My life seems up in the air in every way imaginable. I received an email from a close friend hoping things would change from a less than average previous couple of years. I replied that maybe this is just how life is, slugging through a boring job, everyday exploitation by powerful, smarmy, and repulsive people and businesses, and frequent disappointments that arise like weeds in a spring garden. With less than a month’s time remaining for my stay in Antarctica, my thoughts are scattered with where I will land on my feet next.
Offers are being presented to me on where to spend some much wanted vacation time once off the ice. One of my best friends here wants me to travel to South America. Another group of people invited me to go to a small island off the coast of Thailand and rent a beach house for a couple of weeks. Yet the most intriguing possibility was an email from a long lost friend in the South Pacific Kingdom of Tonga.

For many years my mind has drifted to setting foot in this corner of the world that sculpted a large part of my thoughts and life. Some dreams do become reality and I am excited about spending time with my best friend from high school, one whose mother referred to me as her white son. From my time immersed in a very distinct and different culture, my mind expanded and developed concepts and characteristics that would help make me who I am today. On what I’ve experienced in life, I wonder how anything can ever surprise me, yet my journey continues to astonish me. Through much space and time, it looks as if a broken connection will come full circle and be reunited. After reading his email, I hurried down to the galley where a screening of selections from the Banff Mountain Film Festival flickered overhead.

This film festival promotes short movies exploring niche outdoor lifestyles and sports. One of my favorites featured a group of rock climbers who embarked upon a national park in the Czech Republic. The caveat was that the climbers couldn’t use chalk or any metal pitons or screws on the rock. To tie off they literally tied knots in the rope and crammed it into cracks in the rock until it hopefully became secure enough to continue scaling the sheer cliffs up hundreds of feet.

The other film named Psyche: Patagonia Winter was a story of two climbers trying to scale Patagonia’s jagged peak, Torre Egger, in the dead of winter. This Special Jury Award recipient was an oftentimes humorous and witty documentary that captured the most amazing scenery and landscapes. So much in fact, that Patagonia pushed to the forefront of places I must experience before I die. Type Torre Egger in Google and look at some of the pictures. It's spectacular. The climbers ultimately fail in their conquest. But sometimes it’s those failures that are precisely what inspire and motivate us to move on to bigger and better adventures. Life has a way of unfolding itself in puzzling ways. And the world presents gifts of beauty all around.

Outside beamed an incredible sun halo. The halo, with accompanying sundogs, are produced by ice particles being blown in the air by strong winds. They reflect light akin to a rainbow when hit at the right angle by the sun. Only rather than arching from one end of the horizon to another, a sun halo literally circles the sun. I have seen others here but this one in particular contained several circles. Some above, some circling the sun, and then a huge parhelic arch wrapping itself around the whole circumference of the sky. Looking away from the lights direct rays, it seemed as if someone in the heavens above gently sprinkled diamond dust from a clear sky. People that have been here for three seasons said they have never seen one this brilliant. But like all good things, it disappeared quickly and all that was left was a 20 MPH wind gust ripping through clothing layers reminding you that you’re in Antarctica.

The temperature saw it’s high point for the year, checking in at a balmy negative 2 degrees, but would soon crawl back up around the usual twenty below. We finished the entire soffit of the station and have now moved up to the roof. The view is spectacular, white snowfields for as far as the eye can see. A coworker told me we have about two weeks left of nice weather and then the temperatures will rapidly change and be back to negative fifty before we leave. And while my time here is beginning to come to a close, who knows what doors will open for me when I get out of here. I have some ideas rattling around in my mind and hopefully I can make them work out.

written by  JCinTheSouthPole on January 10, 2010 from Missoula, United States
from the travel blog: South Pole
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The annual South Pole Christmas Poker Tournament would soon begin and I wanted to play. I sliced up my mushroom and onion omelet and proceeded down to the lounge to get a seat. I played tight until I got a hand that would set me up for the rest of the tournament. Peeking at my cards, I raised with Big Slick. Several people called. The flop came out and with an ace, so I pushed and got one caller. The next card came out and he raised me. I wondered if he had three-of-a-kind but decided to continue anyway. On the last card he put me in for all of my chips. I had to call him at this point, I was pot committed. My heart pounded as I thought about the possibility of being the first player out of the tournament. I got a rush when he flipped over an Ace and a Ten. My Ace, King just took down the biggest pot of the tournament to that point. From that point I could be a bully at the table. But all good things must come to an end. I got too bored, impatient, and impulsive and played my cards wrong at the end, finishing in a disappointing second place. Microcosm of my life perhaps?

Christmas came and went much like Thanksgiving, only replacing the stuffing and turkey was lobster tail and steak Wellington. Wine flowed freely and spirits were high. A white elephant gift exchange netted me a four-dollar shot glass inside a box that belted a distorted, tinny version of Sleigh Bells sung by Ella Fitzgerald every time you opened the lid. I destroyed the obnoxious thing shortly after returning home. I’ll probably regift the shot glass. I’m not a big fan of hard alcohol. The guy that gave it to me reportedly worked at Area 51 and has seen aliens and alien spacecraft with his own eyes. While I'm not too convinced of his stories, I have met people that do very interesting things with their lives.

