Hi, the few,
I have some surprise time because my flight to Erebus has been cancelled. Erebus is a 12,700' active volcano, centerpiece and Patron Saint of Ross Island (our island here in the south Pacific), and site of a lot of geological research. I am to accompany some scientists up there, first to the lower acclimitization camp, then up to the hut at 12k where they will stay. Erebus steams pretty evenly every day, but the volume appears to fluctuate because of the humidity.
I met with the ice core researchers, whom I recently reveiwed glacier travel and crevasse rescue with ("Snowcraft II" course), about Erebus because they have spent 20 years on that mountain. I got the lowdown on the locations of the ice caves, their hazards and what not to worry about, how to get in, photos, maps, and questions answered about volcanology and geology. Wonderful! And a worthy way to spend Saturday evening.
We are lucky to get access to the scientists that many folks don't. I saw vidoes of little eruptions from the past decade, learned about the pyroclastic bombs that are thrown out, saw some examples (amazing: black and STRINGY, esp inside), saw photos of the lava lake down in the crater: orange just like I'd hope. Would love to throw a rock into it, for some strange reason. Unfortunately it is shrinking and the eruptive activity has mellowed in the last couple decades... bummer! But no doubt it'll be fun to get up there anyway.
The ice caves form as towers on the surface where the steam freezes as it hits the cold cold air, so the caves are melted out (and crystalized) areas between the vent, up along the ground, and out the higher exit point. I am psyched, but also wondering how much time I'll get, esp. that we're now a day behind. I am told to bring a headlamp.
I'd like to be back for Thanksgiving, one of three 2-day weekends all season (when we get back from trips we get one day off no matter how many Sundays we missed. Damn.) The beakers (scientists) will stay up there for a few weeks or more and I am supposed to get picked up Friday, the day before our Thanksgiving. With weather, that could easily not happen, in which case I'll get a full two more days to explore up there, not a bad trade-off!
Yesterday was the solar eclipse. The medical clinic is adjacent to the main building (which includes the galley) and so when they showed up outside looking at the just-beginning eclipse through pieces of x-ray film (with silver, cuts the UV), people wandered over to get in on the action. A fun scene and they gave away pieces. I carried mine around for the hour and had fun sharing it with other people. I was doing errands for my department so could make sure people locked away inside could get out and get a looks seems everyone was doing this too. Part of the fun of a small community: can talk to anyone... we're all in the same boat and no one minds when the mail woman or the person in Central Supply leaves their duty for a few minutes to check out the phenomenon that we're all enjoying. We had low thin clouds that thickened toward the max of the eclipse, but it was still cool. The sun was looking like a crescent moon. Some were out there with cameras.
Laura asked whether it was dark enough for us to see the Aurora Australia a few weeks ago when North Americans were getting a rare show. No, it was way way too light even at midnight. Our only awareness of the solar storm is that our high frequency radios, the ones that bounce the signal off the ionosphere, were not working (part of Happy Camper curriculum, and used for long distance communication except that satellite phones are slowly edging out HF radios). Not nearly as fun as seeing the incredible colors and amount of the lights that she admired in Vermont! But I dare not complain.
I've been tired lately. Was going to write this before dinner, but ended up sleeping for 2 hours after hearing of flight cancellation. I am probably lucky to have it cancel because being able to sleep that long midday means I'm run down enough that I might have gotten sick without it. Ugh.
The roads, while still snowy, are also getting muddy these days. It really is a lot warmer. However Rob went to our webpage, cut and paste the weather that day (after reading my last message about spring really being here) into a message back to me, and dubiously questioned my judgment about what spring actually is! Funny what one gets used to, it really is.
If you're curious, see if you can get this website, It seems open to general consumption (ie isn't our intranet): http://www.mcmurdo.gov/ It'll also, along with the weekly newspaper the Antarctic Sun, give you a broader idea about the scene here. www.polar.org/antsun
Our Nodwell has been notwell and instead we've been borrowing a Delta from Recreation (they use it for Rec day trips to places like Cape Royds: penguins and Shackleton's hut (one of)). These trips are called boondoggles: anything we do here that does not directly support science, at least things that involve the use of government property/resources. One might say that recreation improves the retention rate and therefor program quality, but none the less they are considered boondoggles).
So the Delta is the biggest monster yet; we drive by looking down at the Cat drivers, the big bulldozers. The door handle is above my head at the bottom of the door and there are 3 steps (one swinging) and 2 handle-bars to get up into it. It bends in the middle like the Hagglund, but thankfully they both back up like a regular vehicle. The tires are nearly as tall as I am and several times wider than I am. Each vehicle here has a long list of things to check the first time it's driven each day, and we actually do it. Amazing how often we have to take them over the the Heavy Shop to add schtuff.
