McMurdo Station

How do I describe my delightfully eccentric new home?

If you take a Canadian mining camp, a party university campus, an Alaskan reality show, a crappy all-inclusive ski resort, and NASA’s control room, and throw them all into a big blender, you might end up with a McMurdo Station cocktail.

This place has everything. Weekly science lectures, recreational and scientific field trips, cross-country skiing, hiking, marathons, 2 bars, a coffeehouse, a library, a music room, a sewing room (Yaaay!) volleyball, basketball, yoga, 2 gyms, costume parties (which got me really excited), Russian lessons, book clubs….I am overwhelmed with options.

There are over 1000 people living and working here in the summer months (October-February). It is a small, self-sufficient town with every person working hard and pulling their weight. McMurdo runs like a frenzied (yet well-oiled) machine. Every person is important and each job is important to keep that machine running.

You just never know who you will meet next. Every day I walk into the galley (dining area), sit down, and break bread with a table full of strangers. These strangers could be scientists, pilots, weather balloon experts, cargo handlers , cooks, janitors, bus drivers, fuel handlers, waste workers, mechanics, carpenters, administrative assistants, IT nerds, nurses, the president of National Geographic, firemen,  dispatchers, ice drillers, meteorologists, Air National Guard…..the list goes on.

(And many of these people moonlight as bartenders, outdoor guides, librarians, yoga instructors, masseurs, etc, in order to make our quality of life better).

Each person is fascinating, has a great attitude (usually), and an unusual back-story. Square Pegs living in a world of round holes.  The Island of Misfits. I have not run into a “bad apple” yet. (There might be a few bad apples, but in general the sunny, “pull-together” morale floating around McMurdo is infectious).

I now understand why it is so difficult to break into the NSF program. Job retention is extremely high, and people keep coming back! I had lunch today with a lady who had just started her 29^th summer season in Antarctica. (Granted she was a little nutty, and she kept telling me that ham radios will take the place of cell phones when the whole world goes rogue in 2021). But she was a wealth of Antarctic knowledge, and she generously shared all her tips with a newbie like me.

…..and now I know who to call when it’s time to get my Mad Max on.

My First Steps on My Last Continent

The 5.5-hour flight from Christchurch, New Zealand to Antarctica gave me plenty of time to reflect on my selfish intentions of setting foot on my last continent. After taking my obligatory tourist photos with the pilots in the cockpit, I convinced the air sergeants to give me a full tour of the plane. The Boeing C-17 Globemaster is the size of half a football field. Utilized in the 1990’s for transporting military troops and supplies all over the world, the C-17’s now live at McChord Base in Washington State.  (I got really excited when I saw my last name misspelled all over the plane). The National Science Foundation now uses these planes to deploy grantees (scientists), Air National Guard, and contractors (Me) to and from Antarctica during the summer months.

“We are about to touch down to Antarctica. Everyone put on your ECW Gear” (Extreme Cold Weather Gear)

This is it! Just be cool, and pretend you know what you are doing. After a smooth landing on the sea ice runway of Pegasus Field, the C-17 hatch opened, and we slowly disembarked from the belly of the plane.

The sensation I felt as I erupted from that hatch and took my first clear breath of crisp, dry Antarctic air can only be compared to the first full breath a baby takes after leaving the birthing canal….It was HORRIBLE.

I was a 31-year-old baby who had just been turned up-side-down and slapped in the butt by the frozen hand of Dr. Antarctica. No wonder babies are grumpy right after birth. Entering a new breathing environment is wretched. Those first 5 seconds on that continent made me want to turn around and re-enter that warm, inviting womb of the C-17 and fly back to New Zealand. I felt like I had just swallowed my mother’s pin cushion, and I was cranky. After all, I made contact with the ground of Antarctica….that counts right? Now I can l leave Antarctica.

But as I swiveled 360 degrees to assess this icy, white kingdom, I felt like Lucy in The Chronicles of Narnia. I knew I had to step deeper through this magical wardrobe and explore the wonders of this new world….( Plus I heard a rumor that there was hot pizza waiting for us at McMurdo Station).

So I stayed…

The Antarctic Princess

As I sat shivering on that enormous C-17 Air Force jet next to 16 pallets of dynamite, I started to rethink some recent life decisions.

I had committed to working at McMurdo Station in Antarctica on a 22-week contract. Surrounded by hard-core Alaskans, Minnesotans, Northwest Americans, the Air Force, the Air National Guard, and U.S. leading scientists, I felt like a complete Texas princess. How on earth did I bluff my way into this job? Why did I just leave my family, friends, and property to live on a frozen wasteland for 6 months? When are these people going to figure out that I am a poser and that I hate cold weather? How can I give up pretty dresses, makeup, cocktail parties, dancing and country music for 6 months?

Then I remembered….This is my seventh and LAST continent to work on. I had worked all over the world and visited 90+ countries but this was my Last Battle. My Travel Magnum Opus. My Geographical Everest (although I have been to Everest Base Camp, and it wasn’t that impressive)

But this….Antarctica….A complex ecosystem. A territory occupied by 56 nations. A landmass twice the size of Australia. An entire continent ruled and controlled merely by a science treaty. THIS WAS ANOTHER PLANET. I had to be a part of it.

I also realized that I was doing all this to flatter my own insatiable ego. I was not going to Antarctica because I had always adored penguins and seals. I was not going because I had a burning interest to study glacial movement. I was not going to help stop global warming. I was not going to help anyone or anything. I just wanted to go so I could brag to the world that I lived in Antarctica…..completely selfish and ignoble reasons. I often tell people I suffer from “Conquest Syndrome.” I just want to conquer places and events in hopes of emerging victorious and regaling people with outrageous (and slightly exaggerated) stories.

Without getting too deep or turning this into a “confess-all blog,” I humbly ask my readers to take my silly words with a grain of salt. I am not a blogger, but if it helps to describe this amazing continent God gave us and to relay this unique experience God blessed me with, then I count this blog as a “win.” Thank you for reading my Ice Story.

Love,

The Antarctic Princess

The belly of the Boeing C-17 GLobemaster

I run a tight ship