In the five years that I’ve been priviledged to come to the Antarctic, I’ve never been lucky enough to see an emperor penguin up close in the wild. I may have spotted one standing alone on an ice floe while I was on the NBP several years ago, but it was so far in the distance that even with binoculars, I couldn’t make a positive ID. Today, my luck changed, and I finally got up close and personal with a group of six out in the wild.

I’ve been sitting in McMurdo for the past week waiting for the weather to clear up enough that we can get to Pole and open the station. To kill some time, the cargo department organized a trip out to Cape Evans and Shackleton’s historic hut. I’d been out there before, but I figured that any trip off station is better than sitting around watching another movie.

We had been traveling out for about an hour or so, and had just passed the Erebus ice tongue and were about to pass the Razorback islands. It had been a pretty boring drive so far, with no wildlife spotted except for a few Wedell seals off in the distance. I was about to drift off to sleep again when the vehicle we were in lurched to a stop, and we heard the driver on the radio calling out “Penguins! Emperor penguins!” That got everyone awake pretty quickly! We quickly threw on our coats and grabbed our cameras and headed out the door to take a look around. About 150 feet away, and headed straight for us were six Emperors just out for a stroll.

I couldn’t belive our luck…the penguins were obviously curious about us, but as they approached they completely maintained their dignity. Unlike the clowish adelie penguins, these were stately, and seemed like they didn’t want us to know that they even cared if we were there or not. The whole group stayed together as they approached. Every once in a while, they’d let out a squawk, or wave their flippers, but no matter what, refused to get excited. Eventually they got to within about 20 feet of our group, and hung out for about 10 minutes just watching us watch them. Folks were going crazy with their cameras…I think this was a completely new experience for every one of us!

After about 10 or 15 minutes of hanging out, the penguins started to get bored, and continued on their path across the ice shelf. They were obviously in no hurry to get where ever their destination was, leaving us even more opportunities to get shots of their backsides.

All in all, the entire encounter couldn’t have lasted more than 25 minutes or so, but I still think it was one of the highlights of my Antarctic career!

The hike to Pawnee Pass traverses vibrant, varied terrain en route to spectacular views atop the Continental Divide. Two lakes, innumerable streams, abundant wildflowers and extended alpine-tundra travel make this one of the Indian Peak’s most interesting and enjoyable day hike destinations. Get an early start, as you may find yourself tempted to fully explore the Long Lake, Lake Isabelle and Pawnee Pass areas.

The trail begins on a flat, well-groomed path through stately spruce forest. The trail bypasses the Jean Lunning Trail - the first of several easy access points to Long Lake - after just .2 miles. Continue straight towards Lake Isabelle and Pawnee Pass. The damp lake basin and its many tributaries make this first mile especially verdant.

The trail remains flat until reaching a second connection with the Jean Lunning Trail (1.2 miles), beyond which it climbs steadily through a progressively thinning forest to Lake Isabelle (2.1 miles : 10,868′). The Lake Isabelle vicinity is simply stunning, highlighted by terrific views of Navajo (13,409′), Apache (13,441′), and Shoshoni (12,967′) peaks, Isabelle Glacier (12,025′) and several nearby streams that make possible a brilliant wildflower display.

The trail splits at the lake’s east end for Pawnee Pass, beginning a moderately steep climb through the upper-reaches of the subalpine. Aerial views of Lake Isabelle and a network of tumbling tributaries accompany you on this notably more challenging section. Take note of pronounced ecological changes on the rapid transition through and above treeline.

The trail flattens considerably, if only briefly, once above treeline on a broad tundra bench overlooking the Lake Isabelle valley. This welcomed reprieve yields excellent views of several nearby peaks, and an opportunity to closely examine unique tundra ecology while observing the marmot, pika and ptarmigan that subsist on it.

The trail soon begins a steep, methodical climb up a south-facing ridge over lengthy switchbacks. On the return you’ll appreciate looking down at the exaggerated zig-zag route this trail takes up the ridge.

The strenuous climb meets the ridgeline (4.45 miles) and spills into a flat, expansive tundra saddle tucked neatly between Shoshoni (12,967′) and Pawnee (12,943′) peaks. An easy jaunt leads to a large sign identifying Pawnee Pass and the Continental Divide (4.6 miles : 12,541′).

From here well-worn social trails branch off and lead up the respective summits; continuing west for a short time yields sweeping views down the western slope of the Divide, and a glimpse of Pawnee Lake.

[Show as slideshow]

Taken at

For Labor day I went hiking and camping near Breckenridge.

