BETWEEN CAMP WINTER & SOUTH POLE, ANTARCTICA– For three days straight now, we’ve been driving from Camp Winter to South Pole– driving 24-hours a day, in shifts of 6 hours on, 6 hours off, with 2 hours for dinner. My body has weirdly adjusted to the schedule, with the offshoot that it’s hard to tell what time of day it is, or what day it is, anymore. Today Kjetil, my driving partner in Chinook, one of the vehicles, asked if it was 1:30 am or pm (it was am). Earlier, I could not figure out if it was Tuesday or Wednesday (it was Wednesday).

The snow surface is subtly changing as we drive—sometimes it is relatively hard, covered with sastrugi (snow dunes), and sometimes soft and relatively flat. Occasionally we go up or down a hill, the only noticeable difference between the two is if the horizon is tilted slightly up or down. Kjetil and I are taking turns driving while the other sleeps in a back bench inside the vehicle cab. The sun bakes the cab, and so we drive with the windows and top escape hatch open mostly. Even though it is -30 deg C outside, it feels nice to sit by the open window, and is one of my favorite parts about driving. The other is the relative peace after being in a small camp with seven others for the last two weeks at Camp Winter.

For hours, I watch the snow surface go by, thinking about whatever comes to my head—our imminent arrival at South Pole, my recent wedding, home, the cold, the two months of the traverse yet to come. We have the vehicles set to go 10 km per hour, which is absurdly slow, as fast as a jogger basically. The throttle can be set remotely by a knob on the dashboard, and so for the most part I am leaned back in the seat with my feet up on the dash. I am usually the second vehicle, with no navigating to do and a set of tracks in front of me. The train I’m driving likes to stay in the tracks of the first, so steering is minimal as well.

Driving from Camp Winter to South Pole, with John ahead of me in Lasse, another vehicle.

The motion of the vehicle going up and over the sastrugi is almost soothing, and often times I’ll find my head nodding as I begin to drift off the path made by the vehicle in front of me. With nothing, literally nothing except the lead vehicle, it’s not that big of a danger, but disconcerting nonetheless. To stay awake, I listen to my iPod…usually Johnny Cash, my favorite local bluegrass band Bow Thayer and the Perfect Trainwreck (because I feel like a truck driver in my rig), or when things are desperate, a dance mix I had made up in Greenland. It is mildly surreal to be listening to 50Cent while driving so slowly over so much snow, in the middle of nowhere, -30 out with the window down and my feet propped up on the dashboard. “I don’t know what you’ve heard about me…”

Sometimes I catch myself thinking that I can’t believe I’m getting paid to do this. Other times I think that I’m not getting paid enough to do this.

We are low on fuel, and are now pretty sure we will not make it all the way to South Pole with the four vehicles. Our plan is to have the welcome party that was going to meet us anyway (we need to be escorted around the clean air section that surrounds the Pole), meet us a little earlier, with a few extra barrels of fuel. According to John’s calculations, we are only two barrels short, and will miss making it to the Pole by about 30 km. Between last year’s traverse and being at Camp Winter, the traverse has used over 100 barrels of fuel, so this shortage is heartbreakingly small. However, waiting for the fuel and the escort means we will get a few extra hours of sleep, which I am looking forward to immensely.

Our vehicles stopped for fueling.

In this video, Kjetil shows me how to drive, and you can see what the view is like as we drive for hours and hours and hours.

CAMP WINTER, ANTARCTICA– What can I say about a place named Camp Winter? Of all names, it is appropriate: desolate, cold and windy. It’s mind boggling sometimes to think how remote we are, the eight of us, and what minimal buffer we have between us and the vast, cold ice sheet outside.

But more often than not, I am focused on the camp, on the four vehicles, the garage tent, and the two modules we have for living in, the sleeping and the eating module—just running between the modules and garage tent with my head down against the bright, 24-hour sunlight, the constant biting wind, and the cold.

The view from a Basler aircraft of Camp Winter.

The garage tent, erected for the three mechanics who will be fixing and modifying the vehicles which had problems last year on the traverse (7 differentials and 2 gear boxes had to be replaced), is warm and huge. Inside, it is sometimes easy to forget where you are…it could be any large tent, any garage, anywhere. The guys listen to music all day, which switches between songs I know (Prince, for instance, and Purple Rain), and strange Norwegian songs I didn’t know existed (a Norwegian version of YMCA).

The garage tent and vehicles.

Outside, it is still -40 deg C and very windy, and as I run between the eating module and the garage, I am reminded of where I am, especially if I look out towards the horizon, over the snow surface covered with large, rough sastrugi. I spend some time everyday looking out from camp at where I am, just because it is so alien and strange, and try to figure out what I am doing here and what it means to be here. These things I haven’t figured out, on any level, existential or not.

