Snow Day!

McMURDO STATION, ANTARCTICA

This past weekend brought a rare snowstorm. On Saturday as I walked home from work, the snow fell rapidly in big flakes. It didn't take long for the roads and rooftops to bear a thick coat of snow. I pulled out the mukklukks that I had put away weeks ago, and set out for a walk to the point. 

Discovery Hut, built 1902

Snow flakes cling to Discovery Hut

Hut Point

The howling wind and blowing snow drowned out the sound of the power plant, and the snowy roads and the late hour on a Saturday kept the vehicles at bay. I lingered only a moment before the wind nipping at my cheeks chased me away. I walked home plunging knee deep into the snow drifts forming off the ends of building, having gained several inches since I had come that way just half an hour earlier. 

The snow fell through the evening and into the night. I longed for a fireplace and vast bay window overlooking the sound, but I settled for snuggling up on the couch under a blanket, looking over my shoulder out the dirty window every few minutes to watch the snow fall. Sustained snowfall is such a rare treat! 

I woke on Sunday morning expecting the sun to have melted the snow, but instead found the thick blanket of snow sparkling in the morning sun. Giant icicles hung from Building 155, the central building that houses the galley among other things. The icicles swayed in long continuous curves, the result of the relentless wind while they formed. Several folks were out snapping photos, and a few generous workers were shoveling out the snow drifts around the doorways. 

After brunch, I went home to exchange a skirt for some long johns and grabbed a few extra layers. I haven't been sledding in years, for lack of good snow and a good sledding hill, I suppose. But across town, I found B. trudging up hill dragging a tiny red sled behind her, the red of the sled considerably more faded than oversized puffy red snowsuit that pooled around her ankles. I went inside and pulled out another snowsuit from the depths of the ECW (Extreme Cold Weather gear) closet. The one-piece bunny suit left me feeling like a toddler bundled up for playing in the snow. 

Folding my long legs onto the tiny plastic sled, I pushed off down the steep slope. On the first run, I made it less than 100 feet down the hill before toppling into the snow, but managed to keep hold of the rope on the sled. My subsequent attempts were much more successful, ending at the bottom of the hill just before a bare patch of rock. When the sledding grew tiresome- or rather the walk back up the hill- I sat in the snow and watched others head down the hill, and eventually a half-hearted snowball fight ensued, for which no one bothered standing up. 

As the cold started to seep in, I followed a few friends inside. I kicked off my wet boots and peeled off the bunny suit and headed upstairs to the kitchen. I set a pot of water on to boil and pulled out several mugs. The others soon joined, padding across the wooden floor in their socks. I settled into a spot on the couch, nestled between friends, and sipped on a hot toddy. Certainly the post-sledding hot drink has improved since the wintery days of my childhood. 

Waiting for Mail

McMURDO STATION, ANTARCTICA

There is a steady stream of parka clad workers popping into the mailroom first thing in the morning, checking for letters and packages from home on their way to work. I take advantage of a short lull to slip into the mailroom and sort through the basket of mail for the field camps. While I linger over the stacks of envelopes and packages, I listen as the mailroom clerk asks for the name of each person who comes up to her counter. Each answers expectantly with the slight rise of hope at the end of the sentence. Some customers quietly accept the envelopes handed over and head on to work, others comment on the mail they hope for, and the mail they receive. "Still no letters? She doesn't love me," bemoans one empty handed customer. "Oh that's not true. She loves you," consoles the clerk. I can hear the swell in another pair's conversation as they are each handed the oversized red envelopes of belated Christmas cards. "Ugh. A bill?!?!" another groans, disappointed that the rest of the world has caught up with him here on our remote island. As I listen to the reactions, I think what an interesting snippet of life this is- all the hope and anticipation tied up in tiny packages, the disappointment of the empty-handed ones falling in heaps on the mailroom floor.

The mailroom is rather sparse these days. These days there is more disappointment than pleasure in the world of mail. It's been weeks now since we received the last C-17, the large wheeled cargo planes that bring luxuries like mail and fresh produce. The smaller LC-130's bring only the necessary cargo and passengers. It will be some weeks yet until we see the return of the C-17, when hopefully the runway will be able to support the heavier wheeled aircraft again.

In Need of a Runway

McMURDO STATION, ANTARCTICA 

I stepped out this morning into a dreary gray day. The cloudy skies and cool breeze are a welcome change from the previous two days' clear blue skies and warm temps. Oh certainly the summer days of light jackets were a pleasant reprieve, but the intense sun and rising temperatures have turned our airfield into a swamp. Drivers transporting passengers and cargo have been slogging through the slushy mess that used to be a road, one section having been deemed "the bog." The drive takes about twice as long as it once did, and the week has been a long battle of getting any plane to make it off the ground. 

We are decidedly short an effective skiway, and I'm afraid the situation is only getting worse. Now on day four of cancelled flights, I wonder what is the contingency plan if the planes can't take off. April?