To catch up:

I’ve been at the South Pole for six days now, having landed around mid-afternoon on Friday, the 26th of October. It’s good to be back here, especially after being stuck on the coastal station of McMurdo for 18 days. One gets bored and frustrated very quickly when under-tasked and transient.

Here at Pole, however, I am never without something to do. This is a good thing.

Friday was an easy day, a rest day to help us acclimate to the elevation here (10-12 thousand feet physiologically, depending on the variations within the atmosphere). Most everyone wanders around their first day or two with a headache, dizziness, or light nausea after flying in from sea level. Some have much more adverse effects due to the jump in altitude, making trips to BioMed (our “hospital”), back to sea level at McMurdo Station, or possibly off-continent a possibility.

Interestingly, very little is known about the human body’s response to drastic changes in altitude. An individual who has successfully made a transition from sea level to 12,000 feet in the past has no guarantee that they will be able to do so in the future. As a general rule, physical shape and endurance do not determine a successful transition either.

To better understand the human reaction to altitude changes, a group based out of the Mayo Clinic in Rochester, Minnesota received a grant from the National Science Foundation to travel to Antarctica and study its denizens. Being that Polies (the nickname for folks working at the South Pole) are all required to make an abrupt jump in altitude for our jobs, we make ideal lab rats. In exchange for a free shirt (it’s a nice shirt!) many of us have volunteered to be poked, prodded, have blood drawn, be weighed, analyzed, breath into tubes, wear daily blood pressure and heart rate meters, and even wear “life shirts” and electrodes that determine a great number of things while one sleeps.

It’s been a riot to be an active part of a science experiment going on in Antarctica, particularly one of the rare pieces of “squishy” science (i.e. biology as opposed to astronomy, cosmology, geology, or atmospherics) at the South Pole. The techs and doctors involved with the project have all been from Minnesota as well, lending a touch of home to the conversations I’ve had with the group running the experiment. They’ve been here long enough to have become part of the community, affectionately (or not) known as the bloodsuckers. And, in the vein of the small-world syndrome, one of the techs went to college with my brother.

So, Friday was an easy day, dinner with old friends, giant smiles as I wandered around station, shortness of breath from the altitude, and my part in the altitude experiment. I went to sleep wearing a life shirt, covered in electrodes and wires, and did my best to rest well as advised.

Saturday brought a full day of turnover with the Emergency Response teams from the previous year. I had accepted a role offered to me by our Winter Site Manager to be one of two On Scene Commanders (OSC) in the event of an emergency response. I didn’t realize the level of commitment that I was walking into, but Saturday began the steep learning curve.

In effect, I am in charge of any scene at the response to an emergency. Or emergency teams here respond to trauma incidents, fire alarms, and spills (hazardous materials). I am one small piece of a larger puzzle (the organizational chart makes for interesting reading) but our teams are organized in such a way as to scale from small events to very large ones.

In a direct fashion I work with the team leads for our Trauma team, our Hasty Team (first responders), our Fire Brigade, and our Logistics team. Between myself and the leads, it is our responsibility to search and secure a scene and respond as the scene dictates, be it fire, spill, trauma, or a combination of the above.

As is very common with many activities at the South Pole, all of the members of our emergency response teams our volunteers.

Saturday, then, was the first go-round of those of us newly trained for emergency response, our first drill and the official turn-over of the response teams to those of us here for the summer. It is now our new crew, going about our normal days, who responds to an alarm, who works for the safety of our coworkers and our friends.

There are big shoes that all of us are working to fill, but time and persistence (we train weekly and drill monthly) will lead to a team that will move with one mind by the end of summer and the end of our upcoming winter.

Saturday night held more attempted rest and the social send off of the departing winter-over crew.

Rest was still the name of the game Sunday, particularly after the mental exhaustion of Saturday. A lazy brunch and an afternoon of card games and board games followed suit. Hiking was discussed, but with temperatures hovering around -60 F and a wind-chill of -90 F, the idea was passed on.

Monday began work with the Cargo department as an equipment handler. My days have since been filled with long hours of a job that touches everything that moves in and out of the South Pole. Every piece of equipment, personal baggage, food, and the like moves through our department at one time or another. We are the group that loads and unloads the LC-130 Hercules aircraft that land throughout the summer months at Pole.

Yesterday saw my first trip behind a plane for an offload. I was not participating, just observing, but to see the entire process was enlightening. We offload in a state of ERO (engines running) so the noise, smell, and power of the prop wash is a very present awareness. The fuelies, are partners on the flight deck, get even more up close and personal with the dangerous parts (propellers) of a running LC-130 as they offload fuel for the station’s diesel generators and the equipment that we run.

Soon, I’ll be driving the Caterpillar forklifts behind the planes, but more practice is on the radar first.

