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May. 23rd, 2019 @ 04:40 pm Welcome

Welcome to my journal! Please feel free to post comments or add me to your friends list!

I have pretty much stopped adding people to my Friends List since I got down to Antarctica. I simply don't have the time to keep up with existing people on my FL. But that doesn't mean you can't add me. Please go right ahead!

I will be working at McMurdo Station, on Ross Island in Antarctica from 9/08-10/09*.

*I have since decided to spend the "winter" season down here.


Click for McMurdo, Antarctica Forecast





How to send me mail in Antarctica
How I got this job


web tracker
About this Entry
ant
Jul. 9th, 2009 @ 09:49 pm a request...
While I have always found travel guidebooks to be an essential part of trip planning I have always disliked the limited shelf life of them. Once you go on the trip the book is often useless and sits on your shelf, collecting dust, never to be revisited, lest you wish to plan the trip you didn't take. With this in mind I am wondering if anyone out there in LJ land would be willing to donate to me a used, current, Lonely Planet guidebook for either Australia or New Zealand. These are the two countries I will definitely be visiting when I get out of here in October.

If someone would be so kind they would have to be in the mail within the next week or two to ensure that they arrive down here on one of the August flights. I can provide shipping information but since we use APO addresses the cost would be the same as mailing something in the US.
About this Entry
ant
Jul. 7th, 2009 @ 06:59 pm winter pranks
It all began so innocently. A few weeks ago, on a spur of the moment, I decided to throw together a fake "QA" for one of my summer co-workers. I slipped it under his door and, unbeknownst to me at the time, started what can now officially be called a prank war. For the past few weeks we have been trading pranks, going back and forth between each other's door trying to outdo the other. The pranks have grown in complexity and maliciousness. I am starting to think that this will end very poorly, with one of us losing our bonus! lol... we shall see but for now it's quite fun. I have spent hours planning pranks, sketching out ideas, trying out models. It's become a bit consuming. But it's winter in Antarctica, what else is there to do?


I'll start with the beginnings and end up at the present day, with the one I setup this afternoon.

pranks, in photos )
About this Entry
ant
Jul. 6th, 2009 @ 06:22 am The 4th of July, McMurdo style
If Mid-Winters Day is the biggest celebration on the continent, 4th of July is, by far, the biggest celebration at McMurdo Station. Which kinda makes sense. I don't expect, however friendly we might be, the kiwis over at Scott Base to be donning the old Red, White and Blue and running around with a wild glee in their eye wishing they had some M-80s. It just wouldn't happen. For obvious reasons.

But I dwell in irrelevancies.

This past Friday, July 3rd, we celebrated the 4th of July at McMurdo station. Even though I didn't stand at the edge of the east river watching Macy's do battle in the sky or observe some b-level celebrity host the lastest crop of idol's singing patriotic ditties it was pretty memorable, if not my most memorable 4th (3rd) yet.

It was held up at the heavy shop and hosted by the mechanics. This is my work center and for the past couple of days I watched the event come together. I watched 11 or so guys spend 2 days deep cleaning the shop, turning a floor blackened by grease, oil and Antarctica dust back to the whitish color that the first mechanics down here once worked upon. In the hours that preceded the event I witnessed tables and chairs brought up out of storage, an ad hoc stage get assembled and slowly but surely the framework of what would become the booths come together. For it was the booths that made the event.

Tradition, and what would winter at McM be if not steeped in tradition, holds that this event has a carnival flair to it, a smattering of games of chance to remind us all of the fairs going on at homes, the carnival barkers, the bunting and the warm glow of fireworks against a blackening sky. These are all run by volunteers in the community. There are no "required" booths (but there are many old favorites) and anyone who wants to set one up is limited only by their imagination and the supplies that are lying around on station.


Photobucket

Some, come with me below the cut and see a little bit of what went on... )
About this Entry
ant
Jul. 2nd, 2009 @ 07:30 pm the current sit.
McMurdo, during the winter, runs on two generators plus one backup generator (there are other generators, designed to power select individual buildings). The main generators each produce around 1,400 KW/hr which on most days is more than enough power for all of our needs. There have been a few days so far this winter where, during the night, we have been able to operate only on one generator.

Sunday night one of the main generators broke. The exact reason is still unclear but the room that houses them filled with steam and glycol spilled all over the floor. I've been pulling parts for the mechanics ever since. It was a mess but more importantly it meant that we were almost crippled.

That generator will remain down, under repair, for about 3 weeks or so. This means that we are now only operating with one main generator and the backup generator (which, hey, performs horribly during storms). This has the potential to be very very bad. While I hate to get all doom and gloom the reality is that if the other main generator breaks we will suddenly be in a very precarious situation. The season may end sooner than planned.

If anything this has reminded me how fragile our relationship with this continent is. Most days thing go smoothly, power is consumed without a thought or care of where it is coming from. It's just assumed to be there. We all bring our 21st century, first world citizens, assumptions to this place. Most of them are met.

Yesterday we had an all hands meeting to go over how we can cut power consumption during our time of need. We instituted a community paging alert system for critical power emergencies and got instructions on what can and can not be powered off. Just to highlight the meeting this afternoon one of the generators went down and most of the town was on backups. Some buildings had about 2 hrs worth of darkness and/or limited power consumption. Yet another moment where an AHM suddenly becomes relevant (last winter, hours after an AHM on fire safety a building burned down).





----

In other news the weather has been amazing this past week. 20 degrees at times with no wind. The sky has been working overtime, producing colors and sights I could only dream of. Right around lunch time the sun has been turning a small section of the horizon purple and this light spills over the ridge line that borders town. Beautiful. On Monday there was a massive green aurora that crossed the sky.

