A friend took this shot of 12,000' active volcano Mt Erebus (Ross Island, Antarctica), Weddell seals, and a couple Adelie penguins on the sea ice.
February 13, 2005
PHOTO: Mt Erebus Volcano, seals, penguins
A friend took this shot of 12,000' active volcano Mt Erebus (Ross Island, Antarctica), Weddell seals, and a couple Adelie penguins on the sea ice.
February 12, 2005
February 08, 2005
SAR peak climb, crevasse, penguins, historic hut
Hello-hello,
Shortly after I hit 'send', I'll be on a C-17 headed north to Christchurch, NZ, a week before I was originally scheduled. In the Dry Valleys recently Larry severely injured his ribs and is being sent north early. The official reason I was also switched is to assist him with luggage and also general life to facilitate his healing. We'll hang out for a bit in Christchurch eating green things, smelling green things, watching animals, and just... being.
Then we'll head to Melbourne and hang out with a friend there for a bit, and see when we can go to Arapiles to see how climbing goes.
Here is the rest of my final update.
Our local meteorologists inform us that Punxsutawney Phil, the official Groundhog, saw his shadow back in Pennsylvania last week. Am I right in thinking that means another 6 weeks of winter? I hope that's good news for you. Maybe the mountains will get some more snow soon; I wouldn't mind getting a few turns in in mid-April.
We are distinctly not headed toward spring. It hasn't become particulary cold yet (teens and 20's, but mostly sunny), but it is definitely chillier than it was just a few weeks ago. More obvious that summer is ending is all hustle and bustle around town now as The Vessel (the cargo ship) has arrived and is being "offloaded" (why it's not "unloaded" I don't know). Many depts are now on a 12-hour shift and the offload/onload is expected to take about a week. It is quite a process. Being driven all around town are lots of forklifts and trucks, some very old looking ones from the Navy era and only used for this process. The USAP flies in some guys who I think are in the Navy and are cargo specialists here to help with the offload. Plus a road-watering truck to keep the dust down. The dirt here is volcanic (Mt Erebus), quite dusty and gritty.
I believe there are something like eleven million pounds of Stuff being unloaded, and about 8 million pounds of trash, recyclables, and more Stuff will be loaded to be "retro'ed" back to the US. The Stuff is in "milvans", big orange shipping containers about half the size of the tractor-trailers on the interstate.
Our department is not involved whatsoever with the offload, and indeed a few weeks ago our quiet time of the season began. There is very much a seasonal cycle here, officially ending with the Vessel Offload, and different depts are crazy-busy during different times. There is a pre-season from mid-Aug to the end of Sept in which supervisors and others invade the winterovers and begin setting up for the science season. Two from our dept arrive then and teach Refresher courses, a very-cold Happy Camper course or 2, and do things like set up the sea ice hut, and the road out to where the sea ice camps will be. Then the most of the rest of us start pouring in early October. Beakers (scientists) also start arriving. After a couple trainings for us, our dept is in full swing with Happy Camper courses, Sea Ice courses, Altitude, Glacier Travel (wish there were more need for these), and GPS classes. Additional tasks include things like setting up the acclimitization camp partway up Mt Erebus.
The beakers are very busy getting their gear together from many departments. There is an unbelievable amount of stuff they need, including things like spill kits for hazardous waste (mostly fuel), HF radios, and others things one wouldn't normally think about, so all those departments are busy getting gear ready for the expeditions. The field carpenters go out and set up the big field camps, the helos start flying, and pretty soon the LC-130's begin to arrive so they can start flying to the South Pole Station. Meanwhile the smaller planes (Twin Otters) fly down from Canada through S. America and Pole, arriving here in time to take people out to the far away camps where they can land on non-prepared snow surfaces.
The main part of the season has projects constantly starting and ending as well as new people arriving and needing our classes; work stays quite busy for us through December. The Secondary SAR team is selected by mid November, and biweekly trainings for them begin (alternating with biweekly trainings for the Primary team... if there are enough of us in town!). By November, penguins show up in the greater McM area, much to everyone's delight. Around Christmas, the runway is moved off the sea ice and farther away onto the shelf ice as the sea ice deteriorates. News of the icebreakers start to circulate, and this year the higher-ups stressed heavily about whether they'd have to offload the cargo and fuel ships from somewhere out on the sea ice. The sea ice courses end, the sea ice camps come in, and later the sea ice is officially closed to travel. Beakers with later season projects are still arriving, keeping everyone busy. A few skuas start to show up.
