Category Archives: Life Down Under


I made it back home safe and sound. I’m in Seattle now where the temperature is 57 degrees F and the skies are mostly sunny (well, the clouds are rolling in as I type). It rained on me the other day and I liked it. A lot. It’s awesome to be here.

I was met on Thursday at the airport by my amazing wife to be Alexis and the reunion was obviously a very happy one. As I watched her drive up to the curb, I was jumping up and down. That night, after a proper in-bed reunion, we went out for dinner to my favorite Thai restaurant (Thai Toms for those keeping track) and then slept for 12 hours (the flight from Auckland was long and I couldn’t sleep). The rest of the weekend was a lot of slacking about, sleeping and in and being welcomed home. Saturday night, Lex and my best friend Dayna threw me a surprise party at Penny and Bradley’s house. It was really nice to have all my closest friends gathered in one place for me so I could say hello to them all. It made me wonder why I had ever left.

Each morning now I wake up next to the woman I love and know that I am more than happy to be here as opposed to there. The South Pole was an amazing experience and I am going to be forever grateful that I had it, but to be honest as possible, I am glad it’s over. My life is meant to be lived in a place that I can leave whenever I want and which gives me plenty of options for things to do. I needed what Pole gave me, but I got it and now I’ll use it here thank you very much.

I’ll be getting some pictures up on my site here soon enough, but for all intents and purposes, this blog is done. I am not though and I hope that the readers I picked up as a result of this adventure will stay around and keep up on what I am doing. After all, in the next few months I am getting married. That should be as adventerous as the south pole, at least. right?

So please, keep an eye on which is being turned into a portal into my life, complete with blog and pictures. And remember to say hi from time to time!

Thanks for reading and thank you for all your comments and words of encouragement during my dark times at Pole. I couldn’t have made it through without writing all this down and I doubt I would have written it if someone hadn’t been there to read it.


Where was I?

I’ve made it. I’m free of the ice and loving every second of it. Since getting in on Monday night, my senses have been alive and electric. Simply walking between the main airport terminal and the CDC where we had to drop off our cold-weather clothes, I smelled more different and unique smells than I have ever at one time. For a moment, I think I was able to notice four seperate aromas at once. Even two days later, all food was still a riot of taste and the air was thick with sensation thanks to the humidity that blessedly exists here in abundance.

In short, I am thrilled to be here, free and wrapped in sensations touching all five of my senses.

After staying in CHC for a week, aside from the above, I’ve noticed a few things about this whole experience now that what it is adding to my life has changed, finally.

First of all is the weather. From my perspective here in CHC where it is sunny and 75 today, the weather was fucking terrible at Pole. Being in a humid environment again, I can’t believe I let my body be subjected to the torment of extreme cold, hard wind and dry, dry air for as long as I did. I mean, what was I thinking when I told myself that -10 and sunny was a good day? It wasn’t. It was cold. Very cold. And it was always dry. You don’t know the wonders of humidty until you’ve been forced to live without it.

Then there was the work. I worked 10 hours a day, 6 days a week and I worked hard. I carried 90 pound boxes of beef on a regular basis. I delivered 7000 pounds of food a week and then some to the station. I made sure that 250 people had the food they needed for four months. But of course, the real work came in my head.

With almost all external input removed from view, life at the South Pole became very internal for me. Sure there was outside input but so much of what really took place and will provide a lasting affect for me took place inside of me. I think a large part of that was self-inflicted because it was a requirement for survival at the South Pole. For the most part, we were all living as very seperate human beings, trying our hardest not to become too entangled with other people or the drama in their lives. Sure, there were those who went south looking for a party or a lot of hook ups, but the vast majority of folks, I think, were there to get away from that kind of thing. Many were running from something, or, like me, running into ourselves and that left us unwilling to really connect with most of the people there. It was such a common experience that it was remarked upon with regularity how rare it was to have a substantive conversation with anyone at Pole.

