Upon Leaving The Ice

I often talk to people who tell me how lucky I am to travel or how they wish that they could.  Almost anyone can travel if they really want to.  They just have to be willing to cut those strings that are holding them in place.  That can be uncomfortable to do, but often worth it.  

A Weddell Seal rests in front of the Barne Glacier.

The citizens of Antarctica have quite a different view on traveling.  I've never met so many people without an excuse to drop everything (or most things) and travel.  Sure there are some people that go down there just for the money or just to get out of debt, but most of them go down there for the adventure and the excuse to travel afterward.  It is refreshing to not hear excuses as to why they can't travel. Instead of dreaming of places to go, Antarcticans are always planning the next trip.

McMurdo Sound, Antarcitca

I've been back in New Zealand for five days now and Antarctica seems like a dream.  It is as if the rest of the world has stood still for the last year, but while I was on the ice for what seemed like forever--just like in the Chronicles of Narnia.  As strange as it sounds this was one of my major realizations of getting off the ice: the rest of the world continued to work while I was in McMurdo.

This year's last field work for me in Antarctica: delivering cargo across McMurdo Sound to Marble Point.

My reintroduction hasn’t been as extreme as I expected it.  I had months to think about how shocked I was going to be and I’ve been let down.  Everything just feels normal again.  I’m not looking forward to this grand moment when I see a tree again.  I’m simply back.  I was hoping for more.  I do walk around grocery stores in more of a daze than I used to and it took me about 20 minutes to pick out a bag of coffee on my second day back.  I know everyone is moving faster than me, but I was hoping to be more uncomfortable in such a situation.  I even feel like I have a purpose when I walk into the produce section. 

Akaroa, New Zealand

Managing my own newfound freedom has been hard to re-learn to do.  After 14 months of working 9+ hours a day six days a week I have forgotten how to do what I want to do.  I am in luck however because most of what I want to do is just cook and eat and enjoy “new” sounds and walk around and enjoy “new” views. 

Akaroa, New Zealand

While thoroughly enjoying walking through the forest and grassy fields I find myself reluctant to touch too many plants.  I have an undying urge to hug every tree I see and feel every leaf but I am afraid to.  I am afraid that they will disappear between my fingers or turn into the fake office plants that are scattered around McMurdo.  I don't want that disappointment.

The garden of the hostel I stayed at in Christchurch, New Zealand.

The absolute scariest part of my re-entry has been learning how to walk.  Throw me in the middle of an icy road with shoes that don’t have any traction and I can do just fine.  But now that I’m trying to negotiate muddy trails with slick wet grassy I am doomed.  I haven’t fallen on my ass yet, but have been very close many times.  I went for a hike in the hills above Akaroa yesterday and on my way down I would stop at the top of every steep muddy section the same way any other person would stop at a rocky precipice or an icy cliff.  Then I’d try to plan a decent route and walk down bent at the waste taking each timid step with the hopes that I wouldn’t slide to the bottom.  With each slip I’d throw my arms up in the air in a theatric dance move in a feeble attempt to stay on my feet.

Akaroa at night.

The Places I Call Home

This peninsula has been my home for the last 14 months.  McMurdo is tucked in out of sight and the end of the land.

I am usually able to pretty quickly feel at home in most places.  I've developed this ability over a few years of traveling and guiding in places all over North and South America and never staying more than a month or so in one place and am pretty happy with this skill.  While I am always longing a real home I am usually pretty content with wherever I am.

Mount Erebus on a particularly active day.

Sometimes this home is a tent in a backyard in Anchorage, Alaska, a hostel in Puerto Montt, Chile, wherever my old van was parked or in a tent at 19,000 feet on a mountain.  Lately my home has been a dorm room at McMurdo Station in Antarctica.

Mount Erebus framed in a pressure ridge on the west side of McMurdo Sound.

Antarctica is a strange place to call home, but for the last 14 months this has been my home.  The people and the landscape have drawn me in for much longer than I could have ever imagined when I arrived here.  I've been reflecting on this as I enter my last week on this continent.  I'm not sure how much I have changed in the last year since the place around me hasn't changed.  I think I'm usually pretty aware of changes within myself since I am the only thing that is slowly changing while everything else around me seems to be on a faster pace.  I know I'm not the same person I was when I arrived here over a year ago, but I'm not yet sure what is different.  Months of constant sunlight and darkness and no living things certainly takes a toll on a person, but I won't know that toll until I get back to something different than this.

