At the bottom of the world...
1/15
On January 17, 1912, Robert Falcon Scott’s expedition reached the South Pole,
finding a flag and a letter that informed them that Amundsen’s Norwegian group had
beaten them there by several weeks. "The temperature was 22 below zero. They were
cold, tired, hungry; now they realized they had worked so hard only to be second to the
South Pole. ‘Great God, this is an awful place,’ Scott wrote in his diary that
day…. The march back became a nightmare, and they perished only 11 miles from a large
supply depot…… Once Scott and his men left the South Pole, it would be 44 years
before another person set foot there." From a web-site write-up on the history of
South Pole exploration, by South Pole physician Dr. Robert Lutes
On January 17, 1912, Robert Falcon Scott’s expedition reached the South Pole,
finding a flag and a letter that informed them that Amundsen’s Norwegian group had
beaten them there by several weeks. "The temperature was 22 below zero. They were
cold, tired, hungry; now they realized they had worked so hard only to be second to the
South Pole. ‘Great God, this is an awful place,’ Scott wrote in his diary that
day…. The march back became a nightmare, and they perished only 11 miles from a large
supply depot…… Once Scott and his men left the South Pole, it would be 44 years
before another person set foot there." From a web-site write-up on the history of
South Pole exploration, by South Pole physician Dr. Robert Lutes
"There are two potentially life-saving things a person should know before deploying to the South Pole for a winter: how to fight fires and how to get along with others…." Feb 1998 Outside Magazine article on wintering at the South Pole
We’re up at 8 and into the kitchen tent by 8:45 to hear that we’re on for the South Pole today! Robert and I are flying in the Cessna, an orange single-engine tail-wheel nicknamed "The Pumpkin." We’ll be departing an hour before the group going in the Twin Otter. We eat a few bites and then hurry back to the tent to throw cameras, film, and warm-weather gear into a backpack, and to stuff our sleeping bags. As for every flight, we have to be prepared for an unexpected landing.
The Cessna and the Twin Otters are equipped with skis, and they take off and land on a runway marked in the snow just north of camp. After a safety briefing that we actually listen to, we’re in the air by 10 AM. Our pilot, Max, is from New Zealand and this is his 9th and last flying season in Antarctica. Tall, thin, unkempt and weathered-looking, Max has quickly become one of our favorite people around camp - he is friendly and knowledgeable in an understated way. Once we pass over the Patriot Hills, the air is perfectly smooth, and we enjoy the wide vistas of ice reflecting bright-white in the sun, punctuated from time to time with nunataks. We do not encounter the 50 knot head-winds normally found in this direction, so we make good time. Max has programmed our first destination into the GPS unit bolted to the front panel - a refueling stop next to the Thiel Mountains. When we get close, we can visually sight signs of the fuel cache that ANI has deposited here - tiny green dots (fuel barrels), and black dots (large black garbage bags) marking the landing spot. We land, and Robert helps pump the fuel out of a barrel as Max holds the nozzle to the tank opening on the wing. Partway into this process, we see the Twin Otter landing, and they pull up beside us - two planes re-fueling literally in the middle of nowhere.
We take off first, but the Twin Otter catches up and flies beside us for awhile; we take photos of each other from the windows. They pull ahead and will land a few minutes before us. We fly the whole way between 1000 and 2000 feet above ground-level, with our absolute altitude slowly rising as the thickness of the ice beneath us grows to almost two miles at the Pole. The altitude at the South Pole is 9500 feet, but because of the perpetual low pressure at the pole, it is the equivalent of around 11,000 feet. After a low pass by the dome complex, we land on the huge snow runway used by the LC-130s that fly in supplies daily from McMurdo Base on the other side of the continent. By the time we land, Robert is feeling mild symptoms of altitude sickness.
