June 22, 2008

The following contains a few of the emails I sent during the SMS seismic survey that I was a part in 2005. It was one of the most incredible journeys I have ever experienced. I would like to thank Dave Harwood, who invited for me to be part of this exceptional adventure as well as the rest of the SMS team, who made the experience a fun and enjoyable one as well.

This is a pic of Tim and I at Scot Base during American Night. Tim was the Co-chief of the first ANDRILL Drilling Project, McMurdo Ice Shelf, which was drilled in 2006.

This is a picture of a sun dog, which is similar to a halo, but with rays that shoot out of its sides. They are formed from ice crystals in the atmosphere.

It has been a wondrous adventure so far, with the most exciting part yet to begin; moving to the sea ice field camp.

Since my arrival, I have been awe struck by the beauty and majesty that this continent contains. Here at McMurdo, we are situated on a hill that looks across McMurdo Sound to the Transantarctic Mountains that loom high above the horizon although they are nearly 100 km away. The air is free of most of the toxins that Man has spread across the globe permitting the mountains to extend their beauty across to the little Man-made oasis called McMurdo. When I first arrived here the beauty over whelmed me; flooding my heart with such magic and filling my soul with joy. The mundane stuff of picking up the luggage after the plane flight and checking in to my dorm room became secondary distractions as I longed to get out and get into this world of ancient ice and towering jagged peaks. Although I was not accustomed to the cold (Christchurch was around 70 F), on that first evening, I looked for a place where I could see this alone and internalize the magic of it all. I found a little nook behind the little church that over looks the sound and was sheltered from the wind. Although I was not used to the cold and was shivering, on that first evening, I stood there for over a half an hour looking out at the wondrous scene that laid before me and just kept repeating over and over, “I made it, I am here!!”. This has since become the place I go to every night before I go to sleep. The routine is that I stand there looking out, sighing from the spell that it casts over me, absorbing the feelings, sights, and sounds of this mysterious place.

On Friday night, we went over the New Zealand station that is about 2 km away to hear a talk by Tim Naish. He is a very nice guy and we get along quite well. In fact, he flew over in the same plane when I left New Zealand and we spent a great time talking about stuff. I hope that in the future, we can work on something together. The station is much smaller than McMurdo, with perhaps a 100 people there. Their bar has a very nice atmosphere to it, with a spectacular view of where the ice shelf meets the sea ice. In this transition zone, the ice shelf presses into the sea ice, resulting in the ice to buckle and get pushed up into crumbled tall towers of ice.

This is a picture of me in the morning during Happy Camper School. I was told that the temperatures never got warmer than the negative 20's.

In the MFC, is where food is gotten for field expeditions.
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I have been a bit busy since I arrived in Antarctica 4 days ago. The first couple of days have been a bit disorienting between all of the traveling and getting adjusted to this quite different environment. Since arriving, I have been either in classes either learning about to deal and survive on the sea ice or helping Dave with logistics.

There has been so much learning about living and surviving here. We had three days of classes on what to look out for on the sea ice (cracks in the ice!!) and how to survive out there if I get stranded. We actually spent one night camped out with a few tents and survival gear. Most of the time the conditions were relatively fine, but about half way into setting up camp, we got hit with a substantial wind storm and had to struggle to get everything done quickly and get everyone into the tents. In the end only one person got a mild case of hyperthermia and a bit of frost bite on their nose. But now I feel confident that I could survive getting trapped somewhere in a storm as each person is issued a survival bag that contains food, water, sleeping gear, and equipment for building a shelter.

The logistics and preparations for an expedition has also been daunting. I spent a greater part of the day shadowing Dave as he went through working through the logistical aspects of the expedition. This included checking with the communications people and picking up the radios, etc., checking with the operation people who check on every person and group that leaves the station.

