Thursday, November 26, 2015

Hey Neighbor....Happy Thanksgiving!

These Adelie Penguins will melt all the ice off of the coldest of Grinch hearts. They think humans are big penguins, and they love to run up to greet people....only to become shocked and disappointed that you are not their long-lost cousin.

Sunday, November 22, 2015

The Mountain Men Of McMurdo














I have been receiving a number of inquiries from my female friends, “What are the guys like in Antarctica? Lots of handsome lumber jack types?”

Well the closest encounter I ever had to a lumber jack was watching Seven Brides for Seven Brothers as a child. (You can imagine my disappointment when I came face-to-face with the real thing).

I think I suffer from “Face-blindness” because I can’t tell any of these dudes apart. I blame it on the rampant outbreak of facial hair that has overtaken McMurdo station.  All the men must have attended the same Duck Dynasty Convention before they deployed to Antarctica. Or perhaps they just finished reading Leviticus, decided to take the Nazarite Vow and never cut their hair again?

I don’t know how people can tell each other apart down here. We all walk around in puffy extreme-weather gear making it impossible to assess body type, stature, and height. This place reminds me of New York in January. It’s dark and freezing and everyone is wearing bulky coats. To quote Tina Fey, “you can do some serious subway flirting before you find out the guy is homeless.”

But I digress….

I don’t think the men at McMurdo realize there is a fine line between looking “handsome hipster” and looking “homeless.” They are extremely proud of their beards, and many are preparing their facial locks for the notorious, annual Mustache Roulette.  

Mustache Roulette occurs in January, and it is like “Movember” on crack (and with a Roulette wheel). People bid serious money to get their buddies to shave wild designs into their beards and hair. Then they glue the leftover hair onto each other’s freshly shaven skin. Last season the “Half n Half” look was quite enVogue at McMurdo. (The left side of the beard was completely shaved to diagonally compliment the right side of the head…also completely shaved).  

Not sure if I should eagerly anticipate Moustache Roulette. What lies beneath a man’s beard may or may not be an improvement. Fortunately all the proceeds are given to a prostate cancer charity which makes this event fun and slightly altruistic.

In conclusion, Ladies….It’s no Seven Brides for Seven Brothers down here. You take away the Brides. You take away the trees. And all you’ve got left is a bunch of scruffy, backwoods Brothers who can’t sing or dance.
….But they do have hearts of gold….(or so they keep telling me).


Friday, November 20, 2015

Kelly, Queen Of Scots

An old Scotsman lies on his death bed in his home in Edinburgh. His entire family is gathered around him in silence waiting to hear his last words.

“Is my wife here? The old Scotsman stutters.

“I am here, Dear.” She replies in anguish

“Are all my children here?” He stutters again.

“Yes Father, we are all here.” The children reply.

“Are all my grandchildren here?” He stutters again

“Yes Grandfather. We are all here” the grandchildren reply.

“Are ALL my loved ones here?” He asks in tired earnest

“Yes, we are ALL here.” They reply reassuringly.

The old Scotsman takes a deep breath and says, “Then why the hell are the lights still on in the kitchen?”

Hahaha.....smart man. I can relate. My hair might be reddish, my eyes might be greenish, I might have a freckle or two, but the true testament to my heavy Scottish ancestry is my frugality. Frugality is essential if you want to maintain multiple gaps of unemployment in your resume whilst globetrotting. I have mastered the concept of long-term "funemployment."

But today I hit an all-time low....

(….and this confession is coming from a girl who refused to pay two dollars a night at a guesthouse in Cambodia because she heard the guesthouse on the other side of the Mekong River was charging one dollar a night).

My confession:

Before deploying to Antarctica, I foolishly spent over 800 US dollars on fancy long underwear at the outdoor store, REI. “Smart Wool” long-johns are all the rage in the U.S., and I got caught up in an over-zealous shopping spree before I deployed.

However, when I came to Antarctica, I realized that I could get all the long underwear I wanted for free at Skua (The hut of freebie, reject clothes).

But wearing a stranger’s old long-johns is not the embarrassing part of my confession

I then packaged up all my fancy, expensive long underwear (the long underwear I had been wearing for 5 weeks straight), and shipped it back to REI demanding a full refund.

I know. I am naughty….

