Correction

Sorry, I stated the weight of the freshies incorrectly. There were 6,600 pounds brought in on the MedEvac. Pretty impressive I would say.

We've all started to see light on the horizon, real light, just barely breathing beyond the mountains. We are all staring dumbly at it, mesmerized, paralyzed and horrified. Why? Well when the sun comes back we have to leave, re-enter the real world. Some of us are not ready for that . . . . . most of us aren't. Six weeks and counting. . . .

Summary of Events - It’s been a while

Apologies to all for the delay of writing. As you can probably guess I’ve been slipping, taking the winter way out and being lazy. Lots has happened since I wrote last, and I’ve decided to include it all in one post, rather than several. So if you don’t mind reading I’ll begin with the farthest away and come closer.

The Lunar eclipse was beautiful from down here. With clear skies and no wind, the Earth’s Shadow fell across the moon in a rapid succession of darkness that captivated us all. Most watched from the warmth of our windows, lounges and rooms, the winds howling outside keeping the clouds away, but also so strong it nearly blew me off the stairs when I went outside to check the weather. Now you all know I coveted the window in my room before winter unfolded . . . well now I’ve covered it up to keep the warmth in and haven’t braved pulling the blanket down. My room, after much effort by the UTs has gotten rather toasty and I don’t want that warmth being sucked out by 1950’s glass panes. So I had to go down stairs and outside to check the conditions.

The howling wind had been ample warning of what awaited me beyond the sealed, cumbersome door, as well as the icy handle, but I wanted to really see for myself. Not the brightest decision, but it was fun nearly flying for a few seconds. The bitter chill worked its way into my pajama pants and I quickly scuttled back inside, deciding to find another way to view this unusual occurrence. The eclipse occurred around 7:20am down here, on a Friday which was my day off and explains my casual attire. After waking a friend, we settled into the darkness of the lounge and watched as the moon quickly became an orb of redish darkness. I was surprised it vanished so rapidly and tried to recall the last time I remember seeing an eclipse. I always seem to be in the wrong place, or asleep for most of them. Not this one. I won’t forget this one, having the time to really sit back and enjoy it, in the darkness and peace of a Antarctica. It was a humbling, awe inspiring moment that I feel blessed to have witnessed.

June 18th was Mid-Winter Dinner here - think Christmas in June - with the whole galley transformed into a wonderland of lights and atmosphere. With ice sculptures, appetizers and gourmet food, the meal was a celebration of making it halfway through winter and now the easy slid begins. There was a bowl of salad the size of my upper body that was the main attraction. Everyone waiting in line, eyes wide with vegetable starvation and possible salvation. I’m not sure if people were more pleased by the greens or the desserts. A Discover Hut replica made out of gingerbread was the centerpiece at the dessert table and with everyone dressed up to commemorate the day, it felt like a well earned celebration.

The Galley crew, troopers that we are, worked the event, providing all the delectables, but the good cheer was toasted with champagne and everyone, while exhausted, was still jubilant by the evenings end. It was fun, and everyone pulled off a beautiful event together.

Shortly after Mid-winter, a landmark in time that we all use a reference down here, a wave of GI (gastro intestinal) spread through the station and instructions of washing hands and not spreading germs was reiterated at the All Hands meeting. Rumors had spread that at least 10 people had come down with the symptoms, (out of a 151 people that is pretty high ) and in such a concentrated environment, viruses do not have to far spread. Blame was thrown around from one thing to the next, until the always guilty egg was pegged. Something about the contamination of the shell. With a shady past and popular following, it was not given a proper trial but pulled from the morning breakfast line, and usage banned until further investigation. The community murmured amongst itself, nodding and agreeing that yes, yes they had to be the reason because the alternative was more frightening . . . . not knowing why.