You might remember that skuas are large brown gull-like birds that scavenge, aggressively sometimes, sitting outside the galley waiting for naive people to walk by carrying food. Just the other day I saw one successfully grab a sandwich from a very surprised woman who, if she had acted aggressively toward the bird to reclaim her lunch, would have been breaking the Antarctic Treaty. I think the skuas know this!
During January, most of the camps are closing down and people are returning to McMurdo will all their gear in need of sorting, cleaning, and returning to various departments. Some of it goes to Science Cargo, where they package equipment and other stuff so that it can fly safely in terms of reality and also NSF (FAA?) regulations, either into the field or back north. With fewer field commitments, our department finally has a chance to catch our collective breath. Also during January, the Coast Guard icebreakers show up, having rammed their way in from the sea ice edge, which this year was a very unusual 60 miles, and we have "Coasties" around town. This season we had one USCG icebreaker and they were finally able to contract a Russian icebreaker to replace the other USCG breaker that is having engines replaced. A commercial tourist ship or two follow the channel into the McMurdo Sound and the passengers get tours of town, checking out us 'locals' much in the same way we rubberneck the real locals: wildlife.
Some folks have left, including my friend and roommate Jean, and winterovers are flying in. My new roommate is a winterover in the Supply Dept, so they are busy getting going for the transition into the long cold dark bleak winter season. We provide them the half-day long Winterover Survival Training: basically a Refresher course slanted toward winter.
A few weeks after the icebreakers show up, news of the fuel ship arriving near the ice edge floats around town. It takes, I think, about 5 days of hoses running from the ship to the fuel tanks to unload the tanker, which also refuels the icebreakers.
Our dept is greatly relieved to have a reduction in our responsibilities at the end of the season, esp. this year because we effectively lost one guy for 5 weeks. The NSF (Nat'l Sci. Found) tells groups whether they need a "mountaineer" on their expedition. The grantees (beakers) decide whether to hire their own (NSF approved, and often former people from our dept), or if they prefer they can use us: the Field Safety Dept. One of us had to spend 5 weeks replacing a project-specific mountaineer who had to leave because his wife died in a car accident, so we were really strapped for much of the season. Often of the 6 of us, only 2 would be in town at a time. So when this time of year rolls around, we can relax a bit and work on maintaining and improving our systems and such... a welcome break esp as no one wants to begin their post-ice vacation completely trashed.
Something else we can work on this time of year is further Search and Rescue (SAR) training. We go out in small groups including our Kiwi team members from Scott Base and with whom we trained pre-season in NZ, on what we call Multi-day SAR Trainings. These are really climbing trips (!!), with the real bonus of terrain familiarization and more importantly to me: to get a sense of where people are with skills in technical terrain. It's also valuable to go through the process of preparing a trip, USAP-style, much like the beakers go through, making us more efficient in the event of a SAR.
For "my" multi-day this season, 5 of us returned to an area in the Asgard Range, in the Dry Valleys region, that I went last season with two others. Last season the trip organizer was really burned out (the guy who had a nightmare 4 weeks on the South Pole Traverse), unmotivated/cynical, and not much of a climber anyway: a rescue ranger instead. The Kiwi guy was quite inexperienced and, far worse: not especially motivated. Fortunately the weather provided an excuse for the climbing that didn't happen (argh!), so I didn't have to explain to our boss what was really going on. Needless to say, I was quite looking forward to returning to Mt Obelisk and actually climbing it with fun people.
This time we had motivated folks, another guide-type who saw the same line to climb, and others who were psyched to develop their skills. We also had the weather, yea. It was really fun to teach/guide my good friend Barbie who is the Physicians Asst, SAR medic, and also teacher of wilderness medicine (WMA). The route involved steep snow, scrambling on rock, a lot of exposure, and a little bit of rock hard enough to rope up for. It was a blast, and at 14+ hours, a long day especially as none of our jobs promote fitness of any sort! (I can hear your sarcastic comments already.) Nice not to have to worry about getting benighted on a long climb.
After our rest day, our helo pick-up (heli-climbing!) was postponed so we scrambled up another fun peak with more amazing geology. Sandstone that weathers into fantastic forms called ventifacts (like Utah, but an order of magnitude more dramatic and widespread), on top of and mixed in with basalt. The Dry Valleys region is truly magnificent... and includes the glaciers pouring off the Plateau into the upper sections of the Valleys... stunning.
Another really fun adventure occurred after work one evening (again, nice to have endless light. Except when one is trying to sleep.) I had not been to the Imax crevasse this season, the crevasse that was once used in an Imax movie and that we take the secondary SAR team (selected community volunteers) into as part of their training.
