Ice, White & Blue

Redhead Amok in Antarctica

Some Basics, like Job Description & Mucus

I realize with all the questions I've been getting that I haven't been entirely forthcoming about some Ice-related things. Like the really simple stuff. Like what I'll be doing there.

I'll be a Shuttle Driver at McMurdo Station from Dec 13th to Feb 24th or thereabouts. I'll be earning $417 US per week, sans federal tax. I'll be working probably 60 hrs a week.

What's a Shuttle Driver? Nothing so grand as the NASA Shuttle, but pretty fun nonetheless. Underpaid, overworked driver of vans & sundry other Ice vehicles, transporting people around Mactown (or McMudhole) to & from the ice runways and all the incoming & outgoing planes. I will be an on-call taxi service for people in and around town and to the science outbuildings. I will transport people back & forth from Scott Base, the New Zealand base down the coast from McMurdo. The fun bit will be picking up the Yankee drunks from the Scott Base bar on Saturday night. Don't you think I'll do a splendid job corralling a buncha melatonin-inhibited drunks into a van and getting them home spew-free?

Why is this job so choice? I prefer it to the other options I had and was willing to do because it will be outside most of the time. By being outside I am much more likely to encounter the wildlife than if I am restricted to the Galley or to janitorial work. I hope to run into (but not run down) penguins and seals. If I'm really lucky I'll see killer whales and maybe have an encounter with a skua that leaves me bloodied but unbowed to boot. I've heard tales and will go careful with my lunch. I'm really lucky to land this position. It's choice. Pay's crap, but I'm not going for the money, I'm going for the Ice. I wanted to go to Antarctica and this is the way I can afford. I am lucky lucky lucky not to be working in the Galley.

I get to be outside wandering about as part of my job. Sure there'll be a lot of scut work, I'll have to clean the vans, check the oil, fill them with gas, do all the basic greasy maintenance that I should be performing on my car now but don't. I'm fine with that. The simple idea of being in Antarctica blows my mind and I haven't even got there yet.

A great deal of my pre-sleep circling the drain can't stop my mind thoughts are also caught up in the whole Hiking (Oh Pardon Me, Tramping) Through New Zealand After I Get Off The Ice Plan. They call it tramping in New Zealand. By no means are you allowed to imagine me in fishnets and a pink feather boa hiking through the verdant hills of this lovely country. It's much more butch than that. Oh heck, I'm much more butch than that. I have the camping gear, the hiking boots, the good hat & the fancy water bottles. LLBean loves me. No really they hate me because I keep on changing my mind and returning things or exchanging them. In most cases I've traded up. They should worship me, the money I've spent there. We have an erratic relationship.

I'm packing for two adventures in two entirely different environments. With the NZ planning the Ice stuff is starting to look really easy. After all, they'll feed me, house me, and clothe me on the Ice. In NZ I'll be living out of my backpack, and I need to feed, house & clothe myself out of what I can carry on my back. Different altogether. Looking forward to both about equally at this point, but my primary motivation remains the Ice. The NZ trip is a nice bonus at the end of it. I haven't been thinking about that part for the last five years.

There is going to be a Going Away Pahtee for me on Sat the 4th. Everyone will get drunk & silly and I'll feed off that and get silly myself without deficit to wallet or health. I'm hoping my boss will go so I can ply him with drinks and see what he's like drunk, because he's a hoot & a half sober at work. Hehe.

Okay, let's talk mucus. I went to the doctor this morning with an ear ache I started noticing last week. It sort of feels like I have water inside my ear and it's more irritating than painful at this stage. But I knew there wasn't a painkiller in the world short of full-on anesthesia that would dull the pain if I got on a plane with this. So I called my doctor's office and got an appointment with the new Doc on the Block.

I'm getting older & they're getting younger all the time. Don't you just look at these young things and think "I could've been a doctor for the last 10 years if I'd made better choices.?" Or do you think "My gawd she's probably got about $700,000 in student loan debts right now, wouldn't wanna be her." Very pleasant young woman, tall and confident with a easy friendly smile and a wonderful manner. Her first degree was a BA in music. I like that.

Back to mucus. It's not an infection, I have liquid in my eustachian tube. Thus the mucus. I'm all about the mucus. So I've got all these magic potions to take before my multiple endless flights and a series of antibiotics to take with me to the Ice just in case I should develop an infection after all my flying. I also have to wear something called "ear planes" on the plane, to straighten out the tubes so they can drain properly during the flight.

Now, that wasn't so difficult, was it?

To clarify a little for those of you who have their poles switched: There Are No Polar Bears In The South Pole. That's the one drawback. But I hear the leopard seals are pretty fierce.

posted by: coldwish at 00:36 | link | comments |
pre ice 2004

Blogging on Blogging

Whoo! Man have we been busy at work. Last week was a full on final-stretch neck & neck race with insanity & exhaustion for all of us here at work. No time to even take a breath between callers.