Right now, there are four of us who have been here and are acclimated, trying to cover days in which the flights split between an arrival at noon and at midnight, making for long hours. After numerous weather delays, however, the rest of our crew arrived this morning. In a few days we’ll be up to full staff, running two shifts each of three Cargo Handlers (equipment operators, pallet builders, baggage luggers, mail deliverers, and general roustabouts) , a load planner (for the paperwork to go with all the shipment and the logistics of cargo movement), and a team lead. We also work closely with our Materials department (two people) and the Waste department (two people) for the station, trading help and time as needed. All this for a remote outpost that supports hundreds of millions of dollars of scientific research and the daily lives of up to 275 people.

We are outside or in equipment for our entire day, darting around on snowmobiles to make deliveries, moving thousands of pounds of gear with the tracked forklifts, building pallets for delivery, or shoveling off our buried gear. It is hard, physical work, but leaves me feeling satisfied in the same manner of trail work.

I had some plans for goals and hobbies, but between my acceptance of the OSC role for emergency response and the long hours of Cargo, I think I’ll step back from them. One needs to make certain to have time for spontaneity and fun. I often wear responsibility as a mantle that weighs me down, turns me grouchy and tired. This will be a season to focus on a different attitude, and a much more rounded way of life.

Tomorrow, the four of us will be working four flights, scheduled for arrivals at noon, 1 PM, 11 PM, and 12 AM. Should be a good day…

Posted by noblehobo at 12:18 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Okay, had a few moments today, while still stuck in McMurdo (updates on that in a moment). The gist is that I’ve updated the site a touch, set an opening page on www.noblehobo.com (which you may have seen), and arranged my blog bits and bobs into two separate sites. From now on, I’ll be tossing Antarctic updates on a blog specific to that (particularly for younger folk reading). The random commentary on life and such will continue to reside here, on this one.

You can catch the link to the Antarctic blog on the front page, or just go to www.noblehobo.com/antarctica.

Please be patient, I’ll only have intermittent opportunities to update and finish fixing the world behind the page.

Many thanks.

Update

Seems there’s more work involved than I first thought - several hours to get it back to where it once was. I’ll get there, but it’ll take time. In the mean, entries will be here.

Posted by noblehobo at 11:23 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

On a note of the underpinnings of this site, I played with the comment engine some. There should no longer be a need to authenticate through a third party application, though I might still have to approve you first. In other words, comment away (by clicking on the comments button after each entry, adding your name, your comment, and waiting a day or two for me to approve the comment and avoid the spam problem from last year).

Posted by noblehobo at 11:13 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

The plan for opening the South Pole this year has changed from the past. The New York Air National Guard, who flies the ski-equipped, LC-130 Hercules aircraft that we use for passenger and cargo transport, has refused to fly below -50 C. This is with good cause, as landing below these temperatures puts a good deal of stress on the planes, often causing equipment malfunctions later on.

In response to this, as well as to attempt to open the station more slowly, the US Antarctic Program contracted with a Canadian transport company to arrange an earlier flight window with a different plane. Ken Borek Air will be flying a modified DC-3 aircraft, known as a Basler. These modified planes have a good deal of history, as the original DC-3 was designed and built prior to World War II and has continued to be a staple of air travel around the world since. Newly constructed versions of the plane are modified at a company in Wisconsin to increase their range, operating temperature window, and cargo carying capacity. The Baslers have a history at Pole, landing many times in the past years. This will be the first time, however, that they will be a dedicated part of the USAP.

I’ve been scheduled to fly on the final Basler flight of the opening, on October 24. The first flight should be taking place as soon as the weather clears at the South Pole (it is clear, beautiful, and about 5 degrees Farenheit here at McMurdo Station). There will be seven flights in all. The Basler has a maximum operational ceiling of 14,000 feet, meaning that we will be flying through the Trans-Antarctic Mountains, rather than high above them as in the LC-130s. All of Antarctica will be splayed out below us for our view during the five hour ride.

What gets me though, every time I see that airplane, waiting out on the ice runway, waiting for us to hop on and ride it, is the fact that it harkens back to a more romantic period of air travel - something straight out of movies from the 40s and 50s. When I look over at it, the theme song from the Indiana Jones movies pops into my head and I can picture it flying over a map of Antarctica, a red line growing behind it as a movie montage takes us home to the South Pole.

I’ve been craving to fly on those birds for years, and have been excited to no end as I wait here for take-off.

I didn’t think anything could top that ride to the South Pole.

Then I got an email today from my supervisor. Turns out a couple of volunteers were needed to stop at a glacier and dig out a fuel cache. I was volunteered.

Volunteered to hop on an even smaller, more nimble and veteran plane in the Antarctic program, the Twin Otter. As of Saturday I am scheduled to fly out to the largest glacier on the planet, the Beardmore. We will land on the glacier, dig out a fuel cache needed for a remote science field camp, the hop back on the plane and fly through the mountains and over the glacier to the South Pole. There will be four of us, the two pilots, and a lot of shovels.

