I like taking vacation on the company dime. Each night our room was paid for and an $80 stipend was allotted. From cliff-side beaches to wandering paths among blooming flowers in the botanical gardens, to culinary cuisines from across the globe, Christchurch is a spectacular city. I felt like it was a modern version of what people behaved like in America before the advent of television and a lust of materialism, power, and flashiness. The people are honest, kind, and helpful. The city spectacularly beautiful, clean, and safe. I can't wait to see the rest of the South Island.

We loaded up gear this morning and left for the ice. Soon the light streaming in the two windows of the C-130 became intense. I needed glacier sunglasses to look out of the porthole. Down below I imagined I was flying over the surface of the moon, luminous cracked, and pockmarked. It stretched for miles and miles until soon we landed. We I climbed out of the plane the scene took my breath away.

A brilliantly blue cloudless sky met and endless sea of white on the horizon. Jagged mountain peaks erupted from the flat landscape in several directions. A plume of vapor hung over the 12,500 foot cone of Mount Erebus, the worlds southern most active volcano. Frost bellowed from my nostrils with each exhale, but I embraced the cold with a smile on my face. We loaded up in transport where we received an orientation and were given room assignments. My room has about 20 bunk beds. No worries though because tomorrow I leave for the South Pole where I'll have my own room. I think.

written by  JCinTheSouthPole on November 5 from Christchurch, New Zealand
from the travel blog: South Pole
tagged JakeCarling
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I awoke in a panic as I looked at the two empty bunks next to me. Light was streaming through the windows and a digital clock across the room read 12:36. I was tired from travel and am known to be able to out-nap a cat, but this time I blew it. I slept in and missed the plane. I hurried and swung my head around towards the other bunks and saw people all around. I hung over the side and peered at the ones below and saw rows of slumbering souls. Whew. It was only a little after midnight. I forgot it stays light for 24 hours a day. This same situation happened two additional times throughout the night and I never learned my lesson from the previous ones. Some things never change.

The morning finally came and we boarded the Air Force plane in our extreme cold weather gear: goggles, boots, balaclava, coveralls, down parka, gloves, etc. The current temperature indicated the air hovered around minus 45 degrees with a windchill factor of negative 75. Climbing on board the plane an A.F. serviceman took my carry on luggage. All the seats faced the center of the aircraft, lining both walls and creating only two rows of passengers. Carry-ons were stacked in a neat pile in the center of us. The toilet was on an elevated platform with a giant shower curtain draped around. Everyone put in their ear plugs as the propellers churned into a high pitched whine.

The three hour ride seemed worse to me than the 14 hour flight we had taken only days earlier from LAX to Sydney, Australia. My back was aching on the nylon wire seats. My body temperature started rising from the gear and I had to shed layers. My restless night before made me just want to sleep. The next thing I felt was the small plane, with 40 people aboard, being tossed around in harsh Antarctic winds. The pilot fought through the turbulence as I fastened my seat belt. I couldn't even tell we had touched down until the plane abruptly came to a complete stop. Either the landing was amazingly smooth in the snow, or the last half hour or so was really rocky. I thought we were still in the air, but soon the doors opened at light streamed inside.

I zipped up my coat, put on my balaclava and goggles and cinched up my mittens. My heart raced as I looked outside at the frozen barren desert. Whirling drifts of ice crystals blew around in different directions. Men in the distance piled large mounds of snow higher using heavy machinery. A brand new building E shaped building, the new $165 million dollar project of the National Science Foundation, sparkled beautifully in the sunlight. Adrenaline started pumping through my system. I was actually at the South Pole. A place no one on the planet had seen a mere 100 years ago, and probably less than 10,000 have ever seen at all. I felt very honored and privileged to be on such an adventure and to be able to experience this fascinating location on the globe that others died trying to reach decades ago.

The thin and cold air started penetrating my senses. My fingers started to get cold on the walk from the plane to the building. My body, although bundled up, could sense the enemy systematically and effectively creeping in the infinitesimal openings of my seams and zippers. My heart rate increased, due to the fact that I just went from sea level to an atmospheric pressure of about 10500 feet. My breaths became more short, shallow and labored. Just last week they had to put a resident suffering from HACE in an oxygen chamber for 8 hours before he was flown out. I would just relax and adjust. I grew up in the Rockies and have good lungs.