What I was hoping to do was figure out how to get pictures on to my blog. Seems that it is possible if I have webspace elsewhere to store the pictures on. There is no storage space for the pictures once I upload them on this site. So, I have to figure out doublequick where I can get my hands on some webspace storage. Hmmm...let's look at Mom's account....

It may be possible....

Got a lot packed over the weekend, put it into storage. Changed my mind about some things, repacked, returned other things I bought, bought new things. I have no idea what I am doing and I must be driving LL Bean insane with all my buy it return it buy something else return it buy something else again.  Antarctica had better be funner once I get there than the endless preparation for it is. So many lists. So many lists of lists, then sub-lists and categories shifting all the bloody time. I am responsible for the death of at least one tree in my efforts to be organized and packed for Antarctica. Just in stickies alone!

 

posted by: coldwish at 01:19 | link | comments |
pre ice 2004

Just the facts, Ma'am.

December 8th, 2004:

Dep Boston   1:23pm   AA # 1909 -->  Arriving Chicago 3:14pm (2h 51min flight: no meal)

Dep Chicago 4:45pm   AA # 1513  -->  Arriving Denver 6:24pm (2h 39min flight: no meal)

December 9th, 2004:

Overnight at hotel paid for by Raytheon Polar Services. Up wicked early the next morning for a 7:30am pick up and delivery to RPSC HQ for "Orientation" (read inculcation) and the HR new employee paperwork jig. 8-12 being inculcated, then fed. Tricky devils, offering free food at the end of the obstacle course, they know what I'm like with free food! I'll even fill out mountains of paperwork if offered free food. I am so gonna gain weight on the Ice. According to the Ice Bible they sent me, that is expected. It's all that free food. It's gonna be the BAKER/Pastry Chef! Come to Momma my lovely carbohydrates! Hehe.

Then they send me back to Denver Airport where:

Dep Denver   4:00pm   AA # 1519 -->  Arriving Los Angeles 5:20pm (2h 20min flight: no meal)

Dep Los Angeles   8:30pm   AA # 7370 (probably Quantas Airlines)-->

Losing December 10th, 2004 in-flight by crossing the date line. Can you freakin' believe that? I am giving up a day of my life to go to the Ice. What would YOU give up for YOUR dream?

December 11th, 2004:

Arriving Auckland, NZ 6:00am (12h 30min flight: I quote my itinerary, "Multi meals", and I should bloody well hope so, I have to eat an entire days worth of food or I'll be hungry when I reach December 11th)

Going through Customs in Auckland. Boy does NZ take its Customs seriously. Being an Island country they've been able to maintain an environment largely free of many of the pests we live with, be they animal, insect or plant pests (though they do have similar political pests in an alleged resurgence of right-wingers protesting NZ's immigration policies). I almost expect to get sprayed down with insecticide/herbicide/homocide spritzer myself.

Dep Auckland   8:30am   AA # 7395 (probably Quantas)-->  Arriving Christchurch, NZ 9:50am (1h 20min flight: breakfast. Nice people in NZ, much more generous than in the US)

At this point I will quote from the handy dandy little booklet I have been given:

"When you arrive in Christchurch WAIT FOR OUR REPRESENTATIVE TO MEET YOU AT BAGGAGE CLAIM OR AT YOUR GATE.(ed:Their caps, not mine) The representative will be wearing a red USAP jacket and hold a red clipboard with the USAP (US Antarctic Program) logo. (I do not want that job.) Do not get something to eat or go to the lounge for a drink. (Who needs it when these generous Kiwis actually fed us on a 1h 20min flight?) Stay at Baggage Claim until we find you.

"We will provide you information on your hotel (I was forced to choose by Raytheon Travel on the phone before I even got my travel packet, so I chose the YMCA and will be doing the cheap dorm room route.), how to get there, when to report to the Clothing Distribution Center (CDC) to pick up your gear and information on your military flight down to McMurdo. Transportation will be provided at a cost of (Hold it, "transportation will be provided" "at a cost of" don't those contradict each other, wouldn't the first half of the sentence imply free transport?) $5 NZ, so be sure to exchange some currency (while in the Auckland airport because we aren't even s'posed to go pee in Christchurch before the red jacket person collects us). Christchurch Travel will take care of you from there on down."

December 13th, 2004: Alleged Ice Date. I allege this because from here on in all transportation is at the whim of the Antarctic Weather Gawds and their cold winds.

How much is Raytheon spending on me to get my butt to the Ice to drive a Shuttle? Not including the flight to McMurdo, $US 2,245.93. According to the travel ticket. Holy catfish! That's more than I'm gonna EARN while I'm down there. Well, slight exaggeration, but it's sure as shit more than I'll be leaving with, what between the IRS and my student loans and my credit card payments.