Before ANI started their operations, the only people to visit the Pole were employees, cross-country expeditioners, and occasional VIPs. When ANI first started ferrying mere tourists for visits, they were not received in a particularly friendly way - the station is a place for serious work and the visitors were viewed as distractions. Today things have relaxed considerably, and the South Pole staff is generally welcoming and helpful. However, any independent party such as ANI is understood to be on its own if trouble arises. For example, if we were to have plane mechanical problems while there, ANI would have to fly in its own mechanic and spare parts, and we would have to camp in our own tents and eat our own food. ANI is also required to bring visitors during normal working hours of the South Pole (set 17 hours ahead of our own camp), and to leave before the LC-130’s start flying in. We arrived at 1:30 PM camp time, 8:30 AM the following morning South Pole time.
We are enormously lucky on the weather today. The temperature is about minus 12 degrees F (and feels extremely cold and dry to breathe), but there is miraculously no wind - one of the employees calls it a "Chamber of Commerce Day." We walk together to the main entrance to the famous silver-gray dome structure (now half-buried in snow) at the center of the South Pole complex. Above the large ramp entrance is a sign that says " The United States of America Welcomes You to Amundsen-Scott South Pole Station." The dome itself is unheated, and the floor is hard-packed snow; light is visible through a few panels left empty at the top for air circulation. South Pole residents live and work in three two-story buildings placed within the dome, as well as within two archways extending outward from the dome. A number of other outlying buildings and facilities hold telescopes and other research equipment. Because the current dome/arch structure is aging and is slowly being buried by drifting snow, a new facility is now under construction, scheduled to open in 2005. The construction crews have brought the summer-time population up to 200 people. By mid-February, only 28 people will remain to "winter-over" at the South Pole - eight months of isolation with no physical contact with the outside world.
We are escorted to the mess hall, which we find so warm that we quickly shed our red Himalaya suits for fear of fainting from over-heating. While Antarctica itself is quite international, as decreed by treaty and as represented by visitors, the South Pole is most definitely American. Our two escorts for the day are Jerry, the National Science Foundation construction manager, and Linda, the NSF Science Representative. Over coffee and hot chocolate they give us an overview of the South Pole science programs and construction plans. As we get this introduction, a number of American South Pole employees come and go for breakfast - they look young and trendy, ponytails on the guys, etc. During a break, I approach a seated serious-looking group for an interview on "life at the South Pole" but they respond with discomfort - I am rescued by the young cook, who volunteers and cheerfully answers our questions (I’m sure my video audience will be impressed that we were able to arrange an interview with such a high-placed person at the South Pole - the cooks have a much more direct bearing on well-being at the station than any scientist does!).
Jerry and Linda then take us on an hour-long tour of the various South Pole facilities. We see the famous heated refrigerator - the "Freshie Shack" - used for fresh foods flown in from McMurdo, bio-medical facilities, sleeping berths (about the size of a walk-in closet, for two people), a small gym, a bar, a small library, the fuel storage area, and the computer center, where Richard hands over a copy of Ultima On-Line. We are struck by how confined their living and working spaces are. In camp we spend most of our time outside, either in the field or going between tents. At the Pole it is clear that life is lived mostly indoors, in windowless rooms. Small wonder that NASA has studied the winter-over population for some years to learn about adaptation to a space station environment. Still, many people return for the summer or winter seasons year after year; there is a waiting list of applicants.
As we are passing back through the dome, a fire alarm bell starts ringing, and a dozen people rush past us from all directions - emerging again in a matter of seconds in full yellow fire-fighting gear. Jerry starts to herd us back to the mess hall - on the way, we are told that it is a false alarm, set off by our own group. Someone had taken a flash photo in the bio-med center….. Robert raises his hand to say "Me! Guilty!" Fortunately, the entire incident is taken in good humor, and some of the firefighters even thank him for providing a break in their normal job routines.
