Antarctic Christmas

Here's two more for you. Uploading crashed after this, but I guess it's better than nothing.

Myself standing in front of a C-17 engine out on the ramp of Ice Town.

Looking down from Ob Hill towards the road for the old Navy pier and Scott Base (the green buildings off in the distance)


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So, it's no longer Christmas. It's kind of sad, since that was something most people were looking forward to. Now all we have to look forward to is New Years. Over at Scott Base. With much reveling and costumes.

Drat. Life is tough here.


Christmas went well. Presents did make it down here, and I am mostly thankful for them. The can of nuts and a copy of Dostoevsky's "The Idiot" from my family left me wondering if there was some hidden message in there somewhere...

In a remarkably unusual turn of events, I actually dressed up and looked nice. That makes about three times in the last year, far more than normal for me. Nice pants, shoes, a new sweater vest, and a nice shirt all went into use for the dinner.

Christmas dinner itself was tasty. Lobster tails were available as well as juicy cuts of steak. Since we always do things together, the fire department also ate together. Everyone was prepared with a bottle of wine and the meal and conversation was greatly enjoyed.

After dinner, the group meandered over to Southern Exposure for some table shuffleboard and more good company.

Also on Christmas Day was the McMurdo Alternative Arts Gallery, or MAAG (pronounced mog). It was originally started to poke fun at modern art and its obscenely obscure and overpriced nature. While it still pokes fun, there are also many amusing and interesting exhibits that I wouldn't actually mind buying.

It was held up at the Carp Shop, and they went all out. They had constructed a giant seesaw and a massive version of one of those desktop toys with the balls that swing back and forth knocking the opposite balls into motion. I'm sure there's a technical name for it, but I don't know it.

Stepping into the Carp Shop was like stepping out of this world (or out of this continent, at least). Black lights, the fog machine they stole from us, some kind of odd noise band, and laughably great art rounded it out.

My favorite exhibit in there was the shirt worn by Shuttle Megan. It was made completely of laminated plywood and was actually very stylish, though I doubt it was comfortable.

It just goes to show you the creativity of the people here. Also, when this is combined with having to do something to keep sane, it doesn't really come as much of a surprise.

Following these festivities, life has returned to normal. Mostly.


Another thing that happened since the last time I updated this is that I have made the discovery of all that is good and wonderful about burger bar.

Burger bar is pretty much what it says. Three nights a week, the kitchen over at Gallagher's opens up and makes burgers. What would be considered a normal burger back in the states is a little taste of joy for the mouths of McMurdites. After weeks and weeks of sometimes questionable food in the galley, a burger tenderly hand made by our very own Jeff hits the spot. This, combined with my first taste of an unexpired beer in three months has officially made me a huge fan of burger bar.

The last and final thing worth mentioning of late was our little going away party last night. As the rotation for three of the people at Pole is coming to an end, the time has come for us to send off some of the guys we've gotten pretty close with.

Doing things in true firefighter fashion, the whole of A shift raided Gallagher's, tripled business at burger bar, overwhelmed the bartender, and in whole caused a ruckus that would've probably had us ejected from any place stateside.

It was a good time. We bade our soon to be Polies farewell. Then we saw them again today as all flights were canceled due to the weather.

That's the very short version of the last few days. I'm sure more will happen soon. Now for a nap.

A Week or so in McMurdo

Sorry for the lack of updates. I've found myself spending less and less time at a computer lately (which is actually very enjoyable) and more time doing things like sleeping, reading books, and breaking things.

As a lot has happened in the last week or so, I'll just give a brief recap of the events that have occurred.

Event 1: We had a "fire" on station. It was a burnt up blower motor for a furnace that smoked up a building and produced no fire. An event that would typically last about ten minutes back home with just an engine and a truck took forty firefighters, two engines, a tanker, an ambulance, and about two hours to clear. It's a harsh continent.

Event 2: The transition can't decide whether or not it wants to fall apart or not. The trip to Pegasus has either been really long or really short lately. Judging by how we get tossed around in the back of a Delta, I'm going to say that the shortcut transition is not long for this world.

Event 3: Santa finally made it into McMurdo on a C-17. Since the management up at "The Company" have finally found it in their hearts to give us our long awaited package mail, roughly six to eight thousand pounds descended upon our rocky home bringing with it much Christmas joy. I was included in those happy McMurdites to finally see some mail.

Event 4: The Russians were in town. Sort of. A Russian cruise ship about 16 miles away flew in passengers on antiquated Russian helos for the all inclusive tour of McMurdo. The passengers weren't actually Russian, but had a mix including Americans, French, English, and other people from not so poor countries. I volunteered as a tour guide for these tourists. As I now consider myself a local, I was a little surprised as to how many things that they were taking pictures of. This included our trash receptacles. Each to their own, I suppose. They were treated to a mini tour of town, herded through our store, and corralled in the coffee house before we finally jettisoned them over at the road to Discovery Hut. All in all, I'd have been very disappointed by the tour after having spent $14,000 for the cruise. As an Antarctican, however, I don't care and am a little glad that we got rid of them before they got hit by a pickle (my major concern as a tour guide).

Event 5: Since nothing really catches fire around here, we have become "blasters" of ice dammed culverts. A lake formed by melting snow somewhere uphill of town is near the point of overrunning its banks, ready to unleash a torrent upon town. As a result, the culverts in and around town need to be unclogged so we don't wash out our roads. This has meant that we take the Tanker out, hook up a 3" line with a special fitting made out of some pipe and have us try to break the ice loose.

It's not a very effective method to clear fifty feet of near solid ice. About forty minutes and three thousand gallons later, we had moved less than three feet. After our failings, the real blasters were called and explosives were used to clear it. The first attempt didn't work very well, but did blow out the road and set some of the wood beams on fire. The second attempt apparently worked better, though I haven't seen the results. Hopefully they are done blasting, though, as waking up to a whumping sound and the building shaking isn't much fun.

Event 6: Tanker 3 may not be returning for the rest of the season. Apparently while they were in the middle of blasting culverts the other day, the PTO driven pump seized. It did so in such a fashion that it completely stalled out the engine, a considerable effort considering the torque of a Cat motor. Surprisingly, it didn't destroy the transmission or engine. While we're thankful for that, a spare pump probably doesn't exist on station and parts are probably not here either. We'll see if it comes back on the roster. Instead, we'll be running both of our engines instead in a "wagon pumper" combo. As cool as that it, it still leaves us with about a 2500 gallon deficit in immediate water supply.

Event 7: The lights aren't always on here. Due to some construction going on over in the power plant, Penguin Power and Electric (PP&E) is only running on two generators plus an emergency "Cat in the Box" generator. The other day, one of the main generators decided to have a major breakdown, and we reverted to the Cat in the Box for our power needs. Unfortunately, the remaining main generator had to go down for routine service. This left us with considerably reduced power for a night while they got it back on line. While we didn't completely lose power, we couldn't really do anything. Even the bars closed. If something happens to either one of our remaining generators, things will be going black here for some time.

Event 8: Tonight was both the firehouse Christmas party over at Hut 10 and the town party over at VMF. As can be expected at a firehouse party, things were entertaining. Secret Santa went well with the typical range of firefighter gifts to include booze and used urinals.

VMF decked out their shops for the occasion. Bays typically filled with mammoth equipment were instead cleared and made into lounges, dance floors, and bars. It was about as festive and fancy as can be expected for a heavy garage.

Event 9: Christmas is tomorrow. I'll probably even put on my suit for dinner. Even got a haircut the other day. Classy, I know. Very unlike me (especially considering I'm sitting here in my grease stained uniform after crawling under Engine 2 patching leaks that seem to appear from everywhere).

Well, that's all I have for now. Short, I know, but it'll have to do. Now to get some more coffee so I can stay awake long enough to cover the Midrats dispatch.

I give you pictures!

I'm not ambitious enough to put together a real post for today, but I did have some free time before going to dinner. As a result of my lazy ambition, I give you pictures. They are picked at random and have no order to them. Enjoy.

Red 1, my personal favorite. There's enough room in it to have a family of four live in it.

Looking directly at the back of Tanker 3 in the bays. Engine 1 occupies the space to the left and Ambo 1 the space to the right. Yes, I'm aware our trucks are ugly.