It has the same brakes I've heard in big trucks, air brakes. I learned that air brakes work on engine compression (rpm's), so going downhill you actually need to be pushing on the accelerator to keep the rpm's up, and therefore the ability to brake. As you use the brake peddle, you use up the pressure, so you really have to use the engine to brake your speed (and allow you to push the accelerator). That is why big trucks are revving down those mountain passes. On the Delta, if the engine goes out or the hydraulic steering goes out, then one also loses brakes. If you lose steering AND brakes (or any combination?), be ready to bail out. That happened a few years ago on an empty fuel Delta so the 3 in the cab (which is wide enough to seat 5 except that part of the controls are next to you on the right), leapt out and survived while the Delta leapt over a steep and looong embankment, flipping over a few times. They rebuilt it and it's still being used by Fuels. Eeeek. [Later found out it isn't QUITE as bad as this!]
The chances of this happening to us of course are small, but carrying 20 passengers raises the consequence and I'd sure hate to live with the guilt of surviving when the 20 others died in the back. My strategy to let them know without creating actual fear is to informally tell the story, adding with a tone of humor that if they see us outside the Delta getting up off the ground and waving our arms, to Bail Out. Then at least the seed is planted and so far no one has insisted on either staying behind or riding in the cab (which would be fine). Life in McMurdo.
Maria the haircutter paged me today when someone ended early, so I got a preliminary cut/trim, yea! I think she was feeling sorry for me, or probably more so for everyone else here who had to look at my ratty head.
Speaking of hair... guess what?! I am finding grey hair! Only enough that I notice, but grey none the less. Hmmm... what aspect of this experience shall I blame: how about the monster vehicles. Well, that's less than fair because I've gotten quite comfortable up in those things and even enjoy trying to refine handling them! Like trying to teach a bull elephant ballet. It helps when the exhaust is actually piped away from the cab (unlike the Nodwell).
A couple weeks ago as I got ready to get into the Hagglund for a sea ice course (or was it the sea ice road flagging day), I set my Big Red (down) jacket down next to the vehicle while put my SAR pack inside. It was a warm day and vaguely I noticed water running down the side, but it didn't register how warm out it was NOT. You know where this is going.
Deisel fuel, a fair amount, in the hood. We have another lighter jacket that I decided to move into that day, and I hung Big Red up, hood out, for a few days wondering what I was going to do with it (as if this is an usual event around here). Someone said to take it to Housekeeping where I had it laundered. 'Twas disappointing to find out that it only mostly works, but it's warm enough to go without it (except I here it's super cold, like 30 below on Erebus).
After that last message where I mentioned dreading leaving, my awesome housemate Krissi commented about my dreading returning home. Hardly! I love hearing about what's going on there and am bummed to be missing out. So to clarify, I simultaneously don't want to leave the ice and also eagerly look forward to being home this spring and for the winters when I'm done here.
I've been working on my yoga headstand for when I reach the Pole. Some of you might remember that my goal for being in Antarctica is to do that next to the ceremonial south pole, have someone get a photo, and of course turn the photo upside-down... (yeah, funny).
Anyway the boots are so heavy I cannot get up into the headstand in the normal way so have been practicing a different technique to balance up my heavy feet. It's working pretty well though I might need a spotter to get up at the pole as I'll also have on all the heavy clothing, but I think I'll be able to hold it long enough for a few photos. We'll see!
Well, the weather today is more stable so it looks like I'll be getting up to Erebus later this morning. The caves are by the hut, not the lower acclimitization camp where I'll spend most of my time, so this trip I may not get much chance to explore unless the weather precludes leaving on Friday.
Happy Thanksgiving to you all. This is my favorite holiday: friends/family, food minus the gifts, hypercommercialization and religious stuff. Enjoy!
Love and crisp mornings, Susan
November 24, 2003
November 15, 2003
Reflecting on this experience thus far...
Hi the few,
Well, I have a bit more time than expected today because I didn't go skiing. Just didn't have the energy, so instead spent much of the day (after yoga) puttering and figuring out how to download photos as well as get other people's photos from the common drive.
I've only skied once, for about 20 minutes alone trying to learn to skate ski. I think it really helps to have minimal wind and good snow conditions, but I suspect both factors were better than they seemed to my beginner technique. It'll take time, but seems like it could be fun.
Having a mellow day helps me step back a bit and look at this experience, which I am reasonably successful at doing during normal days (esp when outside!).
This has been a most amazing experience. I love it.