Camp Winter from a distance, with sastrugi.

The three mechanics we have with us are amazing. Kjetil is a firefighter and EMT from Norway who was on the traverse last year. He is the one who replaced the seven differentials by himself throughout the entire two months they were traveling, out in the open and in the cold. Rune is the head mechanic at Troll, the Norwegian base near the South African coast. He worked with Berco, the manufacturer of the vehicles we are using, in order to help engineer a solution to all the broken parts last year. Svein is the third mechanic who will be on the traverse the entire way this year. Rune’s wife is pregnant and expecting soon, and Kjetil promised his family he would be home for Christmas. Together, they have a great deal of experience with these vehicles, and in Antarctica—I can’t imagine a better team to be doing this work. All of them are working hard, long hours, to get the four vehicles fixed.

The garage tent, vehicles, and living module.

There are one and a half tons of parts to replace in the four vehicles we have. Two are now broken, and all four need to be modified to keep the same problems from happening. The mechanics are replacing all the differentials in the vehicles, and two gear boxes in two of the vehicles, and installing planetary gears on both axels of all four vehicles. It’s a lot to do, for sure. We try to make sure they are well supplied with coffee, tea, and when I can manage it, brownies. They all seem to stay in a good mood, even with all they have to do.

While they are working on fixing the vehicles, I am working in a two meter snow pit and drilling 12 meter cores by hand with Tom. The snow pit measurements I am making will help determine what the physical properties of the snow—the grain size and structure—are like in this area. It’s my little secret that it’s actually quite nice in the pit. The main advantage is that I am out of the constant wind that blows. Everyone else thinks I’m tough to be hanging out all day outside, and I’m not going to disillusion them.

These two videos are time lapses of the guys working in the garage tent.

SOUTH POLE STATION, ANTARCTICA– The Basler plane we’ve been waiting for finally came, from McMurdo, and we were able to load it up and send it off to Camp Winter with cargo. The six of our team members out there will have something to do for the next few days at least, as we sent them the tent that will serve as the garage space for fixing and modifying the vehicles.

Tom and the Basler plane, which has landed in an ice fog.

With any luck — knock on wood, cross your fingers, whatever it takes — we will do one more flight of cargo tomorrow, and then Tom, Lou and I will head out as well in the afternoon. We’ve been working hard here getting everything ready, and are looking forward to joining the others. If all goes according to plan (but really, when does that ever happen), we will have enough room and weight to bring a few treats for the guys that have been out at Camp Winter while we’ve been living the high life at the Pole. We’re hoping the TV can go along, and some food. They’ve been living off of dried food and last year’s frozen left-overs for the last few days.

The Basler, landing in an ice fog.

At this point, after being here at the South Pole long enough, the apprehension I had about what I was getting myself into has passed, and I’m mostly just ready to get to work on the science part of the trip. It’s really not that bad working outside when it is so cold out, and it is no problem to take a break should some body part or another get too cold. Today, for instance, I was working outside strapping cargo onto a pallet in my running shoes since I had been too lazy to put my boots on this morning when I went to breakfast. It was -43 deg outside. After a bit of that, my toes were getting cold, so I just told Lou I needed to run and get my boots. Her fingers were cold in her gloves, so we both took a little break to put on the right kind of clothing. The cargo can wait.

They fit! We had been a little concerned the large doorframes for the tent wouldn’t fit through the Basler door. Of course John had long ago figured out they had…he is well acquainted with planes. We even had the heavy shop on notice in case we were going to have to cut them to get them into the plane.

The guys out at Camp Winter have two of the four vehicles started, and all of the heaters in the modules started. The floor heating system is working, the water melter is working, everything is as ready as it can be. I was joking that we should show up tomorrow carrying lawn chairs and drinks with little paper umbrellas in them, since they have had to do so much of the hard work. Instead, we’re going to bring them some cookies from the wonderful galley and dining room staff, and chip in to help as much as we can.

SOUTH POLE STATION, ANTARCTICA– South Pole is a constant construction site. The new station is still being finished up, but is very nice inside, sort of a cross between a high school building and space station.

The new South Pole Station, under construction.

Heavy machinery runs day and night to remove the snow that accumulates around camp. Walking between Summer Camp and the main station usually means dodging one or two of the large Caterpillars running around. There is a steady haze that hangs over the station from inversion layers…cold air pressing all the exhaust from the buildings and the machinery down towards the surface.

Part of the heavy machinery fleet at Pole.

