Exposed To The (Human) Elements

10-16-10

I’ve heard of a study performed by computer programmers and technological scientists where in order to compete with the at-the-time super computers they networked the number of personal computers needed to equal the hypothesized performance and capabilities of the super computer.  The researchers were blown away upon realizing that the network of individuals was capable of astronomically more than the single “super” unit.  I believe I have begun to experience a similar phenomenon.   When problems here occur together, they form a stronger bond and affect you worse than the two (or more) would individually.



Mammoth Mountain Inn, my home for the next 6 months
with frozen ocean in view behind it.  Taken about midnight.



The human element is more distinguished in Antarctica than anywhere else I’ve ever seen.  Here, all the common factors that can derail an agenda exist.  If it can go wrong, it has a default system to handle it.  But when things go wrong, they gather in a matter where they’re more severely compounded.  In every pattern of duty, especially at work, we are expected to consider our human performance and limitations.  But even with self estimation do we deliver this human element even further.  The complete environment in which we live will become exponentially more difficult with each additional factor.



Simply, the nature of our environment cannot be replicated elsewhere.  Antarctica is the driest desert on earth.  There is no rain and limited snow, but mostly ice crystals which pass along this awful land.  The cold is an obvious factor, but with it comes more.  The temperature will restrict movement and make everything slower.  Everything.  From people walking in heavy gear, to vehicles more prone to malfunctioning… or even burning completely in a few cases each season.  The cold isn’t necessarily bad by itself. One can survive in -50°F or as I’ve been told by South-Pole-Winter-Overs, -100°F.  It’s when there is a breeze or any air movement that it can kill.  I’d rather it be -50°F and calm versus 0°F and windy.  But waking at 4:45 daily and being tired before a 12 hour shift begins, this can be the worst.  Being tired and cold will bring performance to a halt.  Trust me. 

Getting hurt really sucks, too.  We are supposed to report any sort of injury or “near miss” to avoid future problems.  I get hurt everyday. They are small mistakes atop the nature of my daily tasks and the pressure to learn and perform quickly.  But nothing heals quickly… or fully.  Hobbling around in the cold just… it just sucks.  Thankfully, I’ve yet to become injured though.  God willing it’ll stay that way.

I’ll stick to external elements by not mentioning further the heavyweight of human error.  The burning trucks might seem avoidable.  Who do you know who has ever had their car fully enflamed?  It isn’t common, but here things are different, regardless of a thorough inspection of each truck, twice daily.  There are many systems in place to counter operator error, but in such a harsh environment, sometimes things just go wrong and vehicles burn to the ground.



Sunday, Oct 24 was our last sunset. 
This is all that remmains.



The only internal element I will mention is the psyche.  This word is improperly overused, and I hesitate using it, but it might be applicable here.  Sunday held the last official sunset for the summer.  Depending on “day” or “night” crew scheduling, everyone works in sunlight.  This is not ok.  My window blinds had to be applied with Velcro at 11:30 last night in order to prompt the bodily sensation of sleepiness.  The sun acts as if held in a sling roughly twenty degrees off level.  Imagine you have the sun in a sling, performing a lasso motion allowing the centrifugal weight to amass higher in front of you and dipping more behind you.  It is bright when at its would-be release point, but oddly still present behind you.  You must stay aware of this sling and rock and respect it knowing its disregard invites problems.  So too with the sun.

While I am only beginning to understand the relative extent of the human element, it is undeniable that its role, and the understanding of that role, is foremost in daily life.

Are We There Yet?

10-15-10

I dissembled the hotel pen for its precious parts, and with some tape I found, managed to repair my suitcase so the pull-handle works again.  It was a deserted island “I have made fire!” sense of accomplishment alone in my hotel room at 1am.  It is difficult enough to haul around three suitcases, but when the piggy-back strap goes missing and the handles break instantly, I became the Wally World circus somehow bustling my way through international customs, moving two and receiving help from strangers taking pity.

With now-working suitcases packed and ready to go, the alarm went off at 4:30am for a long, hot shower and the shuttle ride to the airport.  Double checking our given survival gear, our bags were checked without issue and we were released for the time being for a chance to eat breakfast and relax before our deliverance onto the ice. 

Breakfast was far too expensive, but I required some sort of pick-me-up.  Unlimited coffee was included.  Killing time before we boarded, I tried using the restroom several times trying to kill whatever fever/nausea I had, but to no avail.  It was then we were told to notify the flight nurse or department staff if we were ill, as this flight is not conducive to feeling better.  I opted not to mention it but to only my friends who provided Advil and encouragement. 