The Crash Shack during colder and less cracked days in Ice Town.

The volunteer stretcher bearer teams practice setting up in our bays.

The top of Hut Ridge leading into Arrival Heights. Going past here gives you a one way ticket off the continent.

A view of the spacious accomodations in Scott's Discovery Hut. Looks like they left in a hurry. Didn't even want their pants or the numerous crates of biscuits.

A view straight down the Pass between the T-Site and Ob Hill.

A view of the pressure ridges down by Scott Base. Just for a sense of scale, this is about twice my height.

The prettiest Cat in the McMurdo fleet, in my humble opinion.

Delta Scharen almost getting stuck in one of the drifts while trying to fuel the White Elephant over in Ice Town one particularily nasty Con 2 day.

A look into the Ice Cave I visited.

No, we're not immune from gangs and tagging here, either.

They say everything is bigger in Texas. Well, I'd like to disagree. Everything is bigger in Antarctica. That's me standing next to the truck used to launch the giant scientific research balloons over at the Long Duration Balloon facility. Compared to a lot of vehicles here, these tires are small.

We've thawed out a little bit here. Before, this was all white with snow. Now it's a dusty volcanic brown. I liked it better covered with ice.

A view looking down the bar at Gallagher's Pub. It's actually pretty nice. The guy in white working behind the bar is "Ghandi". He used to be the jano in our dorm until they stole him away from us.


This is what the shifter on Red 1 looks like. Sadly, someone stole the skull shift knob from us.

Breaking Up is Hard to Do

Transportation here in McMurdo is something of an enigma. It's very much like that on again, off again relationship that most of us have found ourselves in at some point in our lives.

We find ourselves attracted inexorably towards someone (or something) that we desire, only to either be disappointed time and time again or left hanging out with the laundry to dry. Even though we do find ourselves stranded (figuratively or literally in the McMurdo sense), we are always willing to race back with open arms to that which failed us yet again.

It's a vicious cycle, one that creates a significant emotional drain on anyone and can easily cause undue stress or misery. It is something that is not desired, but is often difficult to finally end.

For the firefighters here in scenic Mactown right now, we've been stumbling along with our relationship with the shortcut road to Pegasus.

Since the closure of Ice Town for the season, all of our airfield operations have moved to distant Pegasus field out on the permanent sea ice outside of McMurdo. This includes our airfield firefighting operations which require the vigilant omnipresence of six dedicated, skilled, and often napping firefighters.

Since the closure of Ice Town, however, our commute has changed significantly. What used to be a ten minute, two mile drive to Ice Town in Scat 1 has now changed to a forty-five minute (on a good day), thirteen mile drive in either "Ivan" or the ever comfortable Delta (with built in passenger vertical velocity adjuster). This new commute is now the source of the "hate" part of our relationship.

Lest I have you believing that I've led you astray with my previous statements of love and hate, there is a glimmer of hope out there for us. There is still some love available to us firefighters who come back later and later after each shift. Our love is the shortcut road.

The shortcut road comes off of the south side of Ross Island, the volcanic rock that comprises the base for our home here. In earlier times of the summer, it is the road to nearby Ice Town. On the way to Ice Town, however, there is an Antarctic interchange about halfway down. This interchange takes you directly to Pegasus and cuts off roughly half of the normal thirteen mile distance and equally as much time.

We love the shortcut road.

The shortcut road is fickle, though. Her mood changes almost daily, and we're never sure if she wants us or wants us to never come back. Regardless, we always hope. Even with that hope, there is always one serious point of contention between us.

That point is the transition.

The transition, as its name aptly states, is the meeting of the annual sea ice (the thinner variety) and the volcanic gravel we call home. This meeting point is critical. The ice thins out in this area and is prone to melting, cracking, and the abuse of constant traffic upon it. Holes routinely appear in it as well as cracks. It is cared for and given as much attention as possible, but we can't stave off our nemesis, the sun.

As the temperature here has warmed in recent weeks to well above freezing (we reached a high of 43F the other day, warm enough to warrant t-shirts and shorts for many), the transition has taken on a haggard and beaten look to it. The holes and cracks have gotten bigger. There is water seeping through large portions of it. In short, the transition has become unstable.

We broke it off with the transition on the shortcut road earlier this week. We told ourselves that it was for the best and that we had just get used to things as they were.

Things as they were, however, are not fun.

Earlier this week, we loaded up onto Ivan, an almost normal looking bus with tires nearly as high as my six foot frame. We made our way out to Pegasus. Slowly. Very slowly. The road had been drifted over by the winds the night before and the going was difficult. Even with the ground clearance of a small bungalow and the motive power of a semi, we managed to get stuck twice. Our trip out was painfully long. An hour and a half (double the "normal" time) later, we arrived and found the off-going shift standing impatiently at the door of the Crash Shack.

We'd sworn her off, but now we missed her desperately. We thought that we were over the shortcut road. We didn't think it meant so much, but we were wrong.

As our shift, led by the much loved and aurally amusing Lt. Grandpa, wound down after a night of herding penguins off runways (and eventually discovering that it was easier to herd LC-130s instead), we came out of the station to be greeted by our relieving crew.

When they arrived, however, we did a bit of a double take. It was only 0900. We were astounded, amazed, dazed, befuddled, and quite pleased.

"How'd y'all get here so fast?"

"The shortcut is back open."

It hit home like a boxing glove full of nickels. We were back on again.

We loaded onto Ivan with a little extra spring in our step, knowing that we'd be home again soon.

As we rolled down the not-so-long road back home, we enjoyed every bit of the familiar road. All its bumps and curves gave us delight, and with Lt. Grandpa throwing in some of his tawdry anecdotes, you couldn't find a happier exhausted, hungry, and dirty crew.

The ride wasn't all smooth, though. Near the end of our journey, we came back to the transition, the forever rough spot in our relationship. Ivan slowly stumbled through the dips and slushy holes in what was left of the ice. As we came to the end, we found a victim claimed by her.

One of Shuttle's Ford vans (resplendent with huge tires and four wheel drive) had stumbled nose first into a weak spot in the ice. It sat there trapped, the front axle just at the level of the ice water below.

We passed by, realizing that it just wasn't going to last.

Now every morning, a crew of firefighters waits anxiously to hear the news of the shortcut road. We all know that in the end, it isn't going to work out, but we desperately hope that we can just give it one more try.


My apologies to those who didn't appreciate the preceding style of writing. It certainly isn't purely journalistic nor is it what you'd consider a normal conversation from me (perhaps not peppered with enough less than civil comments?). Regardless, it's something I like to do once in a while. It is a skill that I haven't practiced enough in recent years. Life has precluded it harshly, though with more time available here it becomes easier to have some fun with words.

In short, if you don't like it, I don't care. That said, the rest of this will be in a less dramatic style.


In other news, Mactown is changing. For those of you that thought Antarctica was always frozen and covered with snow, I have some shocking news for you; it isn't.

The weather here has been getting warmer and warmer lately. We actually hit a high of 43F the other day, making it a nice day to wander around town in a t-shirt and shorts. It is a far cry from the -30F when we first arrived. The huge drifts of snow that we had on the lee side of buildings have all but disappeared. Ob Hill and Hut Ridge have all but become devoid of the clean, white blanket that covered them.

The melt has happened so fast, in fact, that the streets of McMurdo have become veritable streams and creeks. The running water quickly gouges out ruts wherever it decides to flow in the fine volcanic grit of town. Icy McMurdo turned into oozing MudMurdo.

MudMurdo wasn't long for this world, however. As the snowbanks have disappeared, so have the streams. The sun bakes the ground and drives the moisture from it. What was once mud now turns into blowing clouds of grit that works its way into everything. The wind has found a new way to torment us here, though it's still much warmer than it was and it has lost its bite from the cold.


As far as firehouse life is concerned, things here are still quiet. As I was actually in the middle of writing this, we were put out for the call of one DFO'd (Done Fell Out('d), a technical term) over at the bar.

It felt a little like home again, with the standard dehydrated reveler who had felt the curtain drop for intermission.

Our response, of course, was overwhelming. This can be expected when you look at our exceptionally low call volume and resultant eager workforce. From a personal point of view, it took too long to get the patient loaded and I failed to get ideal positioning with the ambulance.

