Moon, Stars, and Hints of Sun

Current Conditions
Temperature: -2F
Wind Chill: -26F

It occurs to me that throughout all this darkness, I have yet to describe the night sky here. Have I grown that accustomed to it?

Up until a week ago, the brief mid-day period of "nautical twilight" was only apparent from Arrival Heights while looking toward the northern horizon, which tended to be a thin line of very deep red blending quickly to deeper blue and then black. This section of sky was usually obscured by clouds, though, and from town the subtle blue wasn't even noticeable, so our days have truly been one long night.

On many clear days, the stars have been very bright and the Milky Way obvious. I regularly see two of the four galaxies visible to the naked eye; the Large Magellanic Cloud and the Small Magellanic Cloud. These are only visible in the southern hemisphere and appear as small clouds of light, like pieces broken off of the Milky Way. The other two visible galaxies are in the northern hemisphere: Triangulum and Andromeda.

Though the majority of the stars are different from what we see in the northern hemisphere (no dippers or north star), Orion is often on the horizon, and is a welcome slice of home. Of course, from this southern perspective, he's standing on his head. The face of the moon is also upside-down:

In reality, the moon and Orion are the same, and I'm the one that is upside-down, clinging to the bottom of the earth with my trusty Vibram soles.

I was interested to discover that the moon rises and sets in similar fashion to the sun because it orbits the earth in the same plane that the earth and all the planets orbit the sun. The difference is that the moon's cycle around the earth is four weeks long instead of a year, so it is up for two weeks and then down for two weeks. It rises near its first quarter, waxes to full, wanes and sets at about its third quarter, so we don't see a crescent or new moon in wintertime. Similarly, we don't see a full moon in summertime.

The moon has just set again, but in the past week we have been getting strong hints that the sun is returning. The thin red band that was only in the north at noon now stretches into the west in the afternoon as the sun circles below, but nearer and nearer to, the horizon:

At mid-day the northern sky is pale blue and is pushing the darkness back noticeably each day. Low clouds on the horizon catch reds and oranges and send them in our direction:

High nacreous clouds reflecting intense pink light remind us of our neighbors, the Royal Society Range and Mount Discovery, who have remained invisible until this week. Reaching as high as I've seen them, nacreous clouds silhouette the Kiwi lab at Arrival Heights:

The illuminated plume above Erebus that I once found so eerie has become a common sight again, for me anyway; others in town are not so lucky to get up the hill every day, but I try to bring people with me whenever I can. Brody and Kaycee accompanied me on a recent antenna inspection that yielded this purple view of Erebus, Castle Rock, and Terror:

Bugs in the Brain Room

As it turns out, there are bugs here! They live in the band room. We were practicing and I swore I saw something fly by. I passed it off as just my mind playing tricks on me, which is all too common these days. A couple of the others noticed, too, but they also just assumed they were crazy. Then one landed on Jeremy. A fruit fly! A real bug!

The band room is adjacent to the beverage storage, so these little dudes have been living off of exploded soda cans! Either that or Sierra Nevada Pale Ale.

A-Frame

Current Conditions
Temperature: -34F
Wind Chill: -34F

I'm told the A-frame originally belonged to the U.S. and was used as the Chalet, which is the administrative building for the NSF and Raytheon. If it was, it must have been quite some time ago, because there isn't much room in the A-frame for working personnel. I'm told the U.S. program decided to get rid of it and the Kiwis said they'd put it to use. So they dragged it an hour out onto the ice shelf beyond the Castle Rock trail and ski hill and turned it into a shelter for their survival school instructors. This is its purpose in the summer. In the winter, it's a great place to go camping.