I went with Larry, who had not been there before. It was a 30+ minute snowmachine ride, then we rope up and walk another quarter mile to the entrance. It's on the lower slopes of Mt Erebus, about where our peninsula juts south from the volcano itself. It's open at one end, about 40' high to the bridge overhead, and maybe 150 yards long, ending in a broken section where it's cracking in the opposite (left/right) direction and deeper than the floor we're walking on. This end is partly open to the sky, and there are places where large blocks have fallen and are bridging the deeper cross cracks. Beautiful. And as it hadn't been visited in awhile, there were 1" flat layered (faceted) crystals lying on the narrow floor. These crystals are gorgeous and surprisingly strong/thick. And the colors, the muted blues and whites... fantastic. Quite cold too.
We have to be super discreet about such boondoggles. You can imagine how much this kind of thing could cause resentment. A lot of boondoggles happen throughout the large Science Support Division; we have much more access than people in Operations. Our dept is not alone in such treats, but ours tend to be more dramatic because we have even more access (and technical skills, responsibility) than most.
Larry works as a science carpenter and spends a fair amount of time in the field as well. When they are done with their work and awaiting helo pick-up, they get to do things like check out the ice caves caused by steam vents up on Mt Erebus. This is the coolest exploration I have NOT had... I am envious! But he also has to spend time in the dusty shop making things for beakers; I have more variety and time outside, so I don't whine too much!
In fact, he is away now for ten days in the Dry Valleys taking down three different camps. They work hard and fast so that they can get out on hikes up peaks there. It's been fun to see his pictures of the places and camps going up/down, and he appreciates seeing my pictures of the South Pole Traverse and my other work situations/locations. Another way to learn more about how things work around here.
There are official boondoggles, called "morale trips" for folks whose job is always in town (like the galley, or janitors, esp). I just worked one to a spot very near the Imax crevasse, called "Room with a View". It's basically a knoll on the glacier, with a tent in case we need it, and great views. We just go out there and hang out (frisbee anyone?) till people are done taking pictures and are bored. But it's always fun to get out of town. However, having become a snowmobiling guide, my self-esteem has taken a dive.
One project I've been heading up is cleaning out the old FSTP (our dept) building. NSF has a long term plan to reduce the footprint of McMurdo and also make it more efficient and professional; we are funded by Congress, after all. Part of that was consolidating various Sci Support depts into this big fancy (it's all relative) Science Support Building as of last season. Evidently during the pre-season, FSTP moved out of the old dive building rather quickly, leaving both useful items and a mess behind. Now we have to clean it up, and me being someone with a particularly strong aversion to throwing away useful items, I am the one to organize it. Yee haa. It has been interesting to get a feel for the history of our program, which has become a lot more professional under the current leadership (including no more boyz club attitude... yea!).
I much enjoyed a Sunday Science Lecture a few weeks ago on the Taylor Glacier in the Dry Valleys. This is the glacier on which I helped the glaciologists (the Seattle gal with the 120 cornrows in her hair) place their instruments on the vertical face and that my high school classmate works on as part of the Long Term Ecological Research Project (nationwide, if not worldwide). It was great to learn more about it in an organized and structured way. Surprisingly, perhaps, that when one is immersed in the details of a project, it's hard to get much in the way of the broader information. This was a not-to-miss lecture for me.
Other fun events include the MAAG, the McMurdo Area Art Gathering, an alternative event, not sanctioned by Rec or anyone official. Last year, the MAAG bra show was a major hit. I was in the field, but saw the photos of the incredibly creative bras people came up with. It was a fundraiser for breast cancer research. This year, Jean my former roommate contributed a collage, "The Women of Antarctica: From Hardhats to Pearls". It was a collection of photos of local gals at their worksites, but dressed up. When we were in Christchurch before coming down, she and I bought fancy dresses at a thrift shop. In this town, one can wear whatever one wants to parties and social events (drag is popular), and it's fun to feel attractive every now and then. At the Taylor Glacier, I posed in my strapless formal in front of an ice cliff, surrounded by my gear. My high school classmate was out working that day and we had fun over the radio joking about who stood up who for the senior prom twenty years ago. Nevermind that we didn't know each other back then. Fun in Antarctica.
Oh yeah, last time I wrote so much about the South Pole Traverse that I didn't get to talk about Cape Royds, an exposed point of land north of here on Ross Island, directly below Mt Erebus, meaning not on our peninsula. Cape Royds is the site of an Adelie (uh-DELL-ee) penguin rookery and also Shackleton's 1908 hut, preserved by the cold dry climate and more recently the Kiwi's Antarctic Historic Preservation Society.