Not the money. Cheaper than a cruise. Going to the ICE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Sleeping well the last few nights though. Packing is getting better, less in my room. Sleeping on the floor.

It's happening. I'm going. I can taste it.

posted by: coldwish at 00:53 | link | comments (1) |
pre ice 2004

Advent of the Digital Age

Yes, I had a fabulous weekend. My brother, Andrew, outdid himself in his choice of restaurant. He persuaded my mother & me that we could get past the Pho Pasteur experience if we just followed his advice. Mind you, I like Pho Pasteur; good, filling, cheap, vegetarian lunch menu. Now no longer so cheap & no longer so good. I was wide open for suggestions. I admit, I was in a rut that ran right through Harvard Square. No imagination left.

He met us at the station, we did our little cellphones = GPS units jig, locating each other in the station. By the time we got to Chinatown it was slushing a bit. Many people out with umbrellas. He walked us in to Shabu Zen: A Japanese "hot pot" restaurant. It's been several days and I still cannot for the life of me recall the proper Japanese word for this kind of cooking. It's not shabu shabu, it's *mutter a few odd syllables* -nabe. Which means pot. Usually there is a communal pot of boiling stock (chicken. fish, vegetable) and a huge heaping platter of various foods: cabbage, seaweed, carrots, noodles, tofu, fish, meat, octopus, etc. In Japan, everyone plops (do the Japanese plop? Probably delicately place is more apropos) the various items into the pot and eventually you have a stew from which you can fetch whichever item strikes your fancy. I recall shrimp on the platter still waving their antenna but naked from the waist down. I recall heaps of kabotcha & nasu, two of my favorite vegetables (pumpkin/squash & eggplant) in their Japanese versions, delicately violet-tinged legs of white suckers curled gently on the side, translucently thin slices of bright red beef marbled with white fat folded like Christmas ribbon candy or waves of red. Anyway, instead of the communal pot, into which my carnivorous sibling and meat-lusting parent would be dipping their beef & lamb respectively, thus tainting my precious vegetarian purity with their evil empire of meat flavours, we chose to sit at the bar. We each had a different pot and chose different meals. I had a delicious konbu stock (seaweed), which I then substantially "tainted" by choosing a fish platter.

Not only was the food delicious and the company wonderful but it was fun. We don't often get to be that interactive with our food. Choices of stocks, stew items, dipping sauces, starches. I chose rice, as did my mother, my brother chose udon noodles. I cannot stand udon noodles, they look like little intestines and are all slimey & doughy. Gimme soba anyday.

Then we headed to Harvard Square where our second off-rut trip was into Harvard proper to visit a painting significant to the family. A full-length portrait of Roosevelt as done by Joseph DeCamp. Which was impressive. And BIG. We found the room it was in, thankfully empty, and fiddled with the lighting to get rid of all the reflection on it. We lingered & gazed quite contendedly despite an earlier run in with a snooty fellow who didn't even deign to be helpful when we asked directions. One of those If You Need To Ask You Don't Belong Here fellows with the patrician air & the upper-crust accent that just raised the hackles on all of us.

Then Burdick's for the sine qua non of hot chocolate, in its most literal sense. Hot. Chocolate. Solid dark chocolate melted into hot milk. Phwuh! I can never finish mine but I always enjoy trying. Saw the Upper Crusty sort from Harvard there, sitting with entirely undisguised impatience on his features, leaning on his hand. One glance and you had a personality type and you knew you didn't like him. Okay, so we were pre-disposed by his previous display of assholishness, but still. He displayed all the physical tropes that broadcast that attitude in all the movies.

Picked up the Lonely Planet New Zealand guide book at the Globe bookstore. Lotsa fantasies on the train trip home. So many possibilities, I was lusting after my own future.

The best of all was the early arrival of the digital camera my Andrew & Mom invested in for my trip, as a Birthday/Xmas/Going Away present. Whoo hoo!!! Now I'll be able to post pictures to this blog of all the interesting things in Antarctica: like the toilets, my dorm room, the vehicles I drive. I may even be able to figure out the camera and how to post before I leave.

Whaaat!?! You were thinking penguins & seals? Maybe a glacier or an iceberg or two? If I can get so lucky and manage to get myself on a boondoggle, that'll make it to the website. But I only have a 1/2 season there and boondoggles accrue to more senior people with more contacts. Perhaps I may run into a penguin or two on the ice fields. I hope.

I'm looking forward to the sky and the horizon and the ice. I'm looking forward to the hard work. The 24 hour sunshine. Mt Erebus. The people. I even hear the food is something to be looked forward to.