Had I alerted someone in charge, I would have been bumped to the next flight out of New Zealand.  While that sounds ideal, I would have experienced such extreme survivors’ guilt.  We were all hoping weather would delay us all, leaving a chance to go skiing during our furlough, but since we were all going, I made sure that I was included. 



Our team thatassembled in Denver, and our seen gear in back.

The flight’s Load Master (I enjoyed envisioning him as our camouflaged lead flight attendant) went through the seatbelt instructions while another soldier poorly and comically demonstrated the actions.  Those of us who were prone to airsickness raised their hands to be issued, as he candidly put it, a little gift.  Thinking this was some sort of remedy I raised my hand.  I’ve never endured any sort of motion sickness, but was willing to experiment due to how awful I really felt.  It was just a barf bag, revealing the source of the LM’s discreetness.  This won’t help me feel better at all.  The barf bags were given because there were no windows, hence no horizon with which to acquaint ourselves.  Sitting sideways in the jump-seat introduced a new sensation as well.


This photo can be viewed in 3D on a capable 3DTV



My friend, also a Justin

A nap and two extra strength pain relievers proved remedy enough.  I drifted off feeling like a dirty penny, awaking rejuvenated, ready to embrace the adventure at hand.  I was on one of the most sophisticated aircrafts the Air Force has, flying to Antarctica.  This is quite a list of “firsts” for me. 

I don’t even want to know how much that airplane weighed, knowing we were making a water landing.  Not as you might picture it, rather landing on nine feet of frozen saltwater in the bay, just off from where McMurdo is stationed on volcanic rock.



This is a later-taken sunset photo of the Ice Runway



With no widows, the artificial light was no match for stepping out of the plane into a perfectly clear day with bright sun and everything being white to reflect the sun seemingly only back into your eyes.  We looked like sheep piling out of the plane; following one another as to not be isolated in the foreign, scrambling for our sunglasses, trying to accept where we were.  Sheep are so dumb.  Now that my job consists of supporting this process, I look upon the newbies with a sense of compassion and understanding. 

They walk in a straight line from the aircraft door to a bus door for a ride into town.  From what I remember, my first march across the ice was about the same.

I stumbled into my room with all my gear to find I am luck with only one roommate (as opposed to 4 or 5).  However, he is away at a field camp, leaving me my own living quarters for several weeks.  I’ve got a nice living situation.  I will not complain. 

Our flight came in on a Friday, for us to be at work on Saturday and have Sunday off.  This was an easy transition into not wasting time and having a chance to settle in.

McMurdo is like a mining town, college campus and summer (or winter, I guess) camp. The work life is like a small blue collar town, your off time and dorm life feels like college and the logistics of everything seems like camp.  It’s an alright mix.  Now that I’ve got everything figured out, I have one last direction to follow.  This is home now.  It’s time to make some new friends.

New Zealand, Initially

10-15-10

The rest of the world is quite forgettable, at least my first time in New Zealand.  Heavy European influence alongside Asian traces, mostly in cuisine, this is a refreshing blend of cultures in quite the small bowl.  The senses will not work fast enough; one’s body cannot accept this beautiful country in full.  To call it mystical or magical would be strict embellishment.  It is not a theme park, rather it is simply pleasant and certainly can be enchanting if you realize just how uninhibited this country is.  If, mind you.



[Laura, Alex, Francy, Adam and I]





Locals in Christchurch;
Test subjects of my new camera

Once outfitted with our ECW gear, Alex, Adam, Francy, Laura and I rented a car for the two hour drive to a small ski village which encompassed the geothermal Henmes Springs.  The beautiful car ride was mostly a blur now as I could not process the intake.  Pulling into the little town, I immediately saw partly an old western town from every cowboy movie, Beford Falls from It’s A Wonderful Life, and a tinge of state park reminiscence.



Christchurch in Spring



We headed straight for food and it didn’t take long to find our calling.  Based upon the description and not the title, I ordered the chicken stack.  Literally a stack, it had chicken breast, fancy hard cheese slices, mushroom caps and a salad held atop one another by a party toothpick.  Oils and vinaigrettes were mixed beautifully on the plate with it.  It was a piece of art I did not want to foil.  But I gave in.  It was delicious and quickly after, we were on our way to the pools.

It was laid out like a water park, but with nose-crinkling sulfuric breezes and was mostly under construction.  The individual pools varied in temperature, in which we worked our way up, meeting locals and travelers while sharing stories.  We stayed late, enjoying natural warmth as long as we could before our stint on the ice.