Finally, it’s time to visit the geographical pole itself, and we pull on all our gear (looking longingly at the huge chocolate cookies being prepared for the lunch crowd), and waddle outside. There are two Poles here - a ceremonial red & white striped pole topped with a chromium globe, surrounded by the flags representing the original signers of the Antarctic treaty, and a simple metal pole next to a sign and an American flag, representing the true geographical pole. Because the ice moves outward from the South Pole toward the edges of Antarctica, the geographical pole marker shifts about 30 feet every year and has to be moved - a long line of sticks marks the positions of the old markers. We are told that we have only 15 minutes for all our photos and video shots, and we go into high-gear. My favorite part is walking "around the world" with Robert in only 5 seconds. We then walk back to the planes and take-off before the LC-130s start arriving, feeling very excited about having finally made it to 90 degrees South.
Max has re-fueled the plane using a second ANI fuel cache at the Pole, and we fly back non-stop, about five and a half hours. I realize that I have forgotten to leave the chocolate bars that I brought to give to South Pole residents, so we snack on those, along with sandwiches Max has brought. We hear the Vinson radio call through the headphones - two Polish climbers have summitted and all of the Americans have made it to Camp 3. The Cessna lands about 30 minutes after the Twin Otter, and we figure everyone has gone to bed. We stop by the kitchen tent for a warm drink, and find a big crowd gathered. Under a banner celebrating our South Pole day, ANI is serving spaghetti and garlic bread. We’re up till about 2 in the morning, and even then it’s hard to fall asleep.
1/16
"OK, here's today's big, scientific, and earth-shattering question from Miss Dent's class at Space Camp Florida.... the kids are dying to know what kind of bathroom facilities you have in Antarctica. That's my polite way of restating their question - they want to know if it is super-cold when you have to pull your pants down to go, and if you use regular toilets or what?" …..student question received 1/16.
Though we all found the South Pole fascinating in many ways, one of the most common comments was how wonderful it was to use a flush toilet (with a warm seat!) again. However, we have learned not to take anything for granted. For example, when you first have to use the camp facilities you realize that you've taken a flush toilet for granted all your life. But as soon as you have to figure out how to use the bathroom out in the field, you suddenly realize you've been taking the camp bucket and barrel method for granted. And then when you have to use an airplane pee bottle, you long for that quiet moment in the field.
Friday is yet again sunny and clear. After lunch Owen and Paul head out to Morris Cliffs by snow-mobile, while Richard, Jim and I go up again in the Pumpkin with Max. This time we are flying locally - we want to see more of the local area from the air. I am convinced that Max is one of the world’s best pilots - he glides in and around the mountains effortlessly, providing us with breathtaking views on all sides. We fly north toward Vinson until we can see it in the midst of a tall ridge of mountain-tops. We believe that the climbers are summitting today, and it seems they have a beautiful day to do it.
On our way back, we search for meteorite sites. Meteorites fall with the same frequency in Antarctica as anywhere else in the world, but they are preserved in the ice sheets that flow outward from the Pole. When the ice hits a mountain in its path and starts to flow up the sides, meteorites are exposed through ablation, or evaporation, of the ice. From the air, we can see dozens of sites that seemed to match the criteria - blue ice on the south sides of the mountains, being "fed" from an ice sheet, and at altitudes high enough to avoid the sun-cup problem. Richard records the positions of a few of these sites on his GPS, and then we turn around to land next to a particularly interesting one. It is the first time that the search for meteorites actually seems "real" to me, and we all feel a bit of a thrill in heading down for the landing.
On his first attempt, the plane hits the snow hard and Max immediately pulls up and takes off again, saying "too rough, too rough." He circles and chooses a second spot, but a few feet off the ground decides the sastrugis are too big here as well and takes off again. On his third attempt, he lands the plane fairly smoothly, though it is a bumpy ride as the plane slows. We disembark and Max radios camp to say we’ll be "off-deck" (in the air) in about an hour. We head toward the blue ice, which Max estimates to be about a 15-minute walk. Distances deceiving us as usual, we arrive at the edge of the ice about an hour later; Max turns around at the half-way point to radio camp with a new estimate. The three of us have only a half-hour to explore, not enough time to examine each widely scattered rock we can see on the surface of the ice. All of the rocks that we have time to reach are angular pieces of basalt, matching the large mountain next to us. But the conditions look promising, here and at other similar sites along the south side of the Patriot Hills, and we feel that success could be obtained with more time and resources.