I had been out there last year before the Adelies had arrived, and was with the photographers (Artists and Writers in Residence Program), who had the difficult-to-obtain key to the hut. The key is tightly controlled by NSF not so much because of vandalism/theft (I think), but because the warmth and moisture we bring inside increases the rate of deterioration of the many artifacts. The AHPS has a monitor inside for humidity, and a book for visitors to record the time and length of their visit so they can determine how much affect visitation actually has. Decades ago, the hut was packed full of snow before the AHPS removed the snow and made it visitable. They have labeled some items and added notes as to the uses of parts of the hut, the people, etc (it was well over a year ago that I was in there!). Cool.
The inside of the hut is fascinating. It appears they left fully expecting to return. There are reindeer sleeping bags, wool clothing, and fur boots, all of which are of course what we consider highly inadequate for such conditions. There are many kinds of canned foods, including Ox Tail Soup, "Specially Prepared for the Invalid". Hams still hang on the wall, the stove and furniture are there as well as photos of British royalty, science equipment, tools, and personal effects. Really gives one a visceral appreciation of how they lived, what they endured, how truly hardy these people (men) were.
This visit we did not have the key so were limited to checking out the food stores outside (jars of salt, rusted open cans of beans and unidentifiable foods), the pony stall with straw bale, and dog kennels, and other storage around the outside of the hut. There are a couple seal carcasses left. Apparently the AHPS has found anthrax spores around the pony stall, but no one has become sick from visiting the hut. It is also related to why all animals and plants have been prohibited from Antarctica in recent years: to protect the wildlife and ecosystems from destructive microbes.
We also checked out the Adelies, who were in the egg incubation stage of their reproductive cycle. The rookery is a Special Scientific Study Area and signs prevent people from walking among the penguins. We could however, get close enough to watch them (a smile breaks across my face as I write) take rocks from each other's nests to add to their own, doze while incubating, and otherwise be penguinos. The unpaired males seemed to hang together and extend their heads and flap their flippers in the oh-so-sexy "ecstatic display". And we watched a few (of the hundreds there) head out to or back across the sea ice to the water.
Adelie penguins often run, unlike their larger cousins the Emporers (our only two species). They put their flippers (wings?) out, their heads forward, and run along with their flippers flapping. They are most entertaining, esp. when they come up to a ledge or other obstacle where they abruptly stop. They have white eye-rings which give the impression of facial expression, so when they bow their heads to inspect an obstacle below with a look of mild consternation, it's quite amusing. When it's an up-obstacle, they pause, evaluate, and suddenly spring upward and land on the ledge, higher than one would believe they could. How they do that on such tiny legs is anyone's guess.
Emporers, by contrast, cannot run. Penguin Ranch beaker Paul Ponganis confirms this and says it has to do with their leg skeletal structure. They instead (another smile) keep their flippers at their sides, very dignified, but then waddle on stiff legs. It's a very rhythmic waddle with their heads and bodies swaying to counterbalance their stride. Also very entertaining. There eyes are not visible at a distance, and the orange line along the edge of their bills give them a look of serious concentration... again, wonderful.
Sometimes they lay on their bellies and push along with their claws; this is called "tobogganing". Penguins of both species have been seen dozens of miles from open water, alone, walking along. The Taylor Valley team watched one march right past them doggedly headed up the valley, no doubt to his death. The researchers have no explanation for this. Last year an Emporer hung out far from the ice edge by the ice runway road for weeks, just hanging out. An Adelie took a hike through town last month.
I think penguins are so endearing largely because their walk is so incongruous with their plumage; both are extremes. We see their very elegant tuxedo and think, "dignified, sophisticated". However, we then see them waddle with an expression of concentration (Emporer) or run with a wide-eyed look and flapping flippers (Adelie), and think "toddler". What a hilarious combination. If their coloring matched their gait, they'd have much less respect. If their gait matched their plumage, we might not identify so easily with them, they might seem less accessible and instead aloof. That's my take on penguin charm. Other ideas?
People have been seeing orcas from the air (the helo techs and pilots don't have a bad job either), but I have not yet. I have photos of them and penguins from the common drive so can send some to anyone interested.
This is long enough that it's a blessing that the iceberg B-15 (B-15A and C) has not yet done anything exciting. It is still about 7km or so from the Drygalski Ice Tongue (see last message), and we continue to watch.