Ones that have trekked the Himalayas to Everest Base Camp. Different bikers, one who not only rode across America twice, but also from the Yucatan Peninsula to Panama City. Now he's planning to ride from Berlin to Warsaw. The other biked all the way through the center of the Australian continent coast to coast and also from Idaho, through the Yukon, to Anchorage Alaska. Another guy boated from Chicago to rivers leading to the Mississippi, out the Gulf of Mexico, around Florida, up the Eastern Coast into the New York Harbor, up the Hudson River to Lake Erie, and through the Great Lakes again. Most of the people here are from Colorado, Alaska, Wisconsin, California, and New Hampshire and Idaho. Hearing their stories just makes me want to live a more adventurous life. I’ll have to wait to get my wing suit and settle for merely hanging off buildings right now.

We started another project working at the Logistics and Operations building. The structure has a chamfered side, with a 16 or 18/12 pitch. I have to wear a harness with a fall protection strap lagged into support beams as I literally hang my upper torso over the side to receive the panels being carried up by guys on ladders twenty some odd feet below. The guy working up top with me, an Italian guy from Boston, has to climb over the edge onto the chamfered side on a wood and rope ladder that looks like it was stolen from some third world country bridge. As I’m hanging upside down, holding onto the siding panel and adjusting it into position, he sets a couple of screws. Once it's in the correct place, I can shimmy back up on top to fasten the top edge and upper sides. It’s kind of Mickey Mouse but that is what makes it exciting. Back inside the station another cool thing was taking place.

A production crew from the BBC is here on station right now. They are the same ones who created the amazing series called Planet Earth. Their travels lead them to explore the possibility of shooting a spin off series specifically geared towards the Polar Regions. Frozen Planet will hit the airwaves next year. One of the producers shared various unedited clips with audience in the galley. One clip, which he termed “A holy grail” in wildlife film, showed a pod of orcas systematically creating waves to knock a seal off a large floating ice drift. Each successive pass broke the ice into smaller fragments until the entire iceberg capsizes plunging the helpless prey into the water where it swam for its life. Another clip was almost a blooper reel of penguins launching from seawater to the solid ice above. The high-frame-per-second film allowed amazing slow motion shots of the poor birds getting punched in the beak by ice, from mistimed jumps. Everyone was laughing out loud watching their heads jerk back, beak open, and blubber ripple while small water droplets shot off their bodies. While most of the storyline revolves around animals and how the seasons dictate their lives, the final episode will be about people in Polar Regions.

The crew filmed our ceremony of relocating the official marker of the South Pole, due to it flowing on a Polar ice cap at the rate of about 30 feet per year. This is a tradition here at the Pole each January 1. Several participants formed a semicircle and passed the new marker, created by 2009’s winter-over crew to look like the SPT, and stuck into the ground at the current and precise South Pole. BBC cameras rolled as the station manager and a leading scientist both gave short speeches. Freezing in the cold we listened gave a polite golf clap and then snapped pictures. So look for the series next year. I’m the guy with a freshly shaved Fu-Manchu mustache or as I like to call it, The Montana Cowboy.

written by  JCinTheSouthPole on January 1, 2010 from Missoula, United States
from the travel blog: South Pole
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As I listened to Adam’s story I contemplated my next move. I’d check to the river having hit my hand on the flop. My plan worked as someone caught two pair and tried to buy the pot. With my last chips I went all in and got a call. Flipping our cards over he moaned in disappointment seeing my full house. I scooped up my chips and took another sip of Guinness. Although I won the hand I finished four hours later, down eleven bucks. It would be a theme for the week.

I bragged about winning in pub trivia with the team of South Pole Telescope physicists last week so I must admit defeat too. This week I migrated back to the siding carpenters. I wrote our name on the dry erase board: The Ex-Siding Carpenters.

“Why are you guys the ex siding carpenters?” one of the South Pole Telescope beakers asked me.
“We’re not ex carpenters. Say it fast. Ex-siding. Get it? Exciting carpenters.” I replied.
“HA HA Oh now I get it. But why are you playing with them?”
“I’m a siding carpenter.”
“What? You are? I thought you were an electrician or something.”

Some act shocked when I tell them what I do for work. In New York and Salt Lake, I’ve had conversations abruptly end as soon as I reveal my occupation. Why is there such a stigma attached to being a grubby construction worker bastard? What did we ever do to hurt anyone? Every magnificent skyscraper lighting the evening sky is built by us. Each home in which children create memories, we construct. The very roof over your head providing warmth and protection from the elements, nailed together by some grubby guy. At any rate, one of the Bicep scientists hosted this week and started the game with “This day in history”. There were six teams total, three teams of beakers from Ice Cube, South Pole Telescope, and Bicep Telescope, respectively. And three other teams consisted of firefighters, carpenters, and one with a mixture of various trades. A huge chasm separated the scientists and the blue-collar guys by the end of the night.