The walk back to the plane is all up-hill, and the plane is not visible for the first 45 minutes. We follow the track of our own footsteps, eating snow to provide water (later we are told that the body loses more than it gains in this transaction, but it tastes good at the time). Max is waiting by the plane, and we quickly take off again.
Owen and Paul have again returned empty-handed from their excursion; Paul continues to gather more geological samples to take home for further study. In the meantime, Owen has gathered some of the very old "blue ice" at the base of the Patriot Hills, and we add some to water. We’re not sure if it is 10,000 years old or a million years old, but we can definitely hear it fizzing and bubbling in the water - releasing tiny bubbles of ancient compressed gasses.
At the 8:15 PM radio call to Vinson, base camp reports that all climbers have now summitted. The temperature was so warm, the best the guides have ever seen, that some people posed for photos with their shirts off.
A few clouds have blown in by the time we go to bed.
1/17
"Most clients, after they have a week of great weather, want to experience an Antarctic storm. The problem is that they want the storm to last a half-day, and our storms usually last 3-4 days...." Steve Pinfield, Field Operations Manager
The sky is definitely cloudy when we rise the next morning, and the temperature inside our sleeping tent hovers around 32 degrees (on a good morning it’s about 45). The same thing is on everyone’s mind….. we’re supposed to fly out tomorrow - will we be stuck here another week like the previous clients?
As the day progresses though, the clouds blow out and the winds pick up. When Owen goes out to hold the antenna for the satellite passes, he has to hold onto the side of the tent for support. The local Cessna ride for Robert, Eve and Heather is scrubbed till tomorrow.
Heather and I have about reached our limit of tolerance for the condition of our hair (though hers still looks considerably better than mine). We pull out the infamous "No-Rinse Shampoo" which we had declared earlier in the week to be a resounding failure. The directions say to just "towel out" the shampoo, along with the dirt, but this time we try actually rinsing with thermoses of warm water. Our hair definitely feels cleaner, though mine looks about the same as before as soon as I wear a hat for a few hours. Antarctica is the Bad-Hair continent.
I spend the evening getting video interviews and visiting the NASA/Carnegie-Mellon camp a kilometer away. They have two large tents, one for sleeping and one for working. Inside the working tent there are more PCs than people, though their satellite communication capabilities allow them to transmit only, not receive. Large American and Chilean flags hang from the ceiling, and a couple of their bicycles lean against the tent wall. Alex, Kurt and Pascal explain their work, preparation for next year when they will bring the actual robot, Nomad, to Antarctica for testing. Nomad has large treaded tires that allow it to pass over large distances quickly, unlike Dante (also designed by Carnegie-Mellon), which picked its way slowly through volcanic terrain. Both Nomad and Dante are prototype planetary exploration robots. They are brought to Antarctica for testing because of its similarities to the surface of Mars - extremely cold and dry, wind-carved, rock-strewn.
Up until today, we have not been receiving any incoming messages either, but Owen does unexpectedly receive 18 messages on one of today’s passes. Brittany has sent a message about girl scout cookies, and we send her an order by e-mail, asking her to have them delivered to our camp coordinates if we don’t get out tomorrow.
Around dinner-time the first plane-load of climbers arrives from Vinson, and camp is filled with handshakes of congratulations and stories of their climb. Our NH friend Stuart is in the first group, and he gives me a rock from the summit - I am touched! Dinner is considerably more crowded, and Steve makes it clear that he is praying for our flight to go out on time tomorrow - it is hard on the staff to have so many people in camp.