I received some diamox pills to help with the altitude adjustment. They told us to take it easy and drink lots of water. I went to the doctor and they checked my blood oxygen levels and heart rate. Heart rate was in the mid-sixties which is very good. It's supposed to increase about 20-25 beats per minute for about four days until your body adjusts. Blood oxygen levels were at about 90%. It will get better as I acclimate.

The building here is brand new. I feel like I could be in a nice office building in New York, equipped with a gym, sauna, weight room, music room, galley, arts and crafts room and a couple of lounges. Tomorrow they are showing the new Warren Miller movie Dynasty. The people are nice, the food plentiful and good. I have been told I should consume more than 5,000 calories per day because that is what I will be burning working outside in the cold. So tonight I've had cookies, ice cream, cake, steak, potatoes, and coffee. If gluttony is a sin, I'm feeling like I need to be rebaptised after that meal. An all you can eat buffet for free, every meal. We'll see how fat I get.

I'm going to check out my room now. Haven't seen it yet. All I know is it's in a little shack called a jamesway about an 1/8 of a mile or so from the base. They have no doors and rumor has it there is ice on some peoples floors. Bathrooms are a good walk so I got an empty coffee can to pee in at night. Don't want to take 15 minutes putting on gear just to strip it off moments later. We'll see how I'll sleep and hopefully I won't kick my can over in the morning.

written by  JCinTheSouthPole on November 6 from Christchurch, New Zealand
from the travel blog: South Pole
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I found a light switch and turned it on to see my surroundings. It was a small room made out of plywood with a curtain for a door. I thought I had limited space in Brooklyn but this was about half that size, maybe 42 square feet. There was a single bed, rickety dresser with an alan wrench protruding for a handle, and a small chair with a slight walkway in between. It didn't look vacuumed and all of the furnishings were old and well used. Every time I shifted something on the floor I fully expected for cockroaches to start scattering toward the walls seeking cover. It finally dawned on me that there was no insects here. Even seemingly indestructible roaches are no match for constant sub zero temperatures. Will I be?

One good thing I discovered was the bathroom is a mere 15 second run from my front door. That is if i run. I do not wish to tarry long without gear. I found that out the hard way. But should have flipped through my mental index to when I was a child and my mother used to take me up in the Wasatch Mountain to teach me how to ski. I listened to her instruction on how to snow plow, traverse and read the terrain. As one would expect living in the Rockies, snow storms and high winds were part of the learning process. I had to figure out how to protect myself from the elements and prepare for quick changes in temperature and weather.

A fundamental principle she stressed was to dress in layers. That way if the air was frigid you already had enough clothing on to shield yourself. Then if it became too hot you could simply remove an existing layer. At first she had to help me put on the additional bulky clothing and click in and out of my ski bindings. I watched until I could gear up to perfection myself. Here at the South Pole, there will be a learning curve to figure out how much layering will ultimately be needed for my comfort. This morning I took the walk to the station with jeans, sneakers and a skimpy Kenneth Cole jacket. I could have survived the walk with these items but made one painful mistake. No head protection. Exposed skin doesn't last long with temperatures being fifty below zero.

I could feel my face starting to burn. Each deep breathe made me cough as if I were a chronic smoker. The air was too cold for my lungs and throat. The tips of my ears began to sting. My brain started going into a weird panic that I haven't experience, even though I knew I was going to be okay. The building was within my grasp. But still I felt nauseous. I thought how horrible it would be to freeze to death. Finally, I looked around to see if there were any people out. My ego got the best of me and I didn't want any of my coworkers to see what I was about to do. When I saw the coast was clear I started running. I couldn't get the station fast enough. I huffed up the stairs and slammed the door opened and looked back, double checking no one was out there behind me.