It appeared during the middle of my work day. I was out driving my forklift and happened to look up to see a green splotch. I stopped my vehicle, turned out my lights to watch for a bit. I felt so lucky to be living and working in a place where I get to see auroras during the course of my day! Beautiful. Beautiful.

And now it's time for BINGO.
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ant
Jul. 1st, 2009 @ 09:09 pm WU-Day
After months of waiting, months of anticipation and, at times, months of agony, yesterday finally saw the start of one of the greatest projects ever to hit McMurdo Station. I am not talking about science. I am not talking about new buildings or stunning discoveries. No, I speak of much more important going ons. Yesterday saw the installation of the first* waterless urinal in a major building at McMurdo. This is the start of an endeavor that will end up replacing almost, if not all, of the current urinals on station. This time next year we will be pissing freely without a care about flushing. Brilliant.

Of course I photo documented the historic event.

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*technically there has been a waterless urinal on station for a few years but it is up at the carpenter shop which is so far out of "town" it's practically useless. Unless you are a carpenter, then I suppose they might enjoy it.

Read more... )
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ant
Jun. 24th, 2009 @ 08:47 pm Mid-winter greetings
Aside from the feasting one of my favorite traditions from MW are the greetings that are sent around the continent. Each station that is occupied during the winter sent along some form of greeting, be it a letter, a photo of the crew or both. It's a nice little reminder that there are some other folks out there wandering around on this block of ice. Even though I will never visit any of the other non-US stations and will most likely never meet any of the people in these photos I enjoy looking at them.

As the winter progresses there will be more opportunities for international unity. In a few weeks there will be an "international, round the continent air guitar event". Later this year will be the annual "48-Hour Film Festival" in which people at all the stations are invited to spend up to 48 hours creating a short film using select ingredients. The continent then votes for the favorite.

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some of my favorite from other countries and a greeting from Pres. Obama )
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ant
Jun. 24th, 2009 @ 08:19 pm Mid-Winter Dinner
As far as winter holidays go our biggest (and pretty much only) one is "Mid Winter's Day". The solstice. The day that the sun starts to return to us, minute by minute. Sure it will still be months before he actually appears but it's nice to know he is thinking of us, pointing his face in our direction even if the glimmer exists only in our mind.

For as long as people have been wintering down here people have been celebrating this day.

We celebrated this blessed event this past weekend. We celebrated with delicious food, elaborate decorations and more bottles of wine than people on station. There was dancing, there was laughter, there was a sense of coming together that we don't have every day down here.

There was fun.

Some photos of the event:



Photobucket



Read more... )
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ant
Jun. 17th, 2009 @ 08:39 pm on after ice travels
On Monday I hit the 4 month point. Exactly 4 months from that date I will be boarding a plane, saying goodbye to this place and heading back to the real world. It would have been 13 months since I last saw something green, something with four legs or felt rain on my shoulder.

That time is going to go fast. In 2 months a few hundred people arrive on station to start prepping for the main season. Once that hits, the weeks are going to roll.

I am starting to think, with a newfound sense of urgency, about travel plans for when I leave the ice. Tentatively I am allowing myself about 2 months on the road so I can be back "home" for xmas and new years. I am finding it quite hard to plan this trip because there are so many variables still in the air: how much do I want to spend, where do I want to go, do I want to travel alone and, the one that is becoming more and more important each day, will I have the energy?

Last year, a few weeks after I arrived, I sat down and talked with a friend who had summered and wintered. When asked about his travel plans he was vague but was leaning towards just flying home immediately. I remember this conversation distinctly. I couldn't understand it, it made no sense. How, given such a wonderful opportuntity to travel, could he think about giving it all up? What I didn't know then is that I was looking at it from FNG perspective, from the perspective of someone who had just arrived.

I am tired. I won't lie about that. I don't know if it's the lack of sun, the potentially poor diet or just the inertia that comes from being down here for so long. It's probably a mixture of all three but the reason is trivia for I know right now my energy level is slowly depleting. I think back to my South American travels last year, of the hassles and excitement, of the packing and repacking, the buses and planes, the arriving and departing and I wonder how in the world I did that. What was I thinking? What was I on?

The energy that that required is something I just don't have in me right now. But.. I am confident that that will come back. Once I hit the sun and roll around in the grass and dirt I will find myself restored, my curiosity of the world renewed.

Looking beyond the energy level I am wondering if there is something more that is nagging me. I have noticed, the longer that I have been down here, that this place tends to foster a certain timidity towards the real world. For the past 9 months I haven't had to worry about anything. All of the basics have been taken care of. My life has been narrowly defined, choices whittled away by the whims of Raytheon and the NSF. If I have been hungry I have gone down to the galley. If I have been sleepy I have returned to my room and laid down. This has all been provided, no money has passed hands. I haven't really had to pay for anything since I have arrived. That is an interesting habit to form.

Looking beyond the physical realities there are the emotional ones. I haven't felt scared or unease, I haven't hustled past a darkened alley hoping not to attract the attention of any unsavory folks. There is no fear, no concern, of any crime down here -- especially not during the winter. It's funny but Antarctica will likely be the safest place I will have ever lived.

This is all great but it spoils you for the world because we don't get to stay here forever. Eventually we do have to leave and we have to pay for things. We have to be a bit guarded in our presence, we have to be aware of our surroundings. I do wonder how difficult, if at all, this transition will be for me.

I don't have doubts that I will do some traveling afterwards. That is a given.

I am now throwing around destinations. Unfortunately the places I am looking at are all pretty expensive for 2 months. There will be at least 2-3 weeks in New Zealand and then some time in Australia. I have considered buying/renting a car and going on some massive Oz road trip, camping along the way. I have considered taking the train across the country. The one definite is a week in Cairns diving the Great Barrier Reef. But after that... I don't know. I keep coming back to visiting Papua New Guinea a country that is both expensive and potentially very unsafe (at least in the capital). Any thoughts? Any suggestions?
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ant
Jun. 15th, 2009 @ 06:27 am Winter pranks
During the winter, janitorial services are limited to bathrooms and the main hallway on the first floor of building 155 -- my building. However this doesn't mean that the other places in the dorms -- stairwells, carpets and trash collection points -- are suddennly clean on their own account. Each week a few residents of each dorm are assigned this tasking. We call it "house mouse" but, illustrious title aside, it basically amounts to 15-30 minutes a day of cleaning.

