leaving

I've got no photos for this blog- it's all been a whirlwind of turnover, packing, and planning. The winter is over and the summer crews have started moving in at the pole. It's their home now, and we winter folks were just remnants of a season they didn't experience. Our house became full of strangers- good folks, mostly, I'm sure; but also invaders and a constant reminder that my time at pole had passed.
I left pole yesterday, and spent a day at McMurdo- the large station on the coast of Antarctica and a transportation hub. Today we fly to New Zealand, and tonight should find me sleeping back in the world.
"Every new beginning comes from some other beginning's end..."

It's here!

This past weekend was the sunrise dinner, and the sun obliged by peeking above the horizon on Sunday. We knew it was out there somewhere, but we've had such windy weather lately all we could see was blowing snow, flat white, and vague shapes of the buildings around us. Now our view has returned, and the light on the snow is a little different every day.
Although we're still here until the first week of November at least, redeployment meetings and departure activities will begin soon. The crews are getting set to start opening up summer camp- the summer only lodging- and people are making plane reservations and travel plans. At the beginning of the winter, as the sun was going down, the time till its return seemed far away.

That was fast

I mean

Life

Sunrise

The sun is well on its way above the horizon. It's an amazing difference going outside now- the stars and auroras are out of sight, but the ever changing horizon almost makes up for it. The covers are off the windows, so we can check on the status of the sunrise and weather conditions just by looking through a piece of glass. How easy that seems now- yet another reminder of the things we take for granted in the world.


Most of us are busy getting ready for our incoming replacements, due to arrive in late October. End of season reports, turnover documents, updating SOP's (standard operating procedures)- these tasks are now part of our work cycle. The end of winter is a busy time, and most of us are a bit weary in both mind and body. But the rising sun, incoming new folks and old friends, and imminent travel are welcome distractions and daydreams. And we've still managed to have several large social events in the past few weeks.

We had our third band party not long ago. We've been lucky this season to have so many musicians on station willing to donate time and energy. The station has a good supply and variety of musical instruments available to borrow- no need to bring down a drum set if you hope to play. The Art Festival was a couple of weekends ago. As packed as our schedules are, many of us still find time for creative pursuits. Several people displayed art they had created down here- photographs, jewelery, and homemade cards. Others offered up their talents in different ways. Jack, our heavy shop foreman, did rune readings and dream interpretations for those of us still actually sleeping enough to dream.And Mandi offered body painting. Another sign of Spring- Winter Site Manager Katie hangs the flags that fly around the ceremonial pole.
This weekend is the sunrise dinner- so many of our holidays during the winter revolve around the sun. Fitting, since it makes its appearance and disappearance only twice a year. But what amazing and luxurious moments those are.

Twilight

We can see twilight now, and it's a bit of a melancholy feeling. While most of us are excited to be making post ice plans, for many of us this station has also been home for a year. Ice friendships develop quickly, but they can be transient as well. You wonder- how many of these people will you slowly lose touch with as your lives take you in different directions?

I had prepared for my winter as best I could- stocking up on more shampoo than I could ever use and gathering and mailing the books I always intended to read (and still intend to- I considered wintering again so I wouldn't have to mail them all back home). But I had been told that your winter is made by the people you spend it with and you can't really prepare for that. With not much else for distractions the community becomes your biggest source of entertainment, gossip, and support. As a friend said- Sixty different people, sixty different winters, one small station.
Heidi and Leah during food pull. The food is ordered by the kitchen, loaded into triwalls, carried by a loader (a forklift with tracks) and hoisted up to the second floor cargo deck. Most of the frozen food is then stored outside on the deck while the dried and canned foods are taken inside.


Materials person Katie searches the berms for materials for the Cargo Facility construction. Some of our projects are planned and ordered for years in advance, and the materials are stored out on the berms- long raised tables of snow. The berms are constantly being covered in drifting and blowing snow.

Carpenters Andy and Todd work underneath the decking for the Cargo Facility. Although the building is inside an arch and out of the wind, the snow still accumulates and the temperature is no warmer than the ambient outside.

The fire team practices a fireman rescue in the gym. With no outside support during the winter we rely on each other to cover the duties of trauma, fire, and rescue teams. Leaders are chosen and run training sessions throughout the year. Most of us have never acted in these roles before.

