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).

Black Island Black Out

Black Island is place about eight hours from McMurdo heading South. On it is where all our communications are located. Cable, Internet, phones. All satellite connections are there and if it goes down, we're in the dark. Well you'll never guess what happened. . . . .

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.

Winter Boondoggle

My name was drawn from the hat two days again for a Boondoggle today. I was pleased and confused only because for my two hour adventure I got the full work day off. OFF. Can you believe that? I couldn't and had to bug my supervisor several times before he finally looked me in the eye and said “Yes, you get the FULL day off. Now go finish dish.”

Wow, a day off and a boondoggle for it. Others had gone out “flagging” - putting the flags up that mark the roads, and it had been an all day “working” boondoggle. So yes they got the full day off, but they worked the full day. I didn’t work, got to do some chores and still get off base. It was a true blessing that revived my spirit and renewed my belief in miracles.

What was it you’re probably asking. Well I got to ride in a Piston Bully (a kind of Snow Cat for Antarctica) and go plow the trail up to Castle Rock. There were a number of firsts involved in this but let me explain something here. I had no idea how many people were going, which Piston Bully we were taking and other logistically information. Those that had gone on Boondoggles before, the “flagging” experience, had gone with several others so I imagined the same.

Imagine my pleasure when I learned it was a private ride. Just me and the driver, a Floridian named Dave. I’d seen him around base but never really got to know him till now. For two and a half luxurious hours we chatted and plowed the wondress white snow into waves that curled away from the snow plow and fell to the wayside. In a heated cab made of windows, the white beauty of the continent fell away from me and I devoured the beauty in the fading light. Dave was a wonderful guide and driver, relaxed and good natured. We got along like friends and enjoyed the trip together.

We wound our way up the back route to Castle Rock, a way I had never come even in the summer, and climbed straight up the steep mountain face almost at a 50 degree angle, plugging along with our little Piston Bully’s tracks digging into the snow. We chugged up the hill like the little engine that could (although our little engine was painted red and consisted of a hydraulic plow that could rotate, pivot, swivel, tilt, flap and possibly make coffee if we could have found the right button).

When we reached Castle Rock, we got out and climbed the small ridge to catch the blazing red slash that was the sunset. The sun does not come up past the horizon line any more, but it still shines its lights over the lip as it can. Snapping photos as my hands slowly turned numb, we enjoyed the majestic beauty of the winter scene in silence and then after a few more photos with our little “Bully” we headed back to town. Oh what a wonderful day it has been. Laundry is done, chores are finished, I got to take a trip off base, catch one of the few last glows of the season, ride in a Piston Bully, and do it all before dinner time. God, it has been a wonderful blessing and I know I can thank you because you’re the handed that plucked my name from the hat. Sigh - I am smiling like a child, exhausted from all the fun, and luxuriating in the moment of it all.

Winterdance

I was gifted a wonderful read not too long ago and I want to share it. The book is titled Winterdance by Gary Paulsen and about dog mushing. Now don’t sigh and roll your eyes just because I mentioned dog mushing because you can’t judge this book yet. I was given it because those here know the challenge I face when I leave and are supportive about it. Thinking this book would help illuminate my rather dark mind on what dog sledding is like, it was handed over.

It has been a pleasure to read let me tell you. I have not laughed so often or out loud in a long time. The author Gary, describes his beginnings with dog sledding, doing it for trapping, and his gradual desire to do one of the man’s toughest races - the Iditarod. His word usage and honesty reveal such truths and visuals that you can’t help but laugh because you can see what he sees and you know you’d have done the same thing too. It is a quick read, one that I couldn’t put down (of course I had to because of work but . . . ) and finished it all too soon. If you want a delightful read, informative and enjoyable, pick it up. Although I will warn you there is a little language usage, but mostly in the “near death” scenarios. In general, he keeps it clean and amusing.

Watching the Light Go

They say the Sun will leave in a few weeks time. Total darkness will ascend and we’ll get to see the stars. No actual date. So every day I pause while wiping tables and look out the wall of windows that face Observation Hill. Later and later the darkness lifts, but still there is faint light - twilight there.

We lose half an hour of light each day. What a rapid loss I think. Yet the faint glow on the horizon still appears, outlining the ice mountains and we all turn to see it. No one can escape the last rememberance of the places we have come from. Where the sun is taken for granted and the moon a distance reminded of darker times. Golden reds and yellows flare across the sky but it is like watching an exotic flower die. So beautiful and fragile, not long will it survive but a reminder to all that creation is wondrous. Each last flare a gorgeous array of color, but smaller and closer to a still breath.

Last Sunset

-image from Google Images

The Sun is taking it's last peak at Antarctica this Sunday. A brief glimpse, nothing longer than an hour or two before it slumbers away for the winter. Even now, as I write this, the moon hangs brightly in the sky, arrogantly flaunting it's dominance above the land, still not full, but bright enough that the twilight colors in the sky can't compete. Darkness will reign in May as twilight fades to night. Three months of starry skies, stars so bright that they are beacons of hope to dreamers below. Already I have seen some, companion to the moon they decorate the blanket of black and twinkle with mirth and glee. What do they know, what can they tell, only as the days become nights will I learn their secrets. With slight trepidation I wait for it, while others sigh with relief. "Finally" they say as though the sun has been a struggle for them. With an uneasy eye I watch the horizon line and think, the sun does not always come back. Not here. Not in Antarctica.

Winter Pacing

-Image from Google Images

So as you've noticed I'm not posting too often. There is a simple answer for that.

One word.

I'll let you guess.....................................................................................................................................

.....................................................................................................................Winter. No I haven't died, vanished or turned to ice (Although sometimes my feet do when I sit too long to update my blog). You know the old adage, no news is good news, well it applies to this time of year. Antarctica slows down, the life in McMurdo settles in like the snow and although there are daily activities, excursions are limited and life becomes routine. There are things you can do like game night, Burger Bar, Lectures and such, but I don't do them too often as I've turned 80 and now eat dinner at 4:30pm and must go to bed between 8 and 9 pm. (I also get up at 5am but well . . . .) I guess what I am trying to say is that I post what I think is interesting, and right now things are normal. Funny how you think living on Antarctica could be described as such, but it is. People have birthdays, they cry, throw parties, you know, everyday ordinary stuff. There are movie nights, Game Nights, get togethers and shin digs, but all in all, normal.

So if any of you are worried, concerned or bored, and look to my blog for daily updates, sadly they will not be. Those of us here have slipped into a human hibernation mode of eat, sleep, workout and relax. Oh there is the occasional fashion show, mid winter dinner, and possible fire emergency, but those are singular occurrences. So please, tune in occasionally, not often, and there will be something to read. I could get all philosophical and such, and write down those rants, but no one wants to hear the ravings of a lunatic at the bottom of the world (we are all starting to go a little mad. Memory loss and blank stares have filled in conversations. "Hey You" has replaced names, and to see someone standing in the middle of the hall way staring at the wall is common place - I will be surprised if I still remember how to speak by the time I leave)

To those of you who wink and nudge me to write more often, I cannot. If I did, slowly this blog will morph into an ordinary one and I don't want that to happen. I would like to keep it unique so until something of "Uniquness" happens, there will be lapses in my posts. Should you fear that I have fallen into a cravas or been eaten by the other members of the community, your imagination has gotten away from you and you should stop eating sugar and watching television without the lights on. There I've said it and I feel better. I hope it wasn't too hurtful and you have not started to cry.

Know that I write when I can, of what I can, so that both you and I won't get bored.