This past week one of the people assigned to cleaning my dorm was a guy who during the past season was a janitor on my team. One of my responsibilites then was to perform regular spot checks on the spaces that he cleaned. We called it "QAing", quality assurance, basically it was a pretty elaborate form that highlighted all the key components of being a clean janitor. The whole process was universally despised by the whole department.

Last Tuesday, after 3 days of the guy house mousing I decided to fill out a QA form for the work he had been performing. It was all very tongue in cheek. I gave him a terrible score, with lots of helpful comments and then slipped the form under his door.

When I saw him the next morning he just looked at me and said "Oh, I will get you back for this.." But then nothing happened and I forgot about it.

Until Sunday morning rolled around...

10:05am I rolled out of bed, with sleep still caught in my eyes, threw on some clothing and opened my door to head off for my morning pee. Except I didn't get very far for once I opened the door I found myself staring into a wall of grey, a wall of duct tape with a window carved out towards the top.


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For a few seconds I was confused, incredulous. I felt like an ape in 2001 but then my morningness began to wear off and I started laughing, first to myself then out loud. When I went to remove the wall of DT I discovered that it was firmly attached to the door frame and required a little force to free it. This force, while removing the DT, also knocked off all the empty soda cans that had been attached to outside of the DT wall. They fell with a clatter that echoed throughout the hall, a hallway still quiet with the sounds of Sunday morning.

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ant
Jun. 5th, 2009 @ 10:38 pm The proof is in the poodding
I felt it before I smelt it.

When I took that first step off the ladder, trusting that the heavy duty boots I was wearing didn't have a leak, the floating, congealed particles parted for my feet. There was a brief moment of resistance when my feet cracked the surface crust before being entirely submerged in water. But the particles, the clumps, the grime that proved lighter than water soon rallied and sought a return to the space I had displaced, tried to press against my feet as if they were a new stationary object, some new impediement in their life, which, let's be fair, as a piece of digested shit probably isn't all that great.

It smelled like a fish market that has been closed for the night. Even though the fish have been removed a smell still lingers, a smell that is basically part of the furniture, a smell that will never fully be removed. That was the smell that invaded my nose. Not overtly unpleasant but not exactly something I would want to bottle. This surprised me -- I had expected more of a fecal aroma to the air, an outhouse baking in a noonday sun.

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This past week I was lucky enough to be a member of the crew that is cleaning out the holding tanks down at the Waste Water Treatment Plant (earlier this season I had a chance to tour the "poo plant"). This is an annual event that takes place during the winter because with the decreased population we can easily take "down" some of the tanks. Going into the event I was under the impression that our goal was to literally shovel all the crap out of it but soon discovered that the task was much less, but more important. Each section of the tanks have diffusers, jets that shoot air into the tanks and keep the processes moving along. During the course of the season all manner of grime, feces, hair and condoms get caught up in these, decreasing the productivity of the plant and turning out an inferior product. Our job was to liberate the diffusers of this mess.

This was a manual labor affair. There were two-three people down in the tank with shovels working on collecting the crap. Once a big shovelful was found and the water was drained off we placed it in a bucket. Eventually someone up top would haul the bucket up the 10 or so feet to the catwalk. The bucket would be added to a large can and eventually it was dropped down a shoot (a "poop shoot"..nyuck nyuck) into a waiting dumpster.

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(you really need sound...)

My mentality for doing things down here is that I will do just about anything that I won't have an opportunity to do back in the real world. It's why I relish driving a forklift and eagerly sought out the opportunity to play around in shit all morning. People don't seem to understand this, how I am all about the unique experience, regardless of what it might be. It's a good way to approach life.

The tanks are built on a sleight angle so one end will have more water than the other end. I entered the tank on the water end and was a bit disappointed. I had counted on pulling out big, manly, shovelfuls of fecal matter but instead ended up chasing around clumps that bobbed on the surface, my shovel proving to be a bad skimmer.

As I progressed further into the tanks the muck on the surface became thicker and thicker to the point where it appeared to be a solid mass, a sheet of shit spanning the width of the tank and snuggly covering the water below. And god help me I started to think of Bill Cosby. I looked at that brown surface "skin" and suddenly found myself trudging through the worlds largest vat of chocolate Jello Pudding. I kept thinking back to a commerical I saw as a kid, with Bill Cosby's smiling face, that big white grin he is so famous for, declaring to the world that the "proof is in the pudding".

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I will never look at pudding the same way.

While the whole experience was thrilling it was the last section of tank that I entered that will form the basis of my memories. For it was in the last section of tank, the section that the waste water enters first, I encountered an amazing collection of muck. This was the source of all the dreams I had leading up to this event. I sank more than 10 inches into it and had trouble walking. Each step stuck to the ground, the suction of the crap trying to trap me. It was like walking through a swamp.

It was here that I had my best encounter with the fecal matter. It was here that I also got a big splatter in my head when a few wayward chunks slid off the bucket that was being pulled out and landed on me. This proved quite a problem when it came time to go home and I couldn't put my hat or neck gaitor on. I had a very, very, cold walk, into the wind, back to my room.

In two days we cleaned two tanks. We have one more to go in two weeks.

I can't wait.

A bunch of photos, including the garden I discovered.. )
About this Entry
ant
May. 28th, 2009 @ 09:04 pm A day in my life...
I made a post for the "A Day In My Life.." community and thought I would share it here as well.