(Please beware of any upcoming REI garage sales in Dallas)

















Wednesday, November 18, 2015

Thrifting In Antarctica





"I wear your granddad's clothes. I look incredible...."
Macklemore










Folks, I pride myself in being a Thrift Store Aficionado. If I call a place a “Scrounger’s Heaven,” that’s basically like getting your book endorsed by Oprah. Everyone gets the on the band wagon.
I recently stumbled across something wonderful here at McMurdo Station called "Skua."

Skua is the name of a dingy, slightly-neglected building that is full of treasures. Basically it is an Antarctic thrift store. BUT EVERYTHING IS FREE!!! 

Anyone can wander around this building and rummage through the boxes and shelves for leftovers and freebies given away by people leaving McMurdo (Usually because they have to shed some weight in their luggage allowance). This is an excellent place to put together crazy outfits for the many costume parties held at McMurdo Station throughout the season. You can also find decorations or little housing items for your dorm room.

 SKUA (appropriately named after the pesky, gull-like, scavenger birds that fly around McMurdo station terrorizing the scientists) IS LEGIT!

For example, today I visited Skua, and I scored big-time:

Table lamp, water boiler, a humidifier, black-out curtains, fur leg warmers, a killer 80’s jumpsuit, a 60’s hippie poncho, bright orange pumps (shoes), a Seinfeld pirate shirt, Christmas lights, shelves, some audio books, a sexy cocktail dress (which I am redesigning for our upcoming masquerade ball), and a down jacket….All Free.99!!!

(Not a bad day for a cheap Scotswoman like me)

I have been living at McMurdo Station for less than 6 weeks, and Skua has made the ridiculously long journey to this frozen wasteland well worth my time. I am looking forward to more "Antarctic thrifting" throughout the season. 


Our C-17 Landing On The Sea Ice Runway

(I apologize for my appalling videography skills)


Friday, November 13, 2015

Helicopters and C-list Celebrities

I recently experienced a magical day working out at our big sea ice runway, Pegasus Airfield. I was technically out there for “training,” but most of the cargo guys don’t want me touching any of their machinery with a 10-foot-pole. So as per usual, I followed the cargo guys around like a lonely puppy asking what everything did. Like tired adults they would occasionally throw me a bone and let me help them move something light and unbreakable.

There were two reasons why this particular day was magical: First, they were unloading a New Zealand helicopter from the belly of the C-17 and assembling the copter right on the ice runway. Second, a local Antarctic celebrity, Anthony Powell, was out there filming scenes for his upcoming TV series on Antarctica. 

Anthony “Antz” Powell made the popular Netflix documentary Antarctica: A Year on Ice in 2013. It gives a great overview of what it is like working at McMurdo Station for a full 12 months. Several years ago Antz married an American woman, Christine, in the dead of the Antarctic winter. They patched in Christine’s father on the phone for the wedding ceremony. Parts of their ceremony at McMurdo Station are shown in the documentary. (Christine and I actually work together in the same office next to our cargo bay. She is a lovely, intelligent woman).

Antarctica: A Year on Ice was the piece of propaganda I used to convince my father not to worry about my working in Antarctica for 6 months. Instead my plot backfired. After watching that documentary, my father is terrified that I will marry a New Zealand man and never return to America.

But I digress….

Since I worked with Antz’s wife, I deemed myself worthy of approaching the filmmaker and casting a literal and metaphorical shadow on his film scene. He graciously let me join his set.

There we were….Two legendary celebrities….Antz Powell and Kelly McCord. Chatting like old friends and exchanging filming tips. (I am envisioning similar conversations happening between Francis Ford Coppola and Steven Spielberg).

Soon they unloaded the rotor-less helicopter. I realized that a helicopter without its blades looks suspiciously like my Mini Cooper back home in Texas (a silly light-weight toy that could never handle the elements of this ferocious continent).

But that was an erroneous assumption (as most of my assumptions are down here). And as Antz and I stood filming side by side, (Antz with his fancy high-tech camera and I with my sexy android phone), we witnessed this fragile, flimsy little bird explode to life. It gracefully churned up a plume of white icy powder and rose like a phoenix into the blue skies.


The irony of the day was that I probably got the better shot of the helicopter take-off with my crappy phone than he did with his sub-zero, Hollywood camera. (Probably because the wind kept blowing my hair in front of his camera lens….oops).

The Birth of a Helicopter

Unloading the helo from the C-17


Wednesday, November 11, 2015

A Typical Day At The Airfield


Here comes the plane!!!


Pegasus White Ice Runway
The Boeing C-17

Making a graceful landing
Love those mountains!