As the points were tallied I laughed as I fell from first place to last in just a weeks time. Looking at the bright side I concluded we were only one point away from tying for last and three away from finishing fourth. I have no illusions we would ever finish higher. But not to despair, two scientists left the South Pole to be home for Christmas and the team of siding carpenters was dissolved due to half the team getting transferring to the graveyard shift. So I’ll be back with the SPT team again competing for gift certificates.

I’ve become pretty good friends with some of the their crew and received an invitation for a party thrown at the actual telescope on Thursday night. As I walked in, the mood felt like a junior high dance with Christmas lights strung around the ceiling, bad 80’s slow jams meandering in the background, and everyone standing around the refreshment tables filling up on various flavors of chocolate. I sipped wine from a paper cup contemplating how long I was going to stay. Then things got interesting.

Gathering a small group of people one of the scientists took us on an intimate tour of the facility. A repetitive whooshing sound, like the telescope in Contact with Jodie Foster, became louder as we walked down a long hallway and rounded a corner near the receiver. The explanation was simple cryogenics cooling the module to a quarter degree above absolute zero. I pulled out my camera and switched to the movie setting as I pushed the play button. The telescope receiver hung in the air, outlined by blue light. In another room further back, giant teeth stretching across the circumference of a wheel of massive gears remained motionless, waiting to swivel the primary mirror into action. She explained what the telescope is used for and various theories relating to its work. Locating far away galaxies in the expanding universe is a main focus.

“Many things, like blowing up a balloon or inflating an economy, will result in the bubble bursting from too much expansion. Could that happen with the universe?” I asked. Some models indicate just that, a gravitational pull collapsing the universe in on itself, she explained following up with other theories and ideas. We crawled through small doorways, fit for a two year old, and looked into the inner most functions of the giant instrument. I had to crouch low to the ground until I was satisfied with what I saw. I felt like a little squirrel popping my head back out into the main room when we were finished. By this time the party had gone into full swing back down the hallway and in the lobby area as the alcohol had began to infiltrate bloodstreams.

I couldn’t handle all of the bad eighties music and shuffled through the ipod until I found the perfect song to get the party started. Squeals of delight erupted as people rushed and crowded into a smaller side room as Michael Jackson’s Wanna Be Starting Something reverberated off the walls. Here, the party shifted from cerebral to kinetic as bodies starting grooving to the beats.

Hours passed and soon only one other woman from our department and myself were left with a bunch of scientists getting jiggy with it. For as much fun as I had at night, the morning was rough. I couldn’t lean over during stretches because I was so dizzy. I kept drinking lots of water and soon just felt sleepy. This weekend I relaxed, as I will for the next few days. Friday is Christmas and I need to begin training for The Race Around the World, which is a two and a half mile course that literally runs through every meridian of longitude spanning the entire globe. Each line converges here at the South Pole, after all. I know I won’t come in first but hopefully it will be a better week and won’t come in last either.

written by  JCinTheSouthPole on December 20, 2009 from Christchurch, New Zealand
from the travel blog: South Pole
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“Name the seven countries in Europe that are smaller in land mass than Rhode Island?” I quickly starting naming several until there was only one left. On the tip of my tongue with time about to expire, Malta popped in my head. We hurried and scribbled it down before passing our paper to the next team. The initial round in pub trivia was right up my ally, having to do with geography. I somehow got invited to play with all the astro-physicists from the South Pole Telescope, even though the siding carpenters had their own team. We’re not supposed to hang out together, let alone being wanted for a quiz game of knowledge. Probably had something to do with one of their grad students from a sponsoring university always looking at me like I’m an ice cream sundae on a warm summer’s day. In any case we went on to lose the round by one point and but won the entire game, beating out other scientists, IT nerds and others. For our efforts we all received a thirty dollar gift certificate to an American restaurant in Christchurch. Can’t wait to get off the ice and eat more eggs and pancakes.

As for the ice itself, things are warming up. When I first arrived at the South Pole the temperatures consistently hovered around negative 55 degrees. Now it’s usually about minus 15. It’s still cold but a huge difference, just like the contrast between 40 and 80. When I walk around outside I don’t need a balaclava for extended periods of time. I can shed layers and not feel a sense of panic. In fact, some periods of work I only wear a base layer, fleece and wind breaker. Along with the temperature my actual job location has shifted again too.

I’m no longer working at 10 meter telescope, having sailed for the greener pastures of the Cryogenics Building where several weather related experiments are conducted. I like it a lot because the work is simpler and it’s not as windy. I like the guys I work with too. Not that the others were bad, but I just always felt like the new kid on the block. Our entire work crew is divided into about five various locations. But at the end of a long work week we all get back together for a few beers. Yesterday some guys planned a BBQ outside of the Smokers Lounge. This is the only federal government building that still permits smoking inside. The place isn’t big enough for what they had in mind though, so we piled the briquettes in a huge grill outside the main entrance.