In the end, however, this was fine. Considering transport time was in the area of thirty seconds of reverse to get to McMurdo General Hospital, I think our slight delay was compensated for. All in all quite acceptable, though I wish we had a few more (non-serious) calls to hone our skills as a team with.

Just another exciting day in the life of the AFD.

Just two more items, and I'm done for this post. I promise. It's getting late here and my fourth cup of coffee is having no effect.

Firstly of two, I am now officially a Driver/Operator of the AFD. After numerous scheduling conflicts and some bad luck, I was finally able to complete my pump test this afternoon, clearing me to drive our fine pumping apparatus on emergency calls. My thanks to the rest of the Station 1 A shift crew for being good sports and not complaining about the layer of ice that coated them by the time we concluded.

I never thought I would actually ever say this, but I'm a wagon driver now. What a cruel end for the eternal truckie inside me.

Secondly, I would like to make a few comments on the most unique piece of machinery that I have ever seen in my life. I would like to congratulate the Foremost company of Canada for creating a Titan of the fire apparatus world, the Chieftain (Our Reds 1 & 2).

Much like the mythical Titans of old, these antiquated behemoths have been surpassed by newer, nimbler, and far more temperamental trucks that never seem to decide if they want to work properly.

The Foremost Chieftain is a marvel of combining systems together to make something massive (roughly 35 tons), complex, and amazing all at the same time. My efforts to create an inspection checklist have led to some interesting finds in my research.

For those gearheads out there, read on. For those not mechanically inclined, skip to the end.

Red 1, the bigger and more complex of the two has three diesel engines (one for moving the unit, one as a generator to heat the water/foam mix in the back and a final unit to drive the fire pump), a drive system complete with not one, not two, but fourteen universal joints, and a strangely concocted hydraulic (which uses aircraft hydraulic fluid) over air braking system that I still haven't quite figured out.

To our northern mechanical monster friends at Foremost, I salute you for making an exceptionally interesting and complex machine. I hope that design revisions over the years, however, have reduced some of this complexity.

Perhaps this is an overly optimistic sentiment.


For those of you that made it this far into it, I congratulate you. Hopefully it remained fairly coherent even with my lack of editing. Normally I try to do a thorough run through for grammar and glaring errors, but my motivation for the evening has dwindled.

Signing off from the most amazing place on the planet, I bid you good nite.

Pictures are Worth a Thousand Words

Since I did take an unusually long break from posting on here the last week, I figured I'd try and make it up to you by putting up three pictures that I was able to get up before the uploader crashed.

This little guy is an Adelie penguin that happened to wander across the Pegasus airfield in front of our temporary firehouse the other day. For having such stubby legs, he actually moves pretty quick.

My name, forever etched into the tail of the crashed Lockheed Constellation Pegasus, which gives the airfield its name. The Texas flag is not mine, in case you were wondering.


Sitting on what's left of Pegasus.

Penguins, Balloons, and Pegasi, Oh My!

I know, I know. It's been far too long since the last update.

But it really hasn't been my fault! Really!

There was that day where we lost power, and then that day when we were living in Station Two with no power or heat and had to urinate into a funnel, and then that day I ended up over at LDB for an afternoon, and then the big fire...

Now I suppose you're going to want an explanation of all of this. Perhaps I shouldn't have mentioned it at all. Not even the penguin.

I didn't tell you about the penguin yet? Oops. Just digging myself a bigger hole every time my fingers move across the keyboard...


If you couldn't tell from what I've typed above, life here actually has been very busy as of late. Busy, at least, by Antarctic standards.

I suppose I should start back towards the beginning. Several days ago (I think it was cookie day) we actually ran a call where I saw both smoke AND flame. Never mind that the smoke was less than that of expelled by your average Marlboro man and the flame could have been easily challenged by a candle, we had a "real" fire.

The fire itself was located in one of the dead ends on the sewage outflow system heat trace. (Heat trace, for those of you unfamiliar, is just a heated and heavily insulated outer shell found on all pipes outside of buildings. As you could imagine, things tend to freeze here if not kept warm.) A pair of electrical junction boxes located on the dead end decided to short out and burn themselves and some of the heat trace insulation.

We responded, arrived, and proceeded to stare at it for some time. Since I absolutely despise having to deal with fires of electrical nature, I proceeded to stand and stare at it (with extinguisher at the ready though I had no desire to discharge it because of the cleanup) for nearly an hour as the electricians attempted to find a way to shut it off.

It took them some time to actually shut it off since it wasn't labeled properly, and they would periodically check it by poking it with voltage tester to have it beep and the junction box fizzle, pop, and arc.

After it was finally shut off, we pulled off the insulating cap and checked it to make sure that the fire was done smoldering. It was, and we picked up and left.

Antarctic heroes are we, bravest of the brave and coldest of them all.

The next day (an off day), our Fire Prevention Officer sent out a page looking for volunteers to help him with some inspections. Having little better to do since my laundry was done, I volunteered. Lo and behold, instead of discovering that I was going to conduct an inspection in one of the regular buildings in town, I was to have the privilege of going out to the Large Diameter Balloon facility with two other off duty firefighters and doing an inspection.

LDB is located out on the permanent ice shelf about halfway to Pegasus Field. It's a decent drive even with a van (one of the faster vehicles around here). After we finally made it out there, we were greeted with clear skies and a stunning view of "The Rock" in the distance.

The facilities out at LDB are interesting in and of themselves. Everything there is on skis and is moved every winter to keep it from being buried in drifts. Their old facility still exists, though since it was a permanent structure, it is more than halfway buried into the snow. The galley out at LDB is also reputed as being the best dining in the greater McMurdo area, though we didn't get a chance to have a meal there as we arrived too late in the day.

The facility has just launched one of their massive balloons the previous day and the area was teeming with scientists and support staff who hadn't slept in the past twenty-four hours. They were busy monitoring the data returning from it and ensuring that everything was working properly. When they weren't too befuddled from exhaustion, they were constantly telling us about their balloon. These guys and gals are immensely proud of the work that they do. While I don't understand exactly what they're studying an why, I can respect their enthusiasm.

One of the interesting things to note is the fact that we can actually visibly see the balloon. Up in the sky, you can see this small, white object that looks like it doesn't really belong. In a way, it resembles a tiny full moon sitting up in the clear Antarctic blue. The really incredible thing about this, though, is the fact that it sits 120,000 feet up in the sky. The huge four hundred foot balloon doesn't disappear at all. Proud scientists with telescopes sat outside taking pictures as if it were a new baby that had arrived for them.

Concluding our mission at LDB, we returned home. This time, instead of a Ford van to take us back, we were met by the world reknown "Ivan the Terrabus" (seen here). After climbing onto this behemoth, it felt surprisingly like a standard school bus back in the states, though with more comfortable seats and real wood paneling everywhere. On the ice, it was a fast ride, though we slowed to a dead crawl on the windy road by Scott Base and the road into town.

Another day concluded, I slept and woke up for the next big adventure.

Ice Town is no more. The unrelenting summer sun and the weight of the aircraft have finally taken their toll on what was once a small, cramped, but proud airfield. All Ice Runway operations have ended for the season. All that remains now is a dirty brown spot on the ice from all the jet exhaust. Luckily for us, the ice never completely gave way and we never fell into the freezing depths below.

The planes need a home, though. Even though they took off and left, we had to collect them again at some point before they ran out of fuel and found their own way to land.

The solution for this is the Pegasus White Ice Runway.

As its name implies, the ice here is white (sometimes referred to as clear) as opposed to the blue sea ice of the Ice Runway. The ice that Pegasus is on is permanent sea ice (the edge of a glacier, if I'm not mistaken) and is roughly 400 feet thick. Since this ice was not formed by the sea but instead by eons of drifts compressing into solid ice, the ice is white.

That lesson concluded, on to the next.

There are not enough structures in all of the greater McMurdo Metro area to fully equip two airfields at the same time. This, combined with the fact that one airfield is annually broken to bits and blown out to sea by an ice breaker, mandates that all structures be built on skis.