We have fresh food these days. What a treat a banana can be :-) This morning at breakfast a gal at an adjacent table asked if she could borrow our paper. As there was no paper on the table, I was baffled until she pointed to the pepper. She is Kiwi. Good to start getting used to their pronunciation again! Sometimes I really have a hard time understanding.
Love and spring freshness, Susan
Shortly after I hit 'send', I'll be on a C-17 headed north to Christchurch, NZ, a week before I was originally scheduled. In the Dry Valleys recently Larry severely injured his ribs and is being sent north early. The official reason I was also switched is to assist him with luggage and also general life to facilitate his healing. We'll hang out for a bit in Christchurch eating green things, smelling green things, watching animals, and just... being.
Then we'll head to Melbourne and hang out with a friend there for a bit, and see when we can go to Arapiles to see how climbing goes.
Here is the rest of my final update.
Our local meteorologists inform us that Punxsutawney Phil, the official Groundhog, saw his shadow back in Pennsylvania last week. Am I right in thinking that means another 6 weeks of winter? I hope that's good news for you. Maybe the mountains will get some more snow soon; I wouldn't mind getting a few turns in in mid-April.
We are distinctly not headed toward spring. It hasn't become particulary cold yet (teens and 20's, but mostly sunny), but it is definitely chillier than it was just a few weeks ago. More obvious that summer is ending is all hustle and bustle around town now as The Vessel (the cargo ship) has arrived and is being "offloaded" (why it's not "unloaded" I don't know). Many depts are now on a 12-hour shift and the offload/onload is expected to take about a week. It is quite a process. Being driven all around town are lots of forklifts and trucks, some very old looking ones from the Navy era and only used for this process. The USAP flies in some guys who I think are in the Navy and are cargo specialists here to help with the offload. Plus a road-watering truck to keep the dust down. The dirt here is volcanic (Mt Erebus), quite dusty and gritty.
I believe there are something like eleven million pounds of Stuff being unloaded, and about 8 million pounds of trash, recyclables, and more Stuff will be loaded to be "retro'ed" back to the US. The Stuff is in "milvans", big orange shipping containers about half the size of the tractor-trailers on the interstate.
Our department is not involved whatsoever with the offload, and indeed a few weeks ago our quiet time of the season began. There is very much a seasonal cycle here, officially ending with the Vessel Offload, and different depts are crazy-busy during different times. There is a pre-season from mid-Aug to the end of Sept in which supervisors and others invade the winterovers and begin setting up for the science season. Two from our dept arrive then and teach Refresher courses, a very-cold Happy Camper course or 2, and do things like set up the sea ice hut, and the road out to where the sea ice camps will be. Then the most of the rest of us start pouring in early October. Beakers (scientists) also start arriving. After a couple trainings for us, our dept is in full swing with Happy Camper courses, Sea Ice courses, Altitude, Glacier Travel (wish there were more need for these), and GPS classes. Additional tasks include things like setting up the acclimitization camp partway up Mt Erebus.
The beakers are very busy getting their gear together from many departments. There is an unbelievable amount of stuff they need, including things like spill kits for hazardous waste (mostly fuel), HF radios, and others things one wouldn't normally think about, so all those departments are busy getting gear ready for the expeditions. The field carpenters go out and set up the big field camps, the helos start flying, and pretty soon the LC-130's begin to arrive so they can start flying to the South Pole Station. Meanwhile the smaller planes (Twin Otters) fly down from Canada through S. America and Pole, arriving here in time to take people out to the far away camps where they can land on non-prepared snow surfaces.
The main part of the season has projects constantly starting and ending as well as new people arriving and needing our classes; work stays quite busy for us through December. The Secondary SAR team is selected by mid November, and biweekly trainings for them begin (alternating with biweekly trainings for the Primary team... if there are enough of us in town!). By November, penguins show up in the greater McM area, much to everyone's delight. Around Christmas, the runway is moved off the sea ice and farther away onto the shelf ice as the sea ice deteriorates. News of the icebreakers start to circulate, and this year the higher-ups stressed heavily about whether they'd have to offload the cargo and fuel ships from somewhere out on the sea ice. The sea ice courses end, the sea ice camps come in, and later the sea ice is officially closed to travel. Beakers with later season projects are still arriving, keeping everyone busy. A few skuas start to show up.
You might remember that skuas are large brown gull-like birds that scavenge, aggressively sometimes, sitting outside the galley waiting for naive people to walk by carrying food. Just the other day I saw one successfully grab a sandwich from a very surprised woman who, if she had acted aggressively toward the bird to reclaim her lunch, would have been breaking the Antarctic Treaty. I think the skuas know this!