The Erebus Glacier Tongue and the Dellbridge Island from Ross Island.

I will miss the people and this little "town." But it is time to leave.  It is time to close the longest chapter and see what the next pages have to hold.  It is time to go swim in the ocean for the first time ever.

Chunks of ice and the Wilson Piedmont Glacier at Marble Point across McMurdo Sound from McMurdo Station.

Some Colors of Antarctica

The US Antarctic Program didn’t shut down after all.  Luckily there was about a week of bad weather and the program received its funding before everyone was sent home.  I wouldn’t have minded a few days vacation in Christchurch, but I’m still glad to be here.

Everything almost seems back to normal now.  Everyone on station is really busy trying to catch up on all the missed work and science groups are scrambling to get into the field.

Tent Island during a rare calm and snowy day.

If seems as though winter never happened. I feel like I got here last summer and right now this summer is just a continuation of that season with a short dark dream in between.  The colors of the night sky are gone.  The oranges and pinks of the endless sunrise are gone.  I'm just left with the white of the snow and the blue of the sky.

Replacing a track on the Hagglund on the sea ice.

The "human colors" of Antarctica.

Penguins don't seem like very smart animals and I wonder if part of the reason for that is because they don't have much colorful stimulation in their lives.  If there isn't much brain stimulation why would there be a reason for the brain to develop further?  I think that is what happens to the people that work down here in the winter.  I certainly feel dumber after the winter.  There isn't much color stimulation besides the color black.  McMurdo is full of color though--the only other colors on this continent are machines and buildings.  

Antarctica without "human colors"

Raised Penguin Tracks

The color green is what I miss the most though.  Only three more weeks until I get to experience that.  I will truly miss this place and have a huge case of FOMO (Fear Of Missing Out) on the rest of the season down here. But when the time comes I'll will have been here for 14 months and it will be time to leave before I'm as dumb as a penguin.

The Last Takeoff

Scott's Hut at Cape Evans with the frozen starfish.

Two days ago I watched the C-17 take off from McMurdo's sea ice runway.  It was the first, last and only time that I’ll see it leave Antarctica this year.  The takeoff seems to happen in slow motion.  The plane starts to creep forward as a huge cloud of blowing snow builds behind it.  The giant machine doesn’t seem to gain much speed as it leaves the ground using only a short section of the runway.  Even in the air it doesn't appear to be moving very fast.  It seems to be suspended on an invisible string while banking a turn and heads north toward New Zealand.  While gaining altitude it doesn't take much time for the plane to disappear into the light blue Antarctic sky.

I’ve waited over a year to fly on the C-17 and the next time it takes off from Antarctica I will be on it. 

Part of the wall inside the Cape Evans Hut is made from old provisions boxes.

Iceberg frozen into the sea ice in McMurdo Sound.

The whole plan of staying in Antarctica until November 22 recently got thrown out the window.  Thanks to certain people in congress most of the US Antarctic Program is shutting down.  The stations go into “caretaker” mode and are only allowed functions that support life and property.  This means that hundreds of us loose our jobs and are being sent home.  But more importantly it means that almost all the scientific projects that are worked on down here are cancelled for the year.  Many of these research projects have been going on for 40+ years and a full season of missing data is catastrophic.  Some of the projects are only funded for a year or two so missing a year of data completely ruins that project.  But I won't rant anymore because I am only doing one of two things there: preaching to the choir of people who didn’t elect the few that are holding up congress moving forward or I’m speaking to those few complete idiots who did elect them they could not care less about science and the people they are supposed to be representing anyway.

If the current bad weather clears by I will land in Christchurch tomorrow night.  I can't wait to smell new smells and eat real food.  I am, however, terrified at the thought of going into a grocery store or ordering food at a restaurant.  I remember those things being tough during my R&R back in February after only four months down here.  Now I have an extra 8 1/2 months to recover from.

A Long Year In Antarctica

My first views of Antarctica from the window of the contracted Australian Antarctic Program's Airbus A-319.

