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.
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