Day 4
It might just be our luck that we get rained on very night. We have a tent, actually two for us three, and we're very thankful for shelter, though a wet tent leads to the daily frustration of a musty car once packed. Upon completeion of a warm-up hike or discovery of coffee somewhere, we then have motivation to repack our gear which is an often required task in our little car. Included is the stowage of, today, a mostly dry sleeping bag.
The rain was prohibitive today. I had a great hike planned for the morning; starting early, thereby forcing a quicker pace in which to adventure along the beautiful and uneven beach. A no go. We dilly dallied, hopped online for an hour and hit the road by lunch.
A quick jaunt along a snaky road and in no time we arrived in Blenheim. I found a Simms fishing and Hunting & Fishing store catalogs to be roadworthy "reading" material and just as importantly we got directions to the secluded White's Bay.
White's Bay is likely my favorite stop as of yet on this adventure. Nestled between high palm and pine wooded walls is a petite grey-sand crescent beach. The campground was simplest in amenities and price and we felt at home right away.
A beach with breathtakingly cold water runs out of fun quickly. Our first real, solid beach since leaving the ice world, it's charm will likely last longer than out presence here. The abrupt change in coastline to jagged boulders, arches, tunnels and caves supplemented the time we didn't spend on the beach.
There was so much climbing to be done. I made my way alone over beach, streams and bouders to get to, and successfully summited a spined archipelago that held in our perfect rescent hideaway.
For dinner we made easy pasta and pulled three beers from a crisp stream. The rest of the evening was merry with hot chocolate and guitar melodies. Tonight: when in darkness, asleep.
March 10, 2011
March 8, 2011
Free, Huh? :|
There is no such thing as free. The price of the DoC campground was zero, but we slept between a highway and railroad tracks. Nothing is free. But we're alive and well regardless.
We began activities with a hike, well, really just a walk, up a nearby hillside trail system to be back in time for Sarah's haircut around noon. We putzed around like we were getting paid to do so, the enbarked on the peninsula hike about 2pm.
The 4.5 hour circuit led us past the beautiful beach, atop coastal bluffs and through highland cattle pastures and back into town.
Koura is the Maori term for Crayfish, hence he name of the coastal town, Kaikoura. In my quest to enjoy crayfish freshly caught and cooked at a roadside caravan, Sarah was horrified at a single crayfish costing $60. I was aware that a crayfish is a lobster minus pinchers, whereas Sarah thought I was seeking expensive crawdads. An affordably price crayfish fritter, cooked and served off the oceanside road, subdued the hankering.
But it wasn't enough. David and Sarah went grocery shopping while I went to a greasy fried fish shop. The price was high, but I had fresh mussels, clam strips, cod, scallops, fries and a salad out of a container the size of a shoebox.
I ate alone before joining a pretty American girl who shared good advice for camping destinations as well as activities along our current NZ path and out future Hawaiin destination.
Us ice people had an itinerary pow wow, adjusted thanks to my new friend from Maine, and we headed back to the DoC for some well deserved sleep... intermittent sleep between passing trains.
We began activities with a hike, well, really just a walk, up a nearby hillside trail system to be back in time for Sarah's haircut around noon. We putzed around like we were getting paid to do so, the enbarked on the peninsula hike about 2pm.
The 4.5 hour circuit led us past the beautiful beach, atop coastal bluffs and through highland cattle pastures and back into town.
Koura is the Maori term for Crayfish, hence he name of the coastal town, Kaikoura. In my quest to enjoy crayfish freshly caught and cooked at a roadside caravan, Sarah was horrified at a single crayfish costing $60. I was aware that a crayfish is a lobster minus pinchers, whereas Sarah thought I was seeking expensive crawdads. An affordably price crayfish fritter, cooked and served off the oceanside road, subdued the hankering.
But it wasn't enough. David and Sarah went grocery shopping while I went to a greasy fried fish shop. The price was high, but I had fresh mussels, clam strips, cod, scallops, fries and a salad out of a container the size of a shoebox.
I ate alone before joining a pretty American girl who shared good advice for camping destinations as well as activities along our current NZ path and out future Hawaiin destination.
Us ice people had an itinerary pow wow, adjusted thanks to my new friend from Maine, and we headed back to the DoC for some well deserved sleep... intermittent sleep between passing trains.
In the Swing of Things
Condensation, not rain. David and I arose after a restless nights' sleep to discover wet sleeping bags inside and out.