View Larger Map

Early the next morning we joined up with three other folks and climbed into a decrepit old Land Rover with a driver who spoke next to no English. Luckily, one of our group was a beautiful Argentinian named Karina who was fantastic in providing a running translation of what the driver was saying.

We headed out thru more desert territory stopping at several different formations. One of my favorites looked exactly like pac-man from the 1980s video game days. Eventually we headed out of the desert towards a series of colored lakes. The “roads” out that way were awful, but there isn’t really any reason for folks to go out there unless they are tourists. The first lake we stopped at was called Lago Verde (Green Lake), and it was our first sight of the hundreds of flamingos we’d see over the next couple of days.

After the first lake we had another couple of hours of driving, gaining altitude all the while. Eventually we stopped at a geyser basin that had active steam vents, bubbling mud, and the constant smell of rotten eggs. The air was thin and cold (we were at about 15000 feet), and while there was a little hot stream we could have gone swimming in, no one really felt like braving the cold enough to get wet.

We stopped for the night at a ratty hotel where our driver fixed us a traditional Bolivian meal of spaghetti and tomato sauce. That evening we went hiking around Lago Colorado (Red Lake) where we got even more photos of flamingos, and then retired for a fairly sleepless night due to the altitude.

The next morning we headed out again towards what would be the highlight of the trip…the Salar de Uyuni. This is an area in southwestern Bolivia that was covered by a vast inland sea about 30,000 years ago. When the water evaporated, it left the salt flats in an area of about 12,000 square kilometers with salt deposits of up to 24 feet thick. The salt naturally dries into hexagonal plates about five feet across, and the flats extend out as far as the eye can see. We drove over them for hours, stopping occasionally to get out and take photos. Eventually we came to an island of land in the middle of the salt desert called Isla Pescado (Fish Island). We got out of the jeeps for lunch and went hiking around the island to its highest point where the views in every direction were stunning. The island is full of huge cactus and volcanic rocks and caves that are just a blast to wander around.

Eventually we headed to our destination of the evening, which was a hotel built completely out of salt blocks. Except for a few pieces of wood used for trim, everything in the building, including the furniture was made of salt. Even though I knew what it was made out of, I still had to lick the walls a couple of times to prove to myself that it was really pure salt.

The next day we headed towards the town of Uyuni, and as we approached the edge of the salt sea, we came across salt miners chipping blocks out of the surface and grinding the salt down into pieces that could be loaded into trucks for processing into ordinary table salt. Here we also came across places where underground water would seep up to the surface in brownish pools that the locals called the eyes of salt. If you stuck your arm in one of these pools, it would be covered with salt crystals as the water evaporated.

Six days on Easter Island (or Isla de Pascua as the Chileans call it) is just not really enough time to fully appreciate everything that there is to see in this magical place. I gave it my best shot though, and I really think this is one of the most special places I’ve ever been to. I’d known about this place from countless National Geographic articles, and even a bunch of Far Side cartoons, but I had always assumed that getting here would be outrageously expensive. Luckily some friends and I found a great deal on the LanChile web site that got us here from Santiago for only $378.00! The trick was to only look for tickets on the Spanish language site; if you searched on the English language page, the cheapest flight advertised there was nearly $800.00!

We were met at the airport by the lady who owned our hotel with gorgeous leis that she draped around our neck. She drove us down to where we were staying, and frankly I was stunned at our proximity to the ocean. The property was right above the beach, and although the rooms were a bit spartan, the atmosphere more than made up for it (especially for $20.00 per night!).

After we got set up in our hotel, we set out to explore the town of Hanga Roa. We went and talked to the local dive operators, and found out that there was definitely some worthwhile things to see under the surface. We also got our first glimpse of one of the giant statues (called Moai in the local language) standing on a platform near the local beach. That evening we witnessed one of the spectacular sunsets we’d get very familiar with while eating one of the best pieces of tuna I’ve ever had the pleasure of trying.

The next day we got up early to take a guided tour of the island’s major archaeological sites. We started out at a few coastal ahus (rock platforms) where there were great sea views, and a few statues that had been toppled over. Actually, all the statues on the island that were erected at one time had been toppled by either inter-clan warfare, or tsunamis. There was apparently one tsunami back in the 1960s that tossed 30 ton stones backwards several hundred feet! Anyway, looking at these fallen statues was impressive, but you really got a feeling of waste, like something really significant had happened there, but had since been destroyed and nearly forgotten.