Why? Because when a few people (relatively speaking) are thrown together and forced to live and work in close quarters for four months drama will inevitably ensue amongst those looking for entanglements and hook ups. Things like that, while entertaing to watch from afar, only really suck one’s energy and attention. With so little time to be there, and so much to do — work wise and personally — anything drawing my attention away from the matters at hand was just not worth the effort. Let a person in and there’s an unspoken commitment there to keep them in (barring, of course, unforseen fall outs and whatnot). And for four months, what’s the freaking point unless you find someone really worth it? I ended up at the South Pole alone, for a reason. I needed to be seperate, not together, to prove some serious shit to myself and this was the best way I could find to do it. Letting all those people I really did like so much in, would have simply found me leading a life similar to the one I lead at home. And I needed a change from that for a bit, obviously.

Now that I’m off the ice, being alone is still all I can handle. I had lunch with Will and Laura from the kitchen the other day, and that was fine. Yesterday I went to the beach with Chris and Nicole (two people who I am and was willing to let in to my life at Pole and beyond). But usually, after hanging out with someone for awhile, I have to go off on my own and bury my head in a book.

This is a different kind of detachment though. This need to completely pull away from all these Ice people, who seem for the most part to traipse from bar to bar together, is a simple need for space. Four months we spent together, living at the bottom of the world and the only outlet for privacy any of us had was a room that was 6 feet by 8 feet with curtains for walls between you and the next room. I guess I just don’t understand the need to stay tied to people for as long as possible when, in less than a week for most of us, we’ll be flung about the world away from each other anyway.

After a week now, the visceral impact of that experience is starting to fade a bit. I’m less often awed by the warm sun and good food, less often shocked at how good it feels here and how bad, physically, it felt there. I still sleep a lot and the most-lasting physical affect is still water. I can’t stay in the shower for any less than 15 minutes and I am truely ecstatic to be getting on a boat in two days to scuba dive on the Great Barrier Reef for a week where I can jump in the warm ocean anytime I want.

In short, I already don’t think of being at Pole as often as I did when I first got off the ice anymore. Though when the wind blows and my skin doesn’t begin to burn almost instantly, I do. Sometimes, when I eat a piece of fresh fruit or simply sit down and have someone bring me food, I am thankful to be away from that place. Of course, food does still taste amazing and every time I eat I am reminded of my time at the end of the world.

The biggest symptom of being at Pole that I still experience is not being able to stay anywhere for very long. At Pole, there was nowhere to go ever so you were always in one place for a long time no matter what. I’m done with that sensation for a bit to be sure. Here, I can — and I do — flit from my room to the bank to lunch to flip-flop shopping to my room (when all the people and cars and flowers and smells and sounds gets to be too much out there in the world and the only thing I can’t get too much of is the humidity in the air) to the airport to flip-flop shopping again to coffee to nowhere in particular and (most wonderfully) to bed early and often where, at last, I can sleep as long and as often as I want.

But there is this image stuck in my mind of Pole that I think will never leave me and it’s what I went there to get.

I’m standing on the flight deck and the wind is whipping. Behind me are all sorts of people waiting for the plane and saying goodbye to each other, but for a second, I’m facing the plane and I am alone. The runway runs off to my right and the “Pax Terminal” (a fancy name for a heated plywood box) is on my left. The wind feels like it is coming across the runway which rarely actually happens, but that’s how I remember it. All around me is white. A white hot glare glows low in the sky and is always where my eye wants to fall naturally. When I look down at the ground, all is white, a brilliant white, sharp and intense. It shoots sparks of sky blue and wheat yellow like the wheat in Van Gogh’s wheat fields into my eyes every time they move and it burns like the wind which also stings when it gusts.

I know, in that brilliant white sun is where I want to be because it is in the sky and the sky will take me back to a place that changes. I am only moments from getting on the plane which is extremely loud and combined with the strength of the wind (the noise it makes can’t be heard over the racket of the plane), it is very hard to hear all the goodbyes.

I hear one though.

“Don’t lose us!”
“Don’t LOSE us!”
“I won’t! I Promise!”

Lynette meant her and her husband Jason and at the time, I knew that. But in my mind’s eye, she meant that place, and its experiences of intense lonliness and solitude. She meant that extreme weather which I would never miss and never see again. She meant that white burn always hanging in the sky which provided and drew away my energy over four months of hell and joy, lonliness and indpenedance, freedom and slavery. She meant the various versions of me that I met in my head during that time and the possibilities that each one presents back to myself. She meant the freedom I found I liked, the opportunities that being alone offered and the strength to be myself I’ve always had, but never used. She meant Pole.