I'm tilted so far forward in anticipation that I hope I don't just fall flat on my face. Though I am so buoyed up by excitement not much can get me down. Not for long.

posted by: coldwish at 01:14 | link | comments |
pre ice 2004

Trains & Three-Day Weekends

I am taking a much deserved three-day weekend, with Friday off and not working Saturday. Which is like some kind of a miracle given how many I have worked (by request) lately. I need the break before the final rush, and I need to get some stuff done during the hours when the world is actually open and I am actually awake. Daylight would be nice too. I know I'll get plenty of that down on the Ice but I want me some longer days NOW!

My Friday will be spent in Boston with my mother and brother, feeding, and browsing bookstores. My brother says he knows of a fabulous Japanese restaurant in Chinatown, so he'll meet us at North Station when our train gets in to take us there. Then it's off to Cambridge and Harvard Square for desert at Burdick's Chocolates, and a few hours lost in the stacks at Harvard Bookstore.

The US doesn't have enough trains. Those it does have are in really bad shape and can hardly compete in this land of gas-guzzling SUVs and the car companies' hegemony over the transportation needs and fantasies of the nation. I loved living in Japan, where everything was done by train. Cars were for the most part leisure vehicles, and I met many a person who listed his or her hobby as "Driving". I loved heading to work, even with a commute over an hour long, able to sit there reading or writing or watching people and not responsible for getting myself there. It was wonderful study time and though I was surrounded, oft times even held firmly in place during the rush hours, by strangers (who surreptitiously fondled my long hair!), it was like being in my own space, just as a car is like that now. But I have to PAY attention when I drive; train travel is all leisure.

Each train station in Tokyo, even the ones right next to each other on the lines, was like a new town unto itself, with all the small stores that a small neighborhood needs. There was none of this driving miles to the mall to the Big Box stores like we have here (even our grocery stores are Big Box--look at Hannafords & Shaws!), where you can't find a local baker, butcher, shoe repair, hardware store, pharmacy, grocer, etc. within walking distance of your house. Each station in Japan had multitudes of these small family-run stores, and the walk home from the station was an adventure in scents & sounds & flavours: the visit to the grocer for mayonnaise, a visit to the fruit & vegetable vendor for one apple and a few Japanese cukes (which I ate by squeezing the mayonnaise on them and biting in), a visit to a small drugstore for "toire peipa", a drop by the tofu maker for a block of tofu so fresh that a dash of soy sauce and a sprinkling of katsuobushi was a melt in your mouth gourmet experience, a stop at the fish store for fish so fresh you didn't even smell the store when you walked up. There was a store for any of numberless small things you could need on your way back home. It kept you buying what you needed on a daily basis, not stocking up once a week for a whole week's meals or needs. You carried it home and it was fresh. None of the fruit or vegetables you planned on cooking went bad before you got around to preparing it, because each night off the train you decided what you wanted for that meal as you headed home.

Every station was like this in the cities of Japan, and some had different characters: Some were funky teenager neighbourhoods with flocks of black uniform-clad boys & girls, or they had a nightlife you wouldn't believe, some were under-the-tracks labyrinths of stuff stuff and more stuff, most were just like a small town. Train stations had identities: Akihabara was the electronics district; Shinjuku was the hub of all trains and the busiest station in the world, the population of Canada passing through there each day; and Ginza, which transformed itself into the hostess bar-fueled nightlife after work every night. My favorites were Shimo-kitazawa with its alternative bars, funky cafes, used-clothing stores, odd boutiques of odd things, and Shibuya, similar to that but bigger & busier & louder & had my favorite store in Japan: Tokyu Hands.

All because trains were the primary means of transportation for everyone there. The trains were efficient and on time. Fifteen trains an hour went through my home station in one direction, 15 in the other, and when they said 10:17am, the train was there at 10:17am and you knew exactly how long it'd take to get you there. The ride would be smooth, clean, with polite seatmates, clearly announced stations, and half the population reading Manga, the rest reading books and newspapers. So many readers!! You could always pick up free Manga or newspapers on a train where they had been left behind by the previous reader. It was like a travelling lending library. Some of the Manga were racy at best. Big 2-3 inch thick black & white tomes with a dozen different installments of various stories. Everyone reads them. I read them. I learned how to read Japanese by reading children's manga.

But here, trains are 3rd class citizens. Even the buses do better at getting us where we need to go, comfortably and on time. Trains are special trips, and only for short distances. I avoid trains, outside the subways of major cities, in the US if I can help it. We take a train into Boston tomorrow because it's going to be on time, I hate parking and driving in Boston (can we count the mufflers I've lost in pot holes there?), and because this train, the Noreaster, is clean. It feels like a real train to me. So it's a fun adventure, Mom & I can talk or read or eat or even play Scrabble if we are so inclined, without the white knuckle stress of the highway and having to watch the road, figure out where to park, and pay for the parking. What convenience is a car in a city like that when there is the T to take you places?