The Kiwis offer the A-frame to the Americans on the first Saturday night of every month. But Katie has Tuesdays off, not Sundays, so she managed to get it for a Monday night instead. Brody, Talie and I all got permission to use comp time on Tuesday morning so we could go along. So, on Monday evening after dinner, the four of us loaded up a Pisten Bully with warm clothes, skis, cameras, radios and food. This picture was taken by Antz on a previous trip in the Kiwi's Hagglund:

The A-frame is a small, triangular cabin with wood plank walls and a fuel stove heater. The middle section of each sloped wall is alcoved to create a little more space. Down the south wall are three twin mattresses, the middle one in the alcove. Down the north wall is a cooking area and counter, a table and chairs in the alcove, and beyond that, a couch. At the far wall is the stove heater, between the couch and a twin bed. In the loft there is just room for three more twin mattresses. The bathroom is a snow-lined (inside and out) outhouse behind the building, but you can stay inside and pee into a pee bucket with a funnel and take it out later. Light comes from the fire and a lantern, water from a container with a spigot. In short, the A-frame is wonderfully rustic.

We spent the evening drinking Scotch and Oregon Chai, just chatting and enjoying the cozy charm. It was fantastic to get away from town and into this little cabin that bears no resemblance to the industrial look of most other buildings here. I almost forgot I was in Antarctica; I could easily feel like we were in a little ski lodge in the mountains somewhere:

The fire was the best part. It was mesmerizing. I know, fire is always mesmerizing, but I haven't gazed into a campfire since my Alaskan canoe trip in September with Lynette. And before that, I think it was the time Jason and I learned that basalt is a poor choice when building a fire ring. Apparently, tiny air pockets in basalt have a tendency to explode when heated, hurling sharp flakes of hot volcanic rock towards you, your dog, your tent, your truck, etc. Jason's fleece pants were actually speckled with flakes that had melted the polyethylene and adhered. But I digress...

As we gazed into the fire, the four of us held wonderful conversation in the peaceful ambience, until the hour grew late and we couldn't hold our eyes open anymore. We eventually crashed out in long johns under fleece and wool blankets, still in the warm glow of the stove heater.

The hour of morning came and we rose, but the light of morning was still many hours away (many weeks, in truth), so we warmed water for coffee and tea and sat around the fire wrapped in blankets, still in long johns. Despite the presence of cards and board games, we continued to chatter contentedly just like the night before. We nibbled on snacks and drank warm drinks until noon, when the northern skyline showed signs of pre-dawn.

Bundling up and strapping on cross country skis, we ventured out into a completely still silence. The view was stunning. The colors were soft and the shapes obscured by thin cloud, but the scene may have been the most Antarctic yet. Mt. Erebus was a fuzzy outline through wispy clouds, silhouetted against the brightened northern sky, a pink plume flowing steadily east from its tip. To our right, the flat sea ice stretching out to infinity, its imperfections only vaguely visible in the low light. To our left, the glaciers of Hut Point Penninsula rising smoothly up to meet the pastel pre-dawn. Straight ahead, a line of green flags shrinking into the shadows of Windless Bight. Behind us, the pale pink shape of Mt. Discovery in the distance, just discernable from the deep blue-grey around it.

We followed the flagline beyond the Kiwi's Snow Mound City, where old quinzhees have sunk to low mounds, like insignificant pimples on the smooth ice face of the Ross Ice Shelf. The sense of remote was palpable as we took pause to soak it in:

A perfect day.

Kiwi Putt Putt

Current Conditions
Temperature: -21F
Wind Chill: -21F

I got a special invitation to Scott Base on Sunday to play on their home made putt-putt golf course. I was happy to be invited back after being a covert operative in their fire drill last week (I was smuggled in to pull a fire alarm while they were all accounted for at a base meeting).

There were eight holes set up throughout the base, all ingenious in their own way.

Hole 1: More like batting than putting, this hole used a ping pong ball and Bernoulli's Principle of Fluid Dynamics. Have you ever seen a water fountain with a ball that 'floats' in a vertical stream of water, even though you would expect it to fall out? Bernoulli figured out that pressure is inversely proportional to velocity, so the ball stays in the moving water because the stationary air holds it there with higher pressure. Anyway, Pete used this effect with air as a tee:

That ball isn't moving, it's just floating there in the air! The idea was to whack your ball into a hole in the chest of a robot costume. I'm using an iron because there were only a few putters available, making the game rather interesting.