I dread leaving, the idea of leaving now at least, and hope that when it's time I'll be ready. I expect I will be because that will be what's happening here: the energy, the winding down, the wrapping up, so it will feel natural to leave. And of course to facilitate that I will focus on climbing in NZ and Australia as well as returning to my beloved mountains.
I have a large photo and info book, a Kiwi creation, about Antarctica and I read from it from time to time, about seals, or penguins (affectionately referred to at least among my friends as "pen-gweenos"), sea ice, the early explorers whose stories, structures, memorial crosses (they made for each other), and ghosts constantly remind us of their extraordinary and complex stories.
To read from the book, to see much of my experience in sharp photos, reminds me how lucky I am to actually be here. This area, Ross Island, is probably the cultural center of the continent (in fact, I'm sure it is, both then and now) and many of the photos are from here. The Kiwi base is just around the corner from us and they have American Night on Thursdays and one can take the shuttle van over there, shop in their store, drink their beer, and listen to their funny accents.
I recognize many of the photos both landscape, critters, and culture and realize that I am becoming quite familiar with our little corner of this vast continent. I think I am forever bonded to Emporer penguins from that encounter that day last month. Adelies are cool, but I have not had a personal interaction with one, and if I do, it won't be my first. The reproductive story of the Emporer, mid-winter on the sea ice, is truly astonishing. Watched a video the other night about it, with a couple dozen others in the movie wing of the coffee house. Penguins are absolutely captivating.
We are all here, most of us at least, for the same reasons. We take the same photos and are all eager to get out of town and experience this place. Many are desperate for any non-town experience while I have many.
I know when I get home little things, like the baseball cap with their expedition mascot and name on it from Larry and Ann, will suddenly mean more. The maps I see every single day, the logo for the USAP, also everywhere, will be very significant. And the satellite photo of our neck of the ice, complete with the sea ice breaking up.
This is one of those times in my life that I will think of and remember fondly for decades. The type that certain smells or sounds or views can suddenly take you back in that most visceral way. I am trying to savor it, to really specifically appreciate as many moments as I can here.
Now that I've been here long enough to feel the weather change, the skuas (raptor like gulls) start to return, the Adelies return to Cape Royds, the birth of the Weddell seal pups... the ice slowly comes alive in a stark way, the sun higher and higher esp at night (which I try not to be up to see!). Time moves along, and to see change puts the past in a new light. It's surprising how warm 25 degrees F feels. I look forward to the breaking up of the sea ice, if indeed it will this year as I hear that more wildlife will come into McMurdo Sound then. When I skied that one evening last week, I saw five seals hauled out on the ice right by town, lying around like banana slugs, out of reach of leopard seals and orcas.
My seal wrestler friend says to look down into a seal hole, to shade out the light, and you can see surprisingly far down to the bottom, and some of the life down there. Soon I will.
The penguin ranch has an observation tube that I am highly interested in getting down into to see what there is to see. Seals swimming, penguins of course, and the light coming through the sea ice. What a place.
And I am beginning to know a number of people, largely due to Happy Camper classes and sea ice courses. It does help to feel I have an identity here, a place in our temporary little crazy community (belly dancing classes, anyone? How about plumbing classes?)
Sort of like college but without the exams. Endless opportunites for cool learning, but not endless time. Hard to prioritize out cool and unique experiences, but health(sleep)/fitness are long lasting important too. Really have to focus on the long haul: why am I here, where am I going after this, what I want to take with me from this experience.
Already looking forward to next season. To know exactly what to bring, to know personally what changes will occur with the weather and wildlife so can see better where we are on the wheel when we arrive, to do my job at a higher level, to have a past here from which to know people, to get to more places than I will this year... to have my schtuff together more like I like to.
All is well. Now I head back to the galley to hear the Sunday night science lecture on subglacial lakes. Just wait till I get to the dry valleys, the most unusual place on the continent, the most Mars-like in the world, and with the most unbelievable characteristics (like 75 degree water under many feet of lake ice... so they say; greenhouse effect). I have heard enough astonishing stuff already... when I actually experience it I'll have that much more to blabber about. Hoping to get out with Larry and Ann (the photographers) around Christmas during that leg of their expedition.
One day out with the photographers two weeks ago, I remember saying that if I see too many more awe-inspiring sights, I just might spontaneously self-combust.
Love and peace, Susan
Well, I have a bit more time than expected today because I didn't go skiing. Just didn't have the energy, so instead spent much of the day (after yoga) puttering and figuring out how to download photos as well as get other people's photos from the common drive.