After we saw a few of these sites, we moved on to the really exciting stuff. The first really impressive site was called Ahu Tongariki which was fairly near the quarry where all the statues were extracted from. This was a huge platform with 15 moai standing erect. They had all been knocked down by the tsunami in the 60s, and had laid on the ground like all the others until sometime in the mid eighties when a Japanese crane company offered to fix the site in exchange for a little free publicity. One of the strange things about this site is that only one of the statues is wearing it’s topknot style hat. Apparently there was a disagreement between the locals and the archaeologists who were in charge of the restoration about whether these particular statues had ever had the topknots. One night, the locals decided to hijack one of the cranes and lifted one of the 30 ton topknots up to the top, and the archaeologists decided to leave it rather than risk damage taking it down!

After Tongariki, we headed over to the quarry where all the statues were born. This is probably the most spectacular place on the island, and more than that, it’s probably one of the most spectacular places in the world. Everywhere you look, you see statues in various stages of completion. Some are buried in the ground up to their necks for the final details, some are just rough shapes in the rock, and there is even one that is nearly finished but still attached to the bedrock where it was born. I could spend hours wandering around here just looking at all the different statues, checking out all the fine details and just imagining what this was like during the height of production.

Finally we ended our day over at the main beach. There are a few more statues that have been restored, with the most notable being one standing by itself that Thor Heyerdahl raised with the help of a few islanders using no technology in the 1970s.< The next few days were spent doing a combination of diving and relaxing in the sun. The diving wasn’t the best I’d ever done, but it was great to be back in the water. There were lots of turtles, pufferfish and parrotfish, and a few corrals, but for the most part the waters were a bit too chilly for the kind of spectacular reefs that I’ve seen in other places. One of the fun things that we saw on the first dive was a miniature statue that someone had built out of fiberglass and placed on the ocean floor. The divemaster didn’t tell us about it before the dive, and it was pretty surprising to come around a corral head and suddenly see it. Apparently there is a real moai somewhere on the ocean floor, but no one knows exactly where it is. The story goes that the Chilean navy was going to transport the statue to a museum on the mainland, but the ropes broke and it fell into the ocean. There have been a few half-hearted attempts to locate it, but I get the feeling that the navy really has other priorities to look into.

The last day two days on the island were actually some of my favorites. James and I took off one morning for some serious hiking around the island. We had a couple of destinations in mind, but nothing too specific. I’d heard about some lava tubes that were supposed to have spectacular views, and we decided to go look for those. When we finally found them I was blown away! There was one tube called “dos ventanas” (Spanish for two windows) that started out as a barely noticeable hole in the ground. We followed it down this tiny cave until it suddenly turned into a pretty good sized underground room with two passages leading out. There was light coming from the two passages, and when we followed them to the end, it turned out that they both ended up as lookouts on the cliff face, with an amazing view of the infinite ocean as far as we could see. After enjoying that for a while, we kept hiking around finding more and more caves, and finally ended up at Ahu Riki, which are the only inland moai that actually face the ocean.

The strangest thing that I think I experienced there was actually on the plane ride back to Santiago. I was sitting in the row ahead of this really large and loud woman who was actually complaining about how she’d wasted three whole days on the island. She kept complaining that one day was enough to see a bunch of stupid statues, and she couldn’t believe that she’d paid the money to come out here. I was stunned to hear this, but it’s just another example of the “ugly American” stereotype of travelers that I try really hard to disprove. I’ve heard that only 15% of Americans actually have passports, and people like this really make me wish it was fewer!

The past week in southern Chile and Argentina have been nothing short of amazing. Before I’d come down here, I was expecting the weather to be marginal at best. Patagonia is known for it’s unpredectiable and constantly changing conditions, but I did’t expect unpredictable to include nothing but blue skies, and perfect temperatures without a single raindrop! We’d talked to friends who had done this area in previous years, and they spent days waiting for a break in the clouds to photograph some of the moutains. We never had to wait for more than 10 minutes for a perfectly clear view!

After getting off the ice, a group of seven of us rented a couple of jeeps and headed down the road to Torres del Paine national park. The roads were a mixture of both dirt and tarmac, both of which were in pretty good condition. We were making pretty good time, except for the wildlife along the road. There were all sorts of new birds that we hadn’t seen before including some amazing hawks perched on fences on the side of the road, and some wild niandus, which were what we’d call rheas in English. They were wild, and we’d see them in groups of two or three wandering around the landscape grazing on the grasses. By far though, the best animal we saw were the guanacos. These are fairly shy llama looking animals that we’d see at all times of the day, but the biggest herds by far were out in the early mornings.