There were about thirty dudes all dressed in warm clothes eating chips and salsa as the smell of huge steaks permeated the cold air. Sizzling hunks got cut into thin bite sized strips for easy pecking. Inside the lounge rock music blared through the cloud of smoke hanging delicately in the rafters. Graffiti filled walls were accented by empty beer cans and half eaten cheese plates as someone passed around a bottle of Jim Bean. Back and forth people went between the freshly cooked steak outside, and warmth and comfortable seating inside. This was a dude BBQ, with no female within fifty feet of the roaring flames heating our dinner.

Things got exciting when a person I will decide to keep unnamed, decided to climb one of the huge snow piles and ride a small homemade wooden toboggan like a snow board. All the drunkies shouted words of encouragement even though such activities are strictly prohibited because of liability concerns. He slowly climbed the mini mountain until he stood at the summit at placed the contraption under his feet. The crowd roared in laughter and amusement as he shot down the hill at high speeds. At the intercept of where the mound rose and the flat ground extended onward, he lost balance and became airborne. Crashing into the hard pack he rolled a couple of times, while the sled continued onward in a cloud of ice particles. The crowd’s vocal intensity increased a decibel as he stood up and brushed the snow off his pants. Soon, a few others would try the same feat. Later, a guy even rode down naked. As that scene mellowed another started forming in the non-smoking lounge where an open mike night, full of talented musicians were about to take the stage.

I walked inside but had to quickly retreat to the vestibule because there were already so many people in there. I watched in amazement as more and more onlookers crowded their way inside. It was like watching a car full of circus clowns, unload unfathomable amounts of humanity from a singular space, only these folks were packing themselves in. Soon I would retire for the evening for the next day was a busy one.

The morning consisted of attending a poetry class given by an award winning writer who quit his job as a university professor to work at the South Pole as a cargo operator. There were only two other people in attendance. I love all the free classes I can take here, especially one that can get my creative juices flowing into better images, thoughts, and ideas.

With lyrical rhythms of iambic pentameters, dactyls, and trochees dancing in my mind I zipped up my parka and boarded a bus for the Ice Cube open house. Ice Cube, if you remember from a previous entry, is literally one of the largest science projects in the world. The goal is to track the paths of neutrinos to discover their point source. As we departed the shuttle van a host took our group to some of the drilling machines used for the experiment. The process is extremely complicated and I didn’t follow everything that was said. What I did gather, they drill holes almost 7,500 feet into the ice using hot water. After the hole is complete they lower a string of digital optical modules that can trace the flight of neutrinos coming from the northern part of Earth, through the center of the Earth, and exiting at the South Pole. I’m sure there is plenty of info online if you’re interested. The whole process seemed immense.

After a string of sixty modules are lowered into the cavity they begin freezing them into the ice. Only this ice must be clear. They take painstaking efforts to remove all air bubbles and other factors that would make the color appear white. If the ice is clear the module will get more accurate readings. I asked what the purpose was of all this. What if they do find these cosmic pathways of neutrinos? Then what? Well it’s simply building blocks of understanding the universe. There is still much we have no clue about and the more knowledge, the more we understand the universe and our own existence. Neutrinos are not affected by magnetic fields and are thought to come from other galaxies. An explanation could help with determining origins of the highest energy cosmic rays. I was still confused as I signed one of the modules that will be lowered into ice within the next couple of days.

I can barely understand why I like the things I do, let alone neutrinos and subatomic particles. Still it makes me happy that I can in some very small way support the progress of human knowledge. Now I just need to read some encyclopedias because I want to help the siding carps beat the scientists at trivia this week.

written by  JCinTheSouthPole on December 13, 2009 from Christchurch, New Zealand
from the travel blog: South Pole
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We celebrated Thanksgiving at the Pole on Saturday. The day started with a traditional Turkey Bowl football game played by about twelve guys. The opening pass ended with a head-jarring quadricep across my face as I tackled Kiwi into the hard packed snow. I wouldn’t see a bruise hooking around my cheekbone into my nostril until later that night, an outline of where the goggles mashed into my skin. The kiwis loved running inside and just crushing people upon contact from their upbringing in rugby. As for me, I would like to consider myself more the speed demon on the outside, running fly patterns like Randy Moss. Each play had everyone panting for oxygen sprinting at high elevations in heavy boots. Recapturing our youthful playground days of yesteryear proved to be nice male bonding time followed by a couple of beers. Some limped afterwards, but at least no one lost any teeth like others had in previous years. After resting for a while, my appetite grew steadily.