As the last flights left the Ice Runway, the buildings started to move. Big Cats from all over started hooking up to each of the buildings and, one by one, slowly dragged them over to Pegasus. The trip with a building takes about two hours, and I'm certainly not envious of the Fleet Ops guys who did this five or six times during their shifts.

For us in the Fire Department, the move was a logistical nightmare for us. Since some aircraft would be coming into Pegasus before the last flights had actually left the Ice Runway, we would have to staff two separate Crash Shacks in addition to our station in town. This left us stretched thin for staffing and lots of juggling commenced.

The previous night, B shift had started staffing Pegasus and moving equipment over there. They were unfortunate enough to have a miserable night cleaning up the mess that Red 1 (one of our antiquated tracked vehicles) made on the way. It decided to leak coolant all over the clean snows of the road for almost a half mile. This meant that the poor guys on B shift had to go out and shovel all of the contaminated snow to be collected by the friendly folks over at Haz-Waste.

I'm sure they were thrilled. Especially since it was late at night.

For B shift, the temporary living arrangements over at Pegasus weren't all that bad. The only two buildings that existed at the time (and for about half of my shift out there) were a Fleet Ops building (with heat!) and an outhouse (whose urinal consisted of a metal funnel stuck into the wall and what sounded like about fifty feet of echoing pipe feeding into a drum somewhere).

After we arrived in the morning to relieve them, we made ourselves at home in the much nicer Fleet Ops shack. We sat around reading, making fun of our lieutenant's sewing skills, and answering the phone with "Fleet Ops...and Firehouse..." which really confused more than one person.

A couple of hours into the shift, we had a sighting. A little Adelie penguin was making his way along outside of our building. We all rushed outside with cameras in hand to see the little guy as he waddled his way along.

The little guy waddled along, stopped for a minute to stare at us in all of our photographic induced insanity, and promptly waddled back along again, crossing active runways as he pleased.

My first penguin sighting. Only took two months. Now all that's left is to see an Emperor penguin. Also, I'd like to note that while Adelies are little, they're pretty quick considering their tiny legs.

With the big penguin sighting over, the next event of the day was to go out and see the namesake for the airfield, the wreck of Pegasus.

The airfield is named after a famous air wreck that happened some years ago. A Lockheed C-69 Constellation (better known among wingnuts as a "Connie") named "Pegasus" decided to touch the ice a little harder than planned and did significant damage to the aircraft. Luckily, nobody was injured in the 1970 incident, though the aircraft was no longer usable. Since it was in the way, it was towed out to the burn pits (still visible next to the wreck) and left to nature.

The snows have buried most of her in drifts, though we were fortunate after getting out there to find that the tail, the top of the fuselage, and a bit of the cockpit was still showing. After taking many pictures and etching my name into the tail like many before me, we went back to our temporary station.

Much of the rest of the day consisted of me sitting in Red 1 watching aircraft take off and land. The C-17 arrived at Pegasus for the first time in months, and we had front row seats to watch it land, park, offload, sit some more, load, load some more, load a medevac (I actually had to get out of the rig for this) and then watch as it taxied and left again.

Luckily I had my trusty copy of Catch-22 to keep me company during this time. (As an aside, I finally finished it. It only took about four attempts and three years, but it's done. While it is slow to start, it really starts to come together in the end.)

During our hardstand, Station 2 magically reappeared behind us. While we were glad to have our familiar home again, we weren't so lucky to have it hooked up to electricity yet. As such, we spent the night in a cold, "dark" (by Antarctic summer standards) double wide. Luckily, we were supplied with cold weather sleeping bags which were more than warm enough for us.

In the morning, we headed back. We almost got Scat 1 stuck several times in the drifts that had accumulated during the night (the winds were howling last night). Luckily, we didn't need to get out and shovel, though I was pretty sure we were going to have to at one point. After our safe return, I went back into my normal day-off routine.

Now, since I'm just about done, I get to contemplate what my Saturday evening activities will be. Right now I am strongly considering Irish coffee over at the Coffee House. Perhaps a trip to Southern will be in order later, also, depending if I can find some other people to join me.

We'll see. Tomorrow is an easy day for me. Sunday at Station 1 riding the buckets of the Tanker. Naps will ensue.

Until my next update (which will hopefully be sooner than this one was), I bid you adieu.

Anay Anarticay Anksgivingthay

What do you get when you combine amazing food, Pig Latin, and Captain Picard?

Why, an Antarctic Thanksgiving, of course.


Today we celebrated Thanksgiving, a full day behind the rest of the States. Thanksgiving is one of the major holidays here, and one of the few that actually comes with an added day off. The added day off is actually the primary reason as to why our Thanksgiving falls on Antarctic Saturday - it gives the folks on the town schedule TWO full days off. Sadly, for the Antarctic Fire Department, we stick with our regular schedule, leaving myself and the rest of "A" shift hard at work.

My shift today was another tour out at the fabled Ice Town, a slowly vanishing ghost town soon to disappear into the Ross Sea below. Since today was a town holiday, we found ourselves as the only people in scenic Ice Town as no flights were scheduled and all support personnel either sleeping in or nursing hangovers from their first of two days off.

After doing our usual truck checks while avoiding new cracks and a small frozen over pond that appeared a few days ago (now known as Lake Doherty, a spot that I had intended to try my luck at fishing at before I found ice) and temporarily breaking one truck, we settled into a lazy morning of napping and watching movies.

After a while, hunger began to overtake us. Our normal breakfast had been altered by the Thanksgiving schedule, and those who arrived early enough to eat found themselves savoring cod and baked beans intended for the night shift guys. Being somewhat lazy and anticipating this in advance, I arrived a little later and enjoyed a wonderful and only slightly filling bowl of Cheerios (produced in 1992?). With this hunger and the lack of caffeine in my bloodstream, I suggested in a less than awake manner that we proceed over to the Ice Town galley and raid it for "coffles and waffee". (I told you I didn't have enough caffeine.)

This so suggested, the entire crew rose up and proceeded over to the galley to raid whatever had been left behind.

As I believe I've mentioned before, firefighters are great at getting what they want done. Unfortunately, we're very poor at doing it in a neat and orderly manner. Messes tend to be made and things occasionally broken. Luckily, we didn't break anything beyond repair though we did create a mild disaster area. Had the normal Dining Attendants been in town today, I'm sure they would've started to cry watching our attempts at cooking waffles, eggs, and making coffee. Luckily for them, we did manage to clean up enough where they may not notice how much we actually raided them for, especially in the fresh egg department.

As an aside, for those of you who weren't aware, fresh eggs are like gold down here. Most of our eggs come in some kind of powdered reconstituted form that doesn't quite taste the same. With nobody to stop us, we went to town taking real, fresh, Kiwi grown eggs and throwing in cheese, bacon, and whatever else we could find to make them even tastier.

After our raiding party mission was completed, we headed back to the Crash Shack for another few more hours of resuming our previous schedule before our relief arrived so we could go eat.

Back in town the Festivities started early. Since it was a Saturday morning, Day Bar was in full effect. Word on the street has it that it was well attended and was enjoyable (and possibly with a few more than tipsy). As Day Bar was beginning to wrap up, the first of a series of running events this summer season began.

The McMurdo Turkey Trot went off without a hitch, with many participating in the 5k run to Scott Base and back again. After listening in on the radio, it didn't appear that anyone hurt themselves significantly enough on the icy road up to the Kiwi base. The next few races will build up to a full distance marathon around New Years down the ice road to Pegasus Field.

As the afternoon finally wandered into our day, our relief arrived from Station One with a crew of three so that half of our shift could go and eat. The first half went back to town leaving us with their replacements.

A couple of hours and several games of dominoes later, our turn to eat finally arrived. The returning guys had wonderful things to say about the meal, and came with requests to bring back items such as dinner rolls and caramel apples.

Thanksgiving in lovely McMurdo is a big deal. The cooks and DAs go all out to make this one of the best meals that you could imagine could be served to 1200 people.

The tables were all drawn out in white table cloths. The DAs were even dressed to the nines with clean uniforms and name tags, a very formal touch down here.

Most people are dressed up for dinner. There was an ample number of suits, dresses, and ties, leaving myself feeling a little out of place in my duty blues. I wasn't completely alone, as there were a few jeans and t-shirts floating around, though not the usual mix of Carhartt bibs. In true Antarctic fashion, however, there was one notable exception to the well dressed statement I just made.

