The Journey

This winter I will be traveling to Antarctica to work at a remote field camp. The camp is located about 70 miles from the main station and in one of the few snow free regions on the Antarctic continent. I will be sharing the camp duties with the camp's long time supervisor and together we will maintain all of the amenities of the field camp in addition to assisting resident scientists with various aspects of their research.

But, before we can be of any use to the researchers, we have to first get to Antarctica. This year, the journey from Bellingham to McMurdo lasted ten days....

Day 1- Fly from Bellingham to Denver and Raytheon Polar Services HQ for two days of orientation.

Day 2 and 3- Denver orientation: training, power points and too much coffee.

Day 3 cont.- Load the bus to Denver International Airport. Begin mental preparation for the almost 24 hours of travel that lies ahead. Denver to LA, LA to Sydney, Sydney to Christchurch, Christchurch International to hotel. Phew!

Day 6- Arrive Christchurch NZ. Get settled in cozy British B and B. Beware of persuasive resident Dachshund loitering at your feet during breakfast.

Day 7- Stretch out legs with a wander around the Christchurch Botanical Gardens. Spring in New Zealand is always a pleasure.

Day 7 cont.- Catch shuttle to Antarctic Center for more orientation and extreme cold weather gear issue. Every participant receives two orange bags filled with polar tested cold weather gear.

Day 8, 9, 10- Enjoy the fine weather in Christchurch compliments of poor weather in McMurdo and canceled ice flights. The small town behind me is Lyttelton harbor, the departure port for almost all of the early explorers to the Ross Sea and for all of the modern vessels that service McMurdo Station.

Day 11- Weather finally clears in McMurdo. 0500 alarm to board the C-17 military jet by 0800. Arrive Antarctic center, change into cold weather gear, show ID, check luggage, have breakfast, more briefings, pass through security and board plane.

Day 11 cont.- Five hour plane ride from Christchurch to McMurdo Station. Temperatures in the plane turn progressively cooler as we descend into Southern latitudes. Read, sleep, eat and eventually, arrive McMurdo.

To Be Continued.

On the road again...

I found myself wandering around Christchurch today, going store to store, searching for a pair of foam slippers, or better known as Crocs shoes. This particular piece of footware is especially handy in field settings, as they make a nice, lightweight and comfortable camp shoe. As I began to piece together my packing list for my season at the Lake Hoare field camp, I added a pair of Crocs to my list, but since I didn't already own a pair I decided I could easily pick some up during my stopover in New Zealand.


Much to my surprise, I could not find a pair of Crocs anywhere in the city. This was very unexpected, as only a year or two ago, Crocs were the shoes of the moment and you could find them for sale just about anywhere- at the gas station, the airport, in road side stands and at the drugs store. As I wandered around the city today, inquiring if the stores still carried this shoe, I was told time and again that, "We no longer carry that shoe, and we're not going to get any more." It made me wonder how something can be so necessary at one point, and then completely irrelevant the next. I had confirmed that Crocs, like many other bygone fashions, are officially a thing of the past.

And I can't help but compare the passing of Crocs, with what appears to be the simultaneous passing of the blog. I have seem innumerable blogs (including our own) maintained for a year or two, and then slowly abandoned to the great void of the internet. It makes me wonder if the blog has simply been overtaken by newer more interactive forms of communication, or if the format of blog is flawed and in need of new innovation.

However, despite the questionable relevance of the blog in today’s Facebook world, I plan to spend the winter posting regular updates and photos chronicling my four months spent at a remote research camp in Antarctica. Grandma, this is for you..........

Paragliding in Nepal

Boomerang

30 September, 2008

The windows are porthole sized and there are only six of them on this plane. Welcome to cargo class. We’re on the first flight of the summer “Mainbody” Antarctic season and the C-17 globemaster is roaring over the Southern Ocean. A walk to the window and a glance outside reveals breaking waves visible from 30,000’. Back at my seat I plug into my iPod and slouch under the hood of my Big Red Parka, 2 hours down, 3 to go.

