Penguins, Balloons, and Pegasi, Oh My!

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

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

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

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

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


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The solution for this is the Pegasus White Ice Runway.

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

That lesson concluded, on to the next.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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