Picked up sarah about 8:30, at bakery by 9, hot springs by 10.
Clouds broke and minimally ozone defracted sun was hot and burned skin literally in minutes of continuous exposure. The air remained cool for the duration of the day, keeping the 36C degree mineral enriched hot springs worth their while... and money. Soaking wet, top to bottom, we then reminded Sarah to avoid dunking her head again. She panicked at the prospect of meningicocal viruses. A serious threat, but still a good chance to get Sarah all spun up.
By late afternoon we arrived in Kaikoura, had pizza, walked the beach awhile and found a free Dept. of Conservation campground. Nothing is free in New Zealand. We got lucky.
Picked up sarah about 8:30, at bakery by 9, hot springs by 10.
Clouds broke and minimally ozone defracted sun was hot and burned skin literally in minutes of continuous exposure. The air remained cool for the duration of the day, keeping the 36C degree mineral enriched hot springs worth their while... and money. Soaking wet, top to bottom, we then reminded Sarah to avoid dunking her head again. She panicked at the prospect of meningicocal viruses. A serious threat, but still a good chance to get Sarah all spun up.
By late afternoon we arrived in Kaikoura, had pizza, walked the beach awhile and found a free Dept. of Conservation campground. Nothing is free in New Zealand. We got lucky.
Cranberries on Pizza?
Day One - Tuesday 1 Mar.
Excitement for sleeping in cars has gone adrift. A Toyota Corolla hatch is not a camper by any means. Night one passed by with little incident and we planned to head north away from our free internet, bathrooms and free sack lunch headquarters.
HANMER SPRINGS! With pine and palm trees along a narrow and winding landscape, we received a perfect welcome while en route to the little alpine vilage. It is far more of a tourist trap than I lead on, though it is small and maintains a sense of localism. But I spoke with friendly, and pretty, Danish, French, Norwegian, Austrain and even Minnesotan girls along the main drag.
A waterfall beckoned and we subdued. The trail marker indicated a 2.5 hour trek so we aven;t a clue as to distance. Sarah, mildly athsmatic and without inhaler, kept our pace to that of a good sight see-er. But her sunglasses left at the base of the waterfall gave David and I the perfect opportunity to make a shirts-off, man-journey-sprint, repeating the hike. We successfully retrieved the expensive specs which earned us dinner. Pizza!
Meatlovers with BBQ sauce and chicken and cranberry with brie were the final selections. It was a fine restaurant at a Spanish style, 1800's hotel. Beautiful. It has a dungeon. I'm a sucker for romanticism. We earned our sleep tonight. Upgrade to a tent.
Excitement for sleeping in cars has gone adrift. A Toyota Corolla hatch is not a camper by any means. Night one passed by with little incident and we planned to head north away from our free internet, bathrooms and free sack lunch headquarters.
HANMER SPRINGS! With pine and palm trees along a narrow and winding landscape, we received a perfect welcome while en route to the little alpine vilage. It is far more of a tourist trap than I lead on, though it is small and maintains a sense of localism. But I spoke with friendly, and pretty, Danish, French, Norwegian, Austrain and even Minnesotan girls along the main drag.
A waterfall beckoned and we subdued. The trail marker indicated a 2.5 hour trek so we aven;t a clue as to distance. Sarah, mildly athsmatic and without inhaler, kept our pace to that of a good sight see-er. But her sunglasses left at the base of the waterfall gave David and I the perfect opportunity to make a shirts-off, man-journey-sprint, repeating the hike. We successfully retrieved the expensive specs which earned us dinner. Pizza!
Meatlovers with BBQ sauce and chicken and cranberry with brie were the final selections. It was a fine restaurant at a Spanish style, 1800's hotel. Beautiful. It has a dungeon. I'm a sucker for romanticism. We earned our sleep tonight. Upgrade to a tent.
A Voayge Home Begins
Day Zero - Monday 28 Feb.
What is a day? 24 hours, usually. But working nights made me question that. Well, today I've yet to sleep and though having laid in bed awhile, 2:30 am is the magical time to quickly clean up, pack my final affects and say goodbye to Antarctica as home.
The sky is the darkest I've seen yet... and the air cold; no better day to leave.
The final cargo 463L pallets were quickly thrown onto trucks for our last drive to Pegasus Airfield for the season. A beautiful pink, red and orange sunrise seemed to bid us safe travels. Now routine, in an anxious but nostalgic haste we serviced the last C-17 to land in Antarctica for the next half year.