During January, most of the camps are closing down and people are returning to McMurdo will all their gear in need of sorting, cleaning, and returning to various departments. Some of it goes to Science Cargo, where they package equipment and other stuff so that it can fly safely in terms of reality and also NSF (FAA?) regulations, either into the field or back north. With fewer field commitments, our department finally has a chance to catch our collective breath. Also during January, the Coast Guard icebreakers show up, having rammed their way in from the sea ice edge, which this year was a very unusual 60 miles, and we have "Coasties" around town. This season we had one USCG icebreaker and they were finally able to contract a Russian icebreaker to replace the other USCG breaker that is having engines replaced. A commercial tourist ship or two follow the channel into the McMurdo Sound and the passengers get tours of town, checking out us 'locals' much in the same way we rubberneck the real locals: wildlife.
Some folks have left, including my friend and roommate Jean, and winterovers are flying in. My new roommate is a winterover in the Supply Dept, so they are busy getting going for the transition into the long cold dark bleak winter season. We provide them the half-day long Winterover Survival Training: basically a Refresher course slanted toward winter.
A few weeks after the icebreakers show up, news of the fuel ship arriving near the ice edge floats around town. It takes, I think, about 5 days of hoses running from the ship to the fuel tanks to unload the tanker, which also refuels the icebreakers.
Our dept is greatly relieved to have a reduction in our responsibilities at the end of the season, esp. this year because we effectively lost one guy for 5 weeks. The NSF (Nat'l Sci. Found) tells groups whether they need a "mountaineer" on their expedition. The grantees (beakers) decide whether to hire their own (NSF approved, and often former people from our dept), or if they prefer they can use us: the Field Safety Dept. One of us had to spend 5 weeks replacing a project-specific mountaineer who had to leave because his wife died in a car accident, so we were really strapped for much of the season. Often of the 6 of us, only 2 would be in town at a time. So when this time of year rolls around, we can relax a bit and work on maintaining and improving our systems and such... a welcome break esp as no one wants to begin their post-ice vacation completely trashed.
Something else we can work on this time of year is further Search and Rescue (SAR) training. We go out in small groups including our Kiwi team members from Scott Base and with whom we trained pre-season in NZ, on what we call Multi-day SAR Trainings. These are really climbing trips (!!), with the real bonus of terrain familiarization and more importantly to me: to get a sense of where people are with skills in technical terrain. It's also valuable to go through the process of preparing a trip, USAP-style, much like the beakers go through, making us more efficient in the event of a SAR.
For "my" multi-day this season, 5 of us returned to an area in the Asgard Range, in the Dry Valleys region, that I went last season with two others. Last season the trip organizer was really burned out (the guy who had a nightmare 4 weeks on the South Pole Traverse), unmotivated/cynical, and not much of a climber anyway: a rescue ranger instead. The Kiwi guy was quite inexperienced and, far worse: not especially motivated. Fortunately the weather provided an excuse for the climbing that didn't happen (argh!), so I didn't have to explain to our boss what was really going on. Needless to say, I was quite looking forward to returning to Mt Obelisk and actually climbing it with fun people.
This time we had motivated folks, another guide-type who saw the same line to climb, and others who were psyched to develop their skills. We also had the weather, yea. It was really fun to teach/guide my good friend Barbie who is the Physicians Asst, SAR medic, and also teacher of wilderness medicine (WMA). The route involved steep snow, scrambling on rock, a lot of exposure, and a little bit of rock hard enough to rope up for. It was a blast, and at 14+ hours, a long day especially as none of our jobs promote fitness of any sort! (I can hear your sarcastic comments already.) Nice not to have to worry about getting benighted on a long climb.
After our rest day, our helo pick-up (heli-climbing!) was postponed so we scrambled up another fun peak with more amazing geology. Sandstone that weathers into fantastic forms called ventifacts (like Utah, but an order of magnitude more dramatic and widespread), on top of and mixed in with basalt. The Dry Valleys region is truly magnificent... and includes the glaciers pouring off the Plateau into the upper sections of the Valleys... stunning.
Another really fun adventure occurred after work one evening (again, nice to have endless light. Except when one is trying to sleep.) I had not been to the Imax crevasse this season, the crevasse that was once used in an Imax movie and that we take the secondary SAR team (selected community volunteers) into as part of their training.