When we got to the park, we split off into a couple of different groups I’d have loved to have done the most popular trek which was a four or five day hike around the highlights of the park. We were on a pretty tight schedule though, so I had to be content with just doing the best trail in the park which was the 11.2 mile trek up to the towers lookout. The hike wasn’t that bad, but for legs that hadn’t been doing any distance hikes for a while it was tough going in parts. It started out with a steep uphill leg for about an hour, and then smoothed out for the next 45 minutes to a refugio and rest stop. The group caught up with each other here, and then we headed out again. The next couple of hours were really nice with great views of the towers and some glacial lakes. Eventually the trail steepened up and we had to clamber up a rocky area for the last half hour. This was probably the hardest section, but when I got to the top the view was simply amazing! The three granite towers that the park is named after were right in front of us, separated only by a deep glacial lake colored the most amazing shade of green. Everyone from our group, and we spent about three hours up there eating lunch and enjoying the view. The downhill trek wasn’t bad, but our legs were getting pretty rubbery by the end of the steep downhills.

After sleeping like the dead we decided to give our legs a break and work out our arms on a two day kayak trip on the Serrano river. (more details later)

We stopped overnight at a town called El Calafete to see the Puerto Mereno glacier. This particular piece of ice is one of the most spectacular things I’ve ever seen. The face of the glacier stretched nearly three kilometers, and is one of the few glaciers in the world still advancing. It’s moving forward at a rate of about seven centimeters a day which is like an Indy car for a glacier! The whole thing is constantly creaking and groaning, and it is always dropping small pieces of ice in the lakes on either side of it. Every once in a while a house sized piece of ice would break off and drop into the lakes with a huge roar, causing massive waves to spread down on the lake. The glacier was so big that it was hard to really get a true feeling for its size until we spotted a tour boat cruising around by the base on the lake. The boats looked so insignificant that it was hard to believe that there were people inside!

Our final destination was the northern side of Los Glacerios park near the town of El Chalten. We spent a couple of days hiking around here to see some of the most difficult rock climbing in the world. The first day was a fairly easy 12 mile hike to see the Fitz Roy formations, and then the next day we took horses out on a six hour trek to see a formation called Cerro Torre. The pain in my legs from the first day of hiking was nothing compared to the pain in my butt from the horses on the second day!

After a slight mishap with the vehicles on the way back, we finally arrived back in Puenta Arenas, and had one last dinner together before some of our group headed for home. There are still five of us left, and we’ll be heading to Easter Island. It’ll be great!

Antarctic history is full of tales of heroic responses to medical emergencies ranging from the spectacular 1977 incident at a Soviet base where the doctor was forced to remove his own appendix, to the over-publicized case in 1999 where the South Pole doctor was rescued an entire week before the station was scheduled to open anyway. I’ve even played a very small role in a mid-winter knee surgery during my 2002 season where we established a video link to an orthopedic surgeon in the US to guide our doctor thru the repair of a torn tendon. This entry is about the latest chapter in the history of international cooperation in the Antarctic leading to another successful medevac.

Despite the best efforts of the Antarctic program to screen it’s workers, it occasionally happens that there is a medical emergency that requires more resources that can be comfortably be provided on station. If this happens during a summer season at McMurdo or South Pole, the patient can normally be flown out within a couple of days at the most. During the winter, things get more complicated, forcing either highly dangerous medevac flights, or even more dangerous emergency surgery.

At Palmer station, things are a little different. We live in a relatively populated area of the continent, with neighboring bases as close as 50 miles away. During the summer season it’s not unusual to find all sorts of ships in the surrounding waters, from other nation’s resupply vessels, to tourist ships bringing down those fortunate enough to afford passage down here for a few days. In the spirit of international cooperation it is standard practice to provide emergency transportation if needed, and normally a person can be back in Chile or Argentina within four or five days. In addition, while Palmer doesn’t have a runway, the glacier above the station is flat enough in sections that as long as the winter snow cover hasn’t melted, a small plane on skis can safely land. The US doesn’t maintain any aircraft on this side of the continent, but the British Antarctic Survey has a fairly sizable air fleet at Rothera Base, some 200 miles south of us.

To start at the beginning of the story, one of the crew presented at the medical clinic with severe abdominal pain. The station physicians (we had two at the time because the summer and winter crews are in a transition period) determined that there was a probable case of appendicitis, and that the patient should be evacuated as soon as possible. It’s too early in the season for tour ships, and our own resupply vessel was still a good week away with one bad engine, which meant that the earliest the patient could be in Punta Arenas was two weeks from the onset of symptoms.