I wish trains were supported better by the government here. I wish there were more & better buses in the smaller cities that do not have subways, like here in Portland. I yearn for the freedom of public transportation and a walkable world.

I'll be the public transportation at McMurdo, and it's a walkable world.

posted by: coldwish at 23:05 | link | comments (3) |
pre ice 2004

Fortieth & Itinerary

Today is my 40th birthday and I'm a little disgruntled I'm not spending it on the Ice. But only a little. Mostly I'm utterly gruntled that I'm getting the chance to even go while I'm in my 40s. I can say that now. I'm in my 40s. Though my father pointed out to me many years ago that technically I've been in my 40s since my last birthday, because I just finished my 40th year of life, not started it. Forty is a good number, nice & solid & round. Thirty-nine was fun too, though mostly I considered myself 40 when I turned it.

Do you ever forget how old you are? I have. I'll be driving home from work and suddenly I'll realize I don't know if I'm 37 or 38, could I be 39? I'll start trying to calculate my age based on my birth year and I'm so mathematically inept I get lost in there and really can't recall how old I am.  Yeah, sure, I know you're gonna say I'm getting old, but I've been getting old since I was born. Ain't none of us getting young. At least with 40 it's a memorable number and already I'm getting my fair share of "You don't look 40." What does 40 look like? THIS is what 40 looks like. On me. Mostly we measure age by social contexts like marriage, kids, school, career accomplishments. I've done none of those when they were "supposed" to be done & I've chosen to not do several at all. So I don't look like what we expect women to be like at 40.

I got some wonderful calls yesterday, one from Al in Florida, the charmer. He's a salesman who used to come into the lobby when I was the receptionist. My favorite salesman. We soon bonded over similar tastes in music. I even introduced him to my favorite radio station: 88.3 FM WYAR. He's a very generous, charming man with a sharp line in flattery and sincerity. Sweet of him to think of me and call. It's always a pleasure to hear his voice.

One call was from my friend on the Ice. But even better was a package I received from a friend who as always knows me better than I know myself. I am guilty on so many counts with forgetting birthdays. I am indebted to her for getting past my cynicism and recognizing the special days for me.  I don't write them down, I don't remember them, I barely celebrate them. Not because I dislike what they represent (the Aging Process) but because they seem sort of artificial. I lived in Japan for 5 years and I'd barely recall when my birthday was, let alone expect something special to happen to me on it. They don't celebrate birthdays there and it was a real relief. They don't do the Christmas thing either, and I am beyond cynical about that holiday. I'm always willing to work on Xmas Day, or otherwise ignore it. It's such a crock of bull***t, a completely commercial holiday based upon a co-opted pagan holiday. I don't like it that the entire US starts putting out Christmas crap the day after Halloween and the pressure starts. BUY BUY BUY. I opt out. Much to my mother's regret our whole family is like that: Cynical.

Got a call today from the travel department at Raytheon Polar Services, telling me when I leave for Denver and out of which airport. Dec. 8th. Boston. 1:23 pm. To Denver overnight, an early morning orientation then that evening to LAX for 3 hours, then on to Christchurch crossing the date line and getting there on the 11th. It's beginning to seem real at this point. The purple duffel, the tickets arriving tomorrow, the items getting checked off on my list, the shock on people's faces as I continue telling them the news. It's so much easier for people to hear that I'm taking a Leave of Absence to do this, as opposed to just Leaving. It's easier to tell too.

Mostly birthdays are about free french fries. I'm all about the free fries. If I can scam someone into getting me some fries on my birthday, I'm good for another year. Birthdays used to be about cake. I've grown up since then.

And tonight I am getting free french fries. Hehe.

posted by: coldwish at 23:51 | link | comments (1) |
pre ice 2004

LL Bean Outlet

I know I've mentioned this before, but LLBean was visited once again this morning. I was looking at all the stuff I had to pack and I was comparing that to the bags I had and I knew I was screwed. I am limited to 75 lbs of stuff to go to the Ice. I'm not worried about that, I'm worried about the BULK. Do I want to be dragging six months worth of underwear and socks to Denver, then LAX, then Christchurch then to my dorm on the Ice? In 5 different bags? No, I don't think so. How many will the airline allow me to carry vs check in? I also want to go backpacking in New Zealand after I get off the Ice. I don't want to be hauling my camping gear onto the Ice & back off, making it part of my 75 lb baggage limit.

Knowing that LLBean has all the answers to life's persistent packing questions I wandered on down to the outlet downtown. For less than half the price, since I am willing to compromise on having someone else's initials on my duffel bag (who was AJH?), I bought myself a nice HUGE (purple!!!) duffel into which I could fit several of my friends. There will be a lottery and some physical tests for flexibility for those who have already requested that I pack them in my luggage and take them down with me.