A year ago today I arrived in Antarctica and it has been a pretty crazy year.  I’ve learned a lot about myself and a lot about Antarctica.  I’ve been introduced to dynamic people and weather and ice like I never could have guessed existed.  When I arrived here I was excited to be living in one place for four and a half months since that is the longest I’ve spent in one place in years.  I never thought that a year after my initial arrive I’d still be here and have almost two months left.  I’m really excited for travel in New Zealand, Fiji, the US, South Africa and Turkey over the next six months, but I’ve also realized that I need a home to come back to.  Missoula will always be home, but I look forward to the day when I live there (or somewhere else in the mountains of the West) and I don’t get asked how many days or weeks I’m in town for.  I don’t want travel and adventure to end:  I’ll still guide mountains and come back to Antarctica, but I want a more concrete answer when I’m asked where I live. 

October 2012: Just a couple of weeks after I arrived in Antarctica I was doing some monitoring work on the sea ice and saw a few black dots in the distance.  This group of curious Emperor Penguins  slid and waddled up to us to investigate us.  It was definitely one of the coolest experiences of my life.

November 2012: Many of my field days during my first few months were spent on the sea ice of McMurdo Sound monitoring cracks and ice thickness.  The Barne Glacier is an iconic feature north of Cape Evans that I never get tired of seeing.

December 2012: The Dry Valleys Region of Antarctica is filled with bare rock and dry glaciers.  This area is known for its strong winds that flow off the polar plateau and wear away at the boulders and ridges leaving valleys full of strange rock formations.  I was fortunate enough to spend three days in the Taylor Valley on a search and rescue training trip.

January 2013:  I spent most of January at the South Pole and high on the polar plateau at one of the most remote sites on earth.  While it was a neat experience to be at the bottom of the world and at such a remote place I hope to never have to go back.

February 2013: Half of February was spent in a daze working nights while the shipping vessel was unloaded.  The sea ice had melted and McMurdo Sound was busy with a Russian icebreaker, fuel tanker, cruise ships, research vessels and finally the Ocean Giant shipping vessel with a year's worth of supplies for that station.

March 2013:  After (what we thought then was) the last flight of the summer on March 9th life slowed down quite a bit.  We all settled into our winter routine while there was still sunlight.  The month was full of amazing sunsets over the still open water and periodic ice flows.

April 2013: It is funny to look back and remember how excited we were for the sun to finally set for the winter.  I remember staying inside the Arrival Heights building soaking up the last few rays of sunlight through the window.  Four months later we did the exact same thing through the same window with the first rays of sunlight.  Each time left my eyes burning.

May 2013:  In May the dark started to encapsulate us for most of the day.  The moon and a glow on the horizon was the only glimmer in the fading light.  While the sun had been down for weeks the reality of the darkness hadn't fully set in yet.

June 2013: Although I saw my first auroras in late April the darkness of June allowed us to see them at all hours of the day.  This photo was from a late night above McMurdo viewing one of the best displays of the year.  The time lapse video from this night is on my Facebook Photography Page.

July 2013:  In the middle of winter I felt like the darkness would never end.  Now it seems so fleeting and I wish there were a few other night photos I could have taken, but in July the glow on the horizon told of the sun on its way and that was almost all I wanted at that point.

August 2013: August brought lots of change.  The sun arrived, the moon and venus and nacreous clouds put on an amazing one-night-only display and many new people arrived on station.  It was both scary and a welcome awakening.

September 2013: "Wake me up when September ends."  That has been my theme this past month.  All the 54+ hour work weeks from the last year have been catching up to me and I'm exhausted.  But the sun is up and gives everyone the needed boost.  The end is also in sight...the end of my winter job and a welcome change back to my summer job for a fantastic finish to my long season in Antarctica.

I don’t know what I’m going to feel like when I leave here.  I don’t know if I’ll remember how to shop for groceries or cook or even how to digest a real vegetable for that matter!  It’ll come back just like riding a bike I suppose.  The first few days after I arrive back in New Zealand in late November I just want to sleep and feel hydrated after living in the driest desert and eat real food and see and here animals and sounds besides just diesel engines and smell and feel plants that only exist in my mind now.  A year ago one of my coworkers told me to take care of myself because it is a long  (4-5 month) season.  That was a year ago.