My smile grew even wider at the news.

Pictures soon, of the planes mentioned above, and of the trip, when it is done.

In the mean, I’ll just keep ambling along, looking for adventures to find me.

Posted by noblehobo at 04:32 AM | Permalink | Comments (1)

life in antarctica is simple in that one’s choices are limited. here in mcmurdo, life is simplified by having someone else choose and prepare your meals, your recreation and travel limited by weather and distance, your social options limited by space and budget. at pole, it is simplified even farther - social options and outings determined in the same closed environment as a summer camp.

as such, the human experience becomes heightened. there are far fewer outlets for people to escape to, far fewer distractions to look toward. you are forced, in essence, to deal with the minutia of being human at all times.

i was raised in minnesota, in a farm family where frustrations and personal opinions were not voiced overtly. as such, directness is still alien to me, and i am used to it in situations of anger and dismay. here, distant from distraction and exposed to personalities birthed in locations far from my upbringing, i find bluntness frequently. find it, and respond to it as i am used to in my life, as i respond to anger and frustration. i mitigate, search for empathy, and attempt to fix the situation, even at my own detriment. i am angling to keep the team satisfied.

this leaves me, on a regular basis, watching myself in the third person, wondering if what i’m saying is truly what i feel. and that is the key point - what i feel, what i want. the statement of, “know thyself” holds very, very true. one cannot be direct, nor deal with those who are, if you are standing on something other than solid ground.

it is a conversational pace that is new to me, even with as varied a background as i have. it is a mental process recently exposed to my view, through interactions with good friends from distant locations and continued exposure to a world outside my comfort zone. it’s a damn good challenge and one of the most unique aspects of the upcoming winter.

so that’s what works for me, or what needs to, rather, to find solid ground, to speak when i know what i want or how i feel, and to hold fast when uncertain. i’ve been working for many years to step back from my role as a mediator without conscious choice - this appears to be a continuation of that pursuit.

Posted by noblehobo at 04:48 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

life transpires quickly in the present-tense, often with less reflection and future-planning time than we would like. a moment, then, to recap what has been and what will be on this antarctic journey. this may read like a listing of events, but for those of you asking and curious, it will fill in the details i forget to mention.

the official start (not counting medical qualification paperwork and tests) began on september 9 with a flight to denver, colorado from the minneapolis airport. i left town with the remnant pieces of my aunts hobo party in tow, a wandering roustabout hopping in to say hello before his forty-first move.

from september 10-14, i took part in classes to expand my IT knowledge base. the classes related to the computer server systems that i will be responsible for managing during the antarctic winter as the systems administrator for the south pole station. over the course of the weekend i snuck out for a spell of biking with old friends in fort collins and proudly displayed an ability to not completely wreck myself while tumbling downhill on a bike.

structural firefighting school (south pole specific!) took place the next week in golden, colorado, piling a collection of winter-over crew through as much of a full firefighting course as we could get in a week. we also managed to cram in as much good food and company as possible, a roller-derby event, and a polie-party outside of the antarctic. saturday held our psychological testing and a presentation on stress and the response to traumatic events.

we set up on monday for another south pole specific course, focused primarily on first response to a medical situation. three days later we moved back toward denver for orientation and the first batch of flights to new zealand for the antarctic summer season.

i left denver on friday afternoon, transfered flights in los angeles, and then flew over the pacific for twelve hours on the way to new zealand. we landed in aukland, then took a commuter flight to christchurch.

in christchurch, the cargo team (who i’ll be working with for the next four months in my summer season job as an air transportation specialist) spent three days at loader training. we took a caterpillar 943 and a 247 through the mud and muck of the new zealand spring, playing with slopes, drops, and flooded pits that we might never again see (at least not in antarctica). there were giant, goofy grins all around. the last day of class took place in a slew of hail and sleet, but we persevered. after that, we were to fly out on friday.

were to fly out on friday, that is, if we contagious and sick enough with the cold to infect the rest of a flight… myself and one of my coworkers found ourselves forcibly delayed, originally for one day, then for three (due to space restrictions), then for five (due to plane mechanical malfunctions). i was far better after the second day, so there was ample opportunity to play around christchurch, and even sneak out of town for a bit. i made it out to the pacific for a view from a spring beach and caught a hint of the southern alps (mountains).

today, nine days after arriving in new zealand, i fly south to antarctica.

i’ll be in mcmurdo station on the coast (actually on ross island, off the coast of antarctica) until october 23, at which point i’ll head down to the south pole. once i land there, the south pole will be my home for the next thirteen months.

and there it was, a recap. more meandering thoughts and psuedo-philosophies in the future…

Posted by noblehobo at 10:45 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)