So, that’s Pole I guess. I have a week in front of me on a diving boat on the Great Barrier Reef and a ton of pictures to collate into a slide show (or three). I’ll certainly post tales of diving and those pictures here for your enjoyment so don’t tune out just yet.

Probably no audience left

I know I know, it has been all too long since I wrote. But you have to understand, time here is short and there is no motivation left to do anything anymore. I leave on Monday, the temperature has plummeted and satellite times are miniscule for me now since it sets an hour after I start work and comes up just before bed time. So it’s not because I don’t love you, it’s just that there’s not that much to say.

The end of the season is a long part of this experience. It’s been dragging on since first flight which was on Jan. 24. When the first wave of friends left us, we all lost focus and decided that being here any longer was stupid. Of course, at that point, there was 10 days till the next big wave of us left so moods plummeted, alcohol consumpiton went way up and organized activities dissapeared. It didn’t help at all that at that time, when many of us started planning travels in earnest, that the company decided to finally tell us that though they advertised no-fee travel to places like Australia and Hawaii after we got off the ice, a small subset of us wouldn’t get that perk because they bought us tickets with restrictions that made changing tickets cost a lot more. Oh, and though Raytheon didn’t read the fine print on the tickets and DID advertise the prices to us, we’d be responsible for the extra costs.

Needless to say I spent a week fighting with the office in Denver where they live in a little bubble with no conception of how little we make and the fact that the reason we are all here is travel, not devotion to them. It was a fruitless battle though and since I already had paid for the dive vacation in Australia, I have been forced to pay twice what I expected to get there. good thing I got a good deal on the dive package.

Anyway, now it’s on to New Zealand on Monday where it is 100 degrees warmer than it is here and raining. God that sounds nice to me. Actual moisture in the air and on my skin. My plan is to spend a week in Christchurch taking long showers that I don’t shut off in the middle (we only get two two-minute showers here a week) walking in the botanical gardens smelling things (no moisture means no smells in the air here) and having a choice of what I eat and where I eat it. From there I will fly to Cairns, Australia where I get on a boat and scuba dive on the Great Barrier Reef for a week. Then back to CHC for two days and then I fly home on March 1 to start planning a wedding in earnest. I can’t wait for all of it.

But I have to and so do you. I doubt I’ll post again before I leave. Between work (which is busy at the end of the week, thank god) and packing and short satellite windows, it just won’t happen. But I’ll take pictures on the planes on the way out and write of life from warm, wet New Zealand when I get there. Until then, thanks for staying with me and wish me luck for the next few days. I need all the encouragement I can get to keep me from just giving up on work and watching movies till Monday.

Stormy Weather

Storm There was a huge storm here a couple of weeks ago. It was literally the first time all season that we had a full-blown storm. Prior to this, we were living under constantly blue, sunny skies and I do mean constant. I think there had been one or two days with clouds and of course, with 24 hours of sunlight, you notice things like that. Suffice it to say, having a storm that gave us all reason to hole up in the station was a nice change. In a way, it was comforting in that I-want-to-curl-up-and-read-a-book way.

The storm itself was long lasting (two and half days) and really intense. According to Katie, who has been here before and thanks to her sweet disposition, seems to know everyone, it was the worst storm that the Area Director has ever seen at the South Pole in the summer.

The storm started on Friday afternoon with the skies clouded over and the wind picked up. When I woke up on Saturday morning, snow was blowing all over the place and there seemed to be a haze around the station building when I looked at it from my Jamesway. When I went to bed that night, wind chill was down to -45 F, wind speeds were up around 25 knots and the air was thick and stinging thanks to blowing ice crystals. Walking outside with any piece of your body uncovered was inadvisable for more than the 10 seconds it takes to run from the door of the Jamesway to the bathroom. Otherwise, the stinging of the ice would be outweighed only by the much-longer-lasting pain of frostbite that would form almost instantly.

