To the Pole

CHAPTER 4

After being delayed in Christchurch for so long, our actual trip to the South Pole occurred relatively fast.  Our entire group still had a lingering opinion of doubt as to our chances of our flight making it to McMurdo on the day of our departure- storms can blow in quickly in Antarctica, requiring the plane to turn around and “boomerang” back to Christchurch-but luckily the weather stayed favorable.  If the weather had gone south (literally) we would have been faced with returning the five hours back to New Zealand, cramming ourselves into hastily arranged and most likely double, or even triple booked accommodations, and living out of our carry-on bag for up to three days (they don’t return your checked bags to you in hopes that they can leave quickly if the weather improves).  We had been told that boomerang flights occur pretty often, if not multiple times to any one deployment group, and that the record, as awful as this sounds, was seven boomerangs- that’s 70 hours of flying… getting nowhere!

The flight to McMurdo was a surreal mix between an ordinary commercial flight, and something out of a movie- we checked in and went through security like normal, but then we got on a bus that drove us over to the military area of the airport, where we were quickly ushered onto a huge C-17, probably the biggest plane I’ve seen, let alone been on.  The inside is a cavern, suitable for transporting military vehicles, tanks, and even helicopters, but today was outfitted with rows of seats arranged lengthwise down the plane- which was great because it offered a lot of leg room, but somewhat comical during takeoff when the force of the engines caused you to slide sideways into your neighbor- luckily I was sitting next to Kacey and she didn’t mind.  One of the quirky things about the experience, though sobering if you think about it, was that everyone had to wear all of their extreme cold weather gear on the flight, not because we all looked so cuddly and cute, but in case we crashed, and (assuming we survived) had to evacuate out into the freezing Antarctic weather.

The five hours went by quickly.  Normally it would be hard to say that about such a long flight, but in this case, we were afforded a rather rare opportunity to occupy our time…  they let anyone who wanted to climb up the stairs right into the cockpit and pal around with the pilots!  Ok, we weren’t really supposed to distract them by talking or asking questions, but I got to stay up there as long as I wanted, snapping away photos the whole time.  I was really surprised that they allowed this, but maybe since they were all burly military types and probably had a fair stash of guns aboard, they aren’t as worried of being hijacked as a commercial flight.  Even so, any would be terrorist wouldn’t have a chance in flying this beast- the control panel looks like something from a spaceship and I am extremely impressed that the pilots can keep all the buttons and switches sorted out.

Standing behind the pilots I could see the continent ofAntarcticacome into view, but it was hard to get a photo up close through the windows, so I hurried back down the latter and went to one of the few small windows in the plane to get better view.  It was incredible.  Pure white snow covered the ground as far as you could see in every direction.  A long mountain range stretched out below us, giving the surface a soft rumpled look, like the random folds in a clean white sheet right after you get out of bed.  Between some of the valleys and peaks, you could see the telltale seems and crevasse of a flowing glacier.  The sky was a brilliant dark blue, gradually fading into the horizon of white.  I don’t know exactly what I was expecting, but this scene was not nearly as uninviting as I thought it would be.  Yes it looked cold and empty, but it was also so pristine- untouched by the hand of man and refreshingly void of all those things you see out of a normal airplane window like roads and power lines crisscrossing even the most remote areas of the country.  I hope it stays this way…

Before we knew it, the pilot announced our decent, and everyone started bundling up and putting back on all the coats and gloves that had been shed during the flight.  Landing without being able to see out of a window was a little different, and because the plane is so huge and noisy, it was hard to tell when we actually touched down.  Eventually though, we could tell that we were taxiing off the runway and then a distinct shudder when the plane stopped.  The door opened.  A freezing blast of air blew in. We grabbed our bags and queued up to exit.  The line was moving and then I had to duck through the door.  I couldn’t see from the blinding whiteness of it all, but I made it down the stairs without tripping, and stepped off onto the crunchy snow ofAntarctica.  I felt like Neal Armstrong.  One small step for Dave, and one giant leap for Dave-kind!

We were being led away from the C-17 to a row of huge waiting trucks painted orange.  When we were a sufficient distance from the still running engines of the plane, I jumped out of line and stopped to take in the view.  We were standing on a massive white plane- actually the six foot thick sea-ice that covers theRossSea, and which is used as a convenient runway early in the season before it breaks apart with the coming of summer.  In the far distance I could see the Transantarctic Mountains bordering the expanse of ice and when I turned around, an enormous white peak dominated the view- Mt. Erebus is the furthest south active volcano in the world and it occupies the majority of Ross Island, where the McMurdo base is located.  Kacey and I were crammed into the back of one of the trucks with a dozen others, and we were soon rumbling over the graded ice road towards the base at a leisurely 15 miles an hour, though I doubt that this old behemoth of a truck could have gone much faster even if it wanted to.

We had a quick orientation meeting, dropped our bags off at our dorm room, had a so-so cafeteria dinner, and then hit the hay.  It was still light outside, but the early morning and long day of travel had taken their toll- we were exhausted.  I had hoped we would have time to explore the base and the surrounding hiking trails a bit before we started off on the last leg of our journey south, and there had been a lot of talk that we would probably be stuck in McMurdo for a couple days due to weather at the Pole, so cashing in early the first night didn’t seem like such a bad idea at the time.  But in the morning, we diligently reported to the departure building as we had been instructed to the night before, and to everyone’s surprise the flight was a go.  My disappointed at not having the chance to get to see what McMurdo had to offer was vastly overshadowed by my excitement for what lay at the end of our final flight.

