Five Hundred Twenty-Five Thousand Six Hundred Minutes

Mt. Discovery behind the Chapel of the Snows.
Five Hundred Twenty-Five Thousand
Six Hundred Minutes
How Do You Measure
A Year In The Life?

October 12th was my one (leap) year anniversary of being down on the Ice. It passed just like any other day. I'm leaving on Friday. That too will pass with no celebration. While the community I have learned to love over the past six months has been dismantled, a new one has formed. Old friends are reuniting. New friendships are forming. This place marches on even as each of its winter stewards leaves. I believe that after my flight goes there will still be thirty people left from winter.


Sunset on October 8, 9pm
I've been fortunate enough to be given a little extra time to pack. My Thursday flight was delayed so I now leave on Friday. It doesn't feel like enough. I'm not sure it will ever be enough. This place and the relationships I have here have become home. I'm not ready to head away from them. On the other hand, it is also time to go.


Sunset on October 13th at 12am.
I'm busy behind measure getting ready to go. Some of that is packing. A lot of that is slack time with friends. There is no way I can spend enough time with each of the friends that has just come back down to the ice. I guess I'll just have to see them back in the United States. It will be weird to see them back there. It feels like they just went off to college and are just now coming back to the hometown so I need to catch up. They have done so much while I have remained here.


Mt. Erebus.
Those are the spare thoughts for the day. As I get busier, my time on the internet is dwindling. I'll try to get another update on soon.


Clair, who may grump at me for putting this picture up, and that is why it is up.

The Transition

This isn't going to be about the transition from winter to Winfly to mainbody seasons. It is going to be about the transitions from Ross Island to sea ice. We use two roads to take vehicles off the land and on to the sea ice. The first one at Scott Base is usable all year. The second one at McMurdo, the VXE-6 transition, can only be used before the ice melts.


A tidal crack at Cape Evans.
The sea ice naturally freezes each year. After that happens, fleet operations uses heavy machinery to make the surface suitable for driving wheeled and tracked vehicles. Unfortunately, tidal forces are always effecting the sea ice which causes tidal cracks to form. In the warmer parts of the summer, melting and pock marks caused by uneven melting weaken the sea ice. It is like the Pennsylvania Turnpike, always in need of repair.


The danger of tidal cracks.
To strengthen the sea ice, we spray down the transition with thousands of gallons of fresh water which seals cracks and smoothes the existing ice. We use fresh water because the impurities in the sea water make for weaker bonds. An estimated one millions gallons of water is required to build a stable transition from land to sea and even then big cracks are likely to form. For the sake of comparison, in one week where we were building the transition we used 325,000 gallons (about 403 gal/person). In Winfly three times as many people and weren't building the transition, we only used 26,000 gallons (83 gal/person).


My preferred type of transition.
After eight days of delays, the first flight of mainbody finally made it in yesterday afternoon. It took out 28 very happy winterovers. The flight for 7am this morning was twenty-five minutes away before it boomeranged, giving its passengers an extra four hours in the plane. The second afternoon flight didn't even take off which has left a few more winterovers wishing they were somewhere else.

Ice

209 ice machine.
Yes, we do have ice machines in Antarctica. We have one in every dorm and a few in the galley.

The plane is finally coming in today. The second invasion is about to begin.

The Waiting Game

Our fourth canceled flight.
Mainbody (summer) was supposed to start on Monday with the arrival of a hundred plus people on the first flight. After that, we'd keep getting flights every other day until the 17th. Our population wouldl jump to 600 in the first week and then plateau off near 1,000. Instead, not a single plane has arrived. We are playing the waiting game.

The people in Christchurch are generally loving the delays because they get paid extra per diem money every day that they are there. Some people make more on per diem than they do while working if they are frugal. For the folks on the first flight, it can be hard because they have to get up every day before 5am to find out if they are flying. However, the second and third flights don't have to wake up. They get to play each day until that first flight gets out. It is a great chance to explore a new place on the company dollar.