I also got more socks. Smartwool socks. Thanks to Katherine, who introduced me to this invention during a fabulous summer hike earlier this year, I am now a Smartwool devotee. If I don't wear all my socks, I'm sure I can sell the extras. We are talking some warm and COMFORTABLE damn socks and some cold damn weather.

I'm freaking about the packing thing. I am naturally a bit of a...control freak. My forte is organization. This should be fun & satisfying, all this twiddly packing & repacking & figuring out ways of condensing my belongings for the adventure. I sat on my floor last night and I calculated how much shampoo I would need if I cut my hair even shorter. How much easier would my bags be to schlep if I had 1/2 inch less hair? I know exactly how much more time I have to sleep each day when my hair is shorn, but now I'm thinking airport schlepability and I know I could go shorter. So I transferred the shampoo from my shampoo bottles, full-size 16oz, into smaller 10oz bottles. That was satisfying. I felt very accomplished.

I am also being given a shopping & shipping list by a friend of mine who is already on the Ice who had very little time to prepare, due to family demands, before he packed up. He is wintering over. I am more concerned about his needs than mine at this point, he's doing a 6 month stretch of darkness with no fresh fruit. The horrors!  I'm looking for dried fruit to ship him before I head out. Along with his needs like coffee beans, soap, toothbrush, etc. At least I don't need to be concerned about that stuff, since I'll be there during the Summer Season when McMurdo has planes coming in & out several times daily.

My list of things to buy and do and research is getting shorter by the day. Thank goodness I was half-prepared before they even called me. I figured it had to happen eventually, so I may as well get myself together just in case I only get 2 weeks warning. I got my car inspected. I was expecting to fail miserably but got away with about $100 in repairs and was done in an hour on Monday morning. Wow! I may even get the car all winterized before I go: take out the battery, fill the tires, fill the tank, change the oil, etc.

Argh! So much to do. So little sleep. So breathless with anticipation. So bloody ecstatic.

posted by: coldwish at 00:52 | link | comments |
pre ice 2004

Sleeplessness

I do not know what it is but I feel like I haven't been able to get a decent night's sleep for over a month now. I've only known I was going to the Ice for a week or so at this point. I know, since I heard, my mind roils each night before I nod off: packing, making lists, imagining New Zealand & the Ice. But before that? Somebody please find me a rubber sledge hammer and knock me out. I need to catch up.

That's probably my biggest concern about the Ice: lack of sleep. I have a rough work schedule and will be rooming with unknown women. I'll either be placed in a 2 person room, or a 4 person room (2 bunkbeds). All of us will have different schedules, which means there will always be someone walking in on a sleeper. I'm a light sleeper.

My work schedule will be for a 3rd of my stay a night shift, the other two thirds dayshift. I'll be working 5 days a week, 12 hr days. I'm promised I won't be pulling 5 work days in a row, so it'll be a 1 on, 1 off, 4 on, 1 off thing. Even better would be a 2 on, 1 off, 3 on, 1 off schedule. Either way, as a 8 1/2-9 hr per night sleeper it doesn't leave me much time to eat, shit & shower during my work days, let alone wander around outdoors with skis or hike up Observation Hill, or take in some of the lectures and other fun activities. I think most people exist down there on a fine edge of sleeplessness teetering over the abyss of insanity, often held up only by a liberal application of alcohol. I hear it's a heavy-drinking population down there.

All I know is that if we get cut off from civilization and the booze starts running low, I'll be just fine. I don't drink. At all. Never have done. I've been drunk maybe twice in my life, once by accident and once deliberately. I TALKED. All night. Of course, I thought my Japanese was the best it's ever been.

But drinkers are notoriously, while under the influence, less concerned with the sleeping population around them. I really really really hope I don't have a roomie who stumbles home from one of the two bars on base when I'm trying to sleep. Two bars on Antarctica at McMurdo alone: one smoker, one non-smoker. They've also got a cafe. And here I don't drink coffee. You wouldn't want to know me on coffee. I vibrate for 48 hours afterwards and tend to bounce off the walls. I've been known to toss and turn in my bed so vigorously that I've slammed my knees and even my forehead on the wall next to the bed.

At the best of times I'm a restless sleeper. I've been known to extreme sleepwalk. I've gone so far as to move furniture in my sleep. That level of sleepwalking takes extreme stress to achieve, but even a little disturbance (like, say, HORMONES?) can have me talking in my sleep. I do so pity my roomies. I have yet to hurt anyone in my sleep, yet. Well, other than myself and that one time in a tent in a squall after my tent was stove-piped. But I didn't break his nose, I didn't even bloody it. I don't even recall doing it. Though I do recall a bad dream where I thought I was being mugged.

Just call me Dangerous Dreamer.

