Simple tasks take extraordinary effort when you’re engineering at the South Pole, according to Sara Pearce MIEAust CPEng, Director of Engineering at the Australian Antarctic Division.
As told to Julia Abbondanza
I have always known, almost instinctively, I wanted to be an engineer. My love of design began with architecture. As a kid, I would spend hours flicking through big glossy coffee-table books from the library about architecture, completely absorbed by the lines of tall buildings and the elegance of form and structure.
I was fascinated by technical drawing too. My older brother took it at school. I would watch him sketch plans and think, “I want to do that.” But I soon realised something that has shaped my entire career: not every project needs an architect, but every project needs an engineer. That understanding changed everything, and I have never looked back.
After finishing high school, I took a slightly unconventional path, starting with a Diploma of Structural Engineering at TAFE before heading to university. I also took a gap year to teach English in China, an experience which taught me a lot about independence and adaptability – and that I was decidedly not destined to be a teacher.
When I returned to Sydney, I completed my engineering degree at UTS in 2005 and began my career at a design and construct company. What began as a graduate role became a 15-year journey at the same company, something that is quite rare now. I started as a design engineer, then became a project engineer, project manager, construction manager and eventually a design manager.
That continuity gave me something invaluable: the ability to see the entire life cycle of a project from the first line on paper to the moment it stands on its own. It’s ultimately what prepared me for the role I have today.
Sydney to South Pole
One morning I was getting ready for work when I saw a segment on TV that asked, “Are you crazy enough to take on a job in Antarctica?” I had already worked in nearly every state and territory in Australia, so I thought maybe I was crazy enough.
I looked up the Australian Antarctic Division’s website and applied for a summer expeditioner role as an engineering services supervisor. It was incredibly competitive, but somehow I got through on my first try.
In 2017 and 2018 I spent my first summer at Davis Station. My employer at the time gave me unpaid leave to go, so I did not have to quit my job, which was an incredible opportunity.
I was away for six months, including training in Hobart and a two-week sea voyage each way aboard the Aurora Australis.
I will never forget waking up that first morning as we arrived at the edge of the sea ice. The ship had docked in its exact coordinates, as it always did, and everything outside my cabin window was blinding white and impossibly still. I remember thinking it couldn’t possibly be real.
When I stepped off the helicopter that took us from ship to shore, a flight that lasted about 45 seconds, it felt like stepping onto another planet. I turned to a crew member and asked them to pass a message to my boss back in Australia, thanking him for choosing me. That moment sealed my connection to Antarctica forever.
Miniature cities
Today I am the Director of Engineering at the Australian Antarctic Division. It is a relatively new role created to highlight the importance of engineering in the division’s operations. The work we do is unlike anything else.
The Australian Antarctic Program operates three Antarctic stations – Casey, Davis and Mawson – and one sub-Antarctic station on Macquarie Island. Each one functions as a miniature city. We produce water, generate electricity, maintain heating and lighting systems, and ensure that everything people need to live and work safely, in one of the harshest environments on earth, continues to function all year round.
Take water, for example. At Davis Station we do not have a natural supply of fresh water. Instead, we use a hypersaline lake and a reverse osmosis unit to produce it. The catch is that the system only runs for about eight to 12 weeks a year.
That means we have one chance to make enough water for the entire year. If something breaks, it’s up to us to fix it before the window closes.
Keeping that water from freezing is another challenge. We use insulated tanks with internal heating loops that circulate warm water to maintain temperature.
It is the kind of detail most people would never think about, but down there it is the difference between survival and shutdown.
The land in winter
Last year, I returned from a full winter in Antarctica, something few people experience. I spent the summer of 2023 and 2024 at Mawson Station, where we began work on the long-awaited Mawson bollard project. The goal was to build a new mooring point for our research vessel.
It was a logistical ballet. We had to move a drilling rig across the sea ice to reach the site before it melted, leave it there for months, and then return when the weather warmed up to drill into rock that had not been touched in 40 years. The work was not glamorous, but it was deeply satisfying.
After that summer I moved to Davis Station to manage a renovation project. We converted shared rooms into single-occupancy quarters and upgraded part of a building that also housed our communications hub. It was like being a part of an Antarctic edition of The Block.
We would have 12 people line up to carry sheets of plasterboard, one by one, through the building because nothing could be left outside. It was slow, precise and highly collaborative. That is exactly what Antarctic work demands.
Lessons in inclusion
In Antarctica, leadership must be collaborative. Everyone has a role to play, whether they are an engineer, a chef or a communications technician. You quickly learn that solving problems is not about hierarchy; it is about bringing the right people together and staying open to different perspectives.
That approach builds resilience. When things go wrong, and they always do, you need people who can adapt and pivot. In an environment where mistakes can mean losing water, power or heat, there is no room for ego.
As a woman in engineering, I have also seen the industry evolve dramatically over the past two decades. When I started, it was still heavily male-dominated. Today there is more representation, but not as much as there should be. I sometimes wonder if the glass ceiling still exists, or if it is partly a mindset. For years women hesitated to apply for roles unless they ticked every box, and that thinking can still hold us back.
My generation of women sits in an interesting position. We grew up without social media and have had to adapt to a rapidly digital world. That makes us a bridge between two very different ways of working and thinking. I see that as a strength, allowing us to empathise with both sides and lead with perspective.
Finding courage
Working in Antarctica changes you. It teaches patience, humility and the beauty of purpose-built design. There is something grounding about knowing that every pipe, wire and beam you oversee directly affects someone’s ability to live and work in an environment most people will only ever see on a map.
If I could give one piece of advice to young engineers, it would be to follow your passion. The world needs engineers who care deeply about what they do. When you love the work, you will find the courage to take on challenges that might seem impossible.
Antarctica gets under your skin in a way that’s hard to explain. For me, it’s a reminder of what is possible when human determination meets the power of nature.
This article was originally published in the February 2026 edition of create magazine.
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