Hi all,
Remember how I said early in the season that I dreaded the idea of leaving? I went on to say that I expected that I'd be ready for it by then because of the natural flow of the season here anywhere. Well, I will be. Not that I don't want to return, it's just that a break, a long break, will be very much savored. Plants, animals, fresh food, my own schedule. Climbing.
I am exhausted. Not so much from immediate lack of sleep, but from what will soon be four months of a very structured lifestyle in which much energy and time goes into work and, in the field, simply living (as manyof you know).
My 3-plus weeks on the east Antarctic plateau was mixed. It is interesting, in it's own monotonous way, to be in a place that is flat andwhite out to the horizon for a complete 360-degree view. Between shoveling out caches, inventorying food, fuel, and other supplies, calling inweather reports, trying to get 25 year old snowmachines to run (little luck), and trying to stay out of the hut when one of the engineers was watching endless versions of the tv show "Friends" on disk while he worked, I hiked out beyond view of camp into the Great White Expanse.
I walked into the wind, the cold-flat version of walking uphill first, and did find that there is still a distinct sense of orientation out there. The wind blows and the sun cast shadows on the uneven, wind-carved snow,changing direction only slowly. At one of the three sites I could actually see that the plateau fell off toward the Weddell Sea, many miles distant,and rose ever so subtlely toward the pole 300 miles away. It was high and cold (warmest was 18F, coldest -23F), but the wind was reasonable and we mostly had sunshine, so it was not the awful time it could have been.
I did, however, made a serious error that at the time I thought could cost me my job next season. I forgot to call in one evening for our daily check-in (called in late next morning). Fortunately significant errors were made by the acting McMurdo Station Manager in his response, so the plane assigned to fly over to see if we were no more than a smoking crater (hut propane problems), didn't actually leave the ground. Other parts of a rescue were mobilized as well; many people were involved directly or indirectly. In addition to scaring people, search-and-rescues divertresources from science. It's bad enough when a scientist does this (happens a few times a year), but when a member of the primary Search andRescue team, who also works in Field Safety, makes such an omission, it is quite embarrassing for the whole department. Our boss makes a big deal about professionalism and the fact that "credibility creates opportunity"; for us opportunity means getting out into the field.
When I called in and asked to talk with my boss, he was really nice (though I distrusted it). I think he knew that if he came down on me I might have asked for an immediate plane ticket back to New Zealand.
Anyway, I took this mistake hard. Really hard. In fact I was surprised how wracked I was. The rest of that week in the field was awful. Unbenownst to the 2 engineers I was working with (I lived in a tent, notthe 8'x16' hut), I cried a fair amount (but still did my job!) in frustration with myself and with a system that only recognizes, so I was sure, mistakes and not the previous 3 months of good solid hard work.
Given the nature of my work out there, I had plenty of time to think...and dwell. I concluded the intensity of my reaction reflected the depthof several things: how much I wanted to come down to the ice and do this job, how hard I have worked for 3 months, and how commited I have been to doing the best work I can. I was a mess. I truly dreaded returning to McMurdo and facing my world.
This stress was draining. Getting back to town was initially traumatic.
However, it seemed that people knew that I was less than pleased with my oversight, and were amazingly supportive (and some told stories of mistakes they made early in their ice careers). In fact, I was astonished how much my work team and friends, even those I don't know well, rallied for me. Several people said that their depts had found some glitches in their responses so were improving their systems as a result. And the engineers from the field made it clear to the powers of US Antarctic Program that there were a number of extenuating circumstances, which were indirectly the responsibility of the Program, that led up to my missing the call though of course it was still my mistake. Rick wrote a letter to my boss on upto the Station Manager to put the missed call in context with both that whole (exhausting, stressful, and distracting) day as well as my performance for the other 21 days out there, weeks during which we and worked every day, not taking any holidays or other breaks.
So, I survived, my future here is not in jeopardy, and life goes on.