The ceremonial pole in winter. Usually surrounded by a circle of flags of the countries that are part of the Antarctic Treaty, the poles stand empty in winter, with just the lone American flag flying through the Antarctic night.

cravings

The other day in the sauna a friend asked us what food we were most looking forward to when we got back to The World. It may seem like an easy question, but there was a long pause as we thought. Most of us don't seem to have any particular cravings. We haven't had fresh fruit in months but the greenhouse keeps us in salad at least twice a week, and the galley manages to serve a varied menu despite the restrictions of using primarily canned, dried, and frozen foods. What some of us realized is that it's not what we crave to eat, but where we crave to eat it- mainly outside in the sun on the grass.

Since Mid Winter most of us have found ourselves casting forward to leaving the ice and moving back into the real world. When we had 9 months of winter ahead of us it seemed easier, and prudent, to not think past a few days at a time. But now, with just over 3 months left, it seems like the countdown has begun. For those who have been here since October our redeployment date can feel just around the corner. Plans for off ice travel and job options are cropping up more in conversations. It's exciting and daunting at the same time; with so many opportunities to consider, how can you be sure you're making the right decision? Travel the world or find a job and continue saving for the future? Can you do both?

But let's not think about that right now and go back to cravings. You don't have to spend any money down here if you planned well and mailed enough toothpaste to get you through the season. Our paychecks are direct deposited back into our home banks, but you can sign up to have some of your pay deducted from your check and handed over to you each pay period (RCD- remote cash disbursement). Then you can give that money right back to the company store and watch it cycle through the community. Staffed by volunteers, it's open every evening for an hour. That's not long, but you don't have far to go. Here you can find most things you need (toothpaste, razors, shampoo), most things you want (Cheetos, chocolates, booze) and some things you neither need nor want (ECW clad bobbleheads, station nightlights, expired calendars). During the tourist season we do a bustling business- selling T-shirts, postcards, stuffed penguins and even bobbleheads; but during the winter sales are mostly limited to toiletries, alcohol and DVD rentals (though we don't actually rent them- just take it and promise to bring it back).

still here

People have been asking- I'm still here. It's easy to let time slip by, falling into the easy groove of the days. It seems that I have a busier social life here than I ever had at home- Yoga three days a week, volunteer in the store on Tuesday, chess dates, movie dates, and the occasional station wide events (the chili cookoff is coming up soon, and the art festival is at the end of August). And we're always bumping in to each other- in the hall, the galley, the bathroom- falling into impromptu conversations and spontaneous visits. What will it be like to live in a world full of strangers again?

So to catch up on news-

It's still dark, still cold.

But it's getting warmer, and the sun should start coming up in about a month. The auroras have been showing all winter, and I've gotten pretty adept at putting on my ECW gear at a moment's notice. This also comes in handy for those middle of the night alarms; it seems like we have a low oxygen alarm at the cryo facility at least one night a month. It's always been a false alarm so far, but you can't know for sure. I wonder if I will react the same way to alarms back in the world- with a rush of adrenaline and racing mind- and how long it will take me to fall back into the easy sway of letting someone else handle the problem.

We've been able to see some iridium flares this week. The Iridium communication satellites have a peculiar shape with three polished door-sized antennas. The forward antenna faces the direction in which the satellite is travelling. Occasionally an antenna will reflect sunlight directly down to the Earth, creating a predictable and quickly moving illuminated spot of about 10 km diameter. To an observer this looks like an extremely bright flare in the sky with a duration of a few seconds. They are visible at regular intervals every few weeks. It's an exciting and somewhat sobering sight, a reminder of the vast space outside our little world.

housemice

During the winter season we have no janitors on staff. Instead, each Monday we divide into teams and are responsible for cleaning different parts of the station. This past Monday, my team took out the trash.

Except for gray water, all of our waste is shipped off station. We have an intensive recycling program and trash is divided into a dozen different categories. Usually the station trash is loaded onto the second floor hoist and lowered down to the ground, to be sorted and stuffed into the large cardboard boxes our waste tech keeps available for us. But this week it was too cold to use the hoist, so we carried the bags down the stairs to sort into the boxes by the light of our red filtered head lamps. It's cold, it's dark, the stairs are slippery and ECW gear is awkward, and it doesn't take long to get winded no matter how long you've been down here.

Task completed, a friend and I took a moment to enjoy the night, looking up at the array of stars and the sweep of the milky way; more stars than I've ever seen, and some I'd never seen before.

It never gets old.