Where I am Exactly, But Not By Location

11-5-10

As the first name written in under the “individuals” section of the volleyball team sign ups, he was designated captain of our happenstance team.  He will now be the one to complain to if I ever have a problem with the Antarctic inter-mural volleyball league.  Tall and very lean, Scandinavian in heritage and into sports; Steve and I are bound to be friends, right?   Actually it’s not his rec. sports leadership or any of the above; rather I found out tonight that he works in Passenger Services.  That department handles all personnel travel across Antarctica, and more noteworthy, to and from it.  He is the one to speak to about traveling the world after my stint on the ice.  The dinner conversation containing this revelation was stirring and provocative.  The few of us shared our thoughts and plans of traveling New Zealand specifically, along with ideas of taking advantage of our “free stops”.  Thanks to our company’s frequent business with the airlines, we can be rerouted on our return flight; allowed to make several stops throughout the South Pacific and the U.S. at no extra cost.  Lastly we marveled at the option of purchasing a “World Ticket” with our flight credit for a plenty memorable trip through four continents. Awesome.

In a moment of downtime at work recently, I once again broke out my SURFER Magazine for a mental retreat from all that’s frozen.  It features a surfing trip to Indo and elsewhere in the South Pacific.  This magazine has now ended its stretch of wishful satire, and has proven emotive.  Post-ice plans are forming… at least in the early stage.  I’m already thinking of getting out of here.

Yikes.

Life here is ok.  A friend asked me recently about an experience of traveling elsewhere, and in dither I failed to describe it.  She was probably asking about how I felt during a certain event or whatever.  How I felt?  Come on.  She wouldn’t understand.  None of you girls ever will.  But I responded noting that I don’t really remember what things were like internally.  I am who I am.  I might do things differently, but whether exotic or casual, my surroundings certainly do not change who I am.  This amounted in sadness for her, but I take pride in this.  He in whom I find my identity is enduring, therefore so am I.   No matter how badly I’d like to be warm on a beach in Indonesia, in the grand picture, the menial influence of environment will not deter me. 

AJ lost his sunglasses the other day.  Not one to pass down an adventure, no matter how cold, gusty, low-visibility, improperly clothed, and questionable the circumstances, I joined him in the walk to the edge of town where he had been earlier that day.  Once we reached the area, of course where the wind was its strongest, I instantly knew his sunglasses were gone.  I relented and pressed on.  Continuous sunlight requires them, especially amongst the snow and ice.  There is a policy within my department called trust, but verify. We were going to trust that they were 100% gone, but we were willing to verify. My only pair of sunglasses are now broken and I understand AJ’s hope of finding them. 

Discussing this and other topics, literally over a thawing cup of tea, we talked about his past and future opportunities elsewhere.  But he loves it here as a firefighter.  He would already like to return again next season.   He described how “better” opportunities aren’t exactly that for him… at least not yet.  I flinched at this.  Aside from a signed contract and duty, what compels him to stay in Antarctica is his confession that he has yet to do anything truly awesome.

I call everything awesome.  Both my $12 Wal-Mart wristwatch and the breakfast table conversation.  AJ was looking for something grand.  But the way he briefly described this feat wasn’t as blockbuster or epic as I might convey.  Silently I marveled at his pang for… what can I call it?  No, it’s not an adventure or quest or some arranged exploit.  It must be organic in nature.  He will have accomplished something truly awesome by exploiting all opportunities that may present themselves. 

After coming to the same, enlightened conclusion that I also have not done anything truly awesome, my motivation for eating, sleeping, working, playing and just living here in this frozen desert is no longer for a paycheck, conversation starter or what not.  It is now for something more. 

I had dinner with a friend a few nights ago who said others often call her lucky, to which she replies that she chooses to be lucky.  I will choose to be lucky as well.  And in doing so I will find those opportunities that will give me the option to choose between doing something and doing something awesome.  Undoubtedly I will tell of my experience when it arrives.  But until then, its anticipation will be gratifying enough.  This window, this self-disclosed breathing room I now feel is very freeing, allowing me to enjoy some of the finer strands of beauty this continent employs. 