The flip side is that some people here thought they were leaving the ice on Monday. The first extra day on the ice was fine. They still get paid and got to wrap up loose ends. The second day they really thought they were out of here because the plane took off. Unfortunately, it boomeranged because as it approached the weather got terrible. The people on the flight had a five hour flight turn into nine hours. Some of the people here got pretty demoralized. I can't imagine the third and fourth delays have improved their mood. Interestingly enough, the snow has cleared and it looks like a nice day outside, but I don't have to fly through it. Back to waiting . . . .

Antarctic Moments, Part II, Cape Evans Flagging Trip

Scott's Hut
Last week started out rough. I just couldn't get into any kind of flow. I wasn't being too productive at work. I was being too social. I was missing work outs. Nothing was working. Things weren't bad, but they also weren't good. That changed on Friday when I went back out to flag the Cape Evans route that I had deflagged seven months ago.


The main room of Scott's Hut.


The 1916 Ross Sea Party losses on a bed post in Scott's Hut. The bottom one is Shack? because he did not make it across Antarctica as planned (instead we have the story of the Endurance).
After a short snow machine safety course, we took a pisten bully and two snow machines out to Scott's Hut at Cape Evans. I'm always awed to think about the explorers who spent so much time in these huts. The Antarctica that I am experiencing is very different from what they experienced. They probably didn't even have cookie day on Wednesday!!


A bike in Scott's Hut.


Penguin eggs in Scott's Hut - the missing link between fish and birds
There was a team here over the summer and winter restoring hut artifacts. I think one of the pieces they returned since I was last here was a box of penguin eggs. I believe they were fetched from Cape Crozier in the journey recounted in the Worst Journey in the World.


Icebergs in the Ross Sea off Cape Evans


The 300 foot Barnes glacier, Cape Evans, and our ride home.
On the way out to the hut, I got to drive a snow machine. It was great because I got to drive for a while instead of stopping every 150 feet to drill a hole and put in a flag. Unfortunately, that meant I also just had to ride in the pisten bully for the first part of the ride back. At first, it seemed like a good idea to warm up, but it got boring in a hurry. Riding on top of the pisten bully is the way to go. Ask Dave.


Dave B tosses flags out from the pisten bully to the hole drillers.


Our snow machines in front of the seal hole and McMurdo.
I think the trip back to town took almost five hours, but it was a blast once I got out of the pisten bully. I warmed right up because I was hopping on and off the snow machine so much. After that, it was just nice to see the scenery. I'm not sure I'll see that area again before I leave. I'm starting to say my goodbyes.


A Weddell Seal.
I think my favorite goodbye of the day was also a hello. For the first time since February, I saw something other than a human alive. I saw a seal near town and we were fortunate enough that researchers were able to take us a little closer and my zoom lens was able to get me the rest of the way there. Another Antarctic moment was complete.


For mom.

Antarctic Moments, Part I, Grand Slam

Our work camp, McMurdo base
This place can be tough. You work long hours. You spend most of your time indoors in a work camp. You may or may not enjoy your job. You might not like the food. If you are lucky, you only have one roommate. You could have up to five. There are a lot of things that could make this place difficult, but we keep coming down. I keep saying I'm enjoying myself. I could be lying to myself, but I like to think the positive moments in between just make it all worth it.


Ross Island winter grand slam trail map
A few weeks ago, Dave B took me out on what was supposed to be a short hike. Instead, we turned it into a grand slam of all McMurdo's winter recreational routes. I haven't done that since my marathon training ended in January.


Me on the way to Castle Rock (photo by Dave Barud)


Castle Rock and Dave B.
I was a little concerned if I'd be able to handle the hike. I'd been feeling more tired than not recently and just didn't think I had it in me. We started out slow and just figured we would play it by ear. We also took plenty of breaks to keep my old man legs moving. The one place that we stopped was a warming hut on the way out to Castle Rock. It doesn't have a source of heat, but it does get you out of the wind. Based on the amount of snow in there, I wouldn't want to have to rely on it too long to stay warm.


Inside the red apple warming hut.


Overlooking the Dellbridge Islands.
There isn't too much to stay about the hike itself. We walked. It was a beautiful day. It got cold when the sun set. The end of the hike was definitely a slog. I was tired. I wanted a warm meal. However, none of those can carry the emotion of overlooking the Dellbridge Islands to the north, looking into the great expanse of nothing to the south, or sitting on top of Ob Hill at the end of a good day. Those who have done long hikes know what I'm talking about. Those who don't, I don't think I have the right words to invoke the right feelings.


