Yesterday the pilots arrived at Siple Dome at 12:45pm, and they were eager to load the plane and take off as soon as possible. To speed things along, all hands at Siple came to help load the ~6000 lbs of cargo for the first of three flights to our field site.

After our long wait at Siple Dome, I was giddy with excitement by the time we were in the air. During the 40 minute flight south (about 300 km to our field site from Siple Dome), we passed over several crevasse zones and the shear margin, which were noticeable even to an amateur crevasse-spotter like me. From above, the sastrugi (small snow dunes) gave the snow surface a beautiful texture, and to my delight, the majestic peaks of the Transantarctic Mountains were visible to the south about 100 km away.

After a hurried unloading, the plane took off to return to Siple Dome for more cargo, whipping up a flurry of stinging snow as it departed. A quick look around us and our small heap of survival gear served as a stark reminder that we were truly all alone in this endless plane of white – not another living soul for 300 km, and the nearest aid over 1000 km away. The feeling was slightly sobering, but not actually frightening. The plane returned two more times with the remaining cargo, and the sight and sound of it approaching drove home the fact that we would likely not see another plane for another three weeks. Four weeks after we left Santa Cruz, we’ve finally arrived at our field site.

The 48 hours since our arrival have been filled primarily with camp setup and eating, and a little preparation of science equipment. We each have our own mountain tent for sleeping (a normal 4-season tent), and we share a 16-foot Endurance tent for cooking and working. With kitchen supplies, tables, chairs and electronics, the four of us fill the Endurance tent nearly to capacity.

Here you can see the Endurance tent (blue, yellow, and red) as well as the individual sleeping tents (smaller red ones.) You can also see the sleds we use to pull cargo behind the skidoos. The flags you see are markers for everything from holes in the ice to places where we’ve buried our frozen food.

At nearly every meal, I find myself peering around our small, slightly cramped circle in the tent with marvel – this is the closest I’ve been to survival conditions. At mealtimes, we all come into the tent tiredly with grumbling stomachs, relax and take off an outer layer if we’re warm, but even after shedding some layers inside the warm interior, I’m still wearing three layers and a hat. What’s particularly eye-opening is that we are living in some of the best conditions on the continent – today’s temperatures were a balmy -7 to -9 degrees Celsius! When I think back to the early Antarctic explorers like Amundsen, Scott, Shackleton and Mawson a century ago, I’m even more amazed at their survival stories and feats of work and travel.