I zipped into the bathroom to blow my nose and my face was as red as if I had been at a Vegas swimming pool in July without sunscreen. Never again will I leave without a balaclava. The rest of my body was cold but tolerable. The bare skin, however, was in pain. Tomorrow I start work. It won't merely be a seven minute walk, but a prolonged eight hours of vulnerability in the elements. I can't wait. I'm just going to wear lots of layers like my mom taught me so many years ago.

written by  JCinTheSouthPole on November 7 from Christchurch, New Zealand
from the travel blog: South Pole
tagged JakeCarling
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So I survived the first work week with all fingers and toes still attached. The main thing I am worried about is catching a cold. It seems like a fifth of the people here are sick. It's like Ferris Bueller playing his symphony of dry hacky coughs on the synthesizer. Only now, it's live and in stereo. I wash my hands often and use the sanitizer readily available around the station. The dry frezing air is slowly turning my hands into rough, gritty hunks of flesh that could sand down a fine antique table.

The week began with ambient temperatures hovering around negative fifty. I wore six layers of clothing on my torso while covering my legs with four. The whole process of putting on Ralphie Parkeresque (A Christmas Story) amounts of attire takes a few minutes and as soon as it's on, I'm unbearably hot. My first couple of days of work I searched for building materials located in rows of wooden boxes covered with last winter’s snowdrifts. Each isle stretched the length of a football field and there were several. Our job was to dig through the drifts and locate a box at specific dimensions containing a weatherproofing material.

With my body still overheated from the long walk, I started sweating as soon as my shovel hit the snow. The task at hand seemed like finding a needle in a haystack. Due to some miscommunication no one knew exactly where the box was. We simply had to dig until we found it. Feeling like I was in Miami in the summertime I removed my hoodie. With no luck in our search we huffed our way back to the station to disrobe for break.

Taking on and off all this clothing four times a day was already a pain. All of the extra layers add about 20 pounds to my thin frame. My first two days were spent searching and digging for the most part. Crews rotated at day three, so thus began my actual work on Amundsen-Scott Station. Each underside of the four wings breaking off the main terminal needs siding and weather protection.

Because the work is under the building it is constantly in a shadow therefore receives no radiant heat. In addition, the design of the building was to funnel the prevailing winds underneath it to prevent massive snowdrifts from burying the facility. That is the fate of the first National Science Foundation building constructed in the 50’s. The current addition sits on giant stilts about ten feet off the ground. What that means for me is wind gusts shooting down the tunnel to our work area. If you stand around for 15 minutes it tends to get really cold. Working and being productive is a natural remedy to fight off frostbite.

I manage to keep quite warm for the most part. My only problem spots have been areas where two separate articles of clothing meet, for instance between my goggles and balaclava and between my gloves and jacket. I figured out how to keep my wrists sealed, simply by putting on my parka after my gloves were tightly wrapped with the Velcro cuffs from my windbreaker. It's impossible to do small tasks though like tying my shoelaces or picking up a pencil when it drops. My fingers are like big useless sausages. The goggle situation is more problematic. If I had my balaclava tucked into my goggles, the vapor from my breath would produce steam, which would then freeze. My vision would slowly become blurrier until I couldn’t see. So I would have to take them off. Then my face would get cold and my eyes would sting from the sun reflecting off the snow. Either way I can't see. Once in a while my fingers or toes start feeling like a piece of driftwood but other than that it’s not too bad.

The actual work is tiring because it’s all over head and working off ladders and scaffolding. My shoulders, back, lats, and quads are going to be ripped when I'm finished. Off hours is like a nursing home with activities all the time. Saturday was bingo night with $100 gift prizes to different restaurants in New Zealand. I took a salsa dance class last Thursday. Sunday they play soccer and volleyball in the gym and right next to that there is a music room. This Sunday I actually climbed through ice tunnels beneath the station. Like freezing catacombs, a network of hallways extends for about a half a mile, 50 feet below the surface. The structure of everything is simply ice. You can see gravity pulling the ceiling towards the ground as it bows noticeably in the middle. Escape hatches to the surface are strategically placed about every 250 feet or so. One purpose of the tunnels is essentially the lifeblood of the station. It connects with the massive heating and drilling system to pump in fresh water.

We are only allowed to take two, two-minute showers each week. I don't think I've ever smelled as bad as I did last Thursday. Not too bad right now though. So what is the reason for this? Where do we get fresh potable water? Also where does all of the human waste and commercial waste go? It's not like there is a water treatment plant here. And for that matter, how can a building in one of the most remote areas of the planet function, produce heat, electricity and ultimately sustain human life?

written by  JCinTheSouthPole on November 18 from Christchurch, New Zealand
from the travel blog: South Pole
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