Taxiing on the sea ice
Beginning to unload the cargo





A New Zealand Air Force Helicopter
Anthony Powell filming more scenes for his Antarctica TV series


The helo without its rotors
Attaching the blades

Some day we will make it fly!

Tuesday, November 10, 2015

My Extremely Important Job


First I want to make it clear that I really like my job, but my glib personality induces me to sometimes poke fun of my job. I suspect that if our software were not from the early 2000’s, I could easily be replaced by a robot. But like any good little government worker, I don't question the process, I just do it.

I work in the Antarctic Transportation Operations (ATO) department….specifically in Air Services. There are 3 of us gals running this unit. We coordinate all passenger movement throughout Antarctica 24/7. Whenever scientists and contractors have to fly to a field camp, a research site, the South Pole, New Zealand, Australia, etc, they have to go through us. We work with the cargo handlers, the load planners, and the vehicle operators for a full turnkey solution to the life-cycle of a flight.

Our department coordinates “on-continent” and “off-continent” missions for the following aircrafts: Boeing C-17 Globemaster, LC-130 Hercules, Basler BT-67, DHC-6 Twin Otter, and various New Zealand helicopter models.

On a good day, I get to boss around our load planer, Doug, whenever we have a weight total discrepancy. Occasionally I get to hang out with the cargo handlers and play forklift basketball in the cargo bay. On slow days I get to go out to the airfields and “help” the airfield guys move cargo from the air crafts. (But I usually just stand around taking pictures and looking self-important).

My average day starts off in an office connected to our cargo bay. After 20,000 clicks around the windows of our ancient software, I start juggling the different stages of the many flights happening that day. I check in passengers to their flights, and I weigh their bags. I create manifests. I click around here and there. I send emails to listservs all over the world not knowing who is receiving them. I click around some more. I have access to view every single landing field in the world (which is not nearly as exciting as it sounds). 

I scribble on dry-erase boards. I send out flights changes and updates to hundreds of people I don’t know. My name is everywhere. I click here. I click there. I control channel 7 (flight info channel). I update all the flight monitors around McMurdo Station.

At the end of the day, I could really mess things up on this continent….

(Of course I don’t have anybody’s life in my hands, and I am not changing the course of history by discovering plant life on a rock). But in my own small, low-power position I can cause chaotic mayhem for several hours in Antarctica.

I have the power to turn this continent into JFK Airport during a blizzard on Christmas Eve. I can send someone to the South Pole when they are actually trying to get to New Zealand. I can lose their bags. I can misplace their boxes of scientific research samples. I can make people wait around on the sea ice for hours expecting their pick-up mission to show up. I control the weather. I am not to be trifled with…

(The power might be going to my head)

With all the hats I wear, one would think that I am busier than a one-arm wallpaper hanger in a windstorm. But clearly I have time to write this silly blog so I am either a genius at my job or my job is redundant enough that I can pawn off some of my work to other departments. This is a U.S. government job after all.

(At this point I need to make a disclaimer lest this blog be censored by the National Science Foundation. My facetious writing style sometimes gets the better of me. This is a wonderful organization, and we all work very hard and efficiently with the resources provided for us by the United States Antarctic Program).


I am thrilled to have this job, and I am honored to contribute to science in my own insignificant way. Let’s fly!


Monday, November 9, 2015

Cape Evans: Scott's Hut

Even this frozen wasteland has some fascinating cultural history.

 I recently had the opportunity to go on a day trip out to Cape Evans (16 miles outside of McMurdo Station). We visited the famously preserved Scott's Hut. It is one of Antarctica's few historic sights, and National Geographic named it as one of the World's 100 Most Endangered Monuments.
The hut was originally built, supplied, and occupied by British explorer, Robert Falcon Scott in 1909 for one of his exploration missions. Robert Scott and Sir Earnest Shackleton were rival explorers. Each expedition was planned in tandem with the competitor, and they progressively raced across the continent of Antarctica. Scott's men eventually left the hut and attempted to traverse to the South Pole. But they somehow took a wrong turn and tragically froze to death. The hut was empty.

A few years later, several of Shackleton's men, who were marooned on the Ross ice shelf nearby, moved into the fully-supplied hut. Ten men lived for two years in this hut waiting to be rescued. They lived off the left-over supplies from the Scott expedition. They slaughtered seals and made clothes and shoes out of their hides. They ate their sled dogs and seal meat. They barely survived.
Two year later, Shackleton returned on another expedition and rescued the half-crazed men, leaving the hut abandoned. 
The hut is remarkably well-preserved due to the consistently sub-freezing conditions.
Scott's hut was rediscovered in 1956 when US expeditioners dug it out of snow and ice. It has been restored, protected and most of the original contents remain in the hut. 