Hole 2: Stand in the sauna ten seconds for every miss you made on the first hole (maxxing at 30 seconds), then tee off from inside the sauna and work your way towards the drain hole of the shower around the corner.

Hole 3: Using a battery-powered self-returning practice hole, aim your ball down a sloped hallway towards a jump and into a toilet bowl (hopefully).

Hole 4: Give 'er a whack up a ramp and onto the pool table. Any pocket will do.

Hole 5: Putt your way through the kitchen area, avoiding things like trays of Jello, cans of Spaghetti-Os, and Annie (who happened to be making coffee while we were putting):

Hole 6: The "Scheisseneimer" (shitting bucket). Putt around orange crap buckets and yellow pee bottles (these are often used in field camps) until you get your ball to roll down this ramp and into the shitter:

Your ball will disappear for a moment and suddenly roll out of the bottom of the bucket, but now it will be brown. The hole is a recessed roll of TP, on end.

Hole 7: Up the ramp and into the water hazard, then into the sand trap, then up another ramp into the hole:

Hole 8: Quite a contraption, this one:

Up the ramp. Then, if you're unlucky, the ball will come back down the right hand return and a burst of water will hit you as your ball rounds the corner towards your feet. If you're lucky, you saw the unlucky fellow go first and now you know better! A few more pipes and ramps and it's back to the bar for drinks.

The Way Things Work, Part II: Living

Current Conditions
Temperature: 0F
Wind Chill: -18F

Ever seen the movie "Groundhog Day", where Bill Murray keeps reliving the same day over and over again? That is exactly what is happening here, except that it's "Groundhog Week". The work day is extremely repetitive for most, myself included. After-work events are scheduled weekly, so most of them occur on the same day every week. My week looks something like this:

Monday is "entertain drunken Katie" night, because she has Tuesday off (the kitchen staff all have skewed schedules).
Tuesday is usually either pool or bowling.
Wednesday night is soccer.
Thursday is a repeat of Tuesday.
Friday night is usually band practice.
Saturday: if there isn't a party already planned, then one forms.

Even Sunday, our only day off, is repetitive. I sleep in until 11 (something I haven't even been capable of for many years), then have brunch, go to work for about an hour, then sort through pictures while I burn a movie to DVD, put in the DVD and take a nap (why I still bother to burn one every week is beyond my reasoning capability), go to dinner, and finally meet Brody, Casey, John, and Genevieve in the lounge to watch two episodes of Deadwood.

Other folks have different schedules, of course, but equally repetitive; instead of soccer on Wednesday, someone may watch Lost; instead of band practice on Friday, they may go to "Art Bar" or work in the Library. Anyway, you get the idea; we're all becoming institutionalized zombies, incapable of remembering a change in routine unless our Outlook Calendar reminds us, and we still forget. This is not entirely our fault; much of it is the cold and lack of sunlight, but I'll get to that later.

For now, a walk through of our daily living situation. This is the service area of the Galley:

Walk in, grab a blue tray and a plate. Place the plate on the left side of your tray. At the nearest counter, cut off a slice of fresh baked bread, place it in the lower right corner of your tray. Next go to the hot line, then to the cold line, filling your plate (if you remember, a decision can be made here to go to the deli/sandwich line if nothing else appeals to your buds). Try not to use a bowl for anything, unless you can fit it on your plate or you didn't grab any bread, because you'll need that top right corner of the tray for two beverages: one water, one 50/50 blend of apple and cranberry juice. These are attained simultaneously in a specific manner; the water pours into the cup in your left hand at twice the rate that apple juice pours into the cup in your right, so when the water cup is full, stop pouring apple juice and switch to cranberry. 50/50, every time. Before getting these beverages, though, grab a fork and knife and place them to the left of the plate. While grabbing the knife, remember that you need butter for your bread and return to the bread line (also every time), all while trying to ignore the desserts.