The great nothing to the south.


Sunset.
There is a peace of mind that comes to me when I am outdoors here. I can't achieve the same feeling with friends over chai, while working out, or even while tucking myself into bed. I'm not sure what it is about this place, but I think the beauty is part of why people keep coming up. The rest is probably the community. At least, those will be my reasons.


Enjoying a day well spent (photo by Dave B).

Condition One Again

Yesterday was a great day. I went out on an amazing trip out to Cape Evans to flag the route. It was a great trip and I'll have a bunch of pictures of it up soon. However, today is amazing in a different way. It just turned Condition One (wind speed greater than 55 knots and visibility less than 100 feet) out. This picture was taken as I was unloading computers just before it got really miserable.


Unloading computers just before it turned Condition One.
Hopefully, the weather will clear by this evening so I can still head out for my A-Frame trip. I'm also going to go out on a limb and say that my Keen's aren't going to cut it today, but I have them on so far.


Photographs don't do the weather justice. Martin's video here does.

Hiking again.

On the trail to Castle Rock.
I haven't been posting as many pictures recently. I haven't been out hiking as much. I also haven't been taking as many pictures. I wouldn't say I'm quite over it, but familiarity does breed contempt and I have been looking at the same scenery for a year now. However, that attitude seems to stay in town. When I do get out, I'm quickly reminded of how beautiful this place is.


Linda overlooking the Ross Sea from Castle Rock.
One of my favorite things now is to go out with a FNG for a hike. They eat up anything about this place. It is the same energy and enthusiasm that I used to have. It is refreshing to see and it sparks something inside of me. Again, I'm not over Antarctica, but when I'm so tired it can be tough.


Sunset from Hut Point.
Later this week, I'm getting to head out to Cape Evans to put in the flags for the route. I haven't truly been out of town since February. This trip is kind of a coincidence because my last boondoggle in the summer was deflagging the Cape Evans route. It should be a good trip. I'm really looking forward to it. This might be just what I need to put some pep back in my step. If that doesn't work, I'll just have to keep getting more sleep.


Me.

End of Winter Ceremony

Just before winter ended, we got together for an awards ceremony to commemorate ourselves, the 53rd winter-over crew. It was an unexpected event for me. They didn’t have it at the end of summer, so I didn’t know why they would have it at the end of winter. We filed into the galley in good spirits. Winter was coming to a close and most of us were looking forward to the end. We were awarded our certificate, Antarctic Service Medal, and thank you gift in order by the number of winters completed in Antarctica. I’d guess that half of the 125 people were on their fist winter. There were plenty of second timers, but then it quickly dropped off until we had just three people with eight winters, none with nine, and just one with ten full winters. I heard a number of the first years groan and wonder if they could do this nine more times. It is an amazing commitment to the program and lifestyle.

The service medal was a surprise. I feel that medals are for the service men and women of our country that put themselves in harms way. I couldn’t believe anything about this adventure would warrant an official medal. Someone else has disagreed since 1946-47 when the participants of the US Navy’s operation High Jump under Admiral Byrd received the medal (thought it wasn’t established until 1961 by Congress which I don’t completely understand). Of course, back then there was a lot more risk so it would be more justified. Currently, anyone who serves at an Antarctic research station or vessel and remains south of 60 degrees South for at least 30 days is eligible. No one from this past summer has received them yet because there is a five year waiting list. There are less winterovers so we get them while we are here.


The Antarctic Service Medal.
The front of the medal has a man who represents courage, devotion, and honor. His uniform is modeled on the one worn by Admiral Dufek who led the advance party to establish the first permanent station at the South Pole. The ribbon is made of up five-twelfths of black and dark blue bands to represent the five months of total darkness that we experience in the winter. The medal is complimented with a clasp that says “Wintered Over” for those who spent the dark night here.