I had a real adventure that I wish that you could have been a part of. There are three places to get a drink at McMurdo, two bars, one smoking the other nonsmoking and a coffee shop where they sell beer and wine. The bars do not have much in terms of ambience or class. They basically look like low class bars somewhere. However, the coffee bar is a completely different beast. It has “T” shape with domed (inverted “U: shaped) ceilings of wood. On Saturdays, they have an “open microphone” where anyone can perform. The performers were quite good, mainly a light folkies light rock that was not too loud. The other part of the café has sofas and chairs and definitely had a classy cool look to it. In fact, it could have been located somewhere in the west village, but was in Antarctica. However, it was the people here that made it so interesting. These are all people who have tender hearts inside them, although sometimes, as in many people, they may have a tough exterior. The dynamics though became quite clear quickly. As I mentioned before probably 80 to 90 percent of the people here are support staff and technicians, with only a small minority of people being actual scientists, in which the 90 percent are here to help or work for. It was here in the café that they could relax and be off duty and not care about us scientists and just letting loose. Some come down each year, but most were quite young and were planning to travel after this. They were all passionate and it was interesting that many times, it was not me but others who would start talking about the magic and beauty of Antarctica and open up and talk about how it touched their spirits. Then, of course, there were the single people and divorcees who were definitely on the prowl. However, the place is about two thirds men, so the women clearly have the upper hand in this place. Also, the since McMurdo is relatively small, everyone knows everyone else. In fact, as you walk around the town, it is impolite not to greet people in the street or in the dorm. I ended up closing the cafe with Dave, Rich, and some of the camera crew around midnight and after a quick goodbye, I did my traditional routine before I go back to the dorm of going to the edge of town and overlooking McMurdo Sound and looking across to the Transantarctic mountains. Although they are nearly 100 km away, because of the clarity of the atmosphere, they are distinct and clear and look so much closer. I always get a bit emotional being at this site as this is the first place I went to on the first day. Although I was not used to the cold and was shivering, on that first evening, I stood there for over a half an hour looking out at the wondrous scene that laid before me and just kept repeating over and over, “I made it, I am here, Dad are you checking this out, I am here!!”. Last night, as I stood out there a little past midnight, watching the last sunset that McMurdo sound will see until February, my spirit flooded in with the magic of the moment (of course my emotions had nothing to do with the wine I had at the café!). As I looked over the sound, I can see equipment (including ours) that is being staged for the various field camps on the sea ice close town, with the large cargo planes waiting out beyond near the ice runway, with green flags leading away from town indicating the location of the ice road that leads to the planes. Beyond them are the 5000+ meter peaks of the Transantarctic Mountains (TAM) in the distance. A 4000-meter dominant volcano lies to the south that is domed shaped as opposed to the ragged peaks of the TAM.

Tomorrow, we will almost be definitely heading out to the field camp. We expect to spend at least a day setting up the camp and then another day or so, testing the instrumentation. We are hopeful that the weather will improve and we can get some significant science in. The weather at this time of year is quite variable and none of the science with Antarctic experience has ever been down here this early in the austral spring.

We finally left for the field station on Tuesday morning. The excitement of the moment as well as the anxiety of the unknown was apparent for many of us. I could see it in their faces as well as within me. We were shuttled along with our gear down through town and then onto the staging area a couple of hundred meters onto the sea ice. There are a number of expeditions that also use the sea ice to load up their gear onto the assorted vehicles. Our caravan included a Piston Bully (a large box shaped truck on treads), a hagglund (similar to a Piston bully, but is attached to a box like passenger carriage), and four snowmobiles. The piston bully and hagglund pulled three trailers, and a laboratory on skis. It was an amazing exit from the station area with all of the vehicles powering up and then blazing off in a cloud of snow. It was about a two-hour trip to the site, in which support crews had already set up the dining tent and workroom tent. Fuel for all of our vehicles sat there waiting for us as well as service men setting up the phone and Internet service. We spent the rest of the day setting up camp; putting up the Scott tents for sleeping (two to a tent), The toilet (a seat over a box inside a Scott tent), the kitchen, and workroom.