Sunday morning (and indeed, most of Sunday) was the capper though. When I walked out to make a phone call, I was almost knocked over by the blowing wind. The storm interrupted phone service enough to make calls close to inaudible and snow was blown and tracked into every entryway on station. Walking to the main building across the 1/4 mile or so of open space was an adventure in and of itself. Head down, body hunched was the only way to do it. Now, from my Jamesway, the building was barely visible and when I made it to the halfway point (the cargo office) it was still clouded in blowing snow and ice so much so that it’s edges seemed to melt into the sky around it. I actually had to wear my wind pants to cut the affects of the gales across my body. It was the first time I had even thought of wearing them since getting to the ice.
Monday morning the sun was shining again, everything was covered in drifts and fresh powder was all over the place. I had to spend an hour cleaning it all off the deck so we could put away the food being delivered. There were also a ton of snowmobile accidents all over the place as inexperienced drivers hit the drifts and went end over end into the snow. Good thing it was soft and fluffy. The interesting thing is that after a storm where sustained wind speeds hit 30 knots per hour and there was 6 inches of fresh snow all over the place, it never actually snowed. Remember, the South Pole is a big, cold desert. It’s one of the driest places on Earth and on average, we get 9 inches a year. All the accumulation was thanks to drift and nothing else.

Here are a couple of videos of the storm. This was taken on Saturday, when I thought it was bad. This on Sunday, when it really was. This one was taken minutes later from the halfway point between the station and the Jamesway. Notice how little the view of the station has changed. Finally is this one, taken the day after. It’s actual melting ice at the South Pole with dripping water outside. The deck where I store food is exposed to sun all day long and protected from the prevailing winds, so it actually warms up. It’s not really a storm video, but to see dripping water is pretty exciting at this point.

Nothing to cry over

We had a great surprise in the galley the other day.

Freshies, as you know by now if you’ve been reading this blog, are a hot commodity at Pole. In a place with temperatures that never (at least this year) rise above 0 F and a massive shortage of water, there is very little opportunity (or space for that matter) to grow fruits and vegetables. There is a small “Growth Chamber” where they have rows of lettuce and some small herb plants, but beyond that, there’s not much growing here (not to say it’s not a great operation. Last winter they had fresh lettuce everyday). So when we get fresh fruits and vegetables in (and other items that need to be refrigerated but can not be frozen such as fresh cream instead of powdered milk, good cheese instead of the crap American and Provolone that they do freeze and most importantly of all, eggs) the station’s population is happy. Bowls of fruit are placed on the food line and everyone grabs one or two pieces. Salads are tasty for a few days and breakfast is what I want it to be again (believe me, there’s a big difference between real eggs and pasteurized egg product in a bag).

Two days ago though, the galley staff was given a special treat though. For some reason that I was never able to get, the load masters on one of the planes brought in 10 bottles of real whole milk for us. Now, I know that at home that’s a lot of milk, but in a place where the kitchen feeds 250+ people four times a day, that’s nothing. That’s not even enough for a recipe let alone to share with the whole station. So when Carol told me that the Load Masters brought us milk, I knew that by us, she meant the galley staff.

So did the rest of the galley staff from the looks of things. At around 3 pm, once word got through the kitchen, everyone who was working gathered for a milk and chocolate brownie break and literally could not talk for a few minutes. I don’t usually drink real milk instead opting for soy milk because the real stuff makes my stomach feel a bit odd if I have too much, but I’m not stupid. Being almost three months into this experience, I am well aware of the value of being offered any real, unprocessed, non-canned, non-frozen foodstuff and wouldn’t even turn down fresh cauliflower at this point (as long as it’s cooked).

Suffice it to say, it was the best dam brownie and glass of milk I ever had. As you can see, when you’ve been at the South Pole for this long, it doesn’t take much to get us feeling good.


The Galley crew didn’t drink all the milk. We know the privlage we get of having first choice of freshies that come in and we try really hard not to abuse it (I do have to take the chance to grab a satsuma or mandarin if they come in) so with the extra milk, we put out a call to all the folks who are wintering to come by the galley and drop the appropriate code word. Those crazy folks need it more than we do. At this point, I’ll be off the ice in about 3 and half weeks and can have any dam thing I want. Those poor fuckers though are going to be stuck here till October at least (in most cases, they can’t leave till November some time) and will have nothing that isn’t already here by that point. If I could, I’d mail them freshies because, let me tell you, just this long without ready access to fresh fruit is hard enough.

(now you know one of the reasons I wouldn’t winter here)