But, y'know, it's that thin line between dreaming & sleepwalking where I have been dwelling lately. I just wish I could harness the power of my dreams to get myself packed for the Ice.

posted by: coldwish at 22:24 | link | comments (1) |
pre ice 2004

Compromises & Sacrifices

Why is this such a leap into the abyss for me?

Because of what I have to give up and already have given up to get to this point.

What have I sacrificed so far? Housing. I was forced by my landlord to move out of the place I had been in for 2 years this summer. He found out I was thinking of going to Antarctica. He did not want me to move out of his house during the winter months because he knew the house was essentially not rentable in the winter months. It was a summer house with a very cheap rent and debilitating heating bills in the winter months, even when kept at a balmy 58-60F indoors in February. But it was a nice big house and most of the time I got to live alone. So on August 1st I moved my ass into a tiny room in a house with two other women, paid first, last & security for the privilege at an outrageous price, secreted my necessary kitchen items into the tiny space I was allowed in the cupboards and started living a new life. Albeit one without an outrageous heating bill every month. But also one without much cleanliness or space. Why'd I take it? No lease.

By then I had been offered a position as an Alternate (Alt) for a Shuttle Driver job, and that meant that they could call me at any time asking me to replace one of the Primary hires for a myriad of reasons. The Primary could decide at the last minute not to go. They could not be able to go for health or family reasons. They could go, be there and break a leg and they'd have to be replaced. I could get a few months warning, I could get 2 weeks warning. I had even heard of people getting all the way to Christchurch, NZ and changing their minds about the job. I simply had to be ready.

The season started in early October and I didn't hear anything. Occasionally I'd hear I was #5 on the waiting list, or 7 of the 19 primaries in my job hadn't even PQed (Physically Qualified) yet. I PQed in July, just in case. Got myself my first EKG and had my knees tapped and my blood drawn, urine collected, and my teeth x-rayed. Got my first cavity in 20 plus years filled, and boy has the technology changed. Was told I had some incipient cavities in there, but according to my marvellous dentist who was willing to go to the mat for me with Raytheon over this, they could have been incipping for the last 10 years and were extremely unlikely to cause me any issues while on the Ice. I spent more time and had more confidence in the dental check up than I did the doctor I found. Her first day in the new clinic, she ran over an hour late, and was so rushed she took less than 5 mins to fill out the PQ form and sign it. I spent 1 1/2 hrs in a cold exam room in a thin cotton johnny and her hands were cold when she did the breast exam.

I'd been absolutely panicked that I'd have to run a mile in 4, touch my toes, do 100 sit ups, and be x-rayed, poked & prodded in orifices things shouldn't oughta be going into, in order to PQ. Hah! Ok, so I was a bit light-headed after they took the blood, but my urine sample was spectacular.

So October came along, and started passing, and I figured, oh what the hell I should finish unpacking and settle into this tiny dog-smelling, flea-infested room until I could try again at next year's job fair and get a real Primary position. So I started hanging pictures and putting little knickknacks around what little space I had. Tried to figure out how to get rid of the fleas. Then they called. October 27th. Was I available for a December 13th Ice Date?

Previously I had decided that if I didn't get a call by October 15th for an Ice date of Mid-November, I wouldn't be able to afford to go. I had calculated how much I would earn on the Ice (and don't ever let anyone tell you they pay well unless you are a tradesperson and they want you for your trade) and what the minimum time I needed in order to afford a first, last & security on the other end to set myself back up. Even with a full season I wouldn't have enough after paying down my debts (y'know, the usual: student loans, credit card debts, medical debts from when I ended up in the hospital uninsured) to do much more than a few weeks traveling in NZ before having to buckle back down to the cubicle grind. I thought I needed a safety net.

They called and I asked for 24 hours to think it over. Did I sit down with a calculator and go over earnings vs debts vs cash needed at other end to start allover? No. I said Screw the Safety Net, this is my fucking DREAM! Called back the next morning and said Yes.

At this point I expected to sacrifice the job I have at a good company that is doing well during an economic downturn (which I see headed further down with the election of Dubya). I like my job, it's interesting, often challenging, I get to speak to people all over the continent, and I have the best boss. (You can pay me later, Joe.) My co-workers make up a great team with humour & talent & a real sense of teamwork. I like coming to work. Why would I quit that? Well, I would to go to Antarctica. I would give up a place to live, a means of making a living and even a relationship (if I was in one where leaving for 6 months was an issue) to go. But my boss said I could take a Leave of Absence and worked on getting it approved for me. I was stunned. You mean I could go to Antarctica AND come back to work afterwards? My goodness, this and the Red Sox winning after 86 years, a total lunar eclipse and a special package of sea glass from a new friend in California. Gosh. I was obviously meant to go. There was my safety net. But I'd leapt out without it. This was just serendipity and the policies of a great company.