I felt a little VIP walking last onto the 99 passenger + cargo plane to settle into a reserved seat. Starboard jumpseats - or what served as "bed" for the "night" - as it was just barely daylight.
How did everyone change into T-shirts so quickly without my noticing? Oh, the last four hours asleep might have given almost everyone else the time to get changed for a beautiful 75 degree Christchurch. The remaining half hour consisted of me stripping off all I had worn against a -35C windchill morning, then discriminately eating a sack lunch/breakfast and getting everything situated for our final approach. We melted. A few in shorts, most in Carhartt bibs, jeans and long johns, plus the despicable "bunny boots".
The warm sun nice; the warm breeze welcoming; the smell of trees, grass and flowers overstimulating.
At the deployment center near the airport, we mailed boxes home, rid our warddrobe of ECW gear and planned for fun. Most in our program headed north on a connecting flight to Auckland, as advised, due to the devastation of much of Christchurch. Nestled around the cul de sac is the CDC, travel center, APO and the Antarctica Experience Museum which we joked about attending. While I imagine it would hold my interest, the last intention of mine was an Antarctice experience of any kind.
Meeting in the grassy courtyard, I laid in the long, smooth bladed grass with other Antarctic survivors. Old wives tales tell of people taking off shoes immediately to feel grass once again. While I didn't do that or see that, once situated in a spot, I indulged and couldn't help but nuzzle my face into the heavenly green carpet.
Saying goodbye to buches at a time leaving to fly north, suddenly it was down to three.
David, Sarah and I were trapped. Talk of busing north was had, but research and reason led to a quick car rental. We now had an open road... and time to spend on it. But Christchurch will be home tonight. Fish 'n' chips in our bellies, 70F degrees, no work and only fun ahead, we'd never exhibited such excitment to sleep in a car!
What is a day? 24 hours, usually. But working nights made me question that. Well, today I've yet to sleep and though having laid in bed awhile, 2:30 am is the magical time to quickly clean up, pack my final affects and say goodbye to Antarctica as home.
The sky is the darkest I've seen yet... and the air cold; no better day to leave.
The final cargo 463L pallets were quickly thrown onto trucks for our last drive to Pegasus Airfield for the season. A beautiful pink, red and orange sunrise seemed to bid us safe travels. Now routine, in an anxious but nostalgic haste we serviced the last C-17 to land in Antarctica for the next half year.
I felt a little VIP walking last onto the 99 passenger + cargo plane to settle into a reserved seat. Starboard jumpseats - or what served as "bed" for the "night" - as it was just barely daylight.
How did everyone change into T-shirts so quickly without my noticing? Oh, the last four hours asleep might have given almost everyone else the time to get changed for a beautiful 75 degree Christchurch. The remaining half hour consisted of me stripping off all I had worn against a -35C windchill morning, then discriminately eating a sack lunch/breakfast and getting everything situated for our final approach. We melted. A few in shorts, most in Carhartt bibs, jeans and long johns, plus the despicable "bunny boots".
The warm sun nice; the warm breeze welcoming; the smell of trees, grass and flowers overstimulating.
At the deployment center near the airport, we mailed boxes home, rid our warddrobe of ECW gear and planned for fun. Most in our program headed north on a connecting flight to Auckland, as advised, due to the devastation of much of Christchurch. Nestled around the cul de sac is the CDC, travel center, APO and the Antarctica Experience Museum which we joked about attending. While I imagine it would hold my interest, the last intention of mine was an Antarctice experience of any kind.
Meeting in the grassy courtyard, I laid in the long, smooth bladed grass with other Antarctic survivors. Old wives tales tell of people taking off shoes immediately to feel grass once again. While I didn't do that or see that, once situated in a spot, I indulged and couldn't help but nuzzle my face into the heavenly green carpet.
Saying goodbye to buches at a time leaving to fly north, suddenly it was down to three.
David, Sarah and I were trapped. Talk of busing north was had, but research and reason led to a quick car rental. We now had an open road... and time to spend on it. But Christchurch will be home tonight. Fish 'n' chips in our bellies, 70F degrees, no work and only fun ahead, we'd never exhibited such excitment to sleep in a car!
February 24, 2011
Current Hazards and Hearsay
2-24-11
Please pardon the time intervals of my recent... or not-so-recent posts. However the interlude holds an incredible imbalance in my life. And that continues onward as I plan to leave Antarctica.