In another stint of our downtime at work, Janet from the shuttles department swung by our office on the ice runway telling us to hurry outside with our cameras.  I really wish I had functioning sunglasses, especially when working on the ice (versus in town).  Either my tinted snow goggles or squinting must do.  With white snow and ice all around, and it being perhaps the most calm, clear day yet, it was difficult but pretty incredible watching four adelie penguins walking through our gathering of airfield operation buildings.  The penguins and those of us lucky enough to see them approached each other with a strange sense of caution; them with curiosity and wariness, banding together, pausing to decipher our presence while we…well, we pretty much did the same thing.



Paul took this picture.  By his readjusting and telling me to hold
still I thought this pose would make sense. 



These four little guys waddled by like babies in diapers, following a distinguished leader amongst them.  Heads high with their wings swept back and outwards seemingly in effort to stay upright.  It was a very cute prance, but still exuding of a trace of entitlement to their surroundings.  After all, we people are the unnatural ones existing here.  Plus, the penguins might realize there are serious consequences for personnel who break the Antarctic Treaty and its highly protective protocol.  Basically we can’t touch them or feed them.  Easy enough.

Moments like these are grounding.  Our encounter on the ice was as if two ambassadors had met briefly, found quick approval of one another, simply to pass onto the next matter.  Moving along, the penguins probably squawked to each other about how pleasant our exchange was, with of course, our airstrip team saying the same thing.

Penguins are pretty cool, but still coincidence.  So what about really discovering something for oneself? 

My roommate Todd and I met for the first time about two weeks into our occupying the same, tiny room.  He was stationed at a field camp for my first two weeks on the ice, but upon return, still happened to miss meeting me for several days.  He was impressed at my uncanny ability to go to bed after him and awaken two hours before him several days in a row.  Finally seeing the face of the man I’ve shared a room with for so long, as a chance to get know him, I suggested we go to Scott Base, New Zealand’s research facility, fully separate from McMurdo, but only two mile away.  We caught the shuttle that head there each Thursday night for “America night”, when Americans are welcome to come spend money at the bar.  Recognizing Tara a few seats ahead of me in the shuttle, and knowing she is married, I couldn’t help but slyly ask if she was going to Scott to meet some cute Kiwi boys.  (New Zealanders are affectionately called “Kiwis”.)  She denied it but in good spirit asked me the same question.  I answered yes.  Well, kind of.

During the quintessential get-to-know-you questions when we finally met, Todd and I found our common interests and disclosed what brought us to the ice.  Speaking of our interest in many winter activities, I learned that Scott Base has a ski hill and tow rope, but being foreign, we Americans must have “special permission” or at least an invite.

So yes, Tara, we were going to Scott Base looking for “cute Kiwi boys”, except

1. With no criteria for looks,
2. Yes, Kiwi because they need to be from New Zealand
3. And most likely guys because of their tiny base population and the women there are… well, we’ll call them brave.

We got to Scott, made the prototypical stop in their convenience store to browse the overpriced, under-exchange-rated Kiwi items then quickly proceeded to the bar.  Todd and I discussed firefighting and helicopters by ourselves (and no we’re not 5 years old) until a pretty American friend of ours joined us.  We made Kiwi friends quickly upon her arrival.  Our table dwindled until it was a select few for some time, performing and exposing card tricks and telling stories. 

One new friend, who other Kiwis had pointed out and introduced me to earlier, had revealed some good places on a NZ South Island map for fishing, both deep sea and for crawfish (or crayfish).  I could not have cared less about the latter after discussing deep sea and fly fishing.  I later learned in New Zealand, crawfish (or crayfish, whatever) are what we call lobsters.  Regretfully that conversation is in the past, in a loud bar, miles away.

This guy seemed the right type, and with anticipation rising, it was finally time to pop the big question.  Yes!  This guy will take Todd and me snowboarding!  A snowboarder himself, he promised to take us “anytime”, once the hill has been groomed and opened.  I have plenty of time to rent a board and gear and get mentally prepped to finally shred the Antarctic.

I don’t know if this is going to be the ambitious tell-all story of grand adventure that I am looking for, but it’ll be the beginning of a sense of ownership in which I’ll take much pride.  Hopefully it will become a regular part of life here, perhaps even colloquial in my reminiscences of Antarctica.  My July issue of SURFER Magazine hasn’t surfaced in some time, but likely out of a growing, subconscious neglect towards the outward, towards life back in the “real world”, towards anything but Antarctica.

While a thoughts of traveling the world, especially the warm places, will always be in the back of my head, right now I am content, believing Antarctica is the unconventional first step in my adventure.  And that is truly awesome.