There are 53 photos total. )
About this Entry
ant
May. 25th, 2009 @ 10:10 pm Fire!
Of all the risks that we face down here there are none worse than fire. An unattended fire can rip through our buildings in a matter of minutes. One of the worst case scenarios down here is a dorm fire occuring during the night. Once started there is little that we can do. The fire department is small during the winter and the buildings are all very, very dry. At best a fire can be contained while it burns itself out. At worst it can spread to nearby buildings.

There was a fire this past Saturday at a building operated by neighboring Scott Base (the New Zealand station). Out on the sea ice, miles from any other building, sat a small, cozy shack known as the "A-Frame" that had been used during the summer months to train researchers and support staff on outdoor survival. During the winter, since there is no training going on, it is available for Kiwis and Americans to reserve for a night.

Saturday night personnel from SB were working on the heating unit out at the aframe that eventually led to a fire starting. Within seconds the wood building was engulfed in flames, a fire ball that was spotted miles away. There was nothing that could be done. The building was a total loss, both in material and to the community down here.

I am lucky enough to have spent a night there last September when I first got down here. It was one of my best nights here. Long time readers will remember my writing about it. In case you are new, here is the link: http://mananath.livejournal.com/454166.html

A bunch of NZ papers have picked up the story. Here is a link to the best, along with a photo of the fire: http://www.nzherald.co.nz/nz/news/article.cfm?c_id=1&objectid=10574378

I am hoping to get out to the site later this week to take some photos but we had a storm this afternoon out on the ice so everything is probably blown away by now.
---

There is a great story posted in the latest issue of the "Antarctic Sun" about the crazy storms we had down here during the month of april: http://antarcticsun.usap.gov/
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ant
May. 24th, 2009 @ 04:29 pm The Southern lights
I’ve been trying to make it a habit to head outside on the weekend to hunt for auroras. So far I have been marginally successful. I have seen a few, white streaks that float like ghosts across one of the darkest skies my eyes have ever glimpsed. The apparitions fade and engorge in a pattern that simulates a very slow motion. Truth be told it has always been hard to tell if they are actually moving because usually my eyelashes are covered in ice which makes my vision blurry. I always need to ask myself “was that motion, or am I just tearing up?” While I have been thankful for these glimmers, these splotches that I will never see back home, I have been a bit disappointed by their lack of grandiosity. My idea of an aurora is informed by images that I have collected over the years from magazines, from blogs, from text books. My idea of a proper aurora is someone else’s idea.

The conditions last night were perfect: the wind was at a minimum, the sky was free of clouds and the temps were cold (obviously) but no colder than normal. Before I went through the task of getting dressed to spend a few hours outside (it takes me around 10 minutes to assemble, prepare and don my gear) I double checked the NOAA aurora activity page to get a better idea of my chances this evening. NOAA brought good news. Everything was in place.

The biggest problem with spotting auroras in town is the light pollution. Though the station has been making a concerted effort this season to cut down on light production we can only go so far. There are a lot of buildings down here, a lot of roads and a lot of spaces which need light to maintain a safe environment for community members. If you want to see the sky you need to head out of town.

When I first left my room I walked towards the “gap”, a section of road that separates McMurdo from Scott Base, where I have seen auroras before. The road isn’t lit and because it sits towards the backside of Ob Hill most of the light from town is blocked. By the time I reached my vantage point the only light visible originated from my forehead. I always love the moment when I turn my head lamp off because by doing that it’s like I turn the sky on, like it’s a grand unveiling worthy of a marching band and a crowd of onlookers to gasp and cheer. Suddenly stars by the millions appear, satellites orbit, stars shoot and flare out and all the while the Milky Way cuts the sky in two, a division enforced by its celestial clouds.

Emerged in darkness I soon spotted a large aurora. It was hovering over the sea ice, on the backside of Ob Hill. It was formed as straight streaks, as if someone had dragged a squeegee across the sky but for all of its size it was rather faint. The color was a normal white, like the others I had seen before. Its motion, if any, was obscured by my own vision and while I appreciated having a chance to experience it a part of me was disappointed. This was not the image in my head. I stuck around a bit, impressed more by the stars than the aurora, before moving on.

I walked on, back into town, into the light, watching the stars disappear as I walked and the milky way be absorbed and finally taken over by the ambient light that competed for my attention. Passing through town I made my way towards hut point. HP is outside of town and free of lights but since there is nothing but ice between town and the point light creeps in. It’s never as dark as the gap and so has always been my second choice for spotting auroras. When I finally made it to the end I sat down besides the commerative cross and gazed out towards the sea ice, my eyes aiming ever upwards, searching and searching.

Immediately I spotted a large section of auroras that appeared to extend from the edge of town, across the ice, beyond the mountains and into the horizon. It was the largest aurora I had ever seen, larger than my eyes could absorb at once without scanning, moving, trying to take it all in. By now, having been out for more than an hour, my brown eyelashes were white with ice but I was still able to make out distinct movements. As my eyes would complete their scans I would find changes in the sky, thickness would suddenly exist where just moments before there were only thin wisps. But for all of it’s grandiosity it was still only white.

I turned my head lamp on and started the walk back into town.

About 5 minutes into my return trip I decided to stop, turn my head lamp off, and take another look at the sky. It was my best decision of the night. I soon noticed that the aurora that I had been admiring out at the point, the aurora that appeared to end where the town started, was much larger than I initially realized. It extended through town, behind the “golf ball” (a dome that covers one of our satellites) and into the opposite horizon. This aurora, though massive in size and spanning the horizons, was still only white, still a discard in my mind. But still I stared at the section near the golf ball, the newest section and rubbed my eyes as a subtle change began to take place.