All is well with me. Forgive any misspellings for I haven't much extra time to spend on revisions and photos as I've had in the past. Once I expel this information, a portion of it is guaranteed to have changed. Please stick with me as I have much of life with which to catch up.
The last few weeks of work have been the most fluid and different since I first began learning my position. I transitioned from night shift to days within a matter of 12 hours from the notice of schedule, thanks to a few poor nights sleep and the slight dimming of the early morning hours. We had our first sunset on 20 February at 0151 - a first since Novemeber.
In the time off work for the switch back to days, I spent quality time with my good friend Andrew, as he planned a hike to Castle Rock with successful intentions of proposing to his, now, fiance. I was honored to have photographed the whole thing. My camera died in minutes, just before the skin tissue on my fingers as it was -12F in town and we were exposed to open range winds. We survived and drank champagne that evening once our digits warmed and again equalled the merriness of our hearts. I'm proud, but ache for them as well.
Andrea, Andy's fiance, left McMurdo Monday to safely arrive in Christchurch, NZ, where our redeployment and program travel center is. There are a few items on the agenda to address before running loose in the city looking for fresh food, hot tubs, spas, good beer, etc. She probably went to bed at a decent time before roaming the city without her man. Next day, Tuesday at 1:00pm, a 6.3 magnitude earthquake shook Christchurch with ferocity. In an email to notify us of her safety, Andrea described the hotel room shaking violently, and had she not tried to stay low in her room, she explained she probably could not have stood up anyway.
An 8 point something earthquake hit Christchurch big in September last year, but it's depth held most damage to the city's fascia and building's cosmetics. Tuesday's quake was lower in magnitude, but much shallower in depth, completely colapsing buildings, bursting water mains, and causing power outages. It took a few days but the New Zealand government called an official state emergency. There is a big list of unaccounted for and with that will come a death toll.
http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/world-asia-pacific-12563177
The US Antarctic Program had 591 military and civilian personnel in Christchurch Tuesday, and so far attempts through facebook and Raytheon's Incident Command Center has confirmation of 90 per cent of program participants as of 5pm Thursday, local time. My good friends Kevin and Christin were in the middle of it, but are well. I read on facebook that they had planned to scrap their three month camping adventure due to loss of all their posessions, 8,000 miles from home. I then read they had been donated clothes and camping gear. God bless them.
Once the shaking subsided enough to gather wits and balance, Andrea grabbed shoes and ran from the building, leaving her money, credit cards, passport, laptop and, well, everything in her hotel room. The hotel I stayed at in October is now leaning on her hotel. Her items are unrecoverable. She remarked how they are all replacable, and how she was "SO" glad she knew her fiance was safe, still in Antarctica.
"Still" in Antarctica is right. Tuesday morning brought a nasty blizzard through our area. I thought it was cool because it was warm enough for precipitation and it's better to have blowing snow than blowing volcanic pumice dust. The storm lasted almost three days and is just now clearing up for a beautiful blue sky'd evening.
But it was once the storm ceded control back to the station that we realized her rage. The Ross Sea has more open water that it has in years, thanks to the icebreaker Oden clearing a path for the research, tanker and resupply vessels. But the storm blew big portions of ice away - ice we initially used as a runway when it was 9 feet thick. The mass of ice pushed out of the sound has actually had an impact on the permanent ice shelf, upwards of 200 feet thick, which has broken off in several places and left open water 300 meters from the fragile road to our current Pegasus Runway. The issue isn't losing the road, for another road can be built, but airplanes cannot fly until so. Also the fuel line to Pegasus was adjusted by wind and drifts, leaving fuelies and fleet ops personnel working full days, while others are stranded.
The big issues, before we could see it, was the transition. It is literally a transition from rock, to sea ice to ice shelf within probably 100 meters. The open water is threatening it's stability, but I drove a 15 ton vehicle on it today without worries. Without the transition, we would have to call the Nathaniel B. Palmer, the research vessel for a lift back to the real world. This will not happen as of now, though. I was secretly hoping for the circumstance, however inconvenient it would be. No, the Natty B. is busy elsewhere by now. We had a private sailboat visit us last week, which fired off it's distress signal in the 3 day storm. It is officiall "missing". The Steve Erwin, an anti-whaling ship is also on patrol, sending it's helicopter to visit our station regularly, mostly for fuel to continue searching.