Station management consulted with the NSF back in the states who called the British to find out the status of their aircraft. During the winter season, the Brits base their planes in Chile, and we were fortunate to find out that they had recently brought a couple of planes down to the continent. They agreed to help out, and suddenly our base was crazy with preparations for their arrival. Everyone on station was involved in one way or another. The SAR team spent the morning deploying flags on the glacier to mark out a skiway, others packed up the patient’s belongings, monitored radios, made lunches for the pilots, and someone even made a spectacular get well poster for the patient to take with them that was signed by all members of the community.

The weather had been lousy all day, but satellite images showed that there would be about an hour of clear skies between two storm systems. The Brits decided to trust the imagery, and launched their plane while there was still bad weather at both of our bases. Amazingly, the weather behaved exactly as predicted, and with about 20 minutes before the plane was scheduled to arrive we had bright blue skies and hardly any wind. The patient was bundled up and loaded on the back of a sled to be pulled up the glacier by a snowmobile. Only essential personnel were allowed up on the glacier during flight operations, so the rest of us all scrambled to find the best vantage point to watch the plane arrive and depart.

When the Twin Otter approached station, it was unreal how slowly it was flying. Watching from the roof of the IMS building I was absolutely amazed at how short of a distance it needed to come to a stop. The pilots probably used more distance to taxi to their takeoff spot than they did for a landing roll. They shut down their engines, and the patient and the outgoing winter doctor were loaded aboard. We gave them box lunches, and a bunch of Palmer souvenirs as thanks, and about 10 minutes later they were airborne again.

The plane stopped once at an Argentine base on King George island to refuel, and then they continued on for another six hours until they reached Punta Arenas around midnight. Our support staff in PA had arranged for an ambulance to meet the plane and transport the patient to a local hospital. Twenty-four hours later the patient had received surgery and was well on the way to recovery. The last we heard, the patient and Kelvin the doc were enjoying the scenery in Patagonia, and are waiting for the rest of the winter crew to arrive sometime around the 6th when we are planning a road trip to several national parks in both Chile and Argentina.

I’ve just celebrated the absolute best birthday I’ve ever had in my life today! For the past three birthdays that I’ve spent on the ice, most of them have been kind of so-so just because it’s at the end of the normal season, and everyone is pretty burned out and concentrating on nothing more than how much they want to leave. Palmer however has a different schedule, and when the 13th rolled around, there was already a new summer crew that was fresh and full of energy. In addition, due to a mechanical problem on the resupply ship, about half the winter crew was still around to join in the festivities.

The tradition at Palmer is for people to get hit in the face with a meringue pie on their birthday…well, I was pretty much expecting that and I made it a big deal that who ever tried that was going to get it right back at them. Of course a statement like that wasn’t going to go unchallenged! After they brought out a cake and sang happy birthday, I found myself ducktaped to the chair I was sitting in…they started playing stripper music, and wheeled out a huge cardboard box decorated like a huge birthday present. Suddenly the top flew off, and our boating coordinator, Toby, jumped out in full drag dancing his way over to me to give me a lap dance. I’ll admit that I’ve been here for a while, but even a full year at pole couldn’t make that look attractive! Of course after he got down to just a set of pasties, the pies came out in full force. I think I got hit with about six of them from all different directions, and like I promised as soon as I got free of the duck tape I was chasing everyone around. When we finally finished, the galley was pretty much wrecked and it took almost an hour to clean it all up before we could move the party to the bar.

Once in the bar, there was the usual festivities…dancing, boozing, and eventually another Palmer tradition. Shot-a-minute isn’t as bad as I thought it would be at first….it’s just shots of beer, but doing 32 shots of beer in a little over a half hour really catches up with you pretty quickly! When you first start, it seems like forever between each shot, but after about 15, the minutes really start to fly by. It seems you’re just finishing swallowing the previous shot when it’s time to do the next one! Fortunately for my head, the next day was a work day so we all quit at a reasonable time. Whew!