Now that you have your meal, enter the seating area of the Galley:

Do not sit in the lower area. In the summer, this area is primarily full of Air Force personnel, fire fighters and generally stiff-shirt looking types. In the winter there is no reason, because there are no Air Force personnel and it turns out the fire fighters are OK, even fun. But, you're institutionalized and it would just be weird to sit down there. Do not sit at the IT table, in fact, it's best not to even look in that direction (however, it is encouraged to think of ways to subtly change or move the IT table and try to imagine how far it would go until they noticed and gauge what their reaction might be). Instead, sit at one of the four upper-level tables nearest the exit. If there are nothing but full tables and empty tables, feel free to "porch it" at one of the full tables by grabbing an extra chair and joining the end of the table. Available space will require that you turn your tray from a landscape layout to a portrait (hence the near-homonym title of "porch it"). Be aware, though, that this may sometimes lead you to wonder why there are eight or nine (the record) people crammed into a six person table which is surrounded by five roomy, empty tables. Don't worry, the simple answer is that you are a mindless sheep, and for this reason, you walk a fine line when making fun of any nearby Kiwis.

OK, you're done eating and your social skills have degraded to an absent stare for this particular sitting, so it's time to leave. Deposit used utensils, plate, cups and blue tray in the appropriate locations while saying a brief hello and thank you to your community Dining Attendant. If you have any remaining food, dirty napkins, etc., be sure to dump them into the proper receptacles: food into Food waste and napkins into Burnables. There should also be a receptacle for Aluminum cans nearby, should you need it.

There are many other categories of waste as well, even more than in that recycling episode of Penn & Teller's Bullshit. Here's a typical dormitory waste station:

Light metal, Fabric, Mixed paper, Glass, Plastic, Batteries, Aerosols, Non-recyclables, and you already know Food waste, Burnables, and Aluminum cans. But let's not forget all the other categories that are available at various other locations: Cardboard, Sanitary waste, Sharps, Construction debris, Heavy metal, Non-ferrous metal, Electronic scrap, CRT Monitors, Hazardous waste, Wood. All this waste has to be shipped back to the States to be burned, buried, recycled, re-used, or sold, depending on the category, so please sort your garbage as best you can according to the official "Trash Matrix." Don't fret about it too much, though, because you're bound to make plenty of mistakes (for instance, bottle caps go in Burnables, who knew?), which is why there is a whole department dedicated to re-sorting your improperly sorted mess and making sure that it makes it onto that ship in the proper containers.

And don't forget, there's always Skua for all your thrift store needs. Skua (named after the bird, to confuse you) is a great way to get rid of crap that you think (incorrectly) someone else here may want. Go ahead and put those gasoline-soaked boots and jeans in Skua, someone will surely need a Fuelie costume at some point. Throw your favorite cassettes in there and those 20-year-old freeze-dried rations you've been saving for the end of the world (guess what, you're there!). These items are sure to spend eternity here where there are no little bugs to work diligently at their decomposition.

Actually, Skua can be a good place to get clothing, shoes, electric kettles, hot plates, and coveted room decorations if you get the timing right. Many people will deposit decent things into Skua rather than carry or ship them home, so if you go during a time of massive redeployment, you may have some luck. Or maybe, if you're like me, decorating a dorm room that no longer sees the light of day just isn't your bag.

Here's my room:

This picture is taken from the doorway. To the right, out of sight, is a bunk bed. During the summer, this room would house three people uncomfortably. Fortunately, everyone gets their own room during the winter. Unfortunately, I'll be here for nearly a month of the coming summertime, which means I'll have to tolerate roommates again. Hopefully, I'll be able to move to the nicer dorms before then and share a room and private bathroom with only one roommate: someone that has been here with me for the winter and is equally tired, grumpy and retarded (on the ice, this winter-over condition is referred to as "toasty").

This concludes your orientation.

4th of July, Part II: McBand

Current Conditions
Temperature: -33F
Wind Chill: -41F

Introducing. . . McBand!!:

Jim Ruppel: guitar, feedback
Stephen Kish: bass, guitar
Brian Nelson: vocals, guitar, bass
Tom Murphy: drums

and featuring:
Jen Rhemann: vocals
Jason "Jaybird" Solis: bass
Dave Barud: congas

After the 4th of July festivities, it was our job to bring the noise. We covered all your favorite rock 'n roll dittys; from Johnny B. Goode to Yellow Ledbetter. The picture was most likely taken while Jen was belting out Zombie.