It's more about what you are willing to sacrifice, than adding up the dead animals at the end.

Now, if only I could get some sleep.

 

 

posted by: coldwish at 18:07 | link | comments |
pre ice 2004

Why & Some Hows & Whats & Wherefores

Why.

This is a question I am getting from some people.

Many people respond as if they cannot believe my luck and wish they could go too. These people ask the questions like How & What & Where & How Long with their hearts racing and minds careening up against the possibilities. I can see the excitement on their faces. I love the look of shock followed by the dawning of what, really, it might entail. The rapidfire questions and the interest they show is flattering. It's this wonderful feedback loop of excitement and I learn a lot about them and their interests, dreams and experiences.

For those who ask first Why I am often dumbfounded. They respond as if I must be insane, as if they have no sense of adventure & possibility & challenge. Which cannot be the case. Perhaps it is shock speaking. They are focussed on the cold and the isolation. I am focussed on the beauty & the environment & the adventure of it. I think I will land in McMurdo and I will melt the ice shelf with the heat of my pounding heart. At the very least I'll need to pee like a banshee after a flight like that. But to these Why people I don't know how to respond. I can't imagine it, I'm so deep inside my own racing-heart bug-eyed thrill I really don't have a pat answer beyond the slightly rude and judgmental one of "Well, some people have kids." And that choice escapes me completely & utterly to the nth degree of bafflement.

The Why of it is so big and so intrinsic to my sense of self that short of doing an on the spot personality & life history fillet of my soul, I can't think of a good answer. So perhaps here I may have the time to answer Why to a better degree than my flip response offers.

Perhaps these people are the same ones who complain about the Maine winters, every time we get more than 3 snowflakes or it gets below 35F. I'm not that way. Give me snow or give me...err...anyway. I love the winter. I love the snow. When it snows it's like someone just slipped some junk into my bloodstream, I get this sense of euphoria and I become unbearably joyful...about shoveling even. Lasts a lot longer than crack but is no less addictive. All I want on a snowy winter night is to go out and play. I wake up the next morning and by the time I get to work my cheeks ache with smiling. Winter is my favorite season. The sheer clarity of the air & the sky & the light reflecting off the snow makes me happy to be alive. It's a good thing snow has that effect because otherwise the short days of winter kill me.

What better than to go spend a summer season on the Ice, weather like Maine in winter but with reeeaaaalllly looooong days? The epitome of winter.

It started about 5-6 years ago when I read, and on some level I'm embarrassed to admit this, Kim Stanley Robinson's Antarctica. I read his Mars trilogy and was fascinated by how his science & geology skirted the truth so closely. I was on one of those jags where it's One Author All The Time. At that point the big fat scientifically-dense science fiction paperback tomes he wrote were right up my alley. His descriptions were magical, poetic, scientific and otherworldly. That launched me into looking for pictures of Antarctica and other books by people who'd been there. These books wetted my interest further and I started pondering Me on the Ice.

And the penguins, mustn't forget the penguins. Someday I may get to sidle up to an Emperor. Or better yet if I hold still long enough in the right place I may be sidled up to.

I researched the ways of getting there, and came up against the cost of a cruise. Ouch. Prohibitive and appalling and only for a very short time. Not to mention, I don't consider myself a tourist. I can't do "cruises" and guided tours. I'm a traveller. I don't want someone else interpreting and filtering my experiences for me. I need to stumble through it myself.

I started looking for a job down there with little to no hope, given my exceedingly non-scientific background. But I stumbled into some other Ice Blogs and websites and my horizons broadened. I fell asleep with thoughts of washing dishes or cleaning toilets dancing in my head. No, really. I could do that. And was just about willing to offer up my own toothbrush for the task.

Then it started seeming not only possible that I could go to the Ice, but probable.

But WHY? I hear you.

I was in a Bad Place in my life when I sank my mental teeth into this idea for the first time. A Bad Enough Place that I did not think anything was possible for me any more. The Ice glinting in my dreams was the first light to be shed on me in that dark time and I grabbed hold of that idea as the only way forward and out. Overly dramatic and ponderous phrasing, I realize. Don't shoot me.

As I emerged from that Dark Place I kept hold of that dream and it became a part of my identity. My need to prove once more to myself that I had the balls to make that kind of a change in my life, to challenge myself with the complete upheaval of my life and just leap, without a safety net; To rattle my complacent ass. So I applied, and applied, and applied, and went to job fairs. All the while thinking: It Has To Happen. But believing It'll Never Happen.

Then it happened.

Holy fuck. You need me when? Right, no problem. I can start swimming south now.

I am that person I hoped I was. I do leap out into the abyss. I love a continent but I love being brave enough to say Yes when they called.

posted by: coldwish at 23:56 | link | comments (2) |
pre ice 2004