For days I say eggs floating in water, imprisoned in cups, labeled, branded, while fingers pointed and the fear subsided with misguided belief that the culprit had been apprehended. Only the facts were reversed, most of the galley crew eats eggs in the morning and none of us had fallen ill of the GI wave. How could they be guilty while we continued in good health every day? I knew they were innocent, most of the kitchen crew did to, but we had to wait until the test period was over before we could voice the truth. While the trail ensued I had believed that the GI was really just bad eating and people overdosing on alcohol, but then I heard that someone was in critical at Medical. How the sudden absence of the doctor, the sudden somberness of the galley, or the whispered voices of worry escaped my notice, I don’t know. I was told that the individual was not doing well and had been ill for a while, and then gotten better, only to get worse again. Details were shady, medical privacies protected, but the situation became public knowledge to those few still left ignorant when they started clearing the runway.

Over the winter Pegasus Runway is closed down. No one goes out there except to check and see if it is still there or to unbury the buildings. When on a Sunday, the community’s day off, I began to see people dressed for work, wrapping up food and leaving in a rush I turned up my hearing and suddenly the whispers got louder. Med-Evac was the word on everyone’s lips. Was it possible? Were things that bad? Could it happen this deep into the winter? Within days emails were being circulated among the community informing them of the possibility, but there were channels that need to be followed, permission gathered, and was the patient that bad?

It seemed like a few days and the Med-Evac was confirmed - the plane was coming. In static electricity the community began to buzz, loaders were moving, transportation coordinated and the runway needed to be cleared. In 13 years, this was only the second time they’d done a Med-Evac in the middle of winter. The situation is difficult at best during the summer, but in winter, in the darkness, the pilots fly with night vision, the temperature can drop dramatically and the wind can pick up in a instant. The C-17 based in Hawaii took off, and we got hourly updates of it’s flight. It was the most exciting thing to happen and everyone was involved and tuned in for it. To make the situation more intense, the C-17 would have to fly low due to the ash cloud over New Zealand that had grounded all other flights. (The eruption of the volcano in Chile having widespread effects.) There was last minute hesitation when it touched down in Christchurch, the last point of no return. The flight crew had to be given the go ahead seven hours before take off, so the Antarctic weather crew was out before the coffee was hot, checking barometric pressure, wind speed, temperature.

Given the go ahead the C-17 took off and we counted off the hours with glances at the clock, till their approach, knowing the rough time of arrival. Almost to the minute, red wing lights appeared in the inky distance as the shape of a military bird became a shadow. As it drifted down from the sky roaring to life, it brought with it hints of the world we had forgotten existed. On board was 3,000 pounds of freshies and most importantly - mail! With engines silenced, the patient was loaded into the safety of the military medical team on board and under an hour they were headed back to reality and the dimly light horizon. (These are not my photos but people were kind enough to allow use of them)

Have you ever noticed how much color God has put into nature? I never really did until I saw apples, orange, grapefruits, bananas and kiwis side by side on the counter. Such beautiful, colorful things they are, and now I can see the joy of getting an orange in your Christmas stocking. When you haven’t had one in months, simply holding it is happiness. Like survivors stranded on an iceberg, we stared in awe at the bounty before us, fearing for a moment it would vanish, melt away, yet wanting to enjoy the possibility of taste bud salvation. Then someone stepped forward, grabbed an apple, then an orange and two bananas. Grunting, he looked back at us and then vanished into the hallway jungle. All it took was one, then we all dove in and gorged ourselves until we were sick. The fiber ripping through our intestines with a vengeance, left us moaning in both obesity and ecstasy.

It has been nearly a week and a half and all that is left are browning bananas in a bowl that no one wants to eat, but can’t make themselves throw away. Salad has been at every dinner and we are all having our own little celebration of freshness. The 4th of July carnival turned into a fundraiser for the Med-Evac individual where all the booths, games and food were free, and everyone had a good time. I even won a DVD at one of the booths. With good cheer, and news that the patient was doing much better in New Zealand, everyone took a moment to revel in the knowledge of a job well done. Later news revealed that it wasn’t GI at all, but an appendicitis that was causing the health issues. Thank the God Lord they got out when they did. Our population has now dropped by two so we are down to 148 (it was a married couple that left).

