Wintering Over (II)

Richard W. Frank

Wintering Over (II)

121 men and 35 women are left to recreate civilization in miniature and find reasons to wake up in the morning. Coffee is a major one for me as is the paycheck. Looking over the assembled crew today for an all-hands meeting, I was struck by the diversity among us as well as the many similarities. Most of the group is 30-50, white, male, long haired, bearded, prone to wearing flannel shirts and Carharts (looking like unemployed Washington loggers at the wrong end of a marathon Judds, Brooks and Dunn, Tammy Winnett concert). The one common characteristic I have found is a strength of mind and body. These people know what they want and are able to work for it in business and life. Whether it be a trekking tour in Nepal, a new garage for a house in Wisconsin, or a nest egg for an upcoming wedding, dreams are more than goals here they are reality-to-be. The rainbow at the end of a long winter storm. That is what will keep our mouths shut and smile when a coworker launches into yet another story about the travails of repairing his 1970 Silver Streak motor home.

The last week was a maelstrom of parties, packing, and preparation. Half the galley staff and many others had two days off before leaving McMurdo, and they made the most of it-in and out of a bottle of Chivas. A group of friends and I went out to see the wildlife one last time this week. Even I do not believe what I saw. The two mile walk over to Scott Base warmed us up as the heavy winds bit into exposed skin ("cuts like a knife" always seemed like hyperbole to me until moving to this freaking continent). On rounding the tip of Ross Island, one was faced by every Antarctic nature stereotype conveniently compressed into the Everest of Photo Opportunities. Partially cloudy skies framed the tortuous peaks of the Royal Society Mountain Range. The ice below compressed near the shore into a series of waves 20 ft high. The ice face rose stories above the water's edge. Orca patrolled the waters for seals and penguins careless enough to hazard the waters. We walked to the edge and joined the group of @50 seals doing what they do best. On assuring ourselves that they were indeed not dead, we engaged in a photo shoot that gave us a little less respect for National Geographic photographers. Emperor and Adelie penguins did not do much more than the seals. We sat in awe and watch them molt and look stoically at the whales below. Sometimes Nature really is a Gary Larson cartoon.

After coming to the conclusion while lying on the ice that humans, unfortunately, do not possess as much insulation as seals, we went to the green buildings of the NZ Scott Base to meet Gordy and thaw out. As one of the 10 winter-overs he double duties as the cook and gift shop attendant. Over a cup of well-needed coffee and in our socks (leave boots at the door) we bought books about where we are and music to forget about it.

Now, as the rest of the station and half the galley staff gets a 60hr weekend, I am collapsed in a chair in our office at 5:30pm after an interesting 12 hr day earning my dreams. Today is pizza day (Saturday night). Wahoo, whoopee. I look forward to crawling upstairs to my cave, taking an obscenely long shower and sauna, and drifting into mystery with Ingrid Bergman in "Gaslight." There is a party at the Erebus Club (our bar/coffee shop/pool room) sponsored by the Navy boys that I might just have to attend despite my better judgment. Hey, I do not have to be at work until 4:30am!!

That is a brief and tedious story of the last week. Thank you all for your e-mail and affirmation of a world that grows hazier to me as each day passes (what do you mean "Friends" and "X Files" are not "real" life in the USA). The only difference between McMurdo and a federal penitentiary is the uniforms. Keep in touch and keep "borrowing" towels from hotels.

Gone harassing coworkers,

Rich

LAST FLIGHT

BY ALAN STONE

The day has started for some with big smiles

Knowing that they will soon be flying many miles

You see today is the day of their last flight

As they leave the ice and head back to their lives

For some who stay it is a time of sorrow

Knowing their friends will be in the world tomorrow

For others it is a time of great pleasure

As it marks the start of their big adventure

For those who stay and watch the plane go from sight

It is only the beginning of a long winters night

Those that leave will cherish the adventure and fun

Especially now that they're done

As the plane fades away on it's trip back north

The rest of us wonder what future will spring forth

We are stuck here now for the remainder of the season

All of us for different reasons

Our friends and families think we are crazy

To come to a place, so distant, so amazing

We will spend many days working long hours

Fighting mother nature and all her powers

For some it will be their first winter, how bold

While others will swear it's their last in the cold

For me I look forward to my time in the snow

And will regret it when it's my turn to go

I know I am not the only one that feels this way

Our friends will be thinking about it as they fly away

They will hold their memories of this place deep in their hearts

And take one long last look as they depart

So let the engines roar and lift the plane high

Bank and turn and dip it's wings goodbye

For friends we have lost and friends we have made

We will meet them again someday.

Onwards to Wintering Over (III)

Back to Antarctica

Back to Wintering Over (I)

Week 2- Settling to the Bottom

Many are the feelings that swell to the surface when faced with a point of no return. 156 of us have passed that point yesterday as the Air Force C141 holding 85 friends and coworkers, the last plane for at least six months, disappeared over the horizon at 14:30 on February 7th, 1997. Now we lower our field of vision to the minutiae of work to avoid thinking of the immensity of what is ahead of us.

Group picture of 1997 Winter-overs at Hut Point (My close-up below)