We are here at the beginning of the summer season, and so there is a constant influx of Herc (LC-130 aircraft, or Hercules) flights, so far since we have been here there have been at least 3 each day. It diminishes any sense of isolation you might otherwise have. The winter-over crew, on the other hand, are all leaving as this steady stream of newcomers arrives. They seem a little overwhelmed at times, having had the station all to themselves the last few cold, dark months. The station population is now 243 people.

At times, there are more people than seats in the galley at meal times. It’s time for us to leave. Unfortunately, we can’t leave. After getting six of our group and minimal cargo out to Camp Winter, “bad” weather moved in, and the last few days the Basler aircraft that was scheduled to come and take Tom, Lou and I to Camp winter has been canceled. “Bad weather” is reduced visibility, and high winds (around 20 kts), but not a white-out type of storm. It’s actually warmer out than it has been (-38 deg C!), but the wind does make it a little more miserable to be outside than the last few days. To me now, after being here a week, -40 and calm winds feels like a nice day–enough of a nice day that Lou and I will remark to one another, “wow, it’s a nice day out today.” We’ve been working outside almost all day every day, sorting cargo, and somehow have become accustomed to the colder temperatures. It’s a bit of a relief for me, knowing I won’t be miserable working outside all the time when it’s that cold.

Rune and Tom outside sorting cargo on a cold day.

We have been in contact with the group once or twice a day since they left using our Iridium satellite phones. They are doing well, which we are glad to hear. It is a little colder and windier where they are, and can feel the difference in elevation…it’s 350 m higher where they are.

Einar and Tom talk to John at Camp Winter on the Iridium phone from inside our Jamesway.

Now we are stuck here at the South Pole, ready and raring to work, and the group out at Camp Winter has done as much as they can with the tools they have, with the skiway all ready for the Basler to land.

The large, heavy (over 4000 lbs) tent that will be used as a garage to fix the vehicles, in pieces. The rest of our cargo is behind it.

We are all ready to get down to business, setting up an enormous tent so that the mechanics can fix the vehicles, including making modifications to the vehicles which are currently operational. Last year, the vehicles had problems with the differentials. Seven were replaced in the field, in the open, by Kjetil, the team mechanic and medic–obviously, the team super mechanic and medic (although the vehicles, luckily, needed more attention than the people). The differentials have been re-engineered, and things should go better this year. Lou, our driller, and I are going to drill a ninety meter core while the mechanics fix the vehicles (well, Lou is going to drill, and I am going to do the core handling…measuring, weighing and packaging the core to get shipped back to the US from the Pole). Both of us are excited to get started on our hole.

SOUTH POLE STATION, ANTARCTICA– So far in this trip, the main goal of the team has been to sort and pack our cargo. We have 21,000 lbs going out to Camp Winter alone, not including the food and supplies for the trip from South Pole to Troll which we will start mid-December. I personally, have dreams about stacks of wooden boxes on pallets and TCN numbers (the cargo tracking numbers assigned to all our boxes in the US Antarctic Program).

Our science cargo. The white boxes are used to ship the ice cores that we take in one meter sections.

This box is going to Camp Winter (CW).

I’d like to think that we have one of the most well-organized, well-sorted, 10 ton piles of cargo ever produced. Every box has been inventoried to the item–all the bolts, wrenches, rolls of toilet paper, peanuts, candy bars, rolls of duct tape–weighed, measured, and sorted several times in terms of priority, in terms of tasks needed to be accomplished, and in terms of the flights, which continuously change on us. If we get 5 flights into camp instead of 6, it means something has to be left behind. And that something must not be important. Flights are pretty flexible here due to weather, which can be bad here or at McMurdo, where most of the planes are coming from, or because of conditions, such as the fairly rough ones out at the vehicles. This means that we have to be flexible—we’re talking contortionist-flexible.

Just how rough was it? The team consults with the Twin Otter pilot before the first flight to Camp Winter about how bad the surface was for his recon flight.

We were supposed to have two Twin Otter flights into Camp Winter, but due to the rough surface and possible damage that could be inflicted on the plane, the pilot only wanted to do one more flight to bring in passengers. The pilot told Einar that the surface wasn’t the worst he’s ever experienced, but that it was pretty bad. This is understandable, but meant that we had to scramble this morning to reprioritize what cargo should go on the plane, once again. And hopefully, the flight we are losing now in the Twin Otter won’t mean we have too much cargo for the remaining three Basler flights.

SOUTH POLE STATION, ANTARCTICA– Phase One of our traverse from South Pole Station to the Norwegian Antarctic base, Troll, is to recover the four tracked vehicles we are using, which are currently stranded 350 