While all the above makes for a great birthday, what made it even better was that I finally found out what I’m going to be doing with my life for the next few years. I’ve accepted a full time job with the Antarctic program as a Network Engineer in the Denver office. It’s mostly an office job, but there will be opportunities to go back to the ice every now and then. Besides the full time job, I’m also doing a quick cruise on one of the research vessels from December of 2005 to February of 2006. I’d thought I might have to sacrifice that cruise if I was needed quickly in the Denver office, but they’ve made arrangements to have someone cover the job untill I get back. As if that wasn’t good enough news, Raytheon is going to fly me to New Zealand direct from Santiago so that I won’t have to waste anytime going back to the states! This means that my schedule for the next few months is going to look something like this:

• Oct 29th (today) leave Palmer Station on the Lawrence M. Gould
• Nov 3rd: Arrive in Punta Arenas, Chile
• Nov 4-14: Road trip around southern Patagonia…basically south Chile and Argentina.
• Nov 15-21: Easter Island (the one with the big heads)
• Nov 22-Dec 10: Northern Chile, Bolivia and Peru including Macchu Picchu
• Dec 10-11: Fly to New Zealand
• Dec 12: Embark the Nathanial B. Palmer ship, and do work in port.
• Dec 18: Depart New Zealand and sail to McMurdo station doing lots of science on the way…this is going to be amazing!
• Feb 2-4: Disembark the Nathanial B. Palmer and fly from McMurdo to New Zealand
• Feb 5-6: Fly from New Zealand to Houston Feb 7-12: Move to Denver Feb 13: Start work in the real world.

Stay tuned..I don’t think I’ll be able to update a lot from the ship, but you never know! Look for lots of travel pictures coming up soon!

Photo by Cara Sucher

The recent arrival of the Lawrence M. Gould resupply ship marked the official end of the winter season, and the beginning of the end of my time down here. The ship arrived a day earlier than scheduled bringing down fresh veggies, supplies, and 20 new folks who are all so tan that they make the rest of us look like we’ve been living like troglodytes in an underground bunker for the past six months. The schedule had taken into consideration the normal amount of sea ice this time of the year, but as it’s been warmer than normal, there wasn’t nearly as much ice to break thru. Of course not as much doesn’t mean none, and it turns out that the majority of the ice they had to break was right around station. Watching the ship muscle its way thru the 8-10 inch ice sheet surrounding the immediate area was awesome. The captain just pushed the ship ahead at full speed, and it’s steel hull cleaved right thru the ice like a hot knife thru butter. We thought that he was going to squash a couple of crabeater seals that were hanging out on the ice, but luckily for them their survival instincts overpowered their curiosity.

Socially, it’s interesting to watch the integration between the summer and the remainder of the winter crews. This has really got to be the easiest transition I’ve ever seen on the ice. Most of the people who’ve arrived are old hands at this station, and those that are newbies are adjusting really quickly. Normally most of the winter crew would only stay for a couple of weeks at most, but due to mechanical problems with the ship, we’re going to have to stay until the end of October instead of the middle. This has screwed up a couple of people’s travel plans, but personally I’m thrilled. The wildlife is finally starting to come back in force, and the water has opened up enough to get out and go explore the islands again.

Last weekend was actually one of the best boating weekends I can remember down here. I probably spent about six hours out on the water driving all over the place, taking pictures of the animals, and just enjoying the feeling of being off station for a while. The water was the absolutely clearest that I’ve ever seen…when we wandered over to the shipwreck of the Bahia Paradiso we were actually able to see the entire ship sitting on the bottom, and get a real feel for how huge it was before it sank. We also saw a huge elephant seal sitting on some rocks near shore that we had to get a photo of. I’d never realized how big these guys were up close, and how mobile they really are. Apparently later in the season it’s not unusual to come across two big bulls fighting over rights to have their own harem.

Unfortunately there hasn’t been that much boating since that first day. Since last Monday, the weather has been the worst I’ve ever seen down here. It’s been nearly five straight days of winds averaging around 30 knots, gusting to about 45. We even had one hurricane force gust yesterday of 75 miles per hour! This morning the winds have died down a bit, and we’re optimistic that this Sunday will turn out to be pleasant for going outside.

Stay tuned for at least a couple of updates from down here before I leave, and then look for some photos of my travels on my way back home from both Argentina and Easter Island!

Last Friday after dinner I decided to take a walk up the glacier to see if there was any open water to be spotted in the area. It was supposed to be close to a full moon, and I thought that there might be some interesting lighting conditions to use to take some photos of the station. I’d gotten distracted by some work stuff so by the time I got geared up it was already getting pretty dark. I was listening to the final couple of chapters of the new Harry Potter audio book on my mp3 player, and wasn’t really paying a lot of attention to the stuff around me. Up ahead on the trail was a big dark shape, and since it had been windy the past few days I figured a trash bag had somehow escaped and gotten away from station. I was going to put a rock on it to hold it in place till I got back down when it suddenly started growling and lunging at me. It turned out that it was a HUGE Weddell seal that looked like it was just in the beginning of labor.

