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.
Saturday, November 28, 2009
Tuesday, November 24, 2009
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.
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.
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
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.
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.
Saturday, November 14, 2009
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.
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.
Thursday, November 12, 2009
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.
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.
Friday, November 6, 2009
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.
Wednesday, November 4, 2009
Recapping Our Latest News...
Another from my collection of pictures. The sign seen from the road on the sea ice leading from Ice Town to "The Rock" of McMurdo. Please note that there is no distortion of colors in this image. The ice really is blue here. My apologies for not updating in a few days. I've been somewhat busy and haven't had the chance to actually sit down and plug into the network for a while.
I'm back at Station One this evening, waiting for the "big one" to finally come, knowing that it isn't going to happen. Half of the crew has gone over to the galley for trivia night, leaving all of us mainbody guys back at the station.
For as much as everyone seems to believe that the winfly and mainbody guys are getting along, I've found the former to be fairly cliquish when it comes down to it. The latter does not exemplify social perfection, though I'd like to think that we're trying to make the extra effort to try to integrate since we are the invaders.
Life here at Mactown continues to prove itself interesting. The weather here has been nice lately, with highs coming into the low teens. This has made sweatshirts acceptable wear around town. We are starting to see some melt in spots where the sun beats incessantly all day, though nothing too significant.
Yesterday, Fleet Ops went around with backhoes and dug the snow out of all the ditches that line many of our roads. I'm presuming that this is in anticipation for the coming melt which from what I've been told leaves "rivers running along the roads". The only irritation that came with this was the fact that they deposited this snow back in the middle of the roads, leaving six inches of dry powder that presented the consistency of sand when walking through it.
Town has finally become slightly less crowded lately. The Aussies have finally departed (much to the disappointment of many as they were exceptionally pleasant to have around) and more people have finally made it down to Pole.
Of course, with the departure of people destined for other places, that left more beds available to us. Temporarily, at least. After being delayed due to the lack of beds and weather over the last few days, a C-17 with passengers destined for McMurdo and other locales descended upon us today, taking another large portion of beds. This is of less concern than before, however, as most of these people are actually scheduled to stay for an extended time here.
While many of you back in the States enjoyed another Halloween this year, we were not left out of the celebrations.
Halloween is likely the biggest event that McMurdo sees all year, and everyone comes out for it. Sadly, I was working that day, but our crew still made it down to ensure the safety of all. The event is held in the "big gym", which is nothing more than a converted Quonset hut with a less than regulation size basketball court and rock climbing wall.
Soon after the party officially opened, we started to see the parade of costumes that made there way past the firehouse. First, it was a slow trickle with the errant walking banana or giant pair of scissors. Later, it became a steady stream of cross-dressers, vampires, and moose.
I'd like to point out two observations that I have made regarding Halloween. First, there are an inordinate number of men dressing as women down here. My personal speculation on this matter is that it is a result of the combination of the lack of women here (roughly 28% female according to my source in housing) which makes men more likely to do something ridiculous and the lack of normal social barriers (this place in unique in every aspect, might as well push the boundaries a little bit more). Also, the second observation comes from the number of and complexity of costumes that I've seen. Apparently, many people pack down the materials for costumes when they come down, taking up valuable pounds of their permitted luggage that they can bring down. I've never seen a place where costumes are taken this seriously before.
The party itself was interesting. The music was good, the costumes outrageous, and the people fun. The only shortcomings were the facts that I was stuck wearing my fireman costume and the fact that the entire event had the feel of a high school dance. (Not that it was a bad high school dance, but an odd feeling for a bunch of people ranging from college age to old.)
In other news, I finally was able to make it up Observation Hill the other day. I do have some pictures from it, though I haven't even had the chance to download them from my camera yet.
For as steep as Ob Hill appears, it is actually not a difficult climb at all. As long as you're careful to keep a sure footing in the patches of ice and volcanic gravel, it proves to be easy. There were a few spots along the path up that made for excellent places to sit and enjoy the view. Despite being a breezy +4, I stayed warm sitting on the rocks with my big red and blue jeans. From my sitting spot about halfway up Ob Hill, I was able to enjoy a spectacular view of town, Mt. Erebus, and Ice Town.
