My Hypothermia Hike

This is how I look after hiking

 

After narrowly avoiding frost-bite on my first solo hike in Antarctica, I came to two ego-wounding realizations:

1) I am not nearly as hardcore as I thought I was.

2) My sense of direction is not nearly as good as I thought it was.

Before I begin my tale of woe, I would like to preface that once upon a time, I was an excellent hiker. When I was 29 years old, I hiked round-trip to Everest Base Camp in Nepal completely alone….no guide, no porter (I was too cheap to pay for them). I also suspected the Sherpas would slow me down. All I had was a paper map and my meager pack of gear, and I made record time. (The Everest Base Camp loop normally takes 4 weeks for the average hiker. I completed the loop in 3 weeks, and I rarely got lost).

Therefore I came to Antarctica with this false sense of confidence. I figured these little “hills” of Antarctica were nothing compared to the mighty Himalayas I was used to trekking.

One lovely October evening around midnight, I was feeling dangerously romantic. I decided to solo-hike Discovery Loop just outside of McMurdo Station. This 4-mile loop has some “mountainous” terrain with dramatic overlooks of the sea ice below. I had completed my outdoor safety training earlier that week, and I thought, What a pleasant midnight stroll this will be. (People are allowed to hike alone on this loop if they have completed their outdoor safety training). 

I checked out at the firehouse, and grabbed a walkie-talkie so I could call for help if something went wrong. The weather forecast was sunny, calm and beautiful at 22 degrees. No wind. I donned my ECW gear, grabbed my tripod and my expensive camera and set forth on another adventure. 

The first mile was magical. I captured breath-taking shots of the sunset over the mountains (I am obsessed with Antarctic sunsets). I photographed huge Weddell Seals sunning themselves on the sea ice. I listened to the overwhelming quiet. I thanked God for this National Geographic Moment.

But then it all went to hell in a hand-basket….

As I traversed another mile or two inland, the weather suddenly changed. The wind chill dropped to -30 degrees, and the wind and ice began to cut through my core like a knife. The trail markers were missing, and I became disoriented. I somehow wandered off the trail. Presently I approached a sign on the ridge marked “Restricted Area. Do Not Enter.” Further beyond the sign I spied a huge golf-ball-looking structure with a Quonset hut attached.

I realized that I had entered the off-limits area that was controlled by NASA. (The experiments they were conducting in Antarctica had something to do with radar testing on their satellite).

At this point, my walkie-talkie no longer worked.

Well, I am about to die, so NASA can suck it….I am going to warm myself up in their top secret Quonset hut

Right before the storm hit

(Not sure how “restricted” the hut was since I sneaked into the 6X6-ft heated portico of the hut pretty easily). 

The rest of the hut was locked so I barricaded myself in the tiny portico.

After what seemed an eternity, my poor frozen Texas body thawed out. I decided not to try to find the trail again. The weather was still wretched, and my visibility was compromised. I contemplated spending the rest of the night in the heated portico, but I knew they were serving french toast in the galley in a few hours. That thought spurred me on. I also knew there must be a road going out of this restricted area that HAD to lead me back McMurdo Station. 

I must be only a mile or two away. 

After mustering up all my inner fury, I exploded into the elements with my chin glued to my chest, hugging my tripod. I ran like a doofus down the road leading out of NASA’s secret playground.

McMurdo MUST be close! I could see it from the trail earlier. 

The snot froze to my nose. Wisps of my hair froze instantly and broke off. The wind ripped my heart open. Still I ran. (The whole scene was reminiscent of a horror movie).

Then in the blurry distance, I saw McMurdo Station. 

I found it!

Fearing it was some sort of snow mirage, I barreled forward like the Abominable Snowman squashing any discombobulated penguins in my path.

It was no mirage….I ran straight to the galley and gorged myself on french toast.

Screw hiking in Antarctica.