I was half asleep earlier this morning when Beck and I rode the shuttle van to the Antarctic Passenger Terminal outside the Christchurch airport. After years of midnight wakeups in the mountains you’d think I’d be used to pre-dawn starts, but 5:00 AM still feels like the graveyard shift. I can’t even drink coffee at that hour. The departure ritual goes like this: stumble into the dressing warehouse, pack away the street clothes and climb into insulated carhartt coveralls, fleece, and poly-pro; strap on comically oversized smurf blue FDX polar boots; then pile all your luggage onto an airport cart and proceed through the x-ray and metal detector along with the other 120 souls on the flight. Invariably the metal detector goes off for everyone, so we all get the wand treatment. Next comes the first of six briefings we’ll receive today, a video and lecture. Strangely, the TV in the waiting lounge is playing a special about the Mt. Erebus Disaster when an Air New Zealand DC-10 slammed into the very volcano that overlooks McMurdo Station. There were no survivors. Like sheep to the slaughter, we board a bus and are whisked onto the tarmac and into the belly of the beast. Before I step aboard I take one last glance at a patch of green grass and one last breath of the humid New Zealand air. Next stop: Winter!!

Two hours is a long time to expect my second generation iPod battery to last and, predictably, 2 hours and 25 minutes into the flight my blissful date with Gillian Welch is replaced by the dull roar of Pratt and Whitney. Rifling through my bag for a book I suddenly feel as if I’ve been stood on my head and I glance around at the other passengers. Everyone is sleeping, eating, reading, drooling as normal. When the plane rolls out of its turn I understand: we’re going back. A few faces are grinning now and soon the intercom crackles the word, “Boomerang.”

The Boomerang is legendary amongst USAP participants. Capricious weather combined with the need to stick to a schedule forces the Air Force into launching planes even if the weather in McMurdo is marginal. Sometimes the gamble pays off and the flight gets in, today we’ll burn $35,000 in jet fuel and go nowhere. Tales of turning back mere minutes from landing abound, weeks spent in Christchurch waiting to fly, horror stories of 5am wake-ups and trips to the airport day after day after day without reaching the ice. However, Uncle Ray-Ray (that’s Raytheon Polar Services, my employer) picks up the tab for food and lodging, so it’s a bit of a vacation.

By mid-afternoon we’re on the ground and checking into another Christchurch hotel. There is green grass, tulips and trees, dogs on leashes, kids playing in the parks. Thai food for dinner? Why not. Tomorrow we’ll check back in at the passenger terminal, but if we’re cancelled we’ll go flying, or maybe we’ll drive into the mountains for a soak in the hot springs. Christchurch is a great city when you have money to burn and time on your hands!

Happy Birthday Sweet Bea!

28 September, 2008

Happy Birthday Becky Peace!!

Becky arrived in Christchurch this morning and after two days of non-stop travelling was rearing to go PARAGLIDING!! Time was short, tomorrow would be filled with extreme cold weather clothing issue and the following day we depart for the ice. Now or never.

I met Beck at the airport at 10am with a rental car and we sped off to the coastal town of Redcliffs, a suburb of Christchuch. Here we met Dave with ParaPro (http://www.parapro.co.nz/) who would graciously serve as our site guide for the day. Conditions were on, so it was off to the local cliff soaring site: Taylors Mistake.

Becky and I first flew paragliders in 2004 in an intro course at Taylor’s Mistake, so it was a bit of a homecoming to fly here with our own equipment. Taylor’s launch sits at the back of a horseshoe shaped valley that faces the sea. The prevailing afternoon sea breeze funnels into the valley and is forced upwards by the hills forming a soarable lift band. Coastal soaring heaven! As long as the wind blows you can stay up! Soar for an hour, top land for a pee, relaunch, soar for 30 minutes, land for lunch, launch again, fly until sunset. The scenery isn’t bad either!