Well, it has been a few days and finally, we have Internet service this evening. I want to get this out to you tonight, so I will keep this short. Things are going exceptionally well here, both in terms of the project as well as with me. We are gathering seismic data at more than twice the rate that we anticipated. The weather has been perfect for collecting data, clear, sunny and most importantly no wind. However, the temperature has remained cold. It would be an understatement to say that it is colddddddd! Out temperature gauge stopped functioning at minus 10 degrees F. or about minus 25 C. Imagine trying to get into our sleeping bags in those temperatures. However, hey this is Antarctica and outside of the getting into and out of bed, the cold has not bothered me much at all. Also, the beauty of this place is so amazing, that even a little bit of discomfort is completely swept away by the magic of these moments. The site where the camp is surrounded my 3,800-meter high mountains to the west, active volcanoes to the east and a dormant volcano to the south. This place is an impressionist painters dream, a place where the sun circles around the entire horizon providing 360 degrees of sun angles. I have watched how the light and shadows change on the various mountains and volcanoes around us. Also as the beginning of the seismic line is 17 km from camp, we were able to see new mountain chains and frozen bays.

This is our view when I came out to the station to get additional supplies.
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This is a view from the dining tent as the storm abated and true winter out conditions.
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This is a view of the southern sky as the next storm approached.
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This is a picture of sea ice conditions where we were collecting seismics.

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Today was a real adventure for me, as I was assigned to go into town using a snow mobile to get additional supplies. . It is about 30 km away and takes about 45 minutes. I was carrying a small trailer behind me to carry the food. I traveled for the most part on a small but well identifiable snow road that is used by resupply tanker trucks that head for the Dry Valleys that are west of us. BTW, protocol dictates that people always travel in at least pairs and always take along a supply bag that includes sleeping equipment, stove, food, and water for three days as well as saws for making an emergency structure if I get trapped in a sudden storm. I took a snow road that is relatively flat and an easy ride. The view heading to town was amazing, the road takes me speeding toward Ross Island. This island is a relatively new land feature, it was formed within the last few million years by volcanic activity. Therefore, the rocks are black and against the white snow and glaciers, making it almost like a black and white photo. As I drove in, I was able to look to my left and see the extinct volcano Mt Byrd, while at the center of my view is the 3,800 meter high active volcano Mt Erebus with puffs of smoke billowing from it and to the its right and in the far distance is Mt. Terror. Far over to my right is McMurdo, which is impossible to make out until near the end of the trip, but I can tell where it is as it is right next to a small but distinct little extinct volcanic cone just to it right. The small snow road makes a direct line to Ross Island and intersects with the main snow road (still all on the sea ice, mind you) that is like an interstate highway. This road is at least three lanes across, with traffic passing me every couple on minutes as they head out for their expeditions or work. This road parallels the island and passes within a kilometer or so of the sea ice airport. On this morning there were three Hercules transport planes as well as huge C-17 transport (this is the one I came in on) parked there. With the final turn toward the town, I felt like I was on a victory march, as the snow road widens into an expansive boulevard being at least 4 lanes wide. I drove past the staging areas on the sea ice for other expeditions with an array of various vehicles, sleds, trailers and even a large orange globe shaped building that was at least three stories high. At the end of the boulevard was a snow mobile parking area that we stopped and then, through good fortune, was able to hail a McMurdo taxi (a red van with over sized tires). Heck, it felt like I was back in the city, hailing cabs. It was good to get a hot shower after almost two weeks, but after a few hours at the station, I longed to get back “home” to the field camp and look around at my little temporary home surrounded by the most incredible vista I had ever seen, having the most amazing adventure I have ever had, and doing science that is cutting edge. It was also good to curl up in my sleeping bag, put my little eye patch on and dream sweet dreams.