One of the more interesting stories we hear is from the two Finnish cross-country skiers Patrick and Vaca. They have just returned from a separate expedition, skiing to the bases of two previously unclimbed Ellsworth peaks, and then climbing them in order to be able to name them. The two names they are considering are "Mt. Finland" and "Mt. Rob Hall" (in honor of the New Zealand guide that died atop Everest last year). As they were returning to Vinson Base Camp for their flight back to our camp, they ran out of food two days from their goal. They knew they could make it back, but would have preferred to have something to eat. As they skied along in seemingly virgin Antarctic territory, they came upon a bamboo pole sticking out of the snow. Knowing that such a thing does not naturally occur in the area, they began digging beneath the pole. And amazingly, they found a huge supply of food - it had been left over 30 years ago by the very first team to climb Mt. Vinson in 1966. The food was still perfectly good, and they cooked up a feast that night, carrying additional supplies back with them to Vinson Base Camp. Patrick, very Scandinavian with his blonde beard and good looks , relays all of this in a gentle matter-of-fact manner, but our mouths are open with amazement.
The climbers will sleep in their own mountain tents tonight, but by the time we go to bed they are still gathered in the kitchen tent, going on adrenaline.
1/18
"Antarctica is so harsh that after awhile you look like you’ve aged 20 years. But don’t worry, you get your normal face back after you return home……" Paul Sipiera, 12/1/97 briefing for this trip
Last night was the first night I did not sleep well at camp. For one, it was very windy (gusting to 50 knots) and even the ear-plugs couldn’t keep out the noise of the tent flapping and groaning. I kept thinking about the scenarios Steve had described for me just yesterday about what happens when the winds hit 60, 70, 80, 90….. (at 80 knots the planes start flying themselves and the pilots have to get in them to work the controls and push them to the ground; at 100 knots - which has never happened yet - the tents would mostly blow away and everyone would have to move into the ice cavern and wait for the storm to abate). I wasn’t really worried, but I did put our "can’t-lose" items in one backpack in case we had to move somewhere quickly. When the wind did die down from time to time, we could hear the party still going on in the kitchen tent - they were doing their best to drink all of the cartons of cheap Chilean wine stocked by the camp.
By the time we meet for breakfast, most of the climbers are comatose in their tents. One Polish climber, still dressed in his bright yellow climbing gear, is reclining in a seated position in the kitchen tent - he is reported not to have moved since the previous evening. But when I point my video camera in his direction, he manages a weak wave (though his eyes still appear to be closed). Richard reports that he heard sounds behind the library tent at 5 AM, and thinking the satellite pole was coming down in the wind, he dressed fully and went out to investigate. It was just two Polish climbers, setting up their tent "for the night," trying to block the wind by positioning it on the downwind side of the library tent. Heather says that when she first woke up, she spent quite awhile trying to figure out where the loud snores were coming from - it wasn’t from Richard, who had fallen back asleep, but from the climbers she didn’t yet know were camped right next to them.
Lisa and Steve tell us that the runway winds are too high to initiate the Hercules flight, but that they will be monitoring conditions through-out the day.
It is not until after dinner that they report that based on three hours of low winds, the Hercules has left. It is due in at 2:30 AM, and we are to have our duffel bags ready to go outside the kitchen tent two hours before that. By 2 AM, we start the walk toward the blue ice runway, and look up with excitement when we hear the Hercules approaching. It makes a low pass to observe the runway, and then flies the pattern for a perfect landing. We form a chain to unload its cargo (mainly supplies for next season at camp), and then take our seats for the 4 AM take-off. Because of the bright sunlight throughout, we do not really feel the hour until we are airborne, when most people quickly fall asleep. After we land in Punta Arenas six hours later, we hear that low clouds moved in within an hour of our take-off. But we are on our way home.
EPILOGUE
A week later, I am still dreaming about Antarctica every night….. the surreal and energizing effect of a sun that never sets, the sheer beauty of the mountains and endless expanses of ice, the independent nature of the people that spend time there. It is the first place I have visited that directly gave me a sense of Earth as a whole planet, spinning on its axis, orbiting the sun, filled in its lower latitudes with a miraculous profusion of life. It is a perspective I hope I never lose.
copyright 1998 Marcy Garriott