We were supposed ot have flights leave Wednesday and Friday, but neither of them will fly as scheduled. I've had friends in my department off work since late last week, hoping to go, but watching those hopes diminish and finally disappear in the midst of a huge blizzard and earthquake.
The mood here is very eery. We're all in the same boat. There are 206 people needing to fly out still, then another group scheduled for March 5, the last flight of the season. There are some crazy people planning to winter-over, but most people are just at work trying to sustain themselves... and the people working desperately hard to get us out of here. We are all interdependent; perhaps more than I realized. We must eat, stay warm, operate vehicles, fix vehicles, fight boredom with activities and such. We can't just wait for airplanes to land.
We are now planning on sending C-17's on Sunday and Monday morning to extract people. The 17's have a better chance of landing here in bad weather due to cross-wind aerodynamic tolerance. And they've had practice all season. The commercial planes are less likely, and now will not be sent at all.
I mention this informaiton so matter-of-factly, but it has been a long time coming. We've learned this bit by bit over the last three days. There was hearsay of extraction by the Palmer, C-17 flights to Wellinton or Auckland, NZ, and even to Hobart, Tasmania, Aus. I am always up for adventure and would have been down for one of these exotic locales, but as it turns out we're touching down in Christchurch, using APO mail services and gathering items left there and flying same-day to Auckland, the largest city in NZ. Nobody knows how this will affect our travel plans, since there are upwards of 600 people formerly leaving from CHC, Christchurch International, only partially open for domestic flights OUT!
Many people still stuck on the ice have significant others still in Christchurch and struggle to communicate with them. Andrea found other "ice people", as we call ourselves (I don't really use that term), and they walked to the CDC, the program headquarters in Christchurch right by the airport. It's the clothing distribution center, where we receive our extreme cold weather gear, have final briefings and is the terminal check in for flights icebound. There are about 100 program participants sleeping there until they can be moved to Auckland (hopefully on the same flights as us) with whatever items they may have. The CDC has been very impressive in my eyes and is a great, though limited resource for those in the program and in need. Andrea is now with a cousin in NZ, safe, warm and fed.
That is not true for all in Chch. Fuel, food, car rental, communications, potable water and other items are very limited right now. Infrastructure is in rough shape. USAP participants are officially unwelcome in Chch, since there is is nowhere for people to stay. Locals are camping in city parks, visitors are trying to leave, the city is under curfew and military security. The central business district, CBD, has been ordered completely void since population control will help officials wrap their arms around the situation.
Life has been a little hectic since we've tried to get out, have been stranded here and had nowhere to go anyway. It's a little disconcerting, but minus the tragedy, I can appreciate the circumstances. It's like God gave us a slap on the wrist in disappointment that we're so busy "planning". I have complete trust that this little planet, and His people are safe and sound in His hands.
It's refreshing to have lost the illusion of control. Such are the hazards and hearsay.
God bless.
Please pardon the time intervals of my recent... or not-so-recent posts. However the interlude holds an incredible imbalance in my life. And that continues onward as I plan to leave Antarctica.
All is well with me. Forgive any misspellings for I haven't much extra time to spend on revisions and photos as I've had in the past. Once I expel this information, a portion of it is guaranteed to have changed. Please stick with me as I have much of life with which to catch up.
The last few weeks of work have been the most fluid and different since I first began learning my position. I transitioned from night shift to days within a matter of 12 hours from the notice of schedule, thanks to a few poor nights sleep and the slight dimming of the early morning hours. We had our first sunset on 20 February at 0151 - a first since Novemeber.
In the time off work for the switch back to days, I spent quality time with my good friend Andrew, as he planned a hike to Castle Rock with successful intentions of proposing to his, now, fiance. I was honored to have photographed the whole thing. My camera died in minutes, just before the skin tissue on my fingers as it was -12F in town and we were exposed to open range winds. We survived and drank champagne that evening once our digits warmed and again equalled the merriness of our hearts. I'm proud, but ache for them as well.
Andrea, Andy's fiance, left McMurdo Monday to safely arrive in Christchurch, NZ, where our redeployment and program travel center is. There are a few items on the agenda to address before running loose in the city looking for fresh food, hot tubs, spas, good beer, etc. She probably went to bed at a decent time before roaming the city without her man. Next day, Tuesday at 1:00pm, a 6.3 magnitude earthquake shook Christchurch with ferocity. In an email to notify us of her safety, Andrea described the hotel room shaking violently, and had she not tried to stay low in her room, she explained she probably could not have stood up anyway.