In only two weeks we managed to scrape together 15 songs to fill almost 2 hours. It was a lot of fun to play loud, scream and yell. Not the type of music I usually listen to anymore, but it's still fun to play. I recorded the show, of course, but we'll be playing again in a couple weeks for another party, and I hope to get a better recording then. I'm learning a lot about this live recording thing, mostly by trial and error. Anyway, McBand should make it to Surlyjam soon.

A big kudos to Jeremy for making this banner for us:

I didn't even know we had a banner until I showed up to help set up the stage the day of the show.

After our set, Level 5ive got up and jammed out their "all original Antarctic ska/punk" set. This is Kish's brainchild of fast-paced and extremely danceable madness. I like it more every time I hear it. I had the opportunity to run the soundboard for this part of the show, which is something I've always been curious to learn about.

Part III: Half Done Run
In the mid-morning on Sunday, about 30 people gathered for a 1.3 mile run to mark the midpoint of the winter season, hence the name "half done run." The weather was nasty and getting worse, -30F with an awful windchill pushing -60F. We ran out to Hut Point and back, in the dark. On the way out the wind was at our backs and the running was relatively easy (except that the terrain was difficult to discern), but as soon as I rounded the back side of Discovery Hut it was a wicked blast to the face. Every inch of skin needs to be covered in conditions like that; frostbite can take less than ten minutes. Most runners donned balaclavas and goggles. It was frigid, but I was layered just right for the 15 minutes it took me for a 7th place finish.

Frost nip is a strange thing, because your skin is numb before it appears, so you don't know it's happening unless someone else spots it for you. I think I got a slight nip on my right earlobe, through my hat. The only way I know is that it felt like a minor, itchy burn once it warmed up. That's my second nip, the first was a tiny white spot on an otherwise rosy cheek, a few months ago. Once you nip, that spot will be more susceptible to future nippage. There were four or five runners with noticeable frost nip on cheeks and noses. One runner came in with two nipped cheeks and a nose that was entirely white and frosted, bordering on byte. Ouch!

The weather worsened throughout the week, and we had another Condition II storm, but still no Condition I in town. There's a pool on when the first will come. My guess is it will wait until the typically stormy springtime in August or September, but I have no vested interest.

4th of July, Part I: Carnies!!

Current Conditions
Temperature: -30F
Wind Chill: -64F

The fourth of July was a big production here, seemingly bigger than Midwinter. The Science Support Center (SSC, for all you TLA lovers, and haters) was transformed into an indoor carnival. You had to buy tickets to get food like corn dogs or funnel cake, play games like "Giant Craps" or "Server's Challenge", throw softballs at the dunk tank or win raffle prizes. And what carnival is complete without CARNIES!!!

Our brightly colored circus folk for the evening were Genevieve, Meghan, Liz, and Jolene, with Sal as their pimp, er, I mean, Ringleader. Nice cape, Sal.

I was thoroughly impressed by the sheer number of activities that were provided. Most were hosted by individuals or departments. The IT department set up a NASCAR racing game with four networked computers, so you could race your buddies as if you were in an arcade. A dartboard challenge required hitting a dollar bill from three distances with four total darts (I won two dollars there, hazaa!). Several people took turns being dunked in the dunk tank. Here's Keith waiting patiently for a douse:

I've often wondered how strange novelties like this get to Antarctica, but I'm finally realizing that ninety-five percent of them are made right here by locals using scrapped materials.