The kitchen staff served dinner in three different shifts. The special occasion beckoned all to shake the dust from their fine threads. Some women wore elegant black dresses and a couple of men wore suits and ties. Eyes popped out all over the place seeing images transformed from grubby work clothes to upscale. I stuck with a white linen button down that looked more at home on a Mexican beach than at the South Pole. After shaving my accumulated facial hair from the previous month I joined the crowd eating hors d’oeuvres while a four-piece band played soothing background music. The galley transformed from a sterile food hall into a fine dining establishment complete with candles, cloth napkins, wine glasses, and a repeating clip of a burning Yule time log flickering on TV screens.

I washed the mashed potatoes and stuffing down with a glass of cabernet sauvignon. All of the siding carpenters sat together cleanly shaven in our freshly ironed button downs. As the conversations ranged from women to travel my mind drifted away to the Wasatch Mountains of Utah and my family. I thought about how lucky and grateful I am to have the supportive and loving family that never gave up on me even when I was in a self-destruct mode. I thought about the extended relatives that I am so close with and feel a sense of foundation and family. I thought about the many wonderful friends from all walks of life I have met over the years, ones I have loved and have loved me.

I thought of opportunities that I have had for education and recreation simply because of where I was born. I thought of my health and the fact that I have lived a relatively peaceful existence unlike many souls born into war torn countries, eras or lifestyles. The blessing I have had to travel to six continents in the last two years of my life, culminating in a reality of seeing many sights that were mere dreams captivating my imagination not long before. And as I thought of these things I raised the glass of wine to my lips and took another sip. Here I sat, eating turkey dinner at the South Pole.

Monday will snap me out of my reverie as I begin work again though. Last week I found out that three others and I would be shipped out of our current assignment. Rather than siding the main station, we have the privilege of utilizing our construction skills in an area called the Dark Sector. This location is where many of the actual science projects are being conducted, including one of the largest in the world called Ice Cube. I’ll specifically be working on the building that houses the largest microwave telescope on the planet, known here is 10 Meter because of the size of its primary mirror. Each day we strap on helmets and then climb onto our snowmobiles for the ride out there. The work is pretty much the same thing, installing siding to the actual structure.

I’ve met a few of the scientists (kindly nicknamed beakers, as in the muppet). During our breaks we go inside the building where I’ve had the chance to talk with some of them about the project. It makes one feel humble. I’m hanging plywood, coated with colored metal, on a building and they are searching for distant solar systems and the origins of all creation. In addition, each Sunday evening, a different beaker gives a lecture in the dining hall. The South Pole telescope was implemented to study cosmology, which is essentially the history of the universe on a grand scale. Exactly what they are trying to do is figure out what the universe is made of as well as how it was created. The discovery of the Cosmic Microwave Background, in the 1960’s led to this project.

The South Pole is an ideal site for this specific kind of instrument. Some reasons include the high altitude and dry air because water absorbs microwaves. Also the fact that there is only one sunrise and one sunset each year means that the air is very stable due to zero diurnal variation. The 1,000 detectors are all temperature sensitive too. Since the sensors seek heat in the universe, the colder the temperature the more responsive the sensors are to heat. So far they have identified up to four galaxy clusters. They hope this may help figure out what exactly is dark matter and dark energy. What that means for you and me, I have no idea. But the government is willing to spend hundreds of millions of dollars for the research, so it must be important right? It took over 600,000 pounds in parts alone just to construct it. Now take into account that a C-130 can only handle a little over 10,000 pounds of cargo and you’ll understand it was a painstaking process just to get the thing here.

As for me, I’ve been gone for over a month, a third of the way finished with my experience here. Soon I’ll be jumping off bridges tethered to a bungee cord and trekking through beaches, fjords, and the Southern Alps in New Zealand. Truly life is good and I have much to be thankful for.

written by  JCinTheSouthPole on November 29, 2009 from Christchurch, New Zealand
from the travel blog: South Pole
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The smell of hot maple syrup on blueberry pancakes fills my nose before I begin my mission. Everyone laughs watching how fast I shovel breakfast down my gullet. One day this week I made it to the galley around 7:00, the earliest I've ever been there. People joked about that too. They were disappointed they wouldn't see my normal spectacle worthy of a 4th of July hotdog eating contest on Coney Island. But I’m not starting a day on an empty stomach, and if I’m late it will cost me a case of beer for my work crew. Not that I would mind buying brew for the guys, I just want to save my money and not get into bad habits.

Stretches last a half an hour and are sorely needed to loosen tight muscles and ligaments from the previous days work. Just like many other life lessons, I learned the hard way to not make eye contact with other grubby construction worker guys while in downward dog position. I think I'm going to play a game with it though and see how many people I can make uncomfortable. After limbering up before the onslaught of work, we head down to our break shack to gear up.

Someone usually plays some high energy rock music like Tool to get us hyped to go install siding on the station. Two days ago a guy from New Zealand that we call Kiwi (how original) busted out with Seals and Crofts "Summer Breeze" on the ipod. Through the groans of some of the tough guys with tattoos and facial hair, he simply smiled as we laced up our boots and zipped up our coats. Good change of pace from the usual metal that makes me want to start breaking things with my bare hands. Summer Breeze, a light and fluffy melody that's been fermenting in the jasmines of my mind. Now I take great pleasure in getting it stuck in yours.