An 8 point something earthquake hit Christchurch big in September last year, but it's depth held most damage to the city's fascia and building's cosmetics. Tuesday's quake was lower in magnitude, but much shallower in depth, completely colapsing buildings, bursting water mains, and causing power outages. It took a few days but the New Zealand government called an official state emergency. There is a big list of unaccounted for and with that will come a death toll.
http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/world-asia-pacific-12563177
The US Antarctic Program had 591 military and civilian personnel in Christchurch Tuesday, and so far attempts through facebook and Raytheon's Incident Command Center has confirmation of 90 per cent of program participants as of 5pm Thursday, local time. My good friends Kevin and Christin were in the middle of it, but are well. I read on facebook that they had planned to scrap their three month camping adventure due to loss of all their posessions, 8,000 miles from home. I then read they had been donated clothes and camping gear. God bless them.
Once the shaking subsided enough to gather wits and balance, Andrea grabbed shoes and ran from the building, leaving her money, credit cards, passport, laptop and, well, everything in her hotel room. The hotel I stayed at in October is now leaning on her hotel. Her items are unrecoverable. She remarked how they are all replacable, and how she was "SO" glad she knew her fiance was safe, still in Antarctica.
"Still" in Antarctica is right. Tuesday morning brought a nasty blizzard through our area. I thought it was cool because it was warm enough for precipitation and it's better to have blowing snow than blowing volcanic pumice dust. The storm lasted almost three days and is just now clearing up for a beautiful blue sky'd evening.
But it was once the storm ceded control back to the station that we realized her rage. The Ross Sea has more open water that it has in years, thanks to the icebreaker Oden clearing a path for the research, tanker and resupply vessels. But the storm blew big portions of ice away - ice we initially used as a runway when it was 9 feet thick. The mass of ice pushed out of the sound has actually had an impact on the permanent ice shelf, upwards of 200 feet thick, which has broken off in several places and left open water 300 meters from the fragile road to our current Pegasus Runway. The issue isn't losing the road, for another road can be built, but airplanes cannot fly until so. Also the fuel line to Pegasus was adjusted by wind and drifts, leaving fuelies and fleet ops personnel working full days, while others are stranded.
The big issues, before we could see it, was the transition. It is literally a transition from rock, to sea ice to ice shelf within probably 100 meters. The open water is threatening it's stability, but I drove a 15 ton vehicle on it today without worries. Without the transition, we would have to call the Nathaniel B. Palmer, the research vessel for a lift back to the real world. This will not happen as of now, though. I was secretly hoping for the circumstance, however inconvenient it would be. No, the Natty B. is busy elsewhere by now. We had a private sailboat visit us last week, which fired off it's distress signal in the 3 day storm. It is officiall "missing". The Steve Erwin, an anti-whaling ship is also on patrol, sending it's helicopter to visit our station regularly, mostly for fuel to continue searching.
We were supposed ot have flights leave Wednesday and Friday, but neither of them will fly as scheduled. I've had friends in my department off work since late last week, hoping to go, but watching those hopes diminish and finally disappear in the midst of a huge blizzard and earthquake.
The mood here is very eery. We're all in the same boat. There are 206 people needing to fly out still, then another group scheduled for March 5, the last flight of the season. There are some crazy people planning to winter-over, but most people are just at work trying to sustain themselves... and the people working desperately hard to get us out of here. We are all interdependent; perhaps more than I realized. We must eat, stay warm, operate vehicles, fix vehicles, fight boredom with activities and such. We can't just wait for airplanes to land.
We are now planning on sending C-17's on Sunday and Monday morning to extract people. The 17's have a better chance of landing here in bad weather due to cross-wind aerodynamic tolerance. And they've had practice all season. The commercial planes are less likely, and now will not be sent at all.
I mention this informaiton so matter-of-factly, but it has been a long time coming. We've learned this bit by bit over the last three days. There was hearsay of extraction by the Palmer, C-17 flights to Wellinton or Auckland, NZ, and even to Hobart, Tasmania, Aus. I am always up for adventure and would have been down for one of these exotic locales, but as it turns out we're touching down in Christchurch, using APO mail services and gathering items left there and flying same-day to Auckland, the largest city in NZ. Nobody knows how this will affect our travel plans, since there are upwards of 600 people formerly leaving from CHC, Christchurch International, only partially open for domestic flights OUT!