Muttering out loud, asking the sky “Is it turning green?” my answer soon came as white changed to green and my eyes lit up. If there were any tears in my eyes they were from joy, sheer bliss, seeing something that I have longed for for years, seeing something that far surpassed the images in my head. With each darker shade of green my idea of a “proper” aurora turned more and more into focus until the image in my head gave up, a failure to it’s own static limitations. Finally it was all a new experience, a glorious experience that left me uttering obscenities and stilled my wandering feet. For this was it, it was finally what I had been looking for.

Getting over the green I was amazed by the structure of the aurora. It looked so solid, like it belonged there. Midway through its long streak across the sky it amassed thickness and curled around itself, the bends clearly visible, a cephalopod trapped in the sky. I had never seen anything like this. By the time I finally left it had already began to change and thin out. Each step brought me closer to the lights of town and the green became white, as if it was never there at all.

Even now, writing this more than 12 hours later, I am still mesmerized by what I saw. Even now when I gaze into the image in my head I am filled with awe because now the image is mine. It is informed solely by my own experience, rather than the static image from someone else. My new image of an aurora brings, along with the green and the mass, all the emotions I felt at the time. It brings into relief the tingling in my toes as the cold air finally invaded and began to leech away my body’s warmth. It brings to mind how I tried to walk but stumbled and tripped, missing an obvious impediment in the snow, because my eyes were still heaven bound. Most of all it recalls that first moment when I went from satisfied to amazed, when I was reminded once again that the world still has newness to it, when I knew I was finally experiencing something that I would never be able to adequately explain.

For that was my night, that is my memory.
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ant
May. 19th, 2009 @ 07:41 pm 2009 Winter Population, McMurdo
During the winter, since the population is small and static, we are able to take a group photo of the entire community. This has been going on for many years, many years that line the walls down here. This year I get to join the wall.

A few weeks ago we gathered, when there was still some light left in the sky, to stand for our 2009 winter photo. We gathered on one of the many snow mounds that appeared on station in April. We immortalized an event which will inevitably become the most remembered moment of this winter, the 82.4 inches of snow that fell in a matter of days.

There are 153 of us down here now. I think just about everyone was able to make it into the photo. I am in the top row, right about the guy wearing white.

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ant
May. 13th, 2009 @ 09:00 pm Wednesday, in food.
There are constants down here. The people change throughout the year, your job changes and the seasons change but through it all the one thing that doesn't change is that we all need to eat. The problem of keeping a population that ranges from 153 to 1200 well fed is immense and poses even greater challenges when you calculate our supply line. The cook for the day can't simply run out in the morning to pick up some fresh ingredients. Especially during the winter, fresh means frozen.

That being said I enjoy eating here. I have been dining in McM for about 9 months now and have probably sampled or seen just about every possible variation of ingredients possible. I have my favorites, I have my least favorites. I have my days when I look at the offering and immediately head home, hoping that I don't get too hungry.

Eating here is easy. It's all you can eat -- no one will tell you that you can't have seconds or thirds. You don't have to spend anytime preparing, shopping, or cooking the meal. All you really need to do is show up. And make sure you wash your hands. When you are done you simply scrape your plate, return your dishes and walk out. No need to clean up afterwards.

All meals start and end in the Galley, an area that includes the food section and the seating area.

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People tend to sit at the same tables, with the same people, everyday. There is no assigned seating but we tend to all observe these customs. I for one get a bit pissy when someone is sitting at one of my regular tables. Normally there are a bunch of 2 person tables that ring the lower level of tables. I sit in one of these for breakfast. I eat lunch in my room where I watch some TV and then nap. Dinner is had on the second level, towards the right in the picture, at the table right next to the stairs. I have been observing these customs since I got down here last September.


Wednesday tends to be my favorite day for food so I thought I would photograph the three meals of the day and walk you through how we eat at McMurdo. But first, grab a tray...

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Breakfast, Lunch and Dinner )
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ant
May. 10th, 2009 @ 09:14 pm me, at work.
Now that darkness is claiming much of the day it is limiting my ability to take any photos outside. I don't have the right equipment to get a good capture, which is a shame as there have been a lot of beautiful moments taking place in the night sky lately. What this ultimately means is that there probably won't be many outside shots posted for the next few months. It's unfortunate, because outside is what makes this place, outside is where the beauty really happens.

To make up for this I am planning, over the next few weeks, on posting photos from places indoors. Places that people might be curious about, places that are a bit interesting and places that in any other part of the world would be considered mundane.

To start it off I have a picture of me. Yes, I realize, I am not a place. But a few people have been wondering what I do all day and rather than get into that I thought I would first start with what I wear everyday. Glamorous stuff.

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a: a radio. I typically spend a few hours driving around town in a fork lift or loader. Often times I am traveling to warehouses and parts depots that are a bit removed from the main throroughfare of town. If something was to happen to me, if I was to drive off the road or flip over no one would find me for a good long time. The radio is a nice security blanket to have with me. Plus it's nice for eavesdropping on the rest of town! :)

b: a pager. Officially I have a pager because I am the bar manager for the winter and need to be reachable in case a bartender has a problem one night. This rarely happens. I basically use the pager as a clock since I hate to wear wrist watches.

c: Carhartt overalls. These were issued to me by the company when I began working in my new job. They are fantastic. I can't speak more highly about them. They are insulated, durable and feel amazingly comfortable. I typically wear just a pair of lightweight long underwear underneath them. Aside from comfort factors they have a bunch of pockets which makes them practical as well.

d: a box cutter. This is hard to see in the photo as it is actualy in one my side pockets. You can see the grey lanyard that I attached to it stick out. Using the lanyard is the only way to reach it when I am outside wearing my gloves and heavier clothing. Otherwise I would have to remove my gloves which isn't always practical.