A specially made recycling container for Thank You gifts.
The best part of the ceremony was probably the thank you gift that our station manager handed out – a piece of wood with ‘Thank You’ written on it. Traditionally, the company buys an article of clothing to commemorate each year’s winterovers. Unfortunately, that was cut from the budget this year which led to some resentment. In the days following the ceremony, that resentment was transformed into some entertainment.


Another way to reuse your Thank You gift.

Dealing with FNGs

Over the winter we had an international film festival held by Antz Powell. Stations from all over Antarctica submitted their films. Each submission had to be created in 48 hours and contain a few required items like a cardboard box, a FNG (f'n new guy), and a line about not getting the day off for Midwinter's Eve. I think my two favorite films were done by the same person, Dave B. I'm not sure if they were my favorite when I watched them, but they are definitely my favorite now while I participate in the social experiment that is winterovers interacting with new people.


Dave B's The Welcome.


Dave B's Winter Toast.

It has been a roller coast ride since August 1st. That is when my work load really started picking up again. I had to get a bunch of things ready for the new people. However, so did everyone on base so their computer usage went up which led to more things breaking and more for me to fix. Throw in staying up way too late to say goodbye to old friends and I was getting pretty exhausted.

Over the winter, I was one of a few people to be in a building by themselves. I mostly enjoyed it which might be indicative of some problems with me (just kidding, well mostly). Despite any reservations that I had about having other people working in my shop again, it has been great. I have people to talk to and bounce ideas off of. The returning guys were able to jump right in where they left off. They immediately shifted some of the workload off of my back and while I didn't feel a slow day for the first couple weeks, I've finally had a few and just in time. I'm tired. I'm excited about the new people, but if I don't take care of myself I just can't enjoy them. I think I need a few more naps.

Making Snow

Will makes snow at -40F. Joe just gets wet.
If you boil water and throw it into air that is cold enough it turns into a mostly gaseous state. I'm not sure how much is snow and how much is gas, but either way it is cool. Thanks to Dan Perry who told me about this trick. Thanks to Will, Moose, and Joe who made a video of it.

This is the way winter ends

The first sunset of Winfly.
This is the way the [winter] ends
This is the way the [winter] ends
This is the way the [winter] ends
Not with a bang but a whimper.
Last stanza of The Hollow Men by T. S. Eliot (with the word winter replacing world)

At the end of summer, we all raised a glass to the start of winter. We quietly watched the last plane tip its wings before it flew north. We had a few days to contemplate the isolation we were about to begin facing. It was a nice slow gradual transition.


The first plane of Winfly means the end of winter.
The end of winter has come in a hurry and abruptly. There was no transition. The plane touched down at 1:34pm, the people came to town, and winter was very clearly over. No ceremony. No warning. Just boom. Done. People everywhere and a flurry of activity. I think some of us are whimpering.


Overlooking McMurdo as the new people arrive.
I guess there was warning. We've known the dates for months. I knew people were coming all along. I just didn't internalize how sudden it would be. I didn't realize that some of my friends were leaving. Lots of emotions from everyone on station. It is interesting to watch the reactions of people who have been wintering over.

I've seen some have their eyes darting around the room like a hunted rabbit. I've watched people who didn't talk at all over the winter consider standing up for other winterovers for solidarity's sake. People call to get a phone number and ask for the number by first name, but the new person doesn't know who that is yet. That is weird. Chances are that someone else is answering the phone at the numbers we regularly call. It catches us by surprise. Some people are just overwhelmed by the noise. Some people are no longer eating in the galley to avoid the noise and new people. Other people call work centers and ask for winterovers by name so that they can talk to people they know. People who didn't eat together over the winter are suddenly eating meals together because the familiar face they know is better than the one they don't. These are just a few of the many examples of what is going on. I imagine a lot of the reactions are the same as what happens when a small town is invaded by the national media. The one major difference is that we have a lot of old friends coming back.


The moon over McMurdo Sound.
I got to spend the night with a lot of those old friends at Katie Folts' birthday extravaganza. The USAP was nice enough to fly in 125 people to attend her birthday party. It was great to celebrate her birthday and reconnect with old friends. None of the new comers had to work the next day so they were more than happy to stay up late and celebrate.