Soon after returning, I was assigned a field job that I think I was given largely as an antidote for three weeks on the plateau and what I put myself through that last week. I got to spend 3 days in the Taylor Valley, one of the incredibly unique (Mars-like: for real) Dry Valleys of Antarctica. My job was to keep 2-3 scientists, one of whom was the previously mentioned high school classmate and friend of an old friend, safe while they stuck flags into the edge of the Taylor Glacier. I even got to setup a rappel for said classmate so he could put stakes in down the side of the glacier. Then of course I let them top-rope climb the same face. Cool. Actually using some real skills, rather than using about 2% of my skills. You know it's bad when I'm psyched to take someone top-roping!
It was a fun scene there at the Lake Hoare "camp" (full-on hut, camp manager; well established). Thomas had had his high school yearbook sent down, so we had fun looking through that. That time was half our lives ago; we both agreed that we are improving with age. Plus it was like being in the mountains. It WAS being in the mountains! Peaks, crags, talus, scree, glaciers, creeks (yeah, running water in this banana belt of Antarctica)... mummified seals (carbon dated from about 5000-9000 years old) many miles from the ocean, and I even saw some vegetation! It was a microbiotic crust like in the deserts of North America, and a bit of lichen... a veritable forest. I took a photo (I bet you can't wait to see that one).
And to get from the camp to the glacier, we commuted by helo. Bizarre: they pick us up in the morning, having flown the 40 minutes from McMurdo, set us down on the glacier, go do other work, then pick us up in the afternoon and deposit us back at the hut where we unload all the science gear (fortunately it's heavy: justifies not carrying it ten miles). I flew back on a Coast Guard helo, which are allowed to fly over open water, unlike "our" helos.
For the first time in my life, I saw...whales. Whales. Mostly Orcas (killer whales) and a few Minke. They were... how to summarize? Magnificent. They were cruising the ice edge, looking for seals or penguins to chomp, and the pilot turned the helo partly onto it's side and spun a circle over a couple different sets ofthese gorgeous and powerful creatures of the salty world. Wow.
So, as you can tell, I am feeling refreshed. I needed it.
Two Coast Guard Icebreaker cutters recently left. The night I arrived from the plateau I watched them finish plowing through the ice the rest ofthe way to the ice pier that has been being "built" for the last few months. It's the world's only ice pier, several acres in area, very thick ice I am sure as it never gets to melt, and it's managed to make is stronger, deal with tides, etc. It was something to watch this enormous ship back up a 100 yards or so, then plow forward into the ice, crunch crunch, riding up a bit, then backing up again. They accidently took a piece out of the pier (got a photo of that too).
I just happened to get to go on board with some workmates. The guy who runs their shop is a Search and Rescue fanatic from WA state: exactly the kind of rescuer who terrifies backcountry people/climbers (ALL enthusiasm, but essentially no skills or fitness; but at least he didn't have an attitude). He invited us (SAR team) down to "trade patches". Someone dug up a handful of patches describing who we are (our dept/SAR/Antarctica),and this guy gave us patches of the US Coast Guard Cutter Polar Star.
He was rather entertaining in his unbridled excitement over how cool our patches are, how psyched he was. Apparently there's a whole culture of patches, Search and Rescue and/or military... interesting. And, we got a brief tour of the ship. As you can imagine the engines are large, the hull thick (Two inches. The ice was up to 14' thick), the structure specialized. Steep stair-ladders, hatches between floors (when closed, you climb through a narrow round hatch in the big-door hatch)... hard to get a real feel of the size of the ship because all the spaces inside are so small, so compartmentalized, even the engine rooms. There were two of these ships here, hanging out for awhile in the channel they made.
Right after I leave the even bigger supply ship comes in, an annual event. It will leave with a year's worth of trash (including barrels of urinefrom the dry valleys. One carries pee bottles while out in the field. NOTHING is deposited on the ground there to preserve it for future science and because there is essentially no organic material there, but there are bacteria that like in the interstices in the rocks: very unique place, nothing breaks down (mummified seals), it doesn't rain, research to shed light on Mars is conducted here...). All the dry food we'll eat next season, which was bought almost a year ago, will arrive (fresh for sure) as well as everything else they don't want to spend the money to fly here.