e: steel tipped boots. I was given an allowance to purchase a pair of work boots with a steel toe but because I decided to stay so late in the summer season I had to have my new pair shipped down. The pair arrived on one of the last flights and were too small for my feet. Luckily I found this pair of boots in "skua" (our version of a free thrift store) and they have been serving me well all season. My only complaint is that the steel toe can get really cold if you are outside for a long time. The boots are waterproof and I have been impressed with my ability to fall knee deep into a snow drift and still have dry socks.

f: utensils. On my person I always carry: a pen, a pencil, a sharpie (blue), a paint pen (yellow) and a note book (commonly referred to down here as a "green brain"). Pens are great inside but useless if you are outdoors where they can freeze. I have recently started carrying around a small rectangular piece of plastic that can be used to scrape ice off my forklift windshield. For some strange reason there are no hand held ice scrapers down here.

g: flashlight. This is in my pocket so you'll have to trust that it is there. It's dark outside, our warehouses are poorly lit. This one is an essential no brainer.

h: keys. I have all sorts of keys, for work, for the bar, for my room (although I have never locked my room door) and for some recreational venues. They are attached to my "New Zealand" lanyard which my old boss gave me when I first arrived here last year.

i: The official McM beard. This is essential. Aside from not having to waste precious minutes on daily grooming the beard makes walking outside in the wind a bit more tolerable. It's an extra neck gaitor that I never have to worry about forgetting.

So, that's me at work.
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May. 7th, 2009 @ 06:48 am random
We received 82.4 inches of show during the month of April. On average McMurdo receives, over the course of the year, 77 inches of snow. April was one of the snowiest months on record down here.

The night sky has been fabulous lately. I saw auroras three nights in a row and if not for the near full moon I would probably still be seeing them. Each night I am impressed by the amount of stars that appear over head. It's amazing the difference walking 10 minutes out of town will do, the difference between total darkness and a lighted town is quite profound. The milky way streaks through the sky like a comet frozen in place. Venus and Jupiter are clearly visible starting in the "afternoon."

The kiwis had to cut through 9 feet of ice to create the hole that we plunged through.
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May. 5th, 2009 @ 07:08 pm alumni news
I've written in the past about the HS I attended while growing up. It was, and continues to be, a very competitive private school with an incredibly active alumni association. Every couple of months they send me a full color, glossy, newsletter telling me what is new with the school, how the sports programs are going or some other laudatory fact. At the end of the newsletter is the section for alumni notes, a chance for graduates to BS and stroke their ego in some veiled attempt to relive those long ago hs glory days.

I have always dreaded reading these things because they have a tendency to depress me, reminding me of all the things I am not doing with my life, all the accomplishments that are not mine, all those vague plans that I hatched as a youth that never seemed to come in to focus. The notes are rarely grounded, instead they speak of presidencies, of vaulting corporate ladders, of breaking out on to the national political stage or performing some superhuman physical endurance activity.

I have never submitted anything to the notes.

Until a few weeks ago, when the winter season started, when I realized that I am doing something pretty unique. I might not be a leader of men, a titan of industry or a prolific anything but I do have Antarctica. So I typed up a little blurb about what I am doing, careful to choose the right adjectives, to be intentionally vague about what I actually am doing.

My mom emailed me a few days ago to tell me that they got the latest newsletter and my blurb was in it. Both her and my dad were very excited to read it. I quickly pulled up the school website, loaded the current newsletter and skipped ahead to the notes.

Yep, sure enough, there I was. I had one of the biggest blurbs on the page. Antarctica. Me. 13 months. Take that alumni. Take that class of 97!

But then I noticed the picture at the bottom of the page. It was of an alumni from the 80s leading some student "expedition", affiliated with the college he works at, to Antarctica. My head hit the desk, then the floor. What the hell are the chances? My moment of glory taken, ruined, destroyed by a photo. Sure, sure, I know that he was on the more well travelled bit of the continent, stopping at the Georgia Islands and then visiting the peninsula (disney land of antarctica) but no one else will know that.

This all seems rather silly. I amuse myself baffling over it for even though I know I shouldn't care, about any of it really, that nothing can detract from my experiencs, from my life I do care. It's that allure of HS quarterbacking that I just can't get past. I think it stems from viewing HS as a starting point in life and so it makes the easiest way to compare oneself with others. We were all released into life at the sound of the same starting pistol.

I kept reading the newsletter after registering my disgust, my aghastness, my incredulous and came down to the death notices. Towards the bottom of the page, tucked between notices of ancient alumni passing on and grandparents who will never see their HS age grandkids graduate was a note that BG, a guy from my class, had died on Jan 2nd.

I know of BG but we were never great friends. I have this vague image of him in my head but even with it I can't be sure of the accuracy. It looks youthful, eager and I think there is a mop of hair that hangs a bit in the front of his forehead (I have always been fascinated by the idea that memories don't age, they are forever cast in the age they were forged). But those details, that really aren't details, are vague attachments of youth. They could fit anyone really, anyone that grew up with me, that attended school with me, that headed out from the same starting point. But has come to their ending point before I did.

I wouldn't say this has put anything in perspective, that this death of someone who's only association with me is that we were once classmates has had some life changing affect on me or my life plan. Because it hasn't. But it has been weighing on my mind a lot ever since I read it. It certainly makes my pettiness about having A all to myself seem a bit shallow, a bit silly. Here I am squabbling with myself, mumbling that my accomplishment has been sullied and then there is BG who will never be mentioned in the newsletter again, who won't be attending the 25 year reunion carrying on him that blessing of middle age, a giant pot belly, filled with the delicacies of success.

I guess sometimes still being alive is success enough. There is always that.