I went with Larry, who had not been there before. It was a 30+ minute snowmachine ride, then we rope up and walk another quarter mile to the entrance. It's on the lower slopes of Mt Erebus, about where our peninsula juts south from the volcano itself. It's open at one end, about 40' high to the bridge overhead, and maybe 150 yards long, ending in a broken section where it's cracking in the opposite (left/right) direction and deeper than the floor we're walking on. This end is partly open to the sky, and there are places where large blocks have fallen and are bridging the deeper cross cracks. Beautiful. And as it hadn't been visited in awhile, there were 1" flat layered (faceted) crystals lying on the narrow floor. These crystals are gorgeous and surprisingly strong/thick. And the colors, the muted blues and whites... fantastic. Quite cold too.
We have to be super discreet about such boondoggles. You can imagine how much this kind of thing could cause resentment. A lot of boondoggles happen throughout the large Science Support Division; we have much more access than people in Operations. Our dept is not alone in such treats, but ours tend to be more dramatic because we have even more access (and technical skills, responsibility) than most.
Larry works as a science carpenter and spends a fair amount of time in the field as well. When they are done with their work and awaiting helo pick-up, they get to do things like check out the ice caves caused by steam vents up on Mt Erebus. This is the coolest exploration I have NOT had... I am envious! But he also has to spend time in the dusty shop making things for beakers; I have more variety and time outside, so I don't whine too much!
In fact, he is away now for ten days in the Dry Valleys taking down three different camps. They work hard and fast so that they can get out on hikes up peaks there. It's been fun to see his pictures of the places and camps going up/down, and he appreciates seeing my pictures of the South Pole Traverse and my other work situations/locations. Another way to learn more about how things work around here.
There are official boondoggles, called "morale trips" for folks whose job is always in town (like the galley, or janitors, esp). I just worked one to a spot very near the Imax crevasse, called "Room with a View". It's basically a knoll on the glacier, with a tent in case we need it, and great views. We just go out there and hang out (frisbee anyone?) till people are done taking pictures and are bored. But it's always fun to get out of town. However, having become a snowmobiling guide, my self-esteem has taken a dive.
One project I've been heading up is cleaning out the old FSTP (our dept) building. NSF has a long term plan to reduce the footprint of McMurdo and also make it more efficient and professional; we are funded by Congress, after all. Part of that was consolidating various Sci Support depts into this big fancy (it's all relative) Science Support Building as of last season. Evidently during the pre-season, FSTP moved out of the old dive building rather quickly, leaving both useful items and a mess behind. Now we have to clean it up, and me being someone with a particularly strong aversion to throwing away useful items, I am the one to organize it. Yee haa. It has been interesting to get a feel for the history of our program, which has become a lot more professional under the current leadership (including no more boyz club attitude... yea!).
I much enjoyed a Sunday Science Lecture a few weeks ago on the Taylor Glacier in the Dry Valleys. This is the glacier on which I helped the glaciologists (the Seattle gal with the 120 cornrows in her hair) place their instruments on the vertical face and that my high school classmate works on as part of the Long Term Ecological Research Project (nationwide, if not worldwide). It was great to learn more about it in an organized and structured way. Surprisingly, perhaps, that when one is immersed in the details of a project, it's hard to get much in the way of the broader information. This was a not-to-miss lecture for me.
Other fun events include the MAAG, the McMurdo Area Art Gathering, an alternative event, not sanctioned by Rec or anyone official. Last year, the MAAG bra show was a major hit. I was in the field, but saw the photos of the incredibly creative bras people came up with. It was a fundraiser for breast cancer research. This year, Jean my former roommate contributed a collage, "The Women of Antarctica: From Hardhats to Pearls". It was a collection of photos of local gals at their worksites, but dressed up. When we were in Christchurch before coming down, she and I bought fancy dresses at a thrift shop. In this town, one can wear whatever one wants to parties and social events (drag is popular), and it's fun to feel attractive every now and then. At the Taylor Glacier, I posed in my strapless formal in front of an ice cliff, surrounded by my gear. My high school classmate was out working that day and we had fun over the radio joking about who stood up who for the senior prom twenty years ago. Nevermind that we didn't know each other back then. Fun in Antarctica.
Oh yeah, last time I wrote so much about the South Pole Traverse that I didn't get to talk about Cape Royds, an exposed point of land north of here on Ross Island, directly below Mt Erebus, meaning not on our peninsula. Cape Royds is the site of an Adelie (uh-DELL-ee) penguin rookery and also Shackleton's 1908 hut, preserved by the cold dry climate and more recently the Kiwi's Antarctic Historic Preservation Society.