Many people still stuck on the ice have significant others still in Christchurch and struggle to communicate with them. Andrea found other "ice people", as we call ourselves (I don't really use that term), and they walked to the CDC, the program headquarters in Christchurch right by the airport. It's the clothing distribution center, where we receive our extreme cold weather gear, have final briefings and is the terminal check in for flights icebound. There are about 100 program participants sleeping there until they can be moved to Auckland (hopefully on the same flights as us) with whatever items they may have. The CDC has been very impressive in my eyes and is a great, though limited resource for those in the program and in need. Andrea is now with a cousin in NZ, safe, warm and fed.
That is not true for all in Chch. Fuel, food, car rental, communications, potable water and other items are very limited right now. Infrastructure is in rough shape. USAP participants are officially unwelcome in Chch, since there is is nowhere for people to stay. Locals are camping in city parks, visitors are trying to leave, the city is under curfew and military security. The central business district, CBD, has been ordered completely void since population control will help officials wrap their arms around the situation.
Life has been a little hectic since we've tried to get out, have been stranded here and had nowhere to go anyway. It's a little disconcerting, but minus the tragedy, I can appreciate the circumstances. It's like God gave us a slap on the wrist in disappointment that we're so busy "planning". I have complete trust that this little planet, and His people are safe and sound in His hands.
It's refreshing to have lost the illusion of control. Such are the hazards and hearsay.
God bless.
January 24, 2011
Take It Easy
 |
| An emperor penguin in motion |
While in this isolation, I’m craving pizza probably more than anything else. Otherwise, life is good. Night shift is getting a tad redundant, but with far less pressure originating from time constraints, we are beginning to have a little more fun.
Saturday night? The waste barn (trash facility) was hosting a party and everything else was closed for the usual “town schedule” night off. But cargo is 24/7. No airplanes were flying and we had built ahead several priority listings. Basically, we had enough cargo to send on three C-17’s (about a week ahead), but nothing to do with it.
 |
| A cargo delta |
Dylan, Andrew and I took a caravan of deltas out to the strip. It’s about an hour drive, pushing maybe 18 miles per hour in the clunky, all wheel drive, extremely fuel inefficient flatbed trucks. They are loud and bouncy. The road to Pegasus field is on the Ross Ice Shelf; between 50 and 200 feet thick snow/ice. It’s not perfect and the deltas do not respond well to inconsistencies. I’ve been airborne in the cab several times, flopping around hoping the pain will end shortly. I’ll sit hunkered down so it’s usually my shoulders bouncing off the somewhat padded ceiling and my knees hitting knobs and toggle switches across the dashboard.
I was the lead driver, paving the treacherous path in the cloudy evening flat-light. Eye’s heavy, nothing but white land and sky, I found a pothole that nearly bounced me into orbit. Tire diameter is about 4 feet with thirty year old leaf springs holding them away from the frame. The vehicle is articulated; bending at the frame waist turning the entire front end of the vehicle and not just front wheels. Articulation is lateral only, not vertical, so if you’re driving straight ahead you have a rigid, 15 ton piece of steel rattling anything inside the cab.
My life flashed before my eyes. Radio traffic was minimal Saturday night, and looking behind me towards Andrew’s swerving delta, I called him to ask if he’d seen the horrors ahead of him. Intending to pull over to collect myself, as well as my backpack, parka, coffee mug, fire extinguisher, cargo straps, passenger seat cushions, papers and tools strewn about the cab, I advanced not too much further to the pulled over galley truck on it’s way back from the airstrip.
As the season winds down, field camps are beginning to clean house and C-130’s are returning to McMurdo full of retro: returning supplies, but mostly trash. The three of us grabbed nine pallets of trash and got them strapped to our trucks as quickly as our cold fingers would permit. By the time we had some hot chocolate and checked email and facebook, it was going to be about lunch time upon our return.
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| A &A: loader teamwork |
Back in the yard, our team lead called us into the office. Well, it’s the office over the radio, but otherwise known as the slack shack. Our day was done. We’d done enough work for the day. We could not have had a more relaxed or easygoing day. But it was plenty productive as well.
I could not have asked for a better day. Servicing the C-17's is enjoyable but a lot of work. Today was a great change in pace. I think this season is going to end well.
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| A captive audience. |
God bless.
January 14, 2011
I have to say it was a good day
1-6-11
When working this hard in such extreme conditions, sleep is rendered sacred. I have an unusual two days off per week, never working more than three days in a row. On those days off, I will hibernate between 10 and 13.5 hours straight. Tuesday was about 12. Last night was about a third of that. But the comatose hours will continue to carry over until I can sleep in again Saturday.
