McMurdo First experiences: Happy Camper, heavy equipment, life

Hi All,

So here I go, finally seem to have my act together enough to actually send out my first update on what life on the ice has been like for me thus far. I've been here 11 days.

I don't have the time to edit this as much as I usually do in hopes of making my writing somewhat interesting, so be warned. More stream of thought, for one thing.

Where to start? It's Saturday night, which is like Friday night for the rest of the world. We get one day off a week (and work a minimum 54 hour work week. When it's to Raytheon's benefit, we are in the US (taxes), but when it isn't (OSHA), we are not), and tomorrow I"m planning to do yoga in the morning and get out and SKI along the edge of the sea ice over to the Kiwi base just around the corner with some folks in the afternoon. This will be my first recreational activity other than hiking up Observation Hill, a 700' volcanic scree bump on the edge of town. There's a big wooden cross up there with the names of the four Brits who died not far from here close to a century ago: Scott's party after their harrowing almost-return from dragging enormous sledges to the pole and most of the way back. One learns a lot about south polar history down here, but I won't go into that story now, though it is quite interesting.

I worked a "Happy Camper" course these last two days. Two instructors take out up to 20 people to teach them how to use the contents of a "survival bag". This is the big bag that goes with you everywhere in the field, and it contains such familiar gear as tents, stoves, food and the like. Our students come from any number of departments: scientists (NSF grantees; locally called "beakers"), Fleet Operations, Communications, Fuels... Later in the summer lower priority people (ie less time in the field, or later in the field), will take the class.

You can guess what we cover, and as that really isn't what has been getting my attention here, I'll gloss over that. But, I will note what INCREDIBLE snow we have here for building. The blocks are solid dense, so crisp that the usual dry-snow (cold snow) squeak is so high that it nearly rings and redefines styrofoam snow--> Cool! I love all the squeaks and thumps and squawks and crunches the snow makes here.

I'll tell you what has my attention. Would you believe that I am becoming somewhat of a heavy equipment operator? Unbelievable. I laugh to see myself, in my government-issue insulated Carhartt overalls and ridiculously tall-foot section blue canvas and leather boots (lots of insulation), in the cab of a multi-ton heap of stinkin' roarin' tracked (like a snowmobile) ancient chunk of rusted steel with names like the Nodwell, Piston Bully, Hagglund (supposedly amphibious back when they were new). Next I think I'll take up tobacco chewing.

This is from a gal who hates snowmobiles because they are so loud and noxious. Now a snowmobile looks like a bike in comparison to these monsters.

Eventually I will send a photo; be prepared to laugh yourself off your chair. The Nodwell doesn't have a steering wheel, but two levers off the floor that you pull. And the thing pulls heavily to the right and you can't keep pulling left as you'll burn out the brake for that track, so you have to let it pull right, then turn it back left and let it wander off again, leaving drunk tracks in the snow.

Fortunately these rigs are outfitted with little boxes of earplugs, and the Nodwell even has a bunch of pairs of the those ear muff type hearing protectors. We just turned it in the get the muffler hooked back up. Thanks the godz for that repair!

So, the purpose of these behemoths. This is how we haul our poor students around. The Hagglunds, jointed in the middle (we give the studentia a radio in the back so they can tell us if someone gets their neck broken going over the rough snow on the sea ice), hauls us out to the sea ice (instruction) hut, which is, oddly enough, outfitted with nice pine tongue and groove interior walls. Otherwise it's a plywood box on a giant steel sled frame (hauled out there by yet even bigger machinery, the kind with either tracks or tires taller than me, and a LOT wider than me). Apparently that wood that was salvaged from another building in town.

Then we go out and drill holes in ice with a drill (another lovely two stroke engine), down down down, dry shavings piling up by the auger... then sticky shavings, then slush, and 3 meters down we're into McMurdo Sound. This is multi-year ice, thicker than single year ice. This activity a couple days ago was in the distant company of 8 or 9 Weddell seals. We headed over (we actually WALKED! Yee Haa!) to the island which partly created the pressure ridges and cracks out of which they haul themselves.

Even at the distances we are restricted to based on the all encompassing Antarctic Treaty, they were quite interesting. Binoculars help. Wonderful faces reminiscent of a dog, funny flippers to scratch a face, muscular double tail flippers, spots and fur. They are so fat that lying down their and heads don't reach the ice. But they stay warm! They were napping. A few yawns now and then revealed teeth not to be reckoned with.

Our giant red jackets have hoods that stick out past our faces quite a few inches. Our names on velcro strips are the only thing differentiating ourselves. The edge of the hood is lined fur or fake fur, and with a piece of embedded wire: an great idea for keeping the hood from flattening across one's face in the breezes(!) we get. Many of you can relate.

We were weighed the other day with all our "ECW" gear (extreme cold weather) on so that if we have to respond quickly to a search and rescue and will be flown in (helo), they can calculate our weights before we even show up. I was wearing, with boots and all, about 20 pounds of clothing. I'd better practice my yoga headstand for my south pole goal with all that on so that if I get down there and not be able to do it, leaving my whole Pole visit a miserable failure.