The "Server's Challenge" had contestants running an obstacle course with a tray of cups filled to the rim; many of the runners got wet. The fire department hosted "Giant Craps," which required you to huck 3-foot dice into a corner. Here's one of the Carnies getting her luck up:

Two tickets got you an ice cream cone from the Kiwis, who stock the real thing instead of our sub-par bulk custard. A couple local scribblers were drawing pretty impressive temporary tattoos:

The event with the most spectators, though, was "Human Jenga." This involved building your own Jenga tower out of wooden crates. The catch: you have stand on top of the tower and climb as you build. Check out Dave; one more block and Deneen will have to start tossing up the crates:

Ten crates was the limit, and let me tell you, just like Jenga, that tower gets mighty wobbly when it gets that tall. Here's Joe with one more to go:

I think most of the people that tried made it, but that luck just didn't hold for the Carnies:

In their defense, I'd say it's highly probable that their sense of balance was especially impaired. But not to worry, everyone was harnessed into a belaying rig, so the only thing that fell was the tower.

There were two roasted pigs to go along with country fair-style sides like baked beans, slaw and corn dogs. There was a chili cook-off with various styles of spicy concoctions boiling atop Coleman stoves. And to cap it all off in true carnival fashion, Tom cooked me an incredibly tasty funnel cake, complete with powdered sugar and greasy paper plate!

Eventually the booths were closed and the tickets collected so the auction could begin. Talk about an insight into this culture; silly penguin knickknacks, "fart in a can", fancy soap (which you can't get here), a Tucker ride around Castle Rock Loop, a handmade knit hat, a handmade knit banana hammock (no joke!), two custom pizzas from Shane the cook, several DA shifts (apparently, some folks will pay over $100 to get out of dish duty), and the big ticket item at $140: a blackened open-end wrench billed as the only survivor of the Smurf Shack fire. I should have offered up a roll of the three-ply TP Bamma sent down after mainbody; that stuff probably has more buying power than actual currency here. . . hmmm.

I'm told that in years past, the ticket sales and auction earnings were donated to charity, but apparently it is no longer legal to collect money for charity in a federal workplace. Instead nearly $2000 was raffled off to the festival-goers as monetary prizes; the big winner took home $900. Nice work Uncle Sam, you jackass.

A Brief Light to Get By

Current Conditions
Temperature: -24F
Wind Chill: -50F

Another two day weekend gone. Only one left in August and then the return of fresh legs in early September. The station's population will double for a month during "Winfly," the extra bodies working in preparation for the summer season. In early October the summer hoards will begin their return. My departure is tentatively set for October 25th. By that time the station will be full up with 1000 energetic people again and I'm not looking forward to it, having settled into the mellow and involuntary sleepiness of winter.

Along with recent clear skies come the frigid temperatures normally associated with this time of year. The clear skies also bring views of the heavens, auroras, and even signs that the sun is returning toward the horizon. I took these pictures last weekend at mid-day:

This is the first we've seen of polar nacreous clouds, which are associated with the ozone hole. They are common in the springtime here, and are said to be responsible for some of the best scenery of the polar year. I look forward to seeing more. You can see Orion's belt and scabbard in upper left of this one:

And this one I just took today:

Auroras have been common the past few weeks, but not spectacular. I've seen them on many occasions, usually in the afternoon while I'm driving to various scientific sites. They've been low in the sky and gentle green with movement at a snail's pace, nothing like the brightly dancing display I saw near Fairbanks in September.

Part of the reason the auroras are mild is that we are not in a prime location for viewing them. The charged particles coming in from space are funneled by the earth's magnetic field toward the poles, the magnetic poles, that is, which are slightly off center from the geographic poles (actually, McMurdo is closer to the magnetic south pole than the geographic South Pole is). Due to the way the magnetic flux lines work, these particles interact with the atmosphere at a given radius from the magnetic pole, as shown in this auroral prediction image:
At the thick green band, the auroras will be directly overhead. Because McMurdo is some distance west of the band, the auroras generally appear fairly low on our eastern horizon. That's not to say that we don't get auroras directly overhead, we do, just not very often.

The other reason the auroras are not particularly spectacular is that we are at the low point in the solar cycle, a repeating 11 year period of solar activity. Less activity, less aurora. In 5 years the cycle will be at its peak again. Maybe I'll come back then! This is a pretty typical view of the auroras I've seen:

There have been a few occasions that the light show was directly above and filled much of the sky. It's still amazing to watch, but I keep hoping for something to rival my previous experience.