Our first break is at 10:00 and usually lasts 15 minutes or so. I drink lots of water and eat a bagel or some toast. Despite the amount of calories I consume each day I am already shedding pounds. Anyone complaining about his or her weight should try the new South Pole diet. I'm working on the hard copy for a New York Times best seller, but the basic gist is eat all you want, when you want. You just have to be resilient enough to endure working for eight hour shifts in subzero temperatures, but I digress. I was talking about drinking water.

There are roughly 250 people here at the station consuming large amounts of resources, in the name of science. So how does it all work? As I explained in my last entry, there are tunnels about 50 feet below the surface of the ice extending for a half-mile. Drillers create a cavity in the icecap by heating surrounding areas with hot water. As the ice melts into an upside down light bulb shape, the fresh water is pumped out, tested and filled into huge storage tanks. Reason alone attests the H2O has to be among the purest on Earth, having not being touched by any living creature or human induced pollutant in the existence of it's life sustaining molecules. When the siphoning hose can no longer reach the pool, a new hole is started.

Now the old abandoned opening isn't simply left void and wasted, but used for actual waste. Pipes funneling all human excrement are inserted into the newly vacant well. There, the literal shit creek flows until it fills the mile deep pit. Now take into consideration that the actual South Pole Station is sitting atop of a moving glacier and you wonder what will happen. Estimates indicate the glacial movement rate to be around six feet per year. I think we are roughly 900 miles away from the coastline. So according to my calculations, what that means is one day, tens of thousands of years from now, a mile deep column of vacated bowels will be spilling into the oceans. Nice mental image while you drink your morning coffee.

Consumer packaging garbage is meticulously separated into recyclable categories. At the end of the season almost nine million pounds are taken back to the States for processing. Non-recyclable materials are shipped to landfills I suppose.

As for food, it is shipped in from McMurdo Base and then stored outside until used. All of the food in the small gift store expired at least a year ago and sometimes even four, but we still eat it. That may be the case with our regular galley meals as well. It takes days for the food to actually thaw out. You would need a circular saw to cut through the ice cream when it is initially brought inside. Makes me think that steak I had last night might have been butchered a few years ago. The cooks manage to do an amazing job. Can't be easy cooking at high altitudes with food that's been frozen so hard a kernel of corn could topple over a penguin if launched from a slingshot.

What heats the food to cooking temperatures is electric power created by enormous generators running on actual jet fuel. Massive tanks were shipped in C-130s. They were engineered to fit almost perfectly in the cargo space of the planes. The huge cylinders are stacked in a separate building adjacent to the station about ten rows of five deep. I'm not sure of the actual consumption rate but burning enough fuel to heat and provide electricity to a 65,000 square foot building cannot be meager. That is why we are limited to two, two-minute showers per week. That was three twos in a row and it kind of made sense. Okay you're back. This area is also the morgue. Bodies of people that die while at the station are kept by the fuel tanks until they can be shipped out. So those are just a few of the logistics here at the station. As for me, I'm about to embark on a new adventure. I just found out yesterday I’ll be starting a new work project that has me quite excited. Now sit back, relax, forget about grey skies and dropping temperatures and think of a summer breeze that makes you feel fine.

written by  JCinTheSouthPole on November 21, 2009 from Christchurch, New Zealand
from the travel blog: South Pole
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So I survived the first work week with all fingers and toes still attached. The main thing I am worried about is catching a cold. It seems like a fifth of the people here are sick. It's like Ferris Bueller playing his symphony of dry hacky coughs on the synthesizer. Only now, it's live and in stereo. I wash my hands often and use the sanitizer readily available around the station. The dry frezing air is slowly turning my hands into rough, gritty hunks of flesh that could sand down a fine antique table.

The week began with ambient temperatures hovering around negative fifty. I wore six layers of clothing on my torso while covering my legs with four. The whole process of putting on Ralphie Parkeresque (A Christmas Story) amounts of attire takes a few minutes and as soon as it's on, I'm unbearably hot. My first couple of days of work I searched for building materials located in rows of wooden boxes covered with last winter’s snowdrifts. Each isle stretched the length of a football field and there were several. Our job was to dig through the drifts and locate a box at specific dimensions containing a weatherproofing material.

With my body still overheated from the long walk, I started sweating as soon as my shovel hit the snow. The task at hand seemed like finding a needle in a haystack. Due to some miscommunication no one knew exactly where the box was. We simply had to dig until we found it. Feeling like I was in Miami in the summertime I removed my hoodie. With no luck in our search we huffed our way back to the station to disrobe for break.

Taking on and off all this clothing four times a day was already a pain. All of the extra layers add about 20 pounds to my thin frame. My first two days were spent searching and digging for the most part. Crews rotated at day three, so thus began my actual work on Amundsen-Scott Station. Each underside of the four wings breaking off the main terminal needs siding and weather protection.