Monday through Wed I'm scheduled (weather is everything here, esp regarding transportation) to go out to Cape Crozier, an area of Special Scientific Interest, with two photographers here in the Artists and Writers in Residence program. It's 50 miles away and will also serve as my snowmobile driving lesson. We'll actually camp, yea. It's a penguin rookery, but I think it's too early for them to be around. Landscape photography. Whatever, no doubt it will be interesting.
Tomorrow evenings science lecture will be on the ozone layer. Bring your sunglasses!

Some of the buildings have freezer doors.

Apparently it's been usually warm here this spring. I am sick of everywhere being WARM! All the ranges in North America are getting warmer and warmer. And even down here. But it's still a far cry from the temps we normally associate with warm.

But it's different here when it's cold. Most of us experience really cold temps living in tents at altitude. Here we're at sea level, lots of circulation in the toes, and we live in buildings. Quite different. Later I"ll report on tent life in the cold (when I get out with science expeditions), but by then it'll be that much warmer.

It is cold, however. During Happy Camper (aka Snowcraft I, or Survival School), people's eyelashes were frosting over. With even a slight breeze I need to cover all the skin of my face (goggles-land). One night my thermometer outside read -31 F, but you could still run to the outhouse in only a few layers as there wasn't any wind and it was sunny.

We instructors, being the wimps we are, live in a heated hut (gets above freezing, maybe even to 45F) while our poor students deal with frost from the inside of their tents falling onto their faces. Or they sleep in quinzees (snow mounds hollowed out) or trench shelters.

In town it's warmer than out on the ice shelf (Happy Camper) or the sea ice (sea ice course).

The food is reasonable; just have to not think too much about partially hydrogenated oils, my preference for organics, and real deep rich dark chocolate desserts (sigh). They do realize here that veggie food is not simply the burger minus the meat patty: they are onto the idea of veggie protein, YEA!

I like my roommate. Not that it matters too much, few spend any time in their rooms. Rooms are fine too in terms of space and furnishings. Suffering we are not.

Don't think we're roughing it down here at all. The galley (many holdover terms from the days when the Navy ran this place) features wood tables, nice padded chairs, carpeting, split level, and with decorative glass blocks in the walls.

There are two bars (smoking and non, probably the biggest subcultural separation down here, in this fully infrastructured small town in which all roles seem to be filled by essentially the same socio-economic group and with less gender role separation (a number of women are real heavy-equipment operators), and a coffee house (wine bar) for the NPR types.

Interesting method of social control. No, it's not in the food, it's in your paycheck. They have a "bonus" system for those who finish out the season (which I think is just about everyone). Although it's not structured to appear so, what it really is is a witholding of a good chunk of your paycheck to enforce good behavior. If someone is excessively noisy in the dorms, for example, all one needs to do is to call a certain phone number and anonymously report the room number. The residents of that room will have their supervisors, who determine how much of your "bonus" you'll receive, notified. End of problem. I suspect this systems helps keep up the general level of respect for others, often cynically called being "pc", minimizing those problematic "-isms". Not necessarily a bad system; quite clever, that's for sure.

Oh yeah, the people. I'm still trying to figure this part out. I've only been here 11 days and am just starting to meet people beyond the borders of my dept (of 7 people). Teaching courses is a great way to meet people, except that we all have a hard time recognizing each other in the galley (not wearing all that clothing) which doesn't help. Seems a lot of people come down here year after year, travelling the world in the off season. But also a lot of new people too. More on this aspect as I get a better sense of it.

But I will say, only vaguely related, that I have moments of geing worn out from being new, being in that assumed-beginner position (you know, when others assume you don't know your head from your ass) which comes with being new to any situation, lacking history, lacking credibility... but I also know it's just a matter of time. It's not simply being here that can be wearing, but starting a year ago when I went through the ski patrol training, then moving to an entirely new city, working for a new company, and now coming down here.

Overall it's been great: lots of learning on a variety of levels, which is the whole point really (and I haven't had any moments in which I've wished I was somewhere else, but that isn't new). But at times I can't help but look forward to building up the type of history, connections, work-respect that I've enjoyed in the past. As you all know, it isn't always easy being patient. But it's kind of fun too to be in this position... lots of potential!

Today I did get the Piston Bully started, and didn't run over any of the flags marking the route out to the instructor hut (NOT that I've done that. Not that I won't ever, either). One challenge at a time, and I'm finding that at the end of the day I have more and more energy, which means learning my job no longer takes up every brain cell and I'm starting to have enough energy to pick up my head and look around. What a veiw.

It's been great to be challenged on different levels, and I'm really glad for this past year, which has included meeting some wonderful new people, like some of you.

I have my inbox full of wonderful newsy messages, some of them took some of you some time to write, and I simply have not been able to write back. I hate that. Especially down here, where I'm highly engaged in figuring out who I am in this strange place, I very much enjoy reading about your lives, the types of lives I've shared with you as well as those of you in other worlds different than mine (my other life, that is). It's grounding and refreshing to read about what you have been up to... thanks. It's especially fun to hear about climbing... I am SO far away from that part of my life! And I'll really drool when I hear about a great ski season. So I am lamely apologizing for not responding to you personally, at least not to the degree that the messages deserve. Argh. I'll keep trying.

So, feel free to drop me a note about what's happening in your world, ask any questions, give me some ideas for what you might like to hear about next time. And remember that I think of each of you very warmly (esp from down here!).

Good night!
Susan