In a Frozen Land

McMURDO STATION, ANTARCTICA


Noses are such delicate things and so unfortunately places in the middle of one's face. Impossible to keep warm and hardly any blood flow to tae care of itself. The wind chill has risen into the -20's, a distinct improvement from Saturday's -87. The warmer air, and calm winds mean that I can walk nearly all the way to work without the ubiquitous gator pulled up to my lower lids. That is, of course, if not for my nose. While it is so lovely to feel fresh air on my face, the cold air nipping lightly at my cheeks, my pathetic little nose screams in pain, demanding that I cover it IMMEDIATELY. 


The cold temperatures spawned optimism that the sea ice would thicken, the cracks cease activity and settle in for a nice polar summer of science. Alas, the sea ice seems to be making a statement, that while we humans think we have all the details worked out on exactly how it will behave, it will do what it damn well pleases, thank you very much. And so, having only recently quelled the panic about potentially not having an icebreaker to support the program (crisis averted), the new drama revolves around whether there will be a sea ice road. Or an ice runway. Or an ice pier. Ah, the precariousness of a life set on frozen water. 

Weather Update

Current Ambient Temperature: -33 Fahrenheit
Current Wind Chill: -69 Fahrenheit

Talking about the Weather

McMURDO STATION, ANTARCTICA

Today’s High (Ambient) Temperature: -19 Fahrenheit

Today’s Wind Chill: -38 Fahrenheit

Today’s Clothing: wool socks, long johns, wool t-shirt, polypro long sleeve shirt, hooded sweatshirt, insulated Carhartt overalls,  Steger mukklukks, down parka, 1 windproof gator, 1 fleece gator, wool hat, goggles, wool glove liners, down mittens.

The sky is crisp blue today, not a cloud in sight. These last couple of days have been our brightest yet, the sun having finally having reached a high enough arc in the sky to produce something other than twilight. The wind is relatively calm, and the glaring sunshine gives the illusion of warmth. I assure you though, it is only an illusion. Though today could be construed as a heat wave in comparison to yesterday’s low of -78 Fahrenheit, the wind chill still hovers around -38 F. It takes only a moment or two to rack up a pair of frozen eyelashes, even on the shortest dash between buildings. I take my glove off to untie a stubborn knot and regret the decision almost immediately. It takes less than 30 seconds for my fingers to become completely useless at this temperature. The absurdity of working outside when the temperatures plummet so far below zero hardly strikes me anymore. Sitting around the dinner table at the end of the day yesterday, friends and coworkers talked about the weather, finally admitting, that well, yes, maybe it was a bit chilly, and no wonder we’re all a little cold.

Tomorrow’s high is predicted to be -18 F, with a wind chill of -58F. I must admit that the thought of wearing long johns every day for the next 6 months is not a terribly enticing prospect, but I do look forward to another balmy summer when my layers get a little lighter, and I can ditch the parka in exchange for a down jacket.

Icebergs

McMURDO STATION, ANTARCTICA

The temperature has taken a significant dip today, with the wind chill pushing -50 F. The clouds have rolled in, and blowing snow makes it hard to see much beyond the transition to the sea ice. But two days ago, the skies were clear and the ambient temperature hovered near 15 F, and the wind was gentle most of the day. I had the good fortune to find myself in a hagglund out on the sea ice, a few hours from town, helping to scope out cracks and drilling to check the thickness of the ice as we scouted a route to the ice edge.

The morning started off cloudy, but the clouds quickly burned off as the sun rose over Mt. Erebus. The skies cleared, and the sun and shadows made the big drifts and potential cracks easy to spot. After going as far as we could safely travel before the ice thinned out, we turned to head back, finding ourselves with plenty of time to spare, and no imperative to be back in town. We followed the Kiwis’ tracks to see how far they had gotten, and then, parking the hagglund, set out on foot to map out the perimeters of two icebergs locked in the sea ice. The wind had picked up a bit, and I added a heavier coat and mittens to my layers. I looked back to note that the Barne Glacier was swathed in blowing snow, faint and golden in the bright sunlight. 