November 3, 2005
We are in the midst of a fierce storm, a storm that only Antarctica can produce. This is providing a much needed day off and permits me to catch up with my journal and get an email or two out the door. The winds started to kick up two days ago. A steady breeze from the southeast kept a bite in the cold air. The sky was still clear to the north, but to the south (the direction that storms originate from), ominous strato-like clouds were creeping up the horizon. These clouds were those distinct dark gray color that first hid the domed volcano called Mt Discovery that lies to our south then crept northward over the high jagged peaks of the Royal Society Mountain range. These clouds at lower latitudes are fairly high, but here in Antarctica, they were at around 6000 feet and higher, based on how they covered half of Mt discovery. During the evening, the clouds and breeze seemed to toy with us, sometimes increasing to the south and others thinning out like this was not going to be a big weather event after all. In fact, at one point in the late evening, the clouds broke behind the Royal Society Mtn, letting in sun that hung just above the horizon to burst through providing a spectacular array of light beams ranging from bright yellows to deep golden oranges that seemed to magically pierce the increasingly angry sky, with the silhouette of the Royal Society mtn. cutting into this spectacle. As I fell asleep that night, I still did not believe that we were in for a major storm as the last five days have been so wonderful and even when we had almost similar cloud build ups and winds, the next day was better. In the middle of the night, I had to go on my typical bathroom trot, as the cold weather just does not allow a full night of sleep and quiet bladder. As I headed back to my tent, I looked to the south and realized that we were in for the real McCoy. The entire southern sky was covered with layer on layer of dark gray clouds, but what made me shudder was the white cloud that hung on the ground across the southern horizon. These clouds had a rolling and boiling look to them and knew what they represented, namely white out conditions were fast approaching. I stood there and watched as they raced toward me at what seemed like a fast speed, as the McMurdo Station was already enveloped by them (~15 miles from us), basically the distance from Manhattan to Queens College. I knew that these winds are typically above 50 miles per hour, so I quickly retreated to my Scott Tent and tried to go to sleep before the winds hit. I was awakened suddenly by the furious fluttering of the four international flags that flew behind my tent and the angry shuddering of the sides of the tent. The sides were pounding against my cot like an angry drunk man was falling on them. In fact, I tried to push against the tent and had to push with all of my strength against the wind. The rest of the night was the raging storm against the tent. Both Marv (my tent mate) and I slept in and when I finally awoke, it was ten in the morning, which is more than three hours after we normally wake up. I quickly dressed in the single digit temperatures as I wanted to see what was happening out there. As I crawled through the through the two tunnels that connect the inside of the tent with the outside world, I knew that the view was going to be different, as there was snow backed up through much of the tubes. However, the ferociousness of the scene was still more than I had imagined, as I could barely see to the dining tent (about 75 feet away) and the tents between were in different stages of either being covered or having the snow erode away from their bases. The scene was both spectacular and intimidating. It was my first white out conditions; however, this was even more intimidating since we are all living in just tents. I quickly made my way for the science tent. It was hard going as new high snow drifts had formed during the night while other areas were stripped down to the bare (now slippery) blue sea ice. The wind roared around me, seemingly almost angry that us Homo sapiens had ventured into a realm that was unnatural for us, saying or perhaps screaming at us that we really do not belong here. However, it is because of the special gift that we have as a species, the innate desire to explore and unstoppable drive to understand the world that we live in that compels us to venture into places and conditions like this. Also, it should be mentioned that if it was not for all of the high tech gear I was wearing, I would die within moments. Slamming the door behind me inside the science tent, I realized I was thigh deep in snow, as the small openings between the door and the frame allowed snow to be squeezed through from the howling winds outside. The next day or so, was writing in journals, reading books and checking to make sure that the snow around the tent to erode away, which would have compromised its integrity. The storm subsided after two days. Now the weather has replaced it angry winds and given us tranquil winds and brilliant skies.

Monday, November 20
We are finished with the seismic data collection!!! We finished around 4 pm on Sunday (or about 10 pm on Saturday for you), which was a cold and windy day, with little sun as the clouds tormented us with weak rays from the sun all day long. Most of us are too tired and too dirty to celebrate, as many just want to get home. However, for me, I clearly have mixed feelings about finishing. Although I am tired from the work and from the constant cold, a remarkable episode is quickly ending and I am feeling a deep sadness that this adventure is almost over. For this place has “tamed me” as the fox was in “The Little Prince”, it has become my friend, and when I hear the wind blows it is not always the angry sound of “what are you doing here? You have no right to be in my realm”, but more of an acceptance of this small fragile living entity that has protected itself against the elements, meandering about on the sea ice, and trying to become one with this majestic place. I think that when I feel the cold wind in the future, it will not bring me discomfort, but remind me of the memories of looking at the 3800 meter peaks of the Royal Society Mountains on one side or Mt Erebus on the other, puffing and billowing smoke. And these memories will be able to warm my heart against any wind chills.