I've only skied once, for about 20 minutes alone trying to learn to skate ski. I think it really helps to have minimal wind and good snow conditions, but I suspect both factors were better than they seemed to my beginner technique. It'll take time, but seems like it could be fun.
Having a mellow day helps me step back a bit and look at this experience, which I am reasonably successful at doing during normal days (esp when outside!).
This has been a most amazing experience. I love it.
I dread leaving, the idea of leaving now at least, and hope that when it's time I'll be ready. I expect I will be because that will be what's happening here: the energy, the winding down, the wrapping up, so it will feel natural to leave. And of course to facilitate that I will focus on climbing in NZ and Australia as well as returning to my beloved mountains.
I have a large photo and info book, a Kiwi creation, about Antarctica and I read from it from time to time, about seals, or penguins (affectionately referred to at least among my friends as "pen-gweenos"), sea ice, the early explorers whose stories, structures, memorial crosses (they made for each other), and ghosts constantly remind us of their extraordinary and complex stories.
To read from the book, to see much of my experience in sharp photos, reminds me how lucky I am to actually be here. This area, Ross Island, is probably the cultural center of the continent (in fact, I'm sure it is, both then and now) and many of the photos are from here. The Kiwi base is just around the corner from us and they have American Night on Thursdays and one can take the shuttle van over there, shop in their store, drink their beer, and listen to their funny accents.
I recognize many of the photos both landscape, critters, and culture and realize that I am becoming quite familiar with our little corner of this vast continent. I think I am forever bonded to Emporer penguins from that encounter that day last month. Adelies are cool, but I have not had a personal interaction with one, and if I do, it won't be my first. The reproductive story of the Emporer, mid-winter on the sea ice, is truly astonishing. Watched a video the other night about it, with a couple dozen others in the movie wing of the coffee house. Penguins are absolutely captivating.
We are all here, most of us at least, for the same reasons. We take the same photos and are all eager to get out of town and experience this place. Many are desperate for any non-town experience while I have many.
I know when I get home little things, like the baseball cap with their expedition mascot and name on it from Larry and Ann, will suddenly mean more. The maps I see every single day, the logo for the USAP, also everywhere, will be very significant. And the satellite photo of our neck of the ice, complete with the sea ice breaking up.
This is one of those times in my life that I will think of and remember fondly for decades. The type that certain smells or sounds or views can suddenly take you back in that most visceral way. I am trying to savor it, to really specifically appreciate as many moments as I can here.
Now that I've been here long enough to feel the weather change, the skuas (raptor like gulls) start to return, the Adelies return to Cape Royds, the birth of the Weddell seal pups... the ice slowly comes alive in a stark way, the sun higher and higher esp at night (which I try not to be up to see!). Time moves along, and to see change puts the past in a new light. It's surprising how warm 25 degrees F feels. I look forward to the breaking up of the sea ice, if indeed it will this year as I hear that more wildlife will come into McMurdo Sound then. When I skied that one evening last week, I saw five seals hauled out on the ice right by town, lying around like banana slugs, out of reach of leopard seals and orcas.
My seal wrestler friend says to look down into a seal hole, to shade out the light, and you can see surprisingly far down to the bottom, and some of the life down there. Soon I will.
The penguin ranch has an observation tube that I am highly interested in getting down into to see what there is to see. Seals swimming, penguins of course, and the light coming through the sea ice. What a place.
And I am beginning to know a number of people, largely due to Happy Camper classes and sea ice courses. It does help to feel I have an identity here, a place in our temporary little crazy community (belly dancing classes, anyone? How about plumbing classes?)
Sort of like college but without the exams. Endless opportunites for cool learning, but not endless time. Hard to prioritize out cool and unique experiences, but health(sleep)/fitness are long lasting important too. Really have to focus on the long haul: why am I here, where am I going after this, what I want to take with me from this experience.
Already looking forward to next season. To know exactly what to bring, to know personally what changes will occur with the weather and wildlife so can see better where we are on the wheel when we arrive, to do my job at a higher level, to have a past here from which to know people, to get to more places than I will this year... to have my schtuff together more like I like to.
All is well. Now I head back to the galley to hear the Sunday night science lecture on subglacial lakes. Just wait till I get to the dry valleys, the most unusual place on the continent, the most Mars-like in the world, and with the most unbelievable characteristics (like 75 degree water under many feet of lake ice... so they say; greenhouse effect). I have heard enough astonishing stuff already... when I actually experience it I'll have that much more to blabber about. Hoping to get out with Larry and Ann (the photographers) around Christmas during that leg of their expedition.
One day out with the photographers two weeks ago, I remember saying that if I see too many more awe-inspiring sights, I just might spontaneously self-combust.
Love and peace, Susan
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