Apparently it’s fairly common this time of the year for Hero inlet to become a nursery for Weddell seals, but to have one come this far inland was very unusual. I followed her tracks back to the sea ice and found two more Weddell seals on the other side of the harbor. They were all looking pretty miserable, and kept making these noises that sounded like something between a growl, a moan, and a howl. One would do it, and then the other two would reply. It was kind of like they were all in some seal Lamaze class, encouraging each other to breathe!

By this time, it was pretty dark, so I headed back to station to tell the others what I’d found. The next morning, I was out there as soon as possible. The seal on land was still there, looking even more miserable than before. She was getting very defensive about her territory, growling and lunging as soon as I entered her personal zone of safety. I quickly backed off, and left her alone to her labors. One of the other seals on the sea ice had apparently given birth during the night, but unfortunately for me she was on the other side of the inlet, and I didn’t have time to hike up the glacier just then.

Later on after work, I wandered back out to see what was going on. The new mother was looking pretty tired and unhappy. We’ve got these birds around called Antarctic Sheath-bills that are the worst opportunistic scavengers you’ll ever see. Normally they hang out around our sewer outfall taking advantage of our leftovers, but now they were harassing the new mom, trying to pick off all the afterbirth from both her and her newborn. I climbed the glacier to get over to their side of Hero inlet, and managed to get some decent photos of mom and baby. The infant was asleep, and facing the wrong way, so unfortunately these aren’t my best shots. On the way back to station I stopped by the original seal one more time to check on her, and noticed that she seemed even more miserable than before.

Sunday afternoon I finally got around to wandering out to see her again, and it turned out that sometime in the last 18 hours she’d given birth. Mom and the newborn were looking happy and healthy. I couldn’t believe the size of the infant…no wonder the mom looked so miserable! Both of them were extremely active, playing with each other, and fighting off the sheath-bills. This youngster still had the umbilical cord attached, and every so often Mom would nibble at it to see if she couldn’t get it off. I hung around and watched them playing for an hour so before heading back home to see how the pictures came out.

We’ve reached that time of the year where the weather becomes pretty much unpredictable, and as a result we’ve experienced some of the wildest swings I’ve ever seen. We started out August with a pretty heavy cover of pack ice out in the harbor, and clear skies that led to some amazingly pink sunrises. Pack ice is cool to watch because it’s so surreal…a lot of time it’s really just ice chunks floating in water that hasn’t developed it’s own solid surface yet. The ice moves en masse as the tides rise and fall, and wind will blow the bigger chunks around in a kind of aquatic ballet.

After a few days of watching the pack form tighter and tighter, the weather changed completely, and we had a few solid days of warm (around 30 degree) temperatures, and tremendous winds. Our top gust this month was around 65 knots, and we had about four solid days where the wind never dropped below 30 knots. Of course all this wind is bad for the ice pack, and we actually had a really nice warm evening with no ice right off of the pier. Now, what does one do when it’s the middle of August in Antarctica, and there is a bunch of open water? Well, you do a polar plunge and go swimming of course! Yeah, it sounds dumb, and it probably isn’t good for the cardiac system, but there’s just something invigorating about hurling yourself into below freezing water and swimming around for a few minutes (ok, seconds) and then heading for the hot tub.

Twenty-four hours later, and the temperatures were heading back down again. Three or four days of 20 degree weather with not much wind was just right to set up a nice smooth layer of ice on the ocean’s surface. If you hike up the glacier now and look out over the ocean, it’s just solid ice as far as you can see. It’s really cool, but hopefully it’ll go away in less than a month so that the ship can come back and bring us salad!

Besides the arrival of the summer crew, the upcoming month of September is usually known for the return of the local wildlife. While there have always been a few gulls and sheath-bills around, we haven’t seen any seals for at least six weeks, and no penguins have been spotted for at least four months. Well, all that started to change this month. We saw a lone seal sitting out on an ice floe just before the sea froze over completely a couple of weeks ago, and last Sunday on the coldest day of the season we got our first bunch of penguins walking toward the station. We’re not really sure where they came from, but at about 10:00 am Sunday someone radioed that there were penguins on the ice. Everyone ran out to check it out, and sure enough, there were 18 gentoo penguins marching around the point, and heading up to Hero inlet. I grabbed my camera and headed out to see what kind of photos I could get. The light was lousy…completely flat with no contrast, but out of the 100 or so shots I took, I’m very happy with about five or six of them. We haven’t seen any more since then, but we’re expecting the mass migration to Torgeson island anytime now.