We walked around the larger of the two icebergs first, stepping over cracks, finding footing between chunks of fallen ice. Cracks in the berg glowed blue in the sun, and the only sound was that of our boots crunching in the snow. 

 Peering into the cracks, I could see the strange patterns that form in the ice, the frozen bubbles, some that are elongated and appear to have frozen while migrating to the surface. There is something about standing at the foot of an iceberg that seems grand and amazing, the stuff of National Geographic films, and the stuff of childhood dreams. I lagged behind examining ice, snapping photos, while my companion walks ahead, GPS in hand. The sky unbelievably blue, we stood for a long time, watching the swirling snow rolling over a small snow bank, glistening slightly in the low late afternoon sun. 

Rounding the second iceberg, I caught a glimpse of a sundog and a nacreous cloud beyond the iceberg, and I am reminded that I live in the most amazing place on the planet. At least it seemed so in that very instant, when I am overwhelmed by the grandeur, and not being eaten alive by the biting wind. As we headed home, the sun sank low behind us, the snow covered peaks glowing pink. Out my window, a nacreous cloud evolved, growing ever more colorful, reminding me of holograms and fish scales and oil slicks in parking lot puddles. I stop once and climb out to look back and see the sun, firey orange, nearly sinking into the horizon. Indeed it was an altogether perfect day. 

Fierce Winds

McMURDO STATION, ANTARCTICA

Walking back to work after lunch today, I leaned into the fierce wind, the gusts occasionally ripping open the Velcro on my hood and blowing it off my head. I stopped trying to replace it after the third time it happened. The blowing snow all but obliterated everything around me. I could make out the shadow of each telephone pole, and the vague outline of roof pitches, just enough by which to navigate. Familiarity helps too- I know where each pole sits along the road, to keep the dumpsters on my left, and not to veer right when the poles end. Somewhere in the abyss to my right is a giant snow pile, and beyond that the hill leading up to work.

From the window at work, we watch the power lines whip in the wind, marvel at our inability to see the building immediately below us. Gusts of wind bring the occasional burst of snow in through the gaps in the window, the flakes shimmering in the light. The walls and floor creak in the wind. I much prefer the creaking to some of the other buildings around town that sway. The roaring wind occasionally sounds like thunder. Our noses pressed up against the window glass, warm mugs of tea in hand, my coworkers and I find it hard to feel motivated to return to work.

Listening to the building creak and the pipes gurgle, we swap ghost stories. The building I work in, among others, is said to be haunted, and there are plenty of stories of strange sights and sounds. The gymnasium is said to be haunted by those who died in the 1979 plane crash on nearby Mt. Erebus. Their bodies were brought there before being repatriated to New Zealand. The conversation turns to others who have died here, and what becomes of their remains since there are obviously no morgue facilities here. (The answer involves lab freezers, metal shipping containers, and large boxes). A bit morbid perhaps, but fascinating still.

As I walked home from work, the visibility had improved so that whole buildings were in view, though the wind still howled. Cold air nipped at my cheeks, blowing in through the holes in my goggles. The wind gusting at close to fifty knots left me struggling to keep my feet on the slick compacted snow. Now home, the wind whistles through my drafty window, the gusts thundering through the tunnel created by my and the neighboring building. I love when the weather picks up here, when Antarctica rages fiercely. So many days are docile, and easy to forget of what exactly she is capable.

The things I would write about

 

The Coming Daylight

McMURDO STATION, ANTARCTICA

Each morning I wake from a restless sleep, kept awake by the wind howling at my window all night, and stumble out of bed into the cold dark night. As I step out the front door of my dorm, I inhale the sharp cold and join the shadows moving towards the galley for breakfast. I love the darkness. Somehow the world seems quieter and more still in wrapped in the blanket of night. I will miss it dearly when it disappears for good. When I first arrived here two weeks ago, we would arrive at work and wait for the light, often not until 10 am, to do certain outdoor tasks. Now, as I walk to work at 7:30, the sun is already rising, the lavender bleeding up over the hills.