Locals in Christchurch



We left that night with a wonderful feeling for a pretty chill car rider home.  That is, until we saw a car sideways in the twenty-foot-tall bushes in the ditch.  I looked towards the backseat and it might as well have been through a fish-eye lens.  I felt so far away, with everyone’s eyes as wide as mine.  We turned back to aid in any way we could, but with no result.  We were just a little freaked out thenceforth. 

Ultimately New Zealand hosted a wonderful and memorable two days.  I will return.  The beauty is dizzying, though prompting, since my appetite for adventure and wandering is perhaps more insatiable.

Getting There

10-13-10

Airline food is not real food.  It might prolong one’s existence in a pinch, but in reality it is not a sustainable diet.  I’m sure some people will argue otherwise, but who are they trying to mislead?  Even those who don’t fly know airline food is bad.  Yes, a stereotype, but for good reason.

If you’re on a 13 hour flight (in my case), it is agreed that airlines must serve you something.  They have then met a requirement for service.  But since when did something as awesome as food become such a fiscal reliability?  I remember reading years ago when meals were standard that some airline was scheduled to save thousands of dollars per year by eliminating the black olive that sat atop their enchilada “entrée”. 

I feel I am fairly practical, and have studied business in school, so I completely understand this practice and its mentioned appliqué, but come on.  My energy is exhausted for this topic because at this stage in a post 9/11 travel world, during this economic recession in the chronically ailing airline industry… there just is no fix.  Things are just at a point where it’s certainly not perfect, but can’t really get any better without hearty and sincere revolution.  Yes, a revolution of those understandably unsatisfied with airline food. 

If you give a mouse a cookie… he’s going to ask for a glass of milk.  Such is the case; with one big change comes another.  If so, then customers are going to need more room, like a restaurant booth.  And more foot room.  And a Styrofoam to-go box for the delicious food.  Things will get out of hand.  Imagine this scenario far from the realm of current First Class.

Economically, this is unfeasible.  Not only is it outrageously cost-inefficient, but once one person flies like this, they will not be able to change back.  Returning customers is good, but this will be a thin bubble to provoke short term business.  It will burst and the customs will go back to the way they are now or worse, perhaps provoking another airline food revolution… or an all out airline discomfort revolution. 

This is becoming circular.  At this point I can only describe how things are currently.  My personal account is as follows.

Leaving Los Angeles, we were issued “dinner” before cabin lights went out and I successively followed.  I awoke unsettled, legs likely atrophied.  Our flight map indicated we were about exactly half way: encouraging.  Until I got up, my elbows had been at my hips since I sat down due to the guy who thought he was a body builder in his sleep and from sitting shoulder to shoulder with the girl on my left.  Using plastic-wear only with my forearms and by leaning forward was I able to eat, only maneuverable enough to look like a T-rex shoveling “food” halfway, pecking at it like a bird to actually get to it.  Ugh.  A lap of the cabin, a pit stop and a huge drag of water was complacently regenerating enough.  It had to be.  Breakfast was timely and at this point, circumstantially welcomed.  However, coffee refills for my dainty mug could not find their way back to me fast enough.

Upon arrival into Auckland and the following connection to Christchurch, we exchanged our individual remedies for our most dire discomforts.  A hot shower for some, for others a real meal or a nap became the sole dynamic for sobering up the bitterly euphoric travel-weariness.  Our ailments subdued by rest and refreshment, our team which was gathered in Denver was let loose on the little city of Christchurch.  This short vacation has done me in.  I am agreeably captivated by New Zealand.

Up, Up and Away

10-11-10

“Sir, the airplane is not going to wait for you.” 

There is still half an hour or more before my flight is scheduled to leave.  With regard, the airline representative’s tone became far more effective than encouraging. I hurried.  But, comically, halting my mad rush was a line to board the flight; and panic was to therefore retreat behind a pleasant, Southern Californian four day benediction.

I became completely prepared to live so removed from home only after an unusually low climb to cruising altitude.  This allowed for a lengthened and emotional view of the neighborhoods of my home, family, friends and church.  I tried to hold on.  Landmarks underwent questioning as the sights became less and less familiar until reality arrived, but surprisingly without doubt in tow.  I have now officially embarked on my long adventure.  But I am confident in what I feel led to do.  World adventures and experiences shall positively be an index for, and testament to how wonderful Minnesota really is.

In timely fashion, I’ll just have to return, I surmised.  And when I ache and yearn for her, memories and photos and letters home must suffice; so removed and vicariously in Minnesota’s stead.  Flight schedules and the etcetera may not wait, but I am convinced Minnesota will wait for me, and indeed, I for her.