When I finally reached the top of Ob Hill, I was greeted with an almost jaw dropping view of everything for miles around. In addition to the previously mentioned sites, I was able to see all the way to Scott Base (the Kiwi station just down the road), White Island, the Long Duration Balloon Facility off in the distance, Black Island, the pressure ridges, and numerous other landmarks.
Also, at the crest of Ob Hill, there is a cross placed as a monument to the failed Scott expedition to the Pole. It presents itself as a rather sobering reminder as to the power this frozen continent truly possesses. From this cross, however, you can see everything that these explorers strove to discover. As immense and harsh as Antarctica is, it presents the perfect challenge to those who wish to discover the unknown. While Scott failed, the words on the cross, "To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield." exemplified this spirit. This is the same kind of spirit that I've found seeping through my own self, much more so lately as there has been fewer pressures to quell it.
With these words and an incredible view of the world in which I live, this gave me ample material for thought. My perch on top of the hill left me above everything within reach. Some thoughts drifted back to "home", and others to what the future holds in store. There is no doubt that I have significant changes coming my way in the near future. Many doors are open to me right now. I have almost nothing to really tie me down at this point in my life. I have a growing desire to see more and more of the world. It will be interesting to see what path I take, though I am almost certain that it will be down one less traveled.
Changing pace, my words will now drift back towards the firehouse. I don't recall if I've mentioned this already, but I've completed almost of of my required tests to get turned over as a wagon driver. I only need to get some pump time now and I'll be fine.
Engine 1 went over to the Vehicle Maintenance Facility today for a routine checkup. This put the newly returned Engine 2 in service for us, sadly, leaving some things to be desired.
Engine 2 went out of service several weeks ago when she refused to pump. Since pumping is the primary task assigned to an engine, this was unacceptable. After a trip to VMF, it was returned to us with a working pump. Unfortunately it also came back with a fairly considerable leak. After coming out of the gym from PT this morning, we found that about half of the 750 gallon booster tank had found its way onto the ground.
Not an ideal situation, for sure.
Leaking trucks not being abnormal here, we will put up with it until her twin, Engine 1, returns from VMF.
Also, just to add some extra confidence to those who think our fleet is in tip top shape with new trucks, we watched some videos of some of our new Red units having their systems charged with monstrous failures. For one, the foam system was charged and subsequently dumped from the rear of the unit straight onto the ground. For the other, the proportioner failed, leaving a poor finished foam mix.
These problems have been addressed, supposedly. It's hard to say for sure, however, since we are not typically permitted to discharge agent due to the environmental impact involved.
In other fire department related news, the first in flight emergency of the season occurred yesterday on B shift. An inbound C-130 declared an engine failure several miles outside of Ice Town. As the C-130 has four engines, this is not typically considered a serious event, though it did bring Station 2 to their hardstands in the event that something bad did happen. Our services were not needed, however, as the skier made a safe and uneventful landing.
Also out at Station 2, the first wildlife control call for the season came. An errant Adelie penguin waddled its way onto the runway, creating a hazard for both the inbound aircraft, and the all powerful entity that oversees operations here with distaste for harming the local fauna. While we are not officially not permitted to disturb the local wildlife, we become penguin herders in situations such as this due to both the danger presented to the C-17 turbines from ingesting our well dressed local and from the need to prevent potential screams of bloody murder and statements that we were violating the Antarctic Treaty.
Apparently a good time was had by all over at Station 2 during the roundup. It was remarked that everyone was surprised as to how quickly the little fellow could move when being coerced away from certain doom.
More penguin herding is sure to be in our future as the sea ice slowly disintegrates beneath us, leaving (hopefully) plenty of opportunities to complete my mission as assigned by my old boss.
As a final note for the evening (the sun hasn't gone down, but I'm trying to pretend it has so I can sleep shortly), I would like to confirm rumors that I have grown a mustache. I know many of you will be shocked, appalled, and just plain disgusted, but I have made the conscious decision to extend my facial follicles as much as department policy permits me.
It is not as raggedy as some might imagine, being much more full than the famed "Mexican mustache" that adorns many adolescents and much less creepy (this has been confirmed by others) than those stereotypically sported by child molesters.
Just to note, facial hair down here is the norm. As unpleasant as it would be in the sultry summer heat of Maryland, it proves itself to be nice and warm in the total daylight and balmy negatives of Antarctica.
That is all for now.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Posts