After the 4th of July, there’s really not a good holiday to celebrate for a good long time, so we decided that it would be appropriate to celebrate Christmas this month. Several of the folks on station took it upon themselves to dig thru some of the storage units, and finally came up with a bunch of holiday decorations, and even a tree that they set up in the Galley. All week it was a little bit surreal with holiday music playing during meals, and Christmas lights flashing around. I suppose it’s pretty appropriate, as the temperatures have been dropping, and it’s gotten stormier outside. Its actually kind of cool to have the fireplace going in one corner, and the tree blinking in the other.

Saturday night was the date that we’d set for the party, and it went great. Everyone dressed up, and we set up all the tables in a banquet style with tablecloths and candles for atmosphere. The meal was fantastic, and you couldn’t ask for a better group of people to hang out with. After dinner we cleaned up, and then it was time for the gift exchange. I volunteered to act as Santa for the evening, so I got to get lots of pictures with just about everyone on station sitting on my lap…that’s great when the ladies are there, but not so much fun when a big burly construction guy plops down!

Anyway, after getting my lap flattened by everyone on station, I really needed a shot or two to recover. Did you know that it’s nearly impossible to do a shot while wearing a Santa beard? It’s not easy so I ended up having to drink the Bushmill’s straight out of the bottle thru a straw…effective, but not recommended for your quality of life the following day.

Most of the presents given were of the handmade or alcohol variety from the store. I ended up with a bottle of wine with a dragonfly made out of knots in rope…pretty spiffy. I used our plotter to print out a 6 foot by 3 foot panoramic poster of the Neumeyer channel which we passed thru on our way down here. I was pretty happy with the way it turned out, and it ended up going to our power plant guy…perfect for him since it’s his first time on the ice, and now he’ll have a huge souvenir to show his family.

During a brief period of nice weather last weekend, four of us on the station decided to go over to the bottom of the local glacier and do some ice climbing. Two of us including myself, were first time climbers and personally I wasn’t sure what to expect. I’d done a bit of rock climbing before in my life, and wasn’t a big fan of it. I never got into the shoes that were supposed to be too tight, and the jamming your fingers into tiny cracks so that you can support your body weight with them. Luckily, ice climbing turned out to be an absolute blast, and had only a superficial relationship to climbing on rock.

The week or so before we went out it had been snowing pretty constantly, so we had to traipse out through hip deep snow to get out to the ice face. Ted and James set up the safety ropes at the top of the glacier and then rappelled down to where Joe and I were waiting to get started. Gearing up was pretty easy. We all had harnesses and boots with crampons, so all I had to do was just tie into the rope, grab the two ice axes, and walk over to the glacier.

Looking up at the huge vertical wall of ice in front of me I kicked my boot into the ice at the base. It took me a few tries to get the hang of the technique…if you don’t kick in hard enough or at the right angle, you’ll just blow right off of the ice face. Once I got the hang of it, I was surprised at how easy it became. Next I picked a target on the ice above me and aimed one of the axes at that spot. My first few swings were perfect…if I had been trying to chip ice for a drink. For actually sticking into the glacier, they didn’t really do much. After a few more experimental swings I finally got into a rhythm and started heading on up. I noticed pretty quickly that my calves were the muscles that were taking most of the strain, and started enjoying the workout. Listening to the “chink” of the axes as they impacted the ice, and feeling the burn in my legs as I ascended was a fantastic experience. Before I realized it I was up at the top looking down at the guys below, and checking out the scenery all around us. After a couple of minutes I rappelled back down, doing pretty good until near the bottom when my crampons got caught up in my pants, and I tumbled down head over heels much to the amusement of the guys with me.

We’d all done about three or four ascents when the wind started blowing harder from the ocean. We figured it was just a freak gust and ignore it for about another 20 minutes. It quickly became pretty apparent that this wasn’t just a little gust, but that a full storm was on the way. We broke down the climbing equipment, and started to head back. By the time James got everything unbolted from the top, the winds were howling at around 30 miles an hour, gusting up to 40. Heading back was absolutely miserable! It was like swimming through cotton candy, if cotton candy was cold and coarse enough to sting your eyes when you looked up. It took about half an hour to hike a quarter of a mile back to station, and another hour to get warm and dry again. I don’t think I’ve ever enjoyed the fireplace in the galley as much as I did when we finally got inside!