Auroras.
I ducked out of Katie’s birthday a little early. I heard it was probably going to be our last chance to see good auroras so I got my gear and went out. I was a little disappointed. I could see the sky was clearly covered in auroras, but they were very faint due to the cloud cover and bright moon. It was still good to see them one last time.

Winter is done. The dark is fading. Friends are leaving. Other friends are arriving. I'm anxious about what I am doing when I leave. I'm excited about the change of pace. Winter was good, but I'm excited for what is next.

The End is Nigh

2008 McMurdo Winterovers.
Winter is almost over. In just two days, the first plane comes in. It should bring about a hundred people and take out six. In a weeks time our population will have almost tripled. I'm excited for the changes. I'll see old friends come back. A new energy will be injected into base. Fresh fruit! Mail! More sunlight every day!

Bad things are coming too. We have all been exposed to each other's germs. We aren't getting sick anymore. The new people will bring germs that are going to make many of us sick. As run down as I've made myself these past two weeks, I'm not looking forward to that. Roommates. A lot of people don't like it when everyone comes back. The new people bring too much energy, they cause change, they just don't relate to the winterover experience, and who knows what else.

I'm sticking to the positive. I think it is going to be a good experience. I'm looking forward to it. It is the beginning of the end. Now, I just need to decide if I am going to travel or not.


McMurdo Base at 5pm on September 2, 2008

This One's for Jay

Moose tosses a shoe at the monthly horseshoes tournament.
Once a month over the winter, we get a two day weekend. That means extra sleep, harder partying, and a double elimination horseshoes tournament. The tournament takes place in the Vehicle Maintenance Facility. They clear out a couple bays, board up the vehicles left behind (see the above picture), and then put in the horseshoe pits. Everyone is randomly assigned their partner when they show up.


It takes focus and determination to win when you've been drinking all day.
The tournament starts around noon and runs until it is done. Because there are only two pits and sixteen teams, there is a lot of downtime between rounds. Between games, you just eat, hang out, and heckle when the opportunity arises. They provide drinks, chips, chilies, and even light up the grill for dinner because the tournament can run so late. I'm terrible at horseshoes, but my teammate, Will, and I managed to win one game before losing two in a row to bow out. It was definitely a good time though.

I don't know many people my age who are good at horseshoes. It seems to be an earlier generation's game. The older guys at the tournament definitely seem to be better. That might just be years of playing down here, but I think it’s a little more than that. Any thoughts on that from playing back home, Jay?



Spending another weekend in style.

It Burns When I . . .

Yet another failed trip to see the sun, but I was close.
It burns when I stare directly into the sun. Yesterday, I finally saw it. After almost two weeks of failed attempts to get out and see sun, I had pretty much given up trying. I figured I'd just see the sun when it got to town. Lucky for me, a friend harassed me into joining him for a quick trip to his work center where they could see the sun. Fantastic!


The sun's quiet way of taunting me to get out for a hike.
All week, I had been seeing signs that the sun was clearly out. Some one would take a picture or the sun would illuminate some upper part of town. Unfortunately, I've been so busy fixing printers, computers, and getting ready for the tripling of our population next week that I just didn't have time to steal away to one of those higher parts of town. The one time I did get up to work on an antenna, the terrain blocked any view we might have. By the end of each work day, the sun was already gone so I couldn't head out for an after work hike. It was kind of demoralizing.


The sun was so bright it was blinding.
All that has stopped now. It's kind of odd. I don't think I ever stared at the sun over the summer. I think I just took it for granted. However, yesterday I stared at it until my face got too cold. Then, I went inside and stared at it until I got sun spots. I'm curious how long it will take me to take the sun for granted again. It is kind of shame, but I'm sure it will happen. Hopefully, I can take a time out to remember yesterday from time to time.

With the return of the sun, our temperatures will begin their slow climb back up. We've been regularly seeing the temperatures hover between -30F and -40F for the entire day for the past few weeks. We hit our low for the season of -45F ambient last week. Oddly enough, it didn't feel that cold because there was no wind that day. The more recent -25F day with a ton of wind felt much worse. According to our weather history, by the time I leave here we should be having days between -15F and -30F. That'll be so much warmer! Honest.


A new photography trick with the sun that B-Nelson showed me.