Not too long ago I got to cross another thing off my “want to experience” list. I got a front row seat to the Aurora Australias. I signed up for a star gazing trip out to Castle Rock where the night sky lit up like a science fiction movie. In the darkness of the evening, a group of us took a Delta on Tracks out to the Rock and after climbing to the saddle, laid out and stared up at the wonders of space. I saw the Milky Way, cloud nebulas of stars, even a few fallings stars in the sparkling night sky. In town the lights are too bright that they wash out all but the brightest stars. Only when you leave and the darkness wraps around you, do the shyer ones appear and the hidden beauty of the cosmos is revealed. Even though the sky was a wonder to behold, everyone was secretly hoping to see the Auroras or Southern Lights. Slowly, towards the horizon you could make out a faint glow, almost resembled a city in the distance. As we laid there in the snow, the lights slowly crept forward, and we remained still not wanting to startle them. Soon they were dancing over head, weaving and wavering like snakes in the sky, and everyone was ooing and ahhing over them. Pointing out one, then another, they were dancing everywhere, surrounding us and we danced with them, waving our hands and yelling with excitement. Like small children we were entranced and for over an hour we were astounded by their showmanship. When they moved on, we sighed with sadness, hoping they would return, but the numbness in our body and nearly frozen eyelashes revealed it was time to go. On the ride home we were silent, absorbing all that we had seen. I’m still not sure I can take it all in, but what I can say is it was beautiful and a once in a life time experience. Now my list is rather short, with “experiencing a Con 1“ left on it.

This is the Vehicle We traveled in (Photo from the web)

So now we reach present time. I have learned my redeployment date is August 27th. Less than seven weeks away as all the DAs are counting. We will all be gone at the beginning of Winfly, leaving a fresh crew for the summer. Turns out the 27th is the last passenger flight out of Antarctica during Winfly. The next flight doesn’t come back till October (September has too rough of weather to fly in). I also know that August is the coldest month, so I’m just waiting for it. I’ve already begun work on my after Ice travels, and for those of you that don’t know, I won’t be staying home very long. I’ve been offered a position in Alaska as a Dog Handler for a couple who run dog sleds. They race professionally in both the Iditarod and Yukon, as well as manage a rescue kennel. I got antsy a few month ago realizing I didn’t have anything lined up when I left the ice and it bothered me. So I began applying, and with prayer this came through.

With everything so new and outside my element, sled dogs and racing teams, I’m hoping to learn a lot and I just got a recent email about a new litter of puppies that were just born. Granted I know it won’t be easy, having to chop my own fire wood for warmth and learning about Alaska winters first hand, but it will bring back memories of growing up in the mountains. I remember the black pot belly stove we had in the house, of the fully body snow suits and drying our gloves and boot insoles by the fire. Little did I know how full circle I would come. Someone joked that, “Man you must really like the cold.” Not so much the cold, but what it does to me. The icy wind that steals your breath away and leaves a moment of panic as you suffocate through the first cold breath. Of the numbness of your fingers as you fumble with zippers making you glad you have ten fingers, ten chances before you have to give up. The process of getting dressed that involves layers of clothing, so much so that you’re actually grateful for the below zero temperature outside when you finally escape into it. The freshness of the air, the crispness of the night sky, the small pleasures of warmth as you step inside. Life is a struggle, but it is no more evident then in cold weather. A constant reminder waits outside your door and remains with you till you cross back inside. With such evidence stealing the warmth from your body, you can’t help but appreciate the small things where otherwise you would have taken them for granted.

I leave October 1st for the position and am planning on staying through till May of next year. Before I go, I’ll be spending a week in New Zealand, two weeks in Australia, and roughly a week and a half at home. I know things are kind of tight, but adventure doesn’t always