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. . . .
Wednesday, July 13, 2011
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.
Monday, July 11, 2011
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.
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.
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).
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
Thursday, May 26, 2011
My own Radio Show
Since my agenda wasn't full enough I decided I needed to add something to it. Edwina (another DA) has been doing a radio show since the beginning of winter and I've heard it several times. I got to thinking it would be fun to do so I looked into it. It turned out to be less complicated than I thought - fill out a little paper work, get a five minute training session and you're off.
When it comes to music I know zilch. Artists (don't they paint things?) Song titles ( like royalty?) Genres (is that French?) all these things go into playing music and I didn't have it. So I thought, I'll do a literary hour, reading children's classics or interesting chapters from books (you know so people would want to read instead of watching TV) and do it for an hour or so. When I talked to the individual in charge, he told me it wasn't allowed because it could only be items from the music library (copyright laws and all that stuff) so then I was a little anxious. Scratching that original idea I had to settle for playing music like everyone else but I didn't know what type. My solution was simple, I'd pick a theme and play music around it.
For example my first show was on Friday the 13th, so I did songs with numbers. The next show was about outer space because I wanted to play Major Tom and Rocketman, not to mention Purple People Eater. So instead of knowing song titles and artist, I pull up the music catalog and type in a word, like Space, or scroll down and look at song titles.
With my theme for the show now set I had to learn the actual equipment. My trainer showed me the panel board with all it's gauges and buttons and after a quick walk through, told me I was ready. I sure didn't feel that way but my time was up. On that Friday I launched into my first show, making mistakes like forgetting song titles, mixing up music, and forgetting to hit certain buttons so the music would actually broadcast. I survived my self inflicted two hour time slot but ran out of music with still fifteen minutes to go. Sighing with relief as I put back the music CD's I had to smile as a realization crossed my mind. I'd done radio commercials before in Africa, and now I was doing my own radio show in Antarctica. This coming from someone who is terrified to call into a radio show back home (but still have it on my to-do list for life).
There are several reasons for that. First I get to pick the music, although most of the time I have no idea what the songs are and sometimes cringe as they blare across the radio waves wishing I had not played them. I get to push buttons, things light up, and suddenly music floods the sound room. Second, I'm learning to enjoy it, the thrill of timing music, of talking into the mike and knowing that there are at least two people listening. No big impressions need to be made, I can play music for me and others can ignore or tune in all they want. Third, despite my lack of musical education, I'm enjoying it. For two hours I hear music I know, or don't know, and make discoveries along the way. Sometimes I know the song, but didn't realize the title, or recognize the band and didn't know they played a particular song. Also sometimes the music isn't there. Oh sure it will be listed in the catalog, but when you go to locate it on the wall, the one you want is missing (Prince's Party like it's 1999 for instance). So it's treasure hunting where sometimes someone has gotten to it before you and removed it.
And just last week I made it to the record room. Actual records, the large black shiny discs that are played by needle. There is a record player in the room so I spent several hours pulling out albums and listening to artist I had no idea who they were, and public service announcements from the early 40's and 50's. I found sound bits from Billy Cosby and children's stories with voice animations. It was like finding another whole avenue of music that I simply can pull and play. I had forgotten what it was like to play records, but now I am really enjoying it all.
So every Friday from 2-4pm I have my own radio show called "did you know." I meant to give out facts and things about the theme, but it turns out I have way too much music so my facts would just get in the way. I guess I could just call it "theme sounds" or something but either way my two audience members don't seem to mind as long as I play a couple good songs, and I try.
My support staff
My Assistant
Maybe my next career??
The equipment ( I only know how to use the board on the right)
Thursday, May 5, 2011
Unicycle
I've never done this before, and I have a hard enough time doing my bike with no hands (I think I have a permanent balance disorientation) but Fawna had suggested researching new things and I think unicycle came up so I thought why not. There is a unicycling pro here that has gone from the top to the bottom of North America twice; with a backpack on back country trails while raising money for a good cause.
She brought the unicycle down with her when she came and now offers classes should anyone want to learn. So taking up the challenge I went, half heartedly, just to try and had a great balance/arm work out. I know now that it's not my passion, but I can also say that I attempted it.
it. 
Picnic in the Park
excursion to the Green house were we all got to eat from sack lunches and breath in the scent of tomato plants and wet dirt (even though there is none). Everything in the green house is grown by hydroponics, meaning water not dirt makes the vegetables grow. The dirt here is volcanic meaning very acidic so it cannot be used as a gardening base = hence water instead.
This is the second time I've been to the green house which is like stepping into paradise. You forget what an effect the color green and plants have on your whole being. From the minute you spot them, you have a feeling of delight and a childish desire to stroke and pet the leaves like long lost pets. You stare are their delicate blossoms in wonder forgetting that things grow back where you come from and spend more time simply staring at them while chewing mindlessly on your sandwich then a mental patient does doing a jigsaw puzzle. I want to grow stuff now even though I've never had a desire before.
The event was wonderful, just two of us signed up for the time slot that Friday but with Emily there, (the Green House Goddess) it was three's company and we gossiped and gabbed like chickens in a hen house. The bright sun lights and trickling water in the background is like those soothing sounds Cd's where if you listen to them long enough you start to fall asleep. Right before that happened our time was up so we headed out. So far this winter I've had fresh swiss chard, lettuce (not iceberg) cucumbers, sprouts (all different kinds) alfalfa, fresh cilantro, dill, jalapeños, and there will be fresh tomatoes for Mid-Winder dinner. I can't wait.
Green House Goddess
Biggest Gainer
So we had our second weight in and I've gained 4.25 pounds. Needless to say I was a little hormonal at the time and the number read off seemed to confirm that three desserts at dinner does add up, no matter how you justify it. I'll be so glad to get off the ice where easy access to sweets and wonderfully baked goods will not be simply a hallway and staircase away. Sigh, so much for losing the winter weight. I'll need to do the dog mushing job just to get back to my pre-Antarctica weight. Hopefully the third weigh in will be better (fingers crossed).
Wednesday, May 4, 2011
Black Island Black Out
Yep, it went down. The techs knew it was coming and had gone out on a traverse to fix the generator problem. All was well, but the second they touched the station on their return, communications dropped off. Everyone kind of sat in front of the computer and stared at the error screen that popped up. "What do I do?" someone whispered to the person next to them who just shrugged. "How do I update my status?" a slightly panicky voice asked and suddenly the true direness of our situation set in.
For four days we were on emergency communications only. No outside phone calls, no emails, no cable connections. We still got BBC through Scott Base so we learned of Osama's death and other details of the outside world, but that was our only news channel while others were static (Do you know how long it's been since I've seen just static on the TV. I was surprised it still existed. I thought with the creation of cable it was all but extinct).
Apparantly the generator connection to the batteries was damaged and no one knew till it went down so the team had to head back to Black Island the next day. Like zombies, people wandered around the halls aimlessly trying to figure out what to do without internet. Lists were posted with options people might not have thought about (reading a book, going to the library, finding the library, have a face to face conversation with someone on base) support groups were formed, and on base hotlines were set up. Suddenly I saw people I had never seen before, and people were talking to each other. A photographic moment I missed. The lack of communications did not really bother me, as you well know I am not an avid facebooker or phone caller. It is kind of nice not to have a dedicated calling time because when things go done in Antarctica no one back home panics. One community member has told friends and family that we don't even have phones here. I haven't gone that far, but I wasn't one of the people worrying that family was worrying because they had not checked in in the last three days. See, no news is good news.
Just thought you should know things are okay now and we're fully up and connected. Sometimes there is a really good reason I don't call home like . . . . . . . I can't.
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