Now, not being well dressed is not really true. The B shift Captain was dressed very neatly in full uniform. The only catch to it was that he wore the full regalia of Star Trek Captain Jean Luc Picard.

Now, the food served tonight was exceptional. My continuing digestion of the smorgasbord presented to us should be enough to attest to the quality of the meal to anyone knowing my eating habits.

Freshly baked rolls, pies, roasted turkey, stuffing, tender roast beef, the biggest king crab legs that anyone had ever seen and the most amazing spread of desserts that I've ever seen greeted us as we walked in. Chocolate covered strawberries, caramel apples with decorative sugar glass details, pumpkin pie, and the local specialty and elaborately concocted chocolate mousse skuas. (Who knew that the dreaded skua could taste so delicious?)

After gathering up as much food as possible on my plate while still maintaining some vague semblance of separation between foods, I made my way over to find a place to sit. Since the normal groups and tables were broken up due to the modified dining schedule today, I had to wander around a bit before I was able to locate a table across from Captain Picard with two B shifters, two bottles of wine, and an interesting hour ahead of me.

That hour at dinner led me to believe that B shift was completely off their nuts. Particularly the winfly guys. My dinner with Mountain Goat Larry and Michigan Josh started off normal enough. As the first bottle of wine began to disappear, however, things started to turn. My tablemates began to change the way in which they were speaking. It went from normal American English and slowly drifted its way into Pig Latin. These two went on in Pig Latin without missing a beat and continued on for the better part of an hour. Myself, never having mastered the childhood skill of communicating in this secret language, sat there lost, eating away.

Periodically, I could catch snippets of their conversation. It drifted from intelligent to lewd to hysterical. Too bad I couldn't catch it all, though I doubt that I could recount it for most of you in such a public forum such as this. I will leave it to your imagination as to what a pair of ethanol loosened lips could create for aural entertainment.

After finally finishing the last of my meal, we were gathered up and returned back to our humble abode over at the Crash Shack (not before almost getting SCAT 1 stuck in a drift on the ice road).

Ever since then, we've resumed our normal do-nothing pattern of digesting, watching movies, and napping. After several hours of slowly typing this up with these distractions, I've finally made it to nearly the end.

I would like to leave some final thanks to everyone. I would like to thank you all for the good wishes and friendships that have carried on, even with the minor 15,000 mile difference. I know I'm not always the easiest person to get ahold of or even get along with, but after looking at my messages today, I was happy to see that people still remember me. I'm glad for that, and I still remember all the good times we've had.

And that's something I'm truly thankful for.

Cracks, Tracks, and Kelly

I actually got lucky and was able to upload some pictures today. Enjoy, and try not to be too terrified.Like I said, Halloween was an interesting experience. These are two of my fellow firefighters having a good time out at the Halloween party. While there were many guys dressed in drag, these were kilts and not considered drag. The mini-me theme worked well for them.

Myself and Lt. "Grandpa" Parkin standing by the Haaglund that took us out to Ice Town one blustery day.

Your intrepid author sitting up on top of Observation Hill on a day slightly colder than this.

A view Scott's Cross standing watch over town.

Looks like I'm a little overdue for another post. I'll see if I can catch you back up with the current Antarctic events down here.

Today is my Kelly day. This means that I have the entire day to laze about and do little to nothing useful, though I hope that I can get something more than this update done today.

The weather is what many would consider typical, light snow and clouds everywhere. We've had at least a little bit of snow every day since Sunday. We haven't accumulated too much, though when the winds kick up, the drifts are always quick to pile up on the lee sides of buildings and vehicles. Luckily, it hasn't been bad enough where we've needed to do a lot of shoveling, though the mountains and hills do have a beautiful blanket covering them. Very scenic.

The firehouse life has actually been a little busier than normal lately. I think we had our busiest day on record for the season last Friday. Our shift ran a total of four, count 'em, four calls in one shift. That included three calls in town while I was riding the Engine and one out in Ice Town for the in flight emergency. Never mind the fact that all of the calls resulted in nothing other than either resetting alarms or watching a plane land safely on three out of four engines, we were quite happy to have something to do that wasn't scheduled in advance.

As I mentioned to another east coaster, it was almost starting to feel like a slow day back home.

Another fun point of note, I was asked by our Captain to put together a drill on forcible entry. He basically came up to me and said "You're a truckie, you want to teach a forcible entry drill?" My response, of course, was yes.

While the term "herding cats" applies for trying to teach a group of Antarctic firefighters anything, all in all, it went fairly well. Most of it was review of basic stuff that we should all know anyway and a few other things that I threw in that some people weren't really familiar with. Following forcible entry, we talked a little bit about air bag operations. Now I have a few people who are interested in me teaching them about air bag operations since I know far too much about it. (Thanks to the Heights for beating the knowledge into me.)

Saturday was the first annual Ice Town BBQ sponsored by the Fire Department to celebrate nearing the end of Ice Town. While I did not attend (I was too lazy to actually walk on out to Ice Town when I had dinner less than a hundred yards away.), I hear that a good time was had by all. Our acting Deputy Chief was out there manning the grill ready for any eventuality (he was wearing a life jacket just in case the ice finally gave out and sent everyone for a swim).

This brings up an important point about Ice Town. As the sea ice is thinner this year than in previous years due to more snow insulating it from the cold, the operational life span of the field has been greatly reduced. Yesterday (supposedly) was the last time the C-17 will touch down on the sea ice. The amount of cargo that it has been able to bring down is over a hundred thousand pounds less than when the field first opened due to the condition of the ice. Operations will be moving out to Pegasus Field beginning tomorrow (I'll believe it when I see it, and I'm expecting to get a call back to go out and staff it).

While it will be a headache having to go out and staff it for a few weeks until our operations completely switch over to Pegasus, it will be nice to see fresh vegetables and fruits coming down again along with our mail, which has been held back due to higher priority cargo.

At the same time, it will be nice to not have to worry about the C-17 (or our station) falling through the ice. More and more cracks have been developing in and around our station and trucks. A large crack was found out on the ramp the other day and has since been black flagged (meaning it's a pretty serious crack).

The other day while I was working out in Ice Town, the D-7 bulldozers were out pushing snow away from everything. While they were running back and forth across the ramp and town, we could feel the entire station shudder as their tracks clanked across the ice. This wasn't a small shudder, but enough to have to be worried about things falling off of shelves and tables if they were near the edge. Being able to feel the entire ground flex and shudder beneath you can be slightly disconcerting.

Also, continuing my hot streak for calls as of late, we were awaken at three in the morning out in Ice Town for the hazmat call. One of the loaders working in town had decided to blow out a hydraulic line and dump fluid all over the ice. Just as an added bonus, they were able to drive off about a hundred feet before they noticed that they had lost pressure and couldn't operate fully. This left a nice trail of oil in the snow and ice for us to clean up.

About three hours of shoveling, chipping (hot oil tends to bury itself into the ice), and scraping later, we finally finished up and loaded about six barrels of contaminated snow and ice into the haz-waste truck. The wasties, though not thrilled to be there, were pretty happy about not having to scrape ice by themselves (and that we'd almost done all of it by the time they arrived).

After all were satisfied that the baby penguins were saved from a few drops of oil, we finally finished. My only disappointment for the whole call was the fact that while we helped to keep our organically grown baby penguins organic, I still don't know what a penguin tastes like.

After a breakfast over in the Ice Town galley, we proceeded to sit around the station until we were finally relieved by "B" shift. The rest of my day consisted of drinking large amounts of coffee, promptly falling asleep, waking up to eat and repeating the process. While I do like being kept busy by running calls, I still don't like having to wake up after midnight to respond (unless it's actually on fire, of course).

Some things just never change.

I think that about rounds out the events of the last week. The weather hasn't been all that good as of late, so it hasn't been ideal for going hiking. While I could have gone hiking in it, the views would have been disappointing.

Sadly, the weather today isn't the best, either. This has worked out to your benefit, though, as I finally updated this blog again. Hiding out in the library (with a floor covered in buckets to catch all of the snow melting on the roof) has finally got me caught up again.

Now it's time to put my laptop back, run down Highway 1, and hit up the sandwich line. Maybe after that I'll even do some laundry and read a book.