I don't like living in a world where people my age are starting to die. It's hard enough accepting the fact that my peers are marrying and having kids. But dying? C'mon.... Brave new world indeed.
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May. 3rd, 2009 @ 08:24 pm the plunge....
"If seals take over the hole, the plunge will be cancelled"
-Event planning memo for Polar Plunge


McMurdo is steeped in tradition -- things that have been going on since before I got here and will continue on long after I leave. Perhaps one of the greatest, and most iconic, is the Polar Plunge. The PP is traditionally held 4 times a year: 1x during the summer season and 3x during the winter season. I was unable to attend the summer plunge but tonight I attended the first winter one.

The plunges are always held at neighboring Scott Base, the New Zealand run station, as they are a bit closer to the ice than McMurdo is and there is a fear, held by the "company", of lawsuits should someone die, drown, have a heart attack, be bitten by a seal etc. Better push that risk onto another country -- it's the American way!

It's all pretty basic. The kiwi's cut a hole in the ice, setup some lights, a harness and a platform. They tie you in and then you jump, with or without a bathing suit.

With an air temp of around -10F and a water temp of 28F it was all very cold.

I feel I should offer more up about the actual jump but it all happened too fast. The walk down to the hole, with only a thin blanket wrapped around my naked body, wasn't so bad. There isn't a lot of wind tonight and even though I was out on the ice shelf the blanket was enough. Once i arrived at the hole one of the attendants attached a harness to my waist, in case I should become incapacitated once in the water. The other attendant reminded me to breathe.

And then I jumped.

For a second, the briefest of seconds, I didn't feel anything as my feet broke the surface and my torso followed. But then it all got cold. And dark. I remember plunging, my momentum carrying me under, and water being all around me. Someone had told me that if you look closely you can see fish swimming around but I didn't have time to look, for once my body was fully under all sense of control was lost as my brain went into survival mode: ESCAPE!

When my head emerged from the water my hair got tangled up in front of my eyes and started to instantly freeze. I half swam, half attempted to move my hair so I could see and quickly made my way to the ladder. Once clear of the water the blanket was around me and I qas quickly colder than I have ever been. My feet were the coldest. Since we have to wear sneakers to plunge they end up absorbing and holding water so I found myself standing in a small pool of water. It took almost an hour for my feet to be warm again.

Once the harness was removed from me I made a dash away from the hole and into the warmup/changing shack, a good 50ft away. Drying off in the shack I licked the salt off my lips and smiled at my friends. I had plunged.

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All work safe, but not penguin safe )
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Apr. 30th, 2009 @ 08:44 pm My grievances, they were many
The beginning of Jan was a tough time for me, by far my most depressing moments in A stem from this time. New Year's brought on a mild depression when I began to long for where I was last year, when I started to compare what was gained and what was lost. This is all normal, I suppose. But when I combined this with minor little issues that were going on in my little bubble called McMurdo at the time it created a really miserable few weeks for me.

In an attempt to snap out of it, to break the spell that had cast me so low, so blue, I decided one afternoon to scribble out a list of grievances. Looking at this list last night I couldn't help but smile and nod at them. Thankfully most of them have long since resolved themselves, though a few still remain wounds (with well formed scabs). I thought it would be interesting to post the list as I think it helps to explain a bit what it is like to live here.

On many days this place is great, the people are fantastic, the scenery is lovely and life is pretty easy. But with all of that comes the sacrifices, the biggest being that you can't really leave.

My list of grievances, Jan 2009:

1) Door Mat
One of my job responsibilities was to help clean and keep clean the main building, 155, in town. To this end I sought out door mats to be placed at all of the entrances in an attempt at keeping some of the volcanic dust outside, where it belonged. On New Years day the town hosted "Ice Stock" an 8 hour long music festival outside. During the stage setup someone thought it would be nice to take the floor mats, that I had laid out, to use on the stage. Permission was not asked. Of course the mats were never returned. This really, really bothered me, the fact that someone would just take it and not return the thing. I posted a few "Lost.." signs around town, griped about it in meetings all to no end. Finally I yielded, after a week, and ordered a new mat for the door.

2) people
the people here are wonderful, great, fascinating and interesting. Many of them I will continue to talk to as the years go by. I am thankful for knowing them, for our time spent together. But let's be honest, seeing the same people day in and day out gets old. There is no escaping them, it's the nature of this place.

3) Winter situation
In the early parts of Jan I had no idea if I would be spending the winter. The job I had initially applied for was given to someone else and I had nothing lined up. Everyone assured me that there would be as scramble at the end of the season to fill openings and I shouldn't worry abouot it but I still did. In my mind nothing is assured until the contracts are signed. Obviously this all worked out for the best but I hated the uncertainty of this time.

4) After ice plans
Once Jan rolled around most people around here started to seriously make travel plans for when they were leaving the ice. Every day involved a discussion with someone about where they were going, who they were going with and how they were doing it all. I, on the other hand, was left with a vague idea resembling nothing because of #3. With each day that went by I started to worry about being priced out of last minute plane tickets or places being overbooked etc.

5) lack of privacy
McMurdo is a fish bowl. During the summer everyone has roommates and everyone knows each others business. People know who you are hooking up with, who is breaking up, who is disgruntled, who has just fallen in love. People know everything without even really having to seek out rumors. It's a small town, stuff gets around. Towards the end of the season this was really starting to grate on me. The little tricks I had adopted to find some privacy began to fail me as I found myself becoming more and more irritated with people. This was no one's fault, it was just the way the place is setup.

6) starting to rely more on people instead of myself
I have always prided myself at being independent, solitary, a loner. I have always told myself that I don't need anyone else, that if I want something to happen I can go ahead and get it done. I also recognize that, in the long run, this leads to a very lonely life so it is something I have been trying to work on. Down here it's even more important because things don't happen individually. Just about anything exciting that goes on, trips off the island, parties, gatherings, opportunities all come as a result of someone else. It's just the way things work. And since the good things are limited you really have to rely on others to get access to them. For a solitary person this can be disasterous. You have to give up a little control and that was beginning to be a bit unsettling for me.