I had been out there last year before the Adelies had arrived, and was with the photographers (Artists and Writers in Residence Program), who had the difficult-to-obtain key to the hut. The key is tightly controlled by NSF not so much because of vandalism/theft (I think), but because the warmth and moisture we bring inside increases the rate of deterioration of the many artifacts. The AHPS has a monitor inside for humidity, and a book for visitors to record the time and length of their visit so they can determine how much affect visitation actually has. Decades ago, the hut was packed full of snow before the AHPS removed the snow and made it visitable. They have labeled some items and added notes as to the uses of parts of the hut, the people, etc (it was well over a year ago that I was in there!). Cool.
The inside of the hut is fascinating. It appears they left fully expecting to return. There are reindeer sleeping bags, wool clothing, and fur boots, all of which are of course what we consider highly inadequate for such conditions. There are many kinds of canned foods, including Ox Tail Soup, "Specially Prepared for the Invalid". Hams still hang on the wall, the stove and furniture are there as well as photos of British royalty, science equipment, tools, and personal effects. Really gives one a visceral appreciation of how they lived, what they endured, how truly hardy these people (men) were.
This visit we did not have the key so were limited to checking out the food stores outside (jars of salt, rusted open cans of beans and unidentifiable foods), the pony stall with straw bale, and dog kennels, and other storage around the outside of the hut. There are a couple seal carcasses left. Apparently the AHPS has found anthrax spores around the pony stall, but no one has become sick from visiting the hut. It is also related to why all animals and plants have been prohibited from Antarctica in recent years: to protect the wildlife and ecosystems from destructive microbes.
We also checked out the Adelies, who were in the egg incubation stage of their reproductive cycle. The rookery is a Special Scientific Study Area and signs prevent people from walking among the penguins. We could however, get close enough to watch them (a smile breaks across my face as I write) take rocks from each other's nests to add to their own, doze while incubating, and otherwise be penguinos. The unpaired males seemed to hang together and extend their heads and flap their flippers in the oh-so-sexy "ecstatic display". And we watched a few (of the hundreds there) head out to or back across the sea ice to the water.
Adelie penguins often run, unlike their larger cousins the Emporers (our only two species). They put their flippers (wings?) out, their heads forward, and run along with their flippers flapping. They are most entertaining, esp. when they come up to a ledge or other obstacle where they abruptly stop. They have white eye-rings which give the impression of facial expression, so when they bow their heads to inspect an obstacle below with a look of mild consternation, it's quite amusing. When it's an up-obstacle, they pause, evaluate, and suddenly spring upward and land on the ledge, higher than one would believe they could. How they do that on such tiny legs is anyone's guess.
Emporers, by contrast, cannot run. Penguin Ranch beaker Paul Ponganis confirms this and says it has to do with their leg skeletal structure. They instead (another smile) keep their flippers at their sides, very dignified, but then waddle on stiff legs. It's a very rhythmic waddle with their heads and bodies swaying to counterbalance their stride. Also very entertaining. There eyes are not visible at a distance, and the orange line along the edge of their bills give them a look of serious concentration... again, wonderful.
Sometimes they lay on their bellies and push along with their claws; this is called "tobogganing". Penguins of both species have been seen dozens of miles from open water, alone, walking along. The Taylor Valley team watched one march right past them doggedly headed up the valley, no doubt to his death. The researchers have no explanation for this. Last year an Emporer hung out far from the ice edge by the ice runway road for weeks, just hanging out. An Adelie took a hike through town last month.
I think penguins are so endearing largely because their walk is so incongruous with their plumage; both are extremes. We see their very elegant tuxedo and think, "dignified, sophisticated". However, we then see them waddle with an expression of concentration (Emporer) or run with a wide-eyed look and flapping flippers (Adelie), and think "toddler". What a hilarious combination. If their coloring matched their gait, they'd have much less respect. If their gait matched their plumage, we might not identify so easily with them, they might seem less accessible and instead aloof. That's my take on penguin charm. Other ideas?
People have been seeing orcas from the air (the helo techs and pilots don't have a bad job either), but I have not yet. I have photos of them and penguins from the common drive so can send some to anyone interested.
This is long enough that it's a blessing that the iceberg B-15 (B-15A and C) has not yet done anything exciting. It is still about 7km or so from the Drygalski Ice Tongue (see last message), and we continue to watch.
We have fresh food these days. What a treat a banana can be :-) This morning at breakfast a gal at an adjacent table asked if she could borrow our paper. As there was no paper on the table, I was baffled until she pointed to the pepper. She is Kiwi. Good to start getting used to their pronunciation again! Sometimes I really have a hard time understanding.
Love and spring freshness, Susan
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