Nothing better than living the Kelly day life.

I've Got That Sinking Feeling

Sad to say, it seems the only time I really get a chance to update this blog is while I'm at work. I'm typing again over in the Station Two Crash Shack, also again in condition two weather. I seem to be cursed with bad weather when I work here, though it actually was nice for most of the day.

Looking back a day, I'd like to mention that after my third attempt, I was finally able to make it out to the Ice Caves for an excursion. My first attempt was foiled by a schedule change, my second by weather. I was getting worried that I wouldn't get the opportunity to actually see them as the condition of the sea ice is deteriorating rapidly as the sun climbs higher and higher in the sky.

The Ice Caves are located roughly ten miles away on the road to Cape Evans and at the base of Mt. Erebus, our volcano where the glacier meets the sea ice. After our group gathered up, we boarded Delta 363 for our long, slow ride out to the caves. As with anything in Antarctica, a simple task like driving down a road at a decent speed is nearly impossible. A Delta is not a fast creature to start with, perhaps making fifteen miles an hour on a good day. With road conditions still poor after our last big storm, we rarely attained this speed. We bogged down in drifts and slid across the road on occasion, but luckily we never had to stop and dig ourselves out.

After the long and tedious trip out there, we finally reached our destination after about an hour. Once we disembarked the Delta, it was only a short walk over to the ice cave.

The ice cave is a rather unique natural occurrence. It forms on the glacier tongue as it meets the sea ice (or open water, depending on the time of year). Due to erosion of some kind (I'm not actually sure what), caves are formed in the tip of the glacier. These caves are large enough to crawl into and are amazing to see.

Once we slid down the mouth of the cave, I was first surprised and a little disappointed to see how small it was. It was perhaps about as long and deep as a large cargo container. Disappointed though I was with the diminutive nature of the cave (I had imagined something large and expansive such as the Lurray Caverns), the beautiful soft blue color of the ice and the formations of ice crystals more than made up for it. When someone would block the entrance with their body, the blue would glow through. It had the feeling of being in a chapel, and everyone remained quiet and whispered. Additionally, the formations of ice crystals were spectacular. Some of the shapes are difficult to describe, while others reminded me of giant snowflakes. I do have some pictures, though they are still on my camera.

After finishing up our tour of the cave, we made our way back to the big Antarctic city of McMurdo. I was lucky on the return trip to hop up front with the driver and another passenger instead of having to ride in the passenger box in the rear. The view was much better and the ride much more fun.

I would like to thank our driver, Skippy the fuelie, who took us out last night. On the way back we chatted about life down here and our lives back home. It's interesting to see that people down here are often quite intelligent. Skippy, for example, has an MBA but prefers to divide his time between Antarctica and Seward, Alaska.

After finally making our return to McMurdo (without having the Delta fall through the transition, something that often becomes a problem this time of year), I thanked Skippy and our other guides and made my way home.

Waking up today led to my eventual arrival out at the Crash Shack. It's my turn to do a tour out here, but I was finally surprised to actually have nice weather for most of the day.

This meant that we did have to do a lot of hardstands, that is, standing by in our crash trucks during all takeoffs and landings. Since previously I had only done one hardstand in total, I was happy to finally see aircraft taking off and landing. A pair of Baslers, most of the LC-130s, and the C-17 all made sorties today. They kept us busy coming in and out all day. I was glad, as I tend to need something useful to do every day or else I begin to lose my mind.

After the C-17 touched down, we were finally able to get an abbreviated tour of the aircraft. We were taken up to the flight deck and shown the fire handles and other switches for emergency shut offs. I was able to get a bunch of pictures of the inside which I will hopefully be able to share at some point.

Unfortunately, we were not able to get a good look at all of the exit doors on the aircraft. When we got on, they were busy trying to offload the last of their cargo (it being a large cryogenic helium cylinder). Even with the combined effort of the Air Force cargo guys and six firefighters, we were unable to get it past the middle rollers. Winching efforts were underway as another incoming LC-130 was called out and forced us to return to hardstands.

An interesting thing to note about the C-17 is the fact that as the season progresses, they are forced to carry less and less cargo down with them. The reason for this is the maximum permitted landing weight allowed on the sea ice.

When we started operations out here on the Ice Runway, we had roughly six feet of ice beneath us. As the temperature rapidly increased, the thickness of the ice has decreased. Less ice means less weight on top of it. Therefore, unless C-17 crews would like to find something in common with the Titanic, they must carry less.

This means that operations here at Ice Runway will be coming to a close shortly. We are expecting to move over to Pegasus Field within the next week or so. This is coming as a relief to some of us as we've been worrying slightly over some new developments in our local real estate.

After everything was finally dug out after our blizzard over the weekend, it was discovered that a seventeen foot long crack had formed in the ice right below our station. It was also discovered that seawater was seeping through this crack.

The surveyors were called to take a look at it and determined that we were still safe for operations. After the surveyors left, of course, more cracks began to form. We now have at least three or four decent size cracks running under and around the station and our trucks. We've been told we are fine (and with six feet of ice under us, I'm not too concerned), but when you start to think about the weight of our luxurious double wide station and the immense weights of our crash truck dinosaurs, it does make you wish that there were escape hatches in the roof of the station.

They say that this may be the first time in fifteen years that all of the sea ice will actually be gone from the sound. If this is true, it will be amazing to see. Our only hope is that it doesn't come too soon (particularly tonight or anytime in the next week or so when I'm working here) and we become the SS Crash Shack.

As a final note for the night, the weather quickly turned bad this evening. The airfield was evacuated again and has left us without a hot midrats meal, something many of us were looking forward to. On a good note, all of our late flights were canceled, leaving us free to sleep tonight uninterrupted. Something I will be doing very shortly.

With that, a good evening (or morning on east coast time) to you all.


Below follows a brief list of many of the different groups that work on station:

AGE
Beakers
Blasters
Cargo
Carps
DAs
Fleet Ops
Fuelies
GAs (Janos)
Helo Guys
Raven Ops
Shuttles
TelCos

...and many others. Perhaps I'll list more another day.

An Antarctic Summer Wonderland

Hello again from the dome of the Station Two Crash Shack out in Ice Town.

As I type, I'm looking out into a fairly miserable expanse of wind driven snow that stings the face, freezes to your clothes, and finds its way into any crevice or opening in your clothing. The LC-130s out in front of me keep playing hide and seek in the blowing white mass.

The weather here has taken a turn for the worse. Yesterday morning, it was a little cloudy and had the usual McMurdo breeze blowing. By nightfall (figuratively speaking), the winds were gusting hard in town, and harder out in Ice Town. While we finally went to Condition Two (weather bad enough to make you check out if you go somewhere) in town last night, the guys on B shift over at Station Two had already been in Condition One (you can't leave your building without having a rope to follow) weather for most of the day.

I'm sure their shift was actually easy and enjoyable, as there were no flights due to the conditions. Most likely, they did exactly what I'm doing right now and sat around in the dome playing around on their laptops.

The only downside to their shift was the fact that when we came on in the morning, conditions were still bad enough that we weren't allowed to go out and relieve them until almost noon. The amount of drifting snow had made the roads inaccessible to our normal mode of transportation, Scat 1*. As a result, after con two was finally declared for Ice Town, we were met by a Haaglund operated by a member of the Search and Rescue team.

For those of you not familiar with Antarctic vehicles, the Haaglund looks like this. (Photo credit to whoever took this.) The only differences between this one and the one we used was that ours was dark green and named "Hansel" instead of "Uncle Buck". After loading all of our gear into the back half of it, we climbed in on top of it. These vehicles are not particularly large and tend to force everyone to get cozy with one another in the back, especially with bags of stuff everywhere.

After meeting up with Delta Scharen, a monster truck fueling vehicle, we made our way out to Ice Town.

Riding in the back of a Haaglund is not completely unpleasant, though it is certainly not how the average family would prefer to travel (unless you like the idea of placing your children in a totally separate compartment where they can be neither seen nor heard). The ride is a little on the rough side, though not terrible, the visibility is awful as the windows are small and fog easily, and and takes slightly less than forever to get anywhere.