7) a girl
Won't get into this one, it's a family blog. ;) It's also all rather cliche.

8) apathy (later added: ** about everything)
I guess this was just the culmination of everything else that was going on. It was the natural reaction. Antarctica is not the place to start asking exisential questions as it is so easy to fall into the "none of this crap matters" attitude.

9) Black Island
I ended up going on this trip but at the start of the month it was all up in the air. While I was never promised this trip I knew the criteria that was being used for the selection and knew I would have an excellent shot at getting it. A week into the new year I was told that the criteria might be changing to suddenly include a lot of other people and this totally crushed me. This probably could have easily been taken care of but there were some communication problems in my department at the time so it just festered.

10) No one to talk to
This has been the story of my life. I make friends slowly and trust even slower. Down here, with the fishbowl being what it is, only makes it harder. Of course in hindsight I know this is false. There were tons of people for me to talk to if I wanted to.

My last entry on the list was simply: "Flee, flee, flee!!!"

Obviously I didn't flee. And I am glad for that.

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Apr. 25th, 2009 @ 06:36 am goodbye!
The weather report from yesterday:

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The weather report from today:

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Of interest is not the temps, the winds or the beloved pressure. No, my interest lies in the last two lines that note the comings and goings of the sun.

Yesterday the sun slipped below the horizon for the last time until August. What could have been a very solemn and tearful send off, with friends and colleagues gathering together at the point, champagne in hand, singing "There Goes The Sun", was thwarted by the angry beast that is Antarctica.

We have been under cloud cover, clouds bubbling over with snow and winds that have long ago given up any pretense of trying to coax the snow out, for about 2 weeks now. During that time we have received over 5 feet of snow, that's 60 inches for an area of the world that receives, on average, 73" of snow for the entire year. In the past week we have had travel restrictions and weather warnings for all but a few of the many hours.

I'll never know now if it's true that the sun winks, and nods, when it takes that last dip or if at that last moment, when it is all unstoppable and time moves so quickly, the sky turns dark crimson, one last mournful attempt at painting. This was all obscured to me, the last setting of the sun proven only by words in a weather forecast.
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Apr. 21st, 2009 @ 09:38 am bring on the wind!!
Yesterday Black Island, an island about 25 miles from McMurdo, an island I visited in Jan, reached wind speeds of around 223mph. The world record for highest wind speed is 232mph. So close.

The wind speed didn't get anywhere close to that here in town but it was still steady enough to wreak havoc for us residents. Power went out and forced us to go to backup generators for a few critical buildings. Internet and off continent phone service was gone for about 17 hrs. The line supplying power to the main water intake pump went down resulting in a day of no showers being allowed and "if it's yellow, let it mellow" becoming official station policy. Most buildings have 10 foot drifts in front of them.

Word on the street is another big storm is brewing for Thursday and Monday. Good times.
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Apr. 19th, 2009 @ 08:03 pm more wind!
So Antarctica, this is how it's going to be? You're going to make us work for this winter season aren't you? Today our second big storm rolled into town, a week after our last major storm. This one sounds like it is going to be even more intense than the last one. The one from last week brought high winds but they were gusts and not sustained much above 50knots. This storm is supposed to have high winds but instead of gusts they are supposed to be sustained.

We had our first weather related power outage today. Some power lines that feed into my building ripped down. This led to the lights going off and the heat turning off but the outlets all still worked so I lit my room by the bright glow of my TV. It's amazing how fast this building can get cold when the heat blowers stop working. It really brought home how fragile our little world can be down here. Eventually they had to kill the power to the entire town so repairs could be made. That is a job I don't envy -- having to go up in a hoist and connect power cables while 50mph wind rips through you, conspiring against your every plan. Some people really do have crappy jobs.

As I write this the lights have flashed. The town is about to go into our most intense weather warning -- condition 1, lock down. This could get interesting.
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Apr. 13th, 2009 @ 07:45 pm the aftermath
A few hours ago the station-wide weather lockdown was lifted and I had a chance, with a buddy, to get out of my dorm for the first time in about 48 hours. I was starting to go stir crazy.

The winds have died considerably and it isn't all that cold right now. We wandered around town a bit to see some of the damage from this storm. The biggest victim that I am aware of right now is Hut 10, basically a small hut used for entertaining distinguished visitors during the main season and the host of many parties during the off season. It's a nice place, with a wonderful view of the bay. There were also some nice lounge chairs on the back deck for sunbathing.

The lounge chairs are now gone, blown away to be discovered during the thaw later this year. Before they did launch out though they took out a wind facing window. A rock took out a large side window.

This was the first place we wandered down to and we were amazed at the damage. There are 1 ft drifts of snow throughout the living room, with most of it being uniformly covered in at least 3 inches of snow. It's like we re-upholstered the furniture with white snow shag. I am regretting the hours I spent shampooing the carpet a few months ago!

The rest of the town is covered in massive snow drifts. We will be doing a lot of shoveling tomorrow. Entry ways to buildings are buried under a mountain of snow. There is at least a foot of snow on portions of the roads. Trash cans have been blown and scattered. All that remains of the glass container is the heavy wooden lid. The actual receptacle is gone, leaving just an empty bottle of Crown Royal.


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Apr. 13th, 2009 @ 11:39 am Snow--err--WIND day!
From a few weeks ago, looking out of my dorm:

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From this morning, looking out from the same spot as above:



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The weather has been so bad today that work was cancelled for those lucky enough not to have walked to their work centers. For those that did, they can't leave that building until the storm lessens, which could be hours from now. It's quite remarkable -- 36 hrs of continuous 50mph+ winds! Luckily I lingered in my dorm this morning and, along with most of my department, got "stuck" here. So I watched live coverage of the final day of the masters tourney.
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