Because the work is under the building it is constantly in a shadow therefore receives no radiant heat. In addition, the design of the building was to funnel the prevailing winds underneath it to prevent massive snowdrifts from burying the facility. That is the fate of the first National Science Foundation building constructed in the 50’s. The current addition sits on giant stilts about ten feet off the ground. What that means for me is wind gusts shooting down the tunnel to our work area. If you stand around for 15 minutes it tends to get really cold. Working and being productive is a natural remedy to fight off frostbite.

I manage to keep quite warm for the most part. My only problem spots have been areas where two separate articles of clothing meet, for instance between my goggles and balaclava and between my gloves and jacket. I figured out how to keep my wrists sealed, simply by putting on my parka after my gloves were tightly wrapped with the Velcro cuffs from my windbreaker. It's impossible to do small tasks though like tying my shoelaces or picking up a pencil when it drops. My fingers are like big useless sausages. The goggle situation is more problematic. If I had my balaclava tucked into my goggles, the vapor from my breath would produce steam, which would then freeze. My vision would slowly become blurrier until I couldn’t see. So I would have to take them off. Then my face would get cold and my eyes would sting from the sun reflecting off the snow. Either way I can't see. Once in a while my fingers or toes start feeling like a piece of driftwood but other than that it’s not too bad.

The actual work is tiring because it’s all over head and working off ladders and scaffolding. My shoulders, back, lats, and quads are going to be ripped when I'm finished. Off hours is like a nursing home with activities all the time. Saturday was bingo night with $100 gift prizes to different restaurants in New Zealand. I took a salsa dance class last Thursday. Sunday they play soccer and volleyball in the gym and right next to that there is a music room. This Sunday I actually climbed through ice tunnels beneath the station. Like freezing catacombs, a network of hallways extends for about a half a mile, 50 feet below the surface. The structure of everything is simply ice. You can see gravity pulling the ceiling towards the ground as it bows noticeably in the middle. Escape hatches to the surface are strategically placed about every 250 feet or so. One purpose of the tunnels is essentially the lifeblood of the station. It connects with the massive heating and drilling system to pump in fresh water.

We are only allowed to take two, two-minute showers each week. I don't think I've ever smelled as bad as I did last Thursday. Not too bad right now though. So what is the reason for this? Where do we get fresh potable water? Also where does all of the human waste and commercial waste go? It's not like there is a water treatment plant here. And for that matter, how can a building in one of the most remote areas of the planet function, produce heat, electricity and ultimately sustain human life?

written by  JCinTheSouthPole on November 18, 2009 from Christchurch, New Zealand
from the travel blog: South Pole
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I found a light switch and turned it on to see my surroundings. It was a small room made out of plywood with a curtain for a door. I thought I had limited space in Brooklyn but this was about half that size, maybe 42 square feet. There was a single bed, rickety dresser with an alan wrench protruding for a handle, and a small chair with a slight walkway in between. It didn't look vacuumed and all of the furnishings were old and well used. Every time I shifted something on the floor I fully expected for cockroaches to start scattering toward the walls seeking cover. It finally dawned on me that there was no insects here. Even seemingly indestructible roaches are no match for constant sub zero temperatures. Will I be?

One good thing I discovered was the bathroom is a mere 15 second run from my front door. That is if i run. I do not wish to tarry long without gear. I found that out the hard way. But should have flipped through my mental index to when I was a child and my mother used to take me up in the Wasatch Mountain to teach me how to ski. I listened to her instruction on how to snow plow, traverse and read the terrain. As one would expect living in the Rockies, snow storms and high winds were part of the learning process. I had to figure out how to protect myself from the elements and prepare for quick changes in temperature and weather.

A fundamental principle she stressed was to dress in layers. That way if the air was frigid you already had enough clothing on to shield yourself. Then if it became too hot you could simply remove an existing layer. At first she had to help me put on the additional bulky clothing and click in and out of my ski bindings. I watched until I could gear up to perfection myself. Here at the South Pole, there will be a learning curve to figure out how much layering will ultimately be needed for my comfort. This morning I took the walk to the station with jeans, sneakers and a skimpy Kenneth Cole jacket. I could have survived the walk with these items but made one painful mistake. No head protection. Exposed skin doesn't last long with temperatures being fifty below zero.

I could feel my face starting to burn. Each deep breathe made me cough as if I were a chronic smoker. The air was too cold for my lungs and throat. The tips of my ears began to sting. My brain started going into a weird panic that I haven't experience, even though I knew I was going to be okay. The building was within my grasp. But still I felt nauseous. I thought how horrible it would be to freeze to death. Finally, I looked around to see if there were any people out. My ego got the best of me and I didn't want any of my coworkers to see what I was about to do. When I saw the coast was clear I started running. I couldn't get the station fast enough. I huffed up the stairs and slammed the door opened and looked back, double checking no one was out there behind me.