After we finally made it to Ice Town in near white out con two conditions, (often afraid that the mammoth Delta behind us wouldn't see us and squish us like some kind of tracked ant) we were greeted by the somewhat jubilant B shift crew. They were entertained by our mode of transportation and the fact that they were finally getting relieved. After stepping out of the Haaglund, I didn't at first notice how much drifting had occurred overnight. It wasn't until I grabbed a pile of gear and started to make my way to the station that I noticed that my head was almost level with the top of Red 2 (one of our behemoth tracked crash trucks), a height of about ten feet. Drifts of four to five feet surrounded the station and the trucks. Everything was half buried. It didn't take us long to figure out what our job for the day was.

After the B shift crew and Delta Scharen (which I was pretty sure was going to get stuck as they attempted to push through a drift to fill up the White Elephant) departed, leaving us the only inhabitants of Ice Town, we went to work.

Today, we did what we do best; shovel. The six of us worked for about three hours clearing snow from in and around our vehicles and the station. By the time we were done, the blowing snow had turned our turnout gear into snow covered suits, knit caps into crackled sheets of ice, and our mustaches and eyelashes were encrusted in rime. For as miserable as that all sounds, none of us ever really got that cold.

With the task of unburying ourselves for the day completed, we returned to our homely double wide and kicked back for a while. After our safety nap time, we finally went over to the galley for dinner.

Though the wind was still blowing and snow still hit us like a thousand needles, it didn't feel cold enough to warrant anything more than a sweatshirt. While my clothing was adequate for warmth, I neglected to ensure that my footwear was in the proper state to walk the short distance over to the galley.

As we walked over for dinner, we were still in near white out conditions. The sky above was white, the ground below was white. Aside from the buildings in front of us, there was no differentiating of the two. We walked along nonchalantly, until our feet first encountered obstacles.

One of the fun characteristics of bad weather in Ice Town is the channels that are made in and around buildings and objects by the drifting snow. In some places, there lies little to no snow on top of the blue ice of town. That can suddenly change, however, as a steep peak of snow often taller than four feet will just appear out of nowhere.

When you combine the fact that everything is white and there is a tall obstacle, this leads invariably to stumbling into said obstacle with less than favorable results. On several occasions, I stumbled unwittingly into these heaping mounds, often sinking into them up to my thighs. This is where my failure to properly secure my footwear by zipping them up led to unpleasant and squishingly chilly results for my feet.

After a fine meal of waffles (self serve, as the dining attendants were too scared to venture out here today) and other breakfast food, a familiar sounding and stumbling trek back to the station, and a climb back into the dome, I produce for you the fruits of my leisure time.

The snow has finally stopped falling (a odd occurrence to see here as it is typically much too dry and cold for snow to actually fall here), the winds are cutting back, and McMurdo, sitting pleasantly up on the Rock, is finally starting to reappear.

It looks like the storm is finally letting up, ending two days of weather that made more than one of us comment, "This is the Antarctica I signed up for."**



As an additional tidbit for this post, I would like to offer to you a bit of Antarctic flavor. While we are still technically part of the United State, a slightly different dialect has developed down here along with its own unique vocabulary. I present to you a fictional, though entirely possible, conversation that might be heard down here:

"After the Deuce crew loaded up into Scat, we were talking about the most recent boondoggle adventure of some of our friends, the Kiwis. They had boomeranged from a flight out to dig out some barrels and had to take the Delta back to town from Pegasus. Unfortunately, their Delta had broken down, leaving the Kiwis, a few DAs and a pair of crunchy winterovers stranded. After a while, a pair of Pisten Bullys, Ivan, and a big Cat came out to save the day. The crunchies, knowing better, jumped right into the Pisten Bullys. The rest hopped into Ivan to be taken back. The big stretch eight Cat came out and dragged the Delta home. By the time the Terrabus finally got everyone back to Mactown, we ran into them by the galley and invited them to dinner. There, after battling off a fresh batch of beakers, everyone enjoyed a plate full of freshies that had just come off a seventeen and a delicious frosty boy/crack from the crack/frosty boy machine. After dinner, the Kiwis left us, returning to their green home and the Tatty Flag."

Let me know if you actually know what that means. I'll be entertained.


*This is our four wheel drive Ford van on off road tires and a lift kit that we use for transportation. Its name is not an abbreviation for something. Rather, its name means just what the word is defined as. It's a fairly decent description of the vehicle, actually. It's a harsh continent, and as such, often has harsh names.

**Editor's Note: At the time of writing this, the weather did look as though it was beginning to improve. In fact, it got worse again, and over twelve hours later, the wind is still blowing hard. We're currently trying to figure out a way to actually conduct our shift change, possibly by use of tracked vehicle again.

Cookie Day, On and Around

Hey there. I'm still here.

You're still there? Glad to hear it. I hope everything back home is doing great. I can imagine that fun times are being had herding college athletic fans on game days, fun outings with good friends, and lightning fast motorcycle rides off in places never been.

In some ways I envy all of you. Being able to see the leaves turn in the fall becomes something to appreciate when the only plants ever seen are in your salad. The freedom to get out and see the world with no limitations on time an distance (real world obligations ignored for the moment, of course). The lack of personal transportation down here can be somewhat of a limiting factor, especially when you just like to get out and drive. They aren't really necessary, however, when everything around you is virtually insurmountable by machine anyway.

Makes it sound like I miss my life back in civilization, doesn't it? Maybe a little. Maybe not as much as you think, though.

Life here has been interesting. Yesterday was cookie day. Cookie day is now officially the only day of the week that I now recognize anymore. Every other day is just based off of how many days are left until the next cookie day. It's easier to remember and announces itself with a delicious smell every time it comes around.

Since I haven't really explained to you what cookie day is, and I may presume that you may indeed be somewhat curious as to what it may be, I shall explain. Briefly.

Cookie day is the most important day of the week here in Mactown. It is the one day a week that freshly baked cookies are served to the denizens of Antarctica's biggest city. Freshly baked cookies are like gold here, with many people smuggling them out back to their work centers with them. They are tasty and best enjoyed the day of baking. Sadly, the day after baking, they can then be used to construct a new building.

Cookie day is important here. Almost as important as our beloved Frosty Boy.

Life marches on here, punctuated weekly by cookie day.

Life marched on today, for most, at least. We did have a few fatalities, though only of the temporary variety.

Mactown had it's annual mass casualty incident drill today, leaving us here at the firehouse dreading the giant mess that we knew we were about to stumble into.

In the end, it did turn into a mess, though not by our own fault. As it is a drill, hiccups are to be expected. Most of them came from some overzealous actors and other departments not used to operating in the worst the world can offer. I was bored (aside from the occasional urge to punch some of the previously mentioned patients), but everyone else from other departments was hopping around with that dazed and eager look that only causes trouble.

My apologies to the lovely and unfortunate Kiwi that died on us. To be fair, it wasn't my fault you were assigned life threatening injuries and moved onto an army stretcher that I needed. However, since you were still really alive, I do feel bad that I had need of your cot in order to save the still living, noticed that you had expired, and unceremoniously chucked you off of it onto the frigid ground. I'm sure it wasn't the most pleasant time, but such is life, oui? If I catch you over at American Night, I'll buy you some of that Kiwi beer that we live on. At least we'll have something in common to talk about.

Did you know that there are country dancing lessons every week the night before cookie day? I did. I attended. I technically now know how to two step. While my rug cutting skills are still exceptionally limited, I must advise that all the ladies out there to beware of my moves out there. As irresistible as my new found skills are, collisions are still about as likely as a racket ball with a wall.

So I had my Kelly day this week. It happened to fall on the day after cookie day, actually. I did little of real interest. I did manage to work in several literary references into conversation this week, something that led to boggled looks from fellow firefighters (not often known as renown literary critics). Me citing literary references is not something that I ever expected to be doing again. High school is over. The books I read these days are technical manuals on things with wings or water. Using Oedipus Rex poke fun at a comment someone made isn't my norm anymore.

Making fun of people wasn't the only thing that I did over my Kelly day. I did manage to give back to the community. I washed pots and pans. Lots of them. More than I ever really expected to see. It wasn't really such a bad time. The dining attendants have been stretched thin lately, and needed a hand. Myself and several other firefighters worked ourselves into a dishpan hand induced frenzy for about two hours helping them keep on track.

