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…