What better way to get an inside scoop, than to talk with some Kiwis. So I meandered two miles down the road to mingle with locals. New Zealand’s Scott Base is just on the other side of the 750 foot Observation Hill and once a week they have American Night at their bar. I walked in tepidly due to their hat policy. Still having customs of courtesy, the etiquette indicates that if you walk into the bar wearing a hat, you get the privilege of becoming everyone’s new best friend because you will have just bought them a round. I like my hats because it, uh, keeps my ears warm. That's it, keeps my ears warm.

I peeked inside and noticed several caps, beanies, and sweatshirts, so proceded with newfound confidence. Ordering a Speight’s I sat down and soon engaged in conversation with a friendly guy that looked apt to open a beer bottle with his teeth, spit the cap to the floor and hand you the bottle with a genuine smile. Three days worth of stubble littered his young but well weathered face. I had to focus as I listened to his thick accent.

“Come over to the map and I’ll show you where to go on the South Island.” he said.

“If I were you, I would start by heading north-west until you hit near Westport on the coast, and then make your way down towards Milford Sound. If you thought people in Christchurch were friendly, these people are four times nicer. You should really hit some small local bars there too. They serve great micro-draughts. It'll be quite an experience. People there remind me of this time I was in the States and stopped in some bar in West Virginia because it was so beat up. I only planned to see what it looked like inside for a couple of drinks but I ended up there two days straight hanging out with a bunch of toothless people .”

“Yeah that’s definitely the stereo-type, toothless hags.” I said.

“Oh, I didn’t mean to be offensive, but it was true though. Many of them were missing teeth. Still, they were a great bunch.”

“I went to bar like that in Montana a couple of years ago. My friends Bridget and Rachel moved there to be ski bunnies for a season. I went to visit 'em and one day we drove to Glacier National Park and our way back, we stumbled upon this little hole in the wall bar with rusted, well worn trucks equipped with gun racks on a dirt road. It was day light, around 6:00 p.m., but this place was like a Wild West saloon. In one corner people are yelling and about to fight, and no one else is even paying attention. Some people were slumped over the bar sleeping, and then there was a rowdy game of pool going on with money scattered all over the table. I half expected to see people swinging around in circles on ceiling fans. I wouldn't be more scared in a bar in the worst part of Brooklyn. We stayed for our beer before I wussed out and wanted to leave. We were way too yuppie in our Gore-Tex ski jackets to hang out long.”

“I love those types of places, they’re my favorite. And that is the best part of tramping. I don’t like to plan too much. It’s more fun to just see where the journey is going to take you and what crazy little places and people you’ll discover unexpectedly. Sometimes I go on a trip and don’t see one thing I had originally planned on seeing and yet it was the most fascinating tramp I’ve been on.”

“Couldn’t have said it better myself. I do have a tentative plan for when I get to New Zealand but who knows where I’ll end up. I'd love to hit Queenstown, Milford Sound, and Abel Tasman. But other than that, I don’t know. I’ve never been there except the few days I was weathered in at Christchurch.”

“It just depends on what you want to do. If you want to avoid the crowds, there are many treks you can take, completely off the beaten path. I would check in with the D.O.C. though and let them know where you’re at and when you plan on returning. People die in those mountains every year. The weather can change extremely fast at high altitudes. But it’s some amazing county. Just make sure you have plenty of food and plan on boiling water. Giardia can be a problem.”

“Well the first thing I plan on doing when I get back to Christchurch is buying a tent, sleeping bag, and backpack. My thumb can get me from place to place I've heard.”

“No worries mate. Hitchhiking is really safe in New Zealand and if you tire of that, there are little mini buses you can catch from point to point.”

He was just as excited explaining the terrain as I was thinking about being there in a couple of weeks. When he finally finished and we were walking back to our seats, he suddenly remembered an area and we went back to the map where he proceeded showing me locations for an additional ten minutes. Then he joined some friends leaving the next day. I sat down to talk with a girl I had flown to Antarctica with, but hadn’t seen since.

Soon it was last call and the shuttle driver arrived to take us back to McMurdo. I looked out at all the huge Weddell seals dotting the landscape and wanted to return when the skies were clear and I could see the scenery better. And unlike the weenie, conservative American bureaucrat mentality of “we don’t want anyone to get hurt” (translation: we don’t want any lawsuits), the Kiwis even have their own snowboarding/ski hill complete with kickers and rope toe. Let freedom reign. Maybe next year I’ll bring my board down, but now I would just have to settle for watching it on TV.

The Armed Forces Network is broadcast here on station and right after my supervisor ejected a safety video, the image on the screen was Shaun White smiling from ear to ear after his fist Olympic run. I stuck around for the final round and dramatic conclusion with one of my co-workers from Pole who is wintering here. He lived in Colorado and used to get backstage passes each year at the X Games in Aspen. We both jumped out of our seats watching White pull his now famous Double McTwist 1260. The next night, my Mormon mommy complete with an Australian accent won gold in the woman’s halfpipe. Ahhhhhh If I could only be fifteen years younger. But most wishes will remain just that. Wishes. So while I won’t be meeting Torah Bright or seeing any auroras this year, the gods did bless me with a different unexpected fascination.

I haven’t seen nighttime in over 100 days. Yes I said it correctly, I haven't seen nighttime in over 100 days. Although I have seen the moon once or twice, dark skies and stars are distant recollections and mere memories in my head. But yesterday, when I left the bar, I saw the closest thing resembling a sunset in months. As the sun broke through the thick clouds that have covered the region for a week, a creamsicle-colored orange glow outlined the reappearing mountains across the ice shelf.

Silhouettes of each layer of ridgeline and peak, blended shades of pink and purple that looked like Georgia O’ Keefe pastels tinting the white Antarctic landscape. I walked closer to edge of town to escape the telephone poles, power lines, and ugly buildings obstructing my view. I stood soaking in the surreal colors and dramatic outlined shapes, not wanting to leave its dreamlike impression in my mind. But soon my teeth started to chatter and my muscles shook involuntarily from the cold, until finally I relented and turned my back to walk home. Before I closed my door I turned around for a final glance. The sight was one of the most beautiful to have ever seared me.

written by  JCinTheSouthPole on February 20, 2010 from Escalante, United States
from the travel blog: South Pole
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Hey Jake! Great entry! I was riveted by your conversation with the Kiwi ;). And I'm jealous of the sunset you got to witness...I LOVE sunsets.
I hope you keep this blog going for when you are in New Zealand. We love reading about your adventures (Samantha and I) and can't wait to hear about more!

written by  April and Samantha on February 21, 2010

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