Limbo in McMurdo: To Hercules, or Not to Hercules? That is the Question.

Welcome back for another edition of Sunny Southern Beach.

I was pleased to hear today that there are actually more than three people that actually read this. As such, I still have a good reason to update this.

The last few days have been pretty quiet. I'm finishing up the last of my three days off (due to my Kelly day), and can't really say that I've accomplished much. I spent large portions of it napping, hanging out with people, finally experiencing Southern Exposure (our other bar that isn't usually open), and wrapping up training as a volunteer bus driver.

Aside from the few minor things that I did accomplish, I found myself wanting to be at work so I could have something to do.

The last day that I actually was at work, Sunday, I did have a fairly enjoyable time. Sundays are slow days at the firehouse, with no inspections to do and no large weekly cleaning assignment. Instead, it is usually a day to relax and watch college football unless there is pending training to do.

In the case of last Sunday, we had plenty of training to do.

As many of our current drivers are heading off to the Pole (in theory, at least), that means that new drivers must be trained. This meant that all of the Mainbody guys, including myself, on our shift had the chance to drive everything.

First, I was able to take out Engine 1, a '92 Pierce Arrow much like you'd find back in the states. It was easy to drive and I had no problems taking it out and around town. Next up was Ambo 1, which has seen better days. It is an early '90's Ford pickup chassis with the box on the back and oversized tires. It shakes, rattles, and rolls (with great effort). My last experience driving one before was when the county still had some as reserve units. I hated them then, and I hate them now. Still easy to drive, though.

Lastly for the day was Tanker 3. The word behemoth ccomes to mind when looking at it. She carries 3,500 gallons of water and weighs in at about 70,000 pounds when loaded. She is old (I believe an '85) and underpowered. Combined with gearing that will climb her up a mountain if necessary, she rarely exceeds ten miles an hour except downhill (at which time you are praying that you can get her to stop again).

Aside from being massive all around and requiring a larger turning radius, the Tanker actually wasn't too difficult to operate. While I prefer the ability of actually being able to hit the accelerator and brake and have a noticeable effect, Tanker 3 was fun to drive in its own way.

Aside from driving around town for the afternoon, it was a relaxing day at work.

On our Monday, I decided to take a walk out to Ice Town. The road to the Ice Runway has opened for foot traffic, and I took advantage of nice weather to try and get down to take some pictures.

As I believe that I've previously stated, Ice Town is located on about six feet of sea ice. The road to Ice Town is the same. Once you leave "The Rock" of McMurdo, you enter into what is know as the transition. The transition is simply the area where it changes from solid land to the ice. Aside from the lack of dirt on the ice, the only way you would otherwise know is to see the cracks that form at the transition.

Another interesting feature of the ice road is the actual color of the ice. In the areas where it has had the snow removed and groomed to almost a polish, you see large patches of light blue ice. It is translucent and glows with its own radiance. Unfortunately, you can't see all the way through it, but it remains beautiful nonetheless.

As its color denotes, the airfield is sometimes referred to as the blue ice runway.

During my walk down to Ice Town, I was surprised to see an Airbus A-319 sitting on the ramp by the fuel pits. We don't usually get commercial aircraft that come in and out, being almost exclusively military or the Twin Otters or Basler of renown bush operator Ken Borek Air, Ltd.

It turned out that the Airbus was full of Australians clad in yellow parkas, enroute to Casey Station. As we happen to be the "big city" out here in the middle of nowhere, we serve as a transfer point to many other people heading to other parts of the Ice.

Unfortunately, I was unable to get a closer look at the aircraft, as it left the ramp and departed with a trail of blowing snow behind it before I could make it out to the field. I don't know if there will be any other commercial aircraft out here again, but I won't mind the change of flying scenery.

Making it out to Ice Town, I strolled around, took pictures (also a quick video of Red 2 being driven down to get fuel) and warmed up in the galley. Sadly, they weren't open yet, so I wasn't able to enjoy something to eat.


The return trip from Ice Town wasn't anything particularly exciting. The one thing of interest was the fact that virtually everyone that drive by asked if I wanted a ride or not. As I was actually out walking for the fun of it, I politely declined each time, though I was tempted to hop on when a giant Cat Challenger offered me a lift.

People are friendly here. For the most part they'll bend over backwards to give you a hand if you need it. Not quite like back home where most people pretend you aren't there or have some other motive that may not be in your best interest.

That pretty much sums up the most exciting part of my last four days. I do have some quick commentary on the weather and flight schedules around here.

Much like back home, flights here are prone to getting delayed or canceled due to poor weather conditions. The big difference between here and home, however, lies in the fact that flights can get canceled for up to a week or more.

Most of the people who have been here in McMurdo waiting to go to Pole have been stuck here for over a week now. To date, only one flight carrying 18 people has made it down. This has left a large surplus of people on station. I have mentioned it before, but the galley has become more and more crowded as more people have arrived but very few have left. From what I hear from friends who work in the housing department, they are now scraping the bottom of the barrel for places to put people. Even our Chief, who has a room to himself, has found himself with a new transient roommate.

To complicate the matter, not only do we have Polies who can't get to their new home, but we also have been acquiring beakers destined for remote field camps that haven't been able to leave, either.

The real kicker, however, came on the A-319 yesterday. We now have 50 yellow parka Australians roaming around, trying to find their way to Casey, only to get weathered out. I'm not sure where else they can put people at this point, but I'm hoping they don't decide to add a few more beds to our rooms in the dorm.

Also, a quick remark on the color coding of the Antarctic world. Different groups down here wear different color parkas. Americans stationed at McMurdo wear either a red "Big Red" (ironically made by Canada Goose) or brown Carhartt (depending on the type of job you have). Americans stationed at the Pole, however, either have the Big Red or a green and black version of it. Additionally, American military personnel have their own dark green parkas.

Now, on to the foreign identifying colors:

Kiwis (occasionally known as New Zealanders) have very stylish orange and black parkas, putting our bland American styling to shame, and then there are the Australians, in their yellow.

All in all, it makes for a very colorful mix of parkas on the coat racks of Highway 1. While I will be happy to start having some more space again once people start to leave, I will miss the interesting mix of people and cultures down here.

Regardless of who it is, the people here are interesting. Everyone has their own story, and everyone is from somewhere different. While out at Southern Exposure the other night, I had the opportunity to talk to some Australians who were enjoying the bar. While in many respects they aren't much different from Americans, they do have their differences, including their choice of tobacco products.

Yet again, my time here to write is running out. I'll be leaving the peace and "quiet" (there is a large air compressor located behind one wall and a weight room on the other) of the library to try and get to a science lecture over in the galley.

The weather is also rumored to be getting bad tomorrow. Hopefully I'm not riding in the buckets of the Tanker again in con two weather. If I'm working at the airfield, perhaps I'll get to watch con 1 from the bubble (and hopefully not from the outside).

Until next time. Hopefully I'll have a better story to tell.

Oh, and the C-130s have begun to arrive. Should make the airfield more fun.