When I walked around the hut, I sensed the desperation these men must have felt. The rancid-smelling seal meat still lies in frozen layers, waiting to be devoured by some hungry pilgrim. 
A person could easily trip over one of the many "rocks" scattered around the outside of the hut (they are actually mummfied carcusess of 100-year-old sled dogs).

Seal blubber

A mummified penguin next to a copy of The London Times





Me trying to read The London Times to the penguin


Food Supplies

Their feeble attempt to make a telegraph from the ship's wiring

More mummified seal carcuses




The anchor from their ship

"Hey Man! I know we are starving to death and there's a blizzard outside, but fancy a bike ride?"




Sunday, November 8, 2015

"Conquest Syndrome"

Ah yes....The good old days! BACK WHEN SHIPS WERE MADE OF WOOD AND MEN WERE MADE OF STEEL.
This ad was placed in The London Times in 1914 by Sir Earnest Shackleton, recruiting men for his epic Endurance Expedition.

The plan was to traverse the entire Antarctic continent via the South Pole. Disaster struck this expedition when their ship became trapped in the ice and was slowly crushed before the shore parties could land. The crew escaped by camping on the sea ice for the rest of the winter. After many months of waiting for the sea ice to melt and break apart, the harve-starved crew rowed their life boats 720 nautical miles to the nearest inhabited island off the South American coast. Shackleton did not lose a single man. He embodies the spirit of survival and determination against the harshest of conditions.

Shackleton was knighted for his many conquests in Antarctica 100 years ago. Although he is one of the principle figures of the "Heroic Age" of Antarctic Exploration, his life was restless and unfulfilled. He died in relative obscurity, leaving heavy financial debts in his wake.

As someone who personally struggles with restlessness and unfulfillment, Shackleton's story tugs at my heart strings. It is a somber reminder that my conquests on earth can fade as quickly as the sea ice can melt. I have wandered the world for over a decade, and none of my earthly adventures will every bring me fulfillment. My only true adventure is chasing my Heavenly Father and eventually exploring my permanent home in Paradise. 

I wonder if Jesus will let me blog in heaven?


Friday, November 6, 2015

Hark Those Heavenly Sunsets!

Being a flippant, fast-paced Millennial, I was never one to weep over a sunset. But the fairy-tale sunsets of Antarctica can bring out the sappy romantic in ANYBODY.

Bizarre; deceptively peaceful; gravity-defying….the Antarctic sun never sets from September to February. It scandalously flirts with the horizon line as it arcs in a sideways pattern across the sky. Around midnight, that Saucy Sun starts to tease us again. She slowly dips down to kiss the mountains, shining brighter and more tantalizing than before, threatening to disappear forever. But as a Femme Fatale will do, she changes her mind and floats back up to her ethereal throne (around 2am) and burns down in judgement upon us all.

During the summer months, the Sun Minx tires of fraternizing with us mere mortals. She remains high over our heads in her glowering superiority of light, never to sink again. Or so she would have us believe….

In March we see traces of her evil enemy, Winter, as he creeps up to attack her white kingdom. She begins to dip back down to earth filled with rage as she desperately tries to cling to her throne. During the month of May we watch, helpless, as the Treacherous Winter completely topples the Saucy Sun Minx off her royal axis. Gone forever. Or so Winter would have us believe….

Will we never see our Burning Enchantress again?

This great battle of Light and Dark, has been fought since the beginning of time. And while we are in awe of these two equally opposing forces, we remain grateful for an even higher Force that orchestrates this battle. Our Heavenly Father graciously administers perfect doses of change and consistency to this world. We know that the sun will set every day just as we know it will rise. But morning is completely different from evening. God desires that we might enjoy a predictable daily regimen of pursuing Him. Yet He fills that regimented day with variety and surprises so that we might marvel at His workmanship.

I believe in Christianity as I believe that the sun has risen: not only because I see it, but because by it I see everything else.
-C.S.Lewis


Thursday, November 5, 2015

A 2am Fairy Wonderland

They who dwell in the ends of the earth stand in awe of Your signs; You make the dawn and the sunset shout for joy. Psalm 65:8

The fleeting, side-ways Antarctic sunsets make my big Texas heart want to burst with glee. They only occur during the month of October which is Antarctica's short spring. Around 2am they are at their most dramatic.