I snoozed awhile, up in time to shower, eat, brush my teeth and get outfitted in my work gear before taking a Delta to Pegasus Field. This is the most uncommon of daily agendas. I usually eat too quickly, forget showering altogether, and postpone brushing my teeth, often until after lunch. Essentially, this was an unprecedented and excellent start to my day.
People are awake during the day and sleep at night. Rightfully so. And of course, pilots are too. Thus, there is far less work to be completed for us during the night shift at the airfield. We usually service approximately three flights, either leaving or returning. The remaining solid hours of “work” are well suited for Monopoly, except on C-17 days.
A few weeks ago, the weather was above freezing one late afternoon and an off-angle take off by the C-17 left a four inch rut in the fragile, melting runway. A week of runway repairs with no intercontinental flights and no freshies (fruits and vegetables) forced airfield officials to move the arrival time to about 4am. Yes, we get to service the big, expensive aircraft again. The current day crew may have worked three or four C-17 flights, whereas when we were on days we serviced maybe 20 flights, and now get them on nights.
Once airborne out of Christchurch
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| Approaching a C-130 in soft snow. |
With the slow pace of the night and taking into account my interest in the official paperwork of flights, Ray showed me how to complete the paperwork for one of the C-130 field camp flights, then once it cancelled due to weather, he asked me to complete the business at the back of the aircraft alone. This may sound a little embellished, and while most people in my position could complete this, they don’t. It was like dad let me drive the car all by myself for the first time. Really not a big deal, but it was quite a privilege for me.
I like operating loaders. Driving big vehicles near expensive aircraft is a thrill. I find myself proficient at it but today was able to see the process from another viewpoint. Plus, one feels pretty important standing on the ramp of an awesome aerial machine.
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| Here I am loading a pallet onto a C-17. |
The entire night people were asking each other how far the seventeen would fly before turning around due to weather. It can fly here and back without refueling, and the weather was worsening quickly. If it lands, the fuels comes out of our budget, however if it boomerangs, the Air Force has to pick up the $150,000 fuel tab. As you can guess from what I’ve written, it landed, but in a blizzard. Everything went into hyper drive to turn the aircraft.
There were 14 full size pallets between 2 and 8 thousand pounds each. What’s the fastest way to herd cattle? Slowly. We worked quickly, but with no rushing.
One of the Air Force loadmasters asked me about the pallet contents. What was visible was Speights, Tui and Guinness, Frosty Boy and USPS boxes. The loadmaster commented on landing in a blizzard to deliver beer, ice cream and mail. “The essentials”, I replied. He enjoyed that.
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| Karl and Deliverance "negotiating" the sled movement in soft snow. |
The pilots wanted to get out of there ASAP. They cancelled the upload and wanted to take only 49 of the 55 scheduled departing passengers because installing additional seating was very time-costly. All luggage was palletized together and removing 6 passengers’ items from a three ton bin was to take even longer than adding seating. They agreed to take them all. Our cargo office was “insistent” that science samples be included as well. Loadmasters rolled their eyes collectively, but agreed to it. At that time they were below flight minimums for weather regulations.
My position in the middle of all of this was completely nominal. I was invisible. Seeing this entire process of executive decision making was pretty cool. Everyone knew the longer it took to conclusively agree on something, the more likely that plane was going to be gounded in the blizzard.
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| C-17's stand about four stories tall. |
Another wrench in the mix was the race of a “higher up”, as I’ll refer to them as. They were in the 45 minute drive to the airstrip as the plane was on the ground. The aircraft ready to close the doors, they leisurely strolled aboard. It would have been nice to see them humbled standing on the ice watching their flight take off because of their non-urgency. I guess I wish everyone the best. I’m glad they made the flight.
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| Cargo Deltas waiting to be loaded on a beautifully warm day. |
Well, anticlimactically, there was no further issue with the upload and the aircraft was able to take off in a break where the sun had burned up much of the clouds.
I saw some pretty interesting things today. There were some excellent lessons of what to do when it comes to quick decision making, and what not to do when it comes to leadership by example.
I have to say it was a good day.
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| Airfield crew: Airfield Supervisor Paul, left, then Rick in front, Karl in the middle, Deliverance in the red hat Dylan on the tire, and Andrew and I atop the cab. |
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