The fuel tanker, loaded with 7.5 million gallons of fuel, is sitting out there to refuel the ice breakers, probably the USAP science ship that just pulled in, and then it'll unload the rest into the many mega fuel tanks here in town for the next year's worth of heating and transportation.
So there is now a channel from the open sea all the way (a few miles) into the ice pier. Today the wind picked up from the south and blew most of the chunks of ice out of the channel, so now we actually see the water of McMurdo Sound. Given all the ice, this is a big deal. And now the whales (whales!) are likely to come in to feed. I hear there is a telescope set up in the library upstairs in the laboratory...
This past week I worked two Happy Camper courses. There are far fewer now as most scientists are in the field, but I do think they bring more town people onto the course. For many, getting out for a night of this course is a highlight of their summer. A perspective worth remembering.
It's a lot different around here now. We can run around in light jackets (except for today's wind), the snow has sublimated from the roads, the channel, the snow consistency has softened a lot... Time moves along.
I happen to be the first of our team to leave, the others follow close behind in succession. There are still a few field parties going out, but most are wrapping up their seasons. In a couple weeks the helos stop flying and the need for field safety people quickly falls off. By mid-february, most summer people will be back in Christchurch, soaking up the warmth and vegetation (what a place to return to from down here!). The winterovers are preparing for the transition, while the rest of us discuss post-ice plans. And we often ask each other about coming back next year. Our department will lose 1 or 2 positions based on the completion of a couple projects, but it's too early to really know who will actually return. I certainly want to; we shall see what happens.
Next week two other primary SAR team members (one from the Kiwi part of our team) and I head out to climb a peak for training in the Dry Valleys. YES, I did indeed say CLIMB a peak! It won't be super technical (can you imagine how bad it would be if we needed rescuing!?). I must say I am somewhat lacking in energy given how late it is in the season, but I've been focusing on getting a lot of sleep, and I'm hoping that the location and the activity itself (training, mind you) will provide it's own energy.
Some answers to questions that have filled my inbox, and remain unanswered as I'm more behind than ever. I spent the solstice, Christmas, and New Years on the plateau. I was at the Pole for part of the solstice...cool. Christmas consisted of my putting 3 pieces of milk chocolate each in Joe's boot and Rick's glove, and New Year's comprised the cd movie Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade (fun tongue in cheek humor) and some kahlua and mixed with nonfat milk made from a powder. Both days we worked, but that was ok.
No, Kelly, I didn't make any resolutions. Except perhaps, never to miss another check-in call!
Skate skiing. I went to considerable effort to obtain the gear, but have been away so much and so busy otherwise that I've only been out a few times. I don't exactly have it mastered, but I've figured out enough to see how fast and fun it could be. I suspect more time will go into that when I spend a winter in the north again, though I am considering leaving my skis downhere for next year.
No, Mike, I have not wrecked any large machinery, nor have I run over any penguins or squashed anything else of value. Funny how normal is has become to pilot these monsters, the level of comfort one develops despite how exotic and weird something is at first!
So, this will be my last mass mailing from the ice. I suspect I'll write once about peak climbing in NZ and again in late March about Australian rock climbing.
Post-ice plans have not evolved much. Guessing a week in Christchurch to recover, walk around the botanical gardens, eat fresh food and only fresh food, find guidebooks, partners, and formulate a plan. Still thinking 2-3 weeks climbing alpine routes in the Mt Cook area of NZ, then 3-4 weeks in Australia climbing rock in the sun at Arapiles. I do not have partner yet, but it'll work out.
By the way, there are all sorts of jobs available down here; there's something here everyone can do (beyond dishwashing), so let me know if youare curious...
Start with polar.org
Love and safe adventures indoors and out, Susan