The 40 or so of us going to the Pole climbed into the quintessential Antarctic people mover- “Ivan the Terra Bus”- with wheels that could pancake your car, this thing was the monster truck of buses.  Back on the ice runway we boarded a slightly smaller, but still very impressive C-130 Hercules.  This time it felt even more surreal- all our baggage was piled in the middle of the plane between the two long rows of mesh seats, there was a cable running down the length of the wall used by paratroopers to attach their static lines so their chutes open automatically, and the airman acting as flight attendant gave us a distinctly military version of the preflight safety information, including where a urinal was located (just a bucket attached to the wall with a curtain you could pull around you for privacy if need be), and a brief description of how to don our full head gear with individual oxygen supply canisters in case we lost cabin pressure.  I half expected him to pull out a parachute and give us instructions on how to jump out of the plane should the need arise.

Again, what all these military planes are lacking is a sufficient number of windows for curious first time Polies who want to get some photos of the icy continent.  This was only a three hour flight, and since most of it was over the flat featureless West Antarctic Ice Sheet, I contented myself with only a few visits to the porthole at the back of the plane, seeing how this entailed climbing over a number of sleeping returning veterans who could care less what the view was outside or my desire to see it.  The runway at the pole is a basically just plowed snow, so this time we would be landing with skies.  It went just as smooth as the first time, except that when we got out through the door we walked into a bleak overcast world.  There was no distinction between the sky and the ground.  It was incredibly windy and bitterly cold.  The only skin I had exposed was the tip of my nose but even that was too much for comfort.  I pulled up my balaclava and leaned into the wind as we trudged towards a waiting group of red jackets.  One of them was holding up a big sign with “NANA” (the company we work for) written on it in black sharpie and she happened to be our new supervisor.  It was far too cold to waste time on introductions outside so we fled towards a stairwell at the end of a long grey building that turned out to be the main station.

Another orientation meeting, a quick lunch, and then we were shown to our new home…  About a quarter mile from the station are about two dozen old quonset hut shaped canvas tents called James-ways.  We were led inside one with “J8” stenciled on the front door with red paint.  Inside a narrow hallway divides the tent down the middle with five or six “rooms” on either side.  Rooms is in quotation marks because each one is only 6’ x 6’, has a curved roof thanks to the shape of the structure making only about ¾ of it tall enough to stand in, and some of them have little more than a curtain separating it from  the hallway and the neighboring rooms.  Our room, thank goodness, is twice as large because we are a couple, and some enterprising former resident put up plywood walls and a crude door to isolate us from the hall traffic. Stepping into our room we were a bit taken aback by the its rustic nature, and my first thought was “There is no way we can live here for 4 months”.  By the look on Kacey’s face, I could tell she was thinking the same thing.  But we were here, and that’s all that mattered, so we agreed to make the best of it.  After a few hours of unpacking and organizing things were looking a lot better.  We pilfered an eclectic assortment of makeshift furniture from adjacent unoccupied rooms (a common practice here at the Pole- it certainly pays to be some of the first ones here!) and found some more handy pieces in the Skua Shak.  The word Skua comes from the name of a certain bird who robs penguins of their eggs, but at the South Pole it is a type of donation system where people departing leave all their unused or unwanted stuff- from shampoo, to food, to boots, to whatever.  With our new found bounty we tried to decorate the best we could, but this was a little difficult because our outside wall is basically made of insulated canvas panels stretched over the exposed wood beams of the tent, and everything has a classic olive green tone to it, which nicely corresponds with the rumor that these tents are relics of the Korean War, and were somehow manhandled down here and put up as temporary shelters… that have lasted for 50 years.

Once we were finally settled in we set out to do what we had come here to do.  We walked to the South Pole.  It was as easy as that.  A good 50 yards past the station is the geographic South Pole of the earth.  There is a sign, an American flag, and a rod in the ground at exactly 90 degrees south latitude… well, not exactly.  The ice sheet which covers the Pole is sliding towards the ocean at about 30 meters a year, and they only reposition the rod in the ground marking the pole once a year on New Year’s day, so we were actually standing about 25 meters from the real geographical South Pole- but I plan on taking my GPS out there and finding it myself in the next couple of days.  Considering the ice is constantly shifting with relation to the physical South Pole, they have gone ahead and constructed a ceremonial South Pole marker in front of the station, surrounded by the flags of the original signees to the Antarctic Treaty in the 1960’s.  By the time we visited both pole markers and taken plenty of photos, the frost on Kacey’s eyelashes indicated that it was about time to get back indoors.

Our life since arrival at the Pole has revolved around our 10hr work days, socializing with our new fellow Polies, eating, sleeping and especially staying warm- which sometimes leaves me struggling to find time to sit down and write.  But as we get into the rhythm of things, I’m sure that “writing time” will become more of a constant.  This adventure is a little different than our last one, primarily by the fact that we won’t be doing or seeing so many incredible new things every day- in fact, most days here will probably be pretty much the same.  But that’s not to say that this place isn’t overflowing with extraordinary opportunities.  Nearly everywhere you look, almost every aspect of life is fundamentally different, and I have to say bizarre, compared to our normal life back home.  We had no idea of what it was like down here before we came, as I am sure most of you don’t either, and with that in mind, I plan on writing a series of blog posts describing life at the South Pole, so please stay tuned…