA) and serves as a high-fidelity analogue for Mars missions. The DC21 crew – Dome C Concordia station’s 21^st winterover crew – was composed of 13 scientists and technicians.

The return of the Sun

Robert F. Scott, Saturday 26th August 1911:

“Just before lunch the sunshine could be seen gilding the floe…It was glorious to stand bathed in brilliant sunshine once more. We felt very young, sang and cheered – we were reminded of a bright frosty morning in England – everything sparkled and the air had the same crisp feel.”

Editor’s note: Robert Falcon Scott wrote a journal during the Terra Nova Expedition he led to Antarctica between 1910 and 1913. This specific journal entry was written on 26^th August 1911, from Cape Evans in Antarctica, over 1000km from Concordia station.

The end of the winterover is in sight with the return of the sun in August. At these polar latitudes, dawn isn’t a simple daily event, it’s a transformative moment marked by celebration and renewed hope and achievement. We made it. The eyes of great expeditioners have seen this sight, and now…so have we. Here’s to the end of the long polar night with the first sunrise here since May 4^th 2025!

And with that, the harder work begins. We are exhausted, a lot has happened, we need to finish our science and get the station ready for the next summer and winterover crews. It’s the final push.

Tasks include deep cleaning the station, the technical team clearing snow and reopening the summer camp, and preparing the ice skiway for the first plane. For me, September and October consisted of continuing my winter experiments, sorting and packing samples, uploading data, cleaning the lab, and preparing the handover.

The first plane

In November, after a year on the high Antarctic plateau, the sight and sound of the first aircraft marking the end of our winterover was an incredibly emotional moment. The long-awaited Basler touched down on the ice skiway, bringing more technical crew to help open the station for the summer, the first people we had seen in over 9 months. For me, it was also ‘my ride outta there’, and it felt like the end of an era. It was.

I said goodbye and boarded the small Basler aircraft and began the multi-leg journey back to civilisation – a dramatic descent from 3,233 metres down to sea level on the noisiest twin engine propeller plan I’ve ever been on, trading −50°C temperatures and the endless white horizon for the bustle of the coastal station, the sudden presence of wildlife, and the shock of sea level oxygen pressure and the ability to not wear a cold weather suit outdoors.

After some days’ rest, I got the quite luxurious Airbus back to the gateway to Antarctica: Christchurch, New Zealand. Over a year without rain or warm sun, without darkness in summer or daylight in winter, without fresh food, without shops – the idea of walking through a city or going outside without a huge jacket felt almost alien. Re-entry to “Earth” has been a process.

Final thoughts

But I did it. Over a full year living and working at Concordia station in Antarctica, one of the most isolated and extreme environments on Earth. It still feels surreal. Imagine months without sunlight, temperatures below –80°C, with air so thin and dry you become breathless even talking too fast.

As the European Space Agency’s research doctor, I’ve spent 13 months studying how humans adapt to extreme environments and living through it myself – insights that will help prepare for future space missions. My projects have covered physiology and psychology, from microbiology to mindfulness, all while serving as the station’s search and rescue doctor and monitoring the water recycling system. Each project has required steady consistency and planning despite the challenges of motivation when in the depths of the polar night.

Life at Concordia is a constant balance of science, teamwork, and survival. Our international team of 13 celebrated milestones, fixed problems as they arose, and learned patience and humour in the face of danger and isolation. We each brought our own backgrounds, professions, and personalities, and had to learn to live and work together through the long Antarctic winter. I’m proud of them.

I’ve battled with a huge sense of responsibility and need for skill improvement. Out here, if something goes wrong, we cannot get outside help. The constant readiness has taught me a lot about remaining calm under pressure and teamwork in uncertain conditions, something I will use in surgery back home for sure.

And then there are the moments that took my breath away: the Milky Way bright enough to cast shadows on the snow, auroras dancing overhead captured by the crew’s keen photographers, and the emotional sunrise after months of darkness. We won the Antarctica Film Festival and connected with people around the world through STEM outreach. It was special.

It’s been a rare privilege to contribute to science that reaches beyond this planet, to live and work in conditions that mirror aspects of space exploration, and to experience human cooperation in one of the harshest places imaginable.

White Mars has truly changed the way I see the world. Sometimes I wish I could go back, other times you could not convince me to go back for anything. That’s Concordia.

Good luck to Dr Sarah Gaier, whom I know will do a fantastic job – we went to medical school together and it was such a wonderful moment to snap a photo together on the ice before I left. From Barts to Concordia!

Thanks for following my journey. That’s a wrap!