I zipped into the bathroom to blow my nose and my face was as red as if I had been at a Vegas swimming pool in July without sunscreen. Never again will I leave without a balaclava. The rest of my body was cold but tolerable. The bare skin, however, was in pain. Tomorrow I start work. It won't merely be a seven minute walk, but a prolonged eight hours of vulnerability in the elements. I can't wait. I'm just going to wear lots of layers like my mom taught me so many years ago.

written by  JCinTheSouthPole on November 7, 2009 from Christchurch, New Zealand
from the travel blog: South Pole
tagged JakeCarling
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I awoke in a panic as I looked at the two empty bunks next to me. Light was streaming through the windows and a digital clock across the room read 12:36. I was tired from travel and am known to be able to out-nap a cat, but this time I blew it. I slept in and missed the plane. I hurried and swung my head around towards the other bunks and saw people all around. I hung over the side and peered at the ones below and saw rows of slumbering souls. Whew. It was only a little after midnight. I forgot it stays light for 24 hours a day. This same situation happened two additional times throughout the night and I never learned my lesson from the previous ones. Some things never change.

The morning finally came and we boarded the Air Force plane in our extreme cold weather gear: goggles, boots, balaclava, coveralls, down parka, gloves, etc. The current temperature indicated the air hovered around minus 45 degrees with a windchill factor of negative 75. Climbing on board the plane an A.F. serviceman took my carry on luggage. All the seats faced the center of the aircraft, lining both walls and creating only two rows of passengers. Carry-ons were stacked in a neat pile in the center of us. The toilet was on an elevated platform with a giant shower curtain draped around. Everyone put in their ear plugs as the propellers churned into a high pitched whine.

The three hour ride seemed worse to me than the 14 hour flight we had taken only days earlier from LAX to Sydney, Australia. My back was aching on the nylon wire seats. My body temperature started rising from the gear and I had to shed layers. My restless night before made me just want to sleep. The next thing I felt was the small plane, with 40 people aboard, being tossed around in harsh Antarctic winds. The pilot fought through the turbulence as I fastened my seat belt. I couldn't even tell we had touched down until the plane abruptly came to a complete stop. Either the landing was amazingly smooth in the snow, or the last half hour or so was really rocky. I thought we were still in the air, but soon the doors opened at light streamed inside.

I zipped up my coat, put on my balaclava and goggles and cinched up my mittens. My heart raced as I looked outside at the frozen barren desert. Whirling drifts of ice crystals blew around in different directions. Men in the distance piled large mounds of snow higher using heavy machinery. A brand new building E shaped building, the new $165 million dollar project of the National Science Foundation, sparkled beautifully in the sunlight. Adrenaline started pumping through my system. I was actually at the South Pole. A place no one on the planet had seen a mere 100 years ago, and probably less than 10,000 have ever seen at all. I felt very honored and privileged to be on such an adventure and to be able to experience this fascinating location on the globe that others died trying to reach decades ago.

The thin and cold air started penetrating my senses. My fingers started to get cold on the walk from the plane to the building. My body, although bundled up, could sense the enemy systematically and effectively creeping in the infinitesimal openings of my seams and zippers. My heart rate increased, due to the fact that I just went from sea level to an atmospheric pressure of about 10500 feet. My breaths became more short, shallow and labored. Just last week they had to put a resident suffering from HACE in an oxygen chamber for 8 hours before he was flown out. I would just relax and adjust. I grew up in the Rockies and have good lungs.

I received some diamox pills to help with the altitude adjustment. They told us to take it easy and drink lots of water. I went to the doctor and they checked my blood oxygen levels and heart rate. Heart rate was in the mid-sixties which is very good. It's supposed to increase about 20-25 beats per minute for about four days until your body adjusts. Blood oxygen levels were at about 90%. It will get better as I acclimate.

The building here is brand new. I feel like I could be in a nice office building in New York, equipped with a gym, sauna, weight room, music room, galley, arts and crafts room and a couple of lounges. Tomorrow they are showing the new Warren Miller movie Dynasty. The people are nice, the food plentiful and good. I have been told I should consume more than 5,000 calories per day because that is what I will be burning working outside in the cold. So tonight I've had cookies, ice cream, cake, steak, potatoes, and coffee. If gluttony is a sin, I'm feeling like I need to be rebaptised after that meal. An all you can eat buffet for free, every meal. We'll see how fat I get.

I'm going to check out my room now. Haven't seen it yet. All I know is it's in a little shack called a jamesway about an 1/8 of a mile or so from the base. They have no doors and rumor has it there is ice on some peoples floors. Bathrooms are a good walk so I got an empty coffee can to pee in at night. Don't want to take 15 minutes putting on gear just to strip it off moments later. We'll see how I'll sleep and hopefully I won't kick my can over in the morning.

written by  JCinTheSouthPole on November 6, 2009 from Christchurch, New Zealand
from the travel blog: South Pole
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