Here, There & Everywhere: November 3, 2012: Life At The Bottom Of The World

McMurdo Station

It's November. Where did October go? life down here, as simple and secluded as it is, can be a little hectic. Time seems to break the rules and ticks away at its own pace. Days are beginning to feel like minutes, weeks, like days. It’s strange, and hard to believe, that I’ve spent over a month at McMurdo Station. Time has a way of slipping stealthily past, leaving me dazed and confused and wondering where it went. I know that one of these mornings I will wake up, ready for work, and will be loaded onto a C17 and flown back to where they found me--still gripping my tool bag and trying to do the math in my head. So before that happens let me tell you a little more about life at 77.8500 degrees south.

Stoked to be here!

THE JOB

When I received the phone call informing me that I had been hired as a carpenter at McMurdo, I had a brief moment of panic. I had played with tools in the past--the majority of my experience coming from a ten day trip to Warez, Mexico (in 2004) where I helped build a little house for a large family. I've also learned a few tricks from my handy older brother--but that's about it. I could swing a hammer and not shy away from a chop saw, but I had no idea what I was getting myself into.

After signing and faxing my offer of employment letter, I promptly ordered a book on Amazon--Basic Carpentry Skills--which I then promptly lost. Weeks before my deployment to Antarctica, I was feeling like the kid who didn't study for the test. During my family visit to Ohio I talked my Dad into giving me a "tool tutorial." This is a socket wrench. This is a cross-cut saw. This is a dead-blow hammer. Thanks Dad, but I still felt uneasy.

The first week of work I felt like an imposter. I was trying hard not to expose myself for who I really was--a social working-substitue teaching-raft guide who had no idea how to use a router. So you can imagine my terror when I was put on a solo project that involved using some tools and materials that I had never seen. The task was to build skids/skis for a giant box. I was given one sheet of UHMW (ultra high molecular weight) and was told that it's worth more than my salary and it's the only one in stock--basically, don't mess up. I wasn't told that the material shrinks when exposed to cold and to make my cuts accordingly. Over the next few days I developed a mantra that I would repeat over and over in my head: I am a carpenter. I am a carpenter. I AM a carpenter.

I might have been a little stressed during the construction of this project. I may or may not have said a few snippy words to Dave and shed a couple of hot tears in private--I don't remember. All I know is that the finished product made me jubilant. I felt like a proud parent/artist--the box on skis, my "beautiful" child--my work of art. I learned much during the construction, not only about tools (I am now a pro with hand-held routers), but also about the people I work with. Like myself, they are all in a transitional phase--always learning, always expanding their skills--and they understand the learning curve is steep. I have been taken under their wings and no longer feel the need to pretend. I am a carpenter--one that asks a lot of questions. Since my first project I have successfully built another set of skis, a couple of polar havens, two large boxes, a shelf, four signs (manipulating all-thread to create my own bolts to hang them by), thirty blue-seats (insulated toilet seats), and completed multiple work orders around station. Every time I complete a project successfully, or use a large power tool, I feel exhilarated. My new mantra: I am woman!

The Carp Shop

Dave demonstrating his carp skills with a homemade beer koozie

THE PEOPLE

McMurdians are a unique group of people--a different breed. Talented individuals, from various backgrounds, who congregate here for numerous reasons. Some come for science; others are here because of a significant other; a few are attempting to escape from society; But, I believe the majority travel here, including Dave and myself, for the adventure. Of course there are a few individuals who come soley for the money. They are the ones who wear visors over their eyes. They don't see the mountains, the dancing snow flakes, or the shimmer of the sun on the ice. They see black and gray.

There is a collective feeling of acceptance here. We are nerds, outcasts, travelers, and dreamers that found our way to a place far from the beaten path--the farthest away from society one can get. There is a ballroom dancer, a juggler-runner, an opera singer, and a tough, weather-worn mountain guide who loves to sew and make quilts. Everyone here marches to their own beat.

RECREATION

Some of these talented people offer their skills to the public through classes. A calendar of events is posted weekly--anything from jewelry making and crafts, to fitness classes and sign language. Organized games of soccer, basketball, volley ball, and ping pong are played daily. There is always something going on and never much down-time.

One of our favorite places to hang out on station is the coffeehouse/wine bar--a small building that is warm and cozy and offers a cabin-like atmosphere. The lights are dim and, at certain times, a barista is on hand to make lattes and cappuccinos out of powdered milk. It is a great place to play cards and to socialize.

There are a couple of trails for running, hiking, and cross country skiing--although many become off limits when the temperatures rise. Melting ice and crevasses make it dangerous to go anywhere other than the marked trail systems.

So far there has not been much wildlife. A few scattered seals and a random skua are the only animals that have made themselves known--although I've been told we will soon be invaded by flocks of skuas helping themselves to our trash and tormenting people who walk outside with food. One veteran had this to say, "It's like the damn things know they are protected and we can't do anything to stop them."

IN OTHER NEWS

The weather at McMurdo is getting warmer. The temperature has been coasting around fifteen degrees with out the windchill. It feels pleasant--especially at mid day when the sun is at its highest point. On several occasions I've worked outside with out my jacket, wearing only a sweatshirt. We haven't had snow for a couple of weeks and volcanic rock is appearing all over station. It makes for better traction and results in less falls--I've had three (graceful, mind you) since arriving at McMurdo.

Dave has not yet left for West Antarctica. The two C-130 Hercules--the planes designated to take them to WAIS--keep breaking down. The mechanical issues have been keeping Dave, and the deep field team, grounded for over a week. At one point he was on the plane, engines roaring, when they declared that the weather was not fair enough to fly. He is scheduled to depart tomorrow evening. We'll see if it actually happens. He is skeptical.

SOME ADDITIONAL PHOTOS