This place has touched me like almost no other. I have gotten to know this place and I feel that this land has gotten to know me. For me, it takes time to sit, listen, and see around, it also takes a lot of patience and letting the place envelop me. It also takes being away from distractions. As I reflect on how I have let this cold frozen land enchant me, becoming mesmerized by it’s awesome beauty; I realize that so much of this place has become part of my inner being forever. I feel such a love for this place as it has been etched into my soul so deeply, I cannot help but wonder whether a little bit of me will be remembered by this land. While I am here, I feel connected to it and it has come to accept me reluctantly. But also in a more concrete way, my presence also affects the landscape as the snow reflects the colors that I am wearing, and the ice and snow turns a pale orange color when the bright orange trailer slides by as the white snow picks up all of the colors that come its way. The mountains also pick up the colors and when they are in shadows, they become this deep blue color. As this place has reluctantly accepted me here, I wonder if some of my colors will linger on this remote and desolate landscape. After I am gone, will the ice long for some of my colors and wish to change hues as my shadow passes over it as well?

I have often tried to try to quiet my physical, mental, and emotional states so I can sense what is important here. This has been hard to do sometimes as we are always working hard to get the job accomplished. However, I have on occasion taken jobs that got me away from everyone and everything, allowing me to just sit and see, listen, and feel. The best job is when it is windy. The wind makes the geophones move or blows snow on them, so it is the job of the “line person” to take a radio with them and go on a skidoo and ride up and down the geophone line and push into the geophones into the snow. The Geophysists radio me to tell me which geophones are "noisy". Since the line is 1.5 kilometers long, often I end up sitting out somewhere on the line with my skidoo turned off (the noise of the engine will interfere with the seismic when they are shooting) for 10 to 15 minutes at a time. There I lay on my skidoo and gazing out to the Royal Society Mountains, the dominant volcano, Mt Discovery, or the active volcano called Mt Erebus and letting the images of these peaks to get burned into my mind and heart. I listen as the wind swirls around me and my little skidoo and can sometimes even watch it as it picks up the fine snow and blows it across this now frozen sea.

Sunday, November 27
It is Thanksgiving here as we celebrate it on Saturday. I did a bit of bar hopping tonight after the huge magical feast of hanging out with the entire group as well as a few guest such as some kiwi scientists.

I am also sending you a pic from behind the little church. I had made a promise when I first arrived that I would end each night behind the church here as it overlooks the sound and also provides a good protection from the wind. I do this as a way of making sure that I never take this place for granted ever. So tonight, three times I went over to my little sanctuary when I try to connect with this land that has enchanted me so. The last time and at the end of the evening for me as all of the bars were closed, I stood there with no coat and only a shirt (it has been warm here in the upper 20's F and also I am completely use to cold temperatures) and looked out at the majestic mountains and the never ending sunlight, with my heart sobbing and choking with tears as I repeated over and over that at best, there are only two more nights to come here and experience this, my little nirvana. I can not believe that this adventure is actually coming to an end. I have heard from others that once they come here they are hooked for life with the magic of this place. I would have say that it is true for me. I have come to realize that this is the place for me, the place that touches my heart more than any other place. I know that I will be here in 2007, I hope that I can design my research to be here more in the future.

Although I had a magical evening, my heart is heavy with the realization that this amazing episode in my life is coming to a close. Perhaps it is the all of the wine, but my heart aches and is fighting against time for what it represents, maybe that is the reason why I am up at nearly 3:00 am and have to get up at 7 am as I am planned to go out to meet up with the kiwi scientists at their field camp. I almost want to go out again and see this amazing place. For example, last night after a long night of hanging out, I came out of the bar in the middle of a fairly intense snow fall. Up until recently, it has been too cold to snow much. However, with the advent of milder air pushing up from the north, the air warmed and with it came the snow. We got about 3 to 4 inches, which made it so beautiful transforming McMurdo and the surrounding mountains into a winter wonderland. After departing from the gang, I walked around seeing the town in a completely different way. The magic of the place was so intense that I stood there over looking the different scenes with tears in my eye.

I will be very sad to leave this place. I clearly do not want to leave this enchanting place. My hope is that I can design my future research so I can come here more often.
ps a pic of the gang at dinner and a typical pic of what I see behind the church.