It's fairly interesting actually working in the back of the galley. Not that the pot room is where the magic happens, but right outside of it is where burgers that died in 2005 and other sundry expired food stuffs are turned into what actually results to be a typically very tasty meal.

So it's getting late here. The sun is still circling overhead, leaving the body confused and far more alert than it should be. A glance outside gives me a view of the mountains. They still take my breath away whenever I get a clear view of them. There is something special about this place. Combine it with the people here, the things we do, the dreams and aspirations that everyone has, and it doesn't even seem like it could be real at times. It is though. It's just as real as the leaves turning back home. The sound of a fast bike with a daring rider. Just some of the things I can't really forget.

Bells!

First, another quick pic from my collection. This is the local landmark "Caged Mary" or "Roll Cage Mary". Found up on Hut Ridge. Mementos of Antarcticans present and past have found there way to this memorial.



Today has been a huge day in the world of firefighting here in McMurdo, Antarctica. The Antarctic Fire Department has responded to a total of THREE calls so far this shift. I'm also pleased to say that all emergencies were mitigated with no loss of life, limb, or property. I know you're all greatly relieved.

While three calls in one day would leave us all antsy, bored, and prone to mischief back home due to the huge amount of free time that it creates when you're used to about a dozen calls a day, this is a rare event here that is looked at with astonishment. We'll rub it in the faces of those B shifters tomorrow when we tell them how busy we were.

Now I will provide a brief synopsis of the calls today. The first call of the day came from the galley. We were toned out for the smoldering cigarette butt can which resides outside of the building. After a swift response from our diligent Engine Two crew (of which I was part, I can proudly say), we arrived on scene with smoke showing from a butt can. Our lieutenant then established the "Butt Can Command" and we jumped into action to save the day.

After getting half dressed and grabbing the can (water extinguisher), I heroically meandered over to the consumed cigarette repository, stuffed the nozzle into it, and unceremoniously dumped in two and a half gallons of water. The blaze extinguished, we picked up and returned to quarters, heroes for the day.

After lunch, the tones went off again, much to the amazement of all. This time we were dispatched to one of the dorms for the local fire alarm activation. After our run to the wagon, we sped to the scene at a top speed of about eleven miles per hour. At the sound of the air brake popping, we hopped off, myself grabbing the irons.

After making entry (by turning a doorknob), we found ourselves with an audible alarm down the hall. Racing there at breakneck stroll after waiting for the rest of the crew to converge, we came to an ajar door that I swung open. After stepping into a room full of fresh, clean air and lacking any flickering orange stuff, the occupant asked me to get out because she was busy packing.

As an aside, I have officially found people to just as irritating on this side of the world as much as back home when you actually show up after they call for you. The one difference is that back home, I don't have to be nice about it and can let loose with both barrels. Here, I must take it in stride and smile, keeping the good image of the department in mind.

After having our friendly neighborhood fire techs come out and diagnose a faulty detector, we returned to service and went back home.

The last call that we have received for the day came out at Station Two, the Ice Town Crash Shack. With an inbound LC-130 coming in on short notice with an engine out (not an uncommon occurrence here), Station Two was alerted for the in flight emergency. Though I was not there today, I'm sure that they scrambled for their Red units and their hardstand points in courageous fashion, making Antarctic firefighters everywhere proud.

The LC-130 arriving safely with no issues, our brave crews were finally given the order to stand down.

A busy day indeed, and we still have twelve hours left in the shift. Only the night will tell how much insanity lays in store for us yet.

Aside from day high call volume, we managed to accomplish several other interesting tasks today.

In addition to our usual schedule of inspections and PT, we got to watch as some of the residents of the town did some training for the mass causality incident team. In the event of an MCI, the bays of our firehouse are turned into a triage center staffed by recalled firefighters and volunteer stretcher bearers. These stretcher bearers had the chance today to play with the equipment that they will be using and got a demonstration from us as to how to package a patient for transport.

It's actually a rather interesting process to watch as the volunteers set up our steel plated bays into a makeshift hospital. I had the chance to take a series of pictures that showed the progress of their set up, though I have yet to download them from my camera yet. This leaves me with yet something else to show you all at some point.

In addition to watching and assisting the stretcher bearer portion of the MCI team, we also had some training for ourselves. While we were in the middle of a lecture on some EMS type big-words-mean-something-far-more-simple training, we were toned out for the "training response" for the vehicle into the building. After "responding" out the door, we found that some errant woman had not only stolen our precious Red 5, but had decided to prang it into our own building.

Comments of the social depravities known as today's youth notwithstanding, we jumped into action. Aside from the confusion of having many of the crew responsibilities reassigned at the last second (apparently I became the officer on the engine?), we went to work.

Everything down here is done differently. Not just because it's Antarctica (it is a harsh continent, after all), but because we all come from different backgrounds with different ways of doing things. This makes for loading and treating the slumped over and unconscious woman dressed up in moulage an interesting event. Especially when you're taking her out of the cab of a Ford F-550 that sits high enough on its own without factoring in the added height of the tracks.

Luckily, nobody gets outwardly frustrated and worked up about it, but it does take us longer than it should to load a patient up (at least from my PG load 'n go mentality). Hopefully with some practice and getting more familiar with some of the equipment (a lot of it is junk and the rest is often awkward to work with), we will drastically improve in the future.

After loading up our lovely and chilly patient, our ambulance crew did a full evaluation, started a line, and transported her to McMurdo General Hospital.

I would like to extend thanks to our patient today, who seemed to thoroughly enjoy her part in the action. Her willingness to get stuck with a line goes beyond the call of duty (and something I would refuse in a heartbeat). She proudly wandered around after with her IV bag until it was empty.


With firehouse updates completed for the time being, I would like to turn back the clock to the previous evening. Last night was beautiful and made for good time to go out. Since Thursday in Antarctica is American Night down the road at Scott Base, a group of us went out and walked over to enjoy their store, the bar (officially known as "The Tatty Flag" and loved for their incredibly cheap drinks), and of course the international flavor.

The walk down to Scott Base was pleasant, with the sun being out and the temperature up somewhere in the teens. These sweltering conditions made me glad that I left my big red behind, as I was breaking a sweat in my hoodie and jacket.

The view from Scott Base is much like the view from anywhere else in Antarctica; simply amazing. I could see Mt. Erebus puffing more than usual and the towering monoliths of blue that come from the pressure ridges in the sea ice.

Finally arriving over at the station of our Kiwi counterparts, we ventured into their store. Though it was small, it has a nice selection of things that we don't have back on the US side of Ob Hill.

After wandering around the small store looking for things to buy on another night, I went back into one of my wandering states again. Out the window, I could see a flagged path that wound in and among the pressure ridges on the sea ice. Being easily distracted and having restless feet, I went outside for what I expected to be a short jaunt on the ice.

The flags out on the ice are deceiving. While they do go straight out to the towering blue ice giving the impression of a short walk, they continue on for a ways. Not that I was disappointed, of course. I have pictures to show what I saw, and I wish they were able to be seen right now. Sadly, I am also getting tired and am beginning to lack the dictionarial skills to appropriately describe what I saw.

Also, as another piece of Antarctic amazement, I saw my first living creature that didn't walk on two legs and consume expired Kiwi beer. I saw a seal. It lay there looking like a big, dark brown lump until I got close enough to where I could start to make it out. Then, suddenly, it raised up, looked around, saw me, didn't care, and then proceeded to lay down again.

Pretty incredible to see when the only animals that I've seen are the tracked and huge wheeled "Cats" that constantly prowl about town since my arrival.

Following my small venture out to the blue ice, I rejoined everyone over at the Kiwi bar and enjoyed a fun evening with our funny speaking counterparts. I would like to note that their bar is much classier than anything that we have, with a quality pool table, digital juke box, and speedy service.

After enjoying the evening with several people from the firehouse and town in general, we caught the last shuttle back home and finally called it a night.

My apologies for losing literary enthusiasm towards the end of this, but my energy is waning rapidly. I have accomplished more than this, I do have more stories to tell, and I do have other thoughts that I may or may not share.

In sum, however, I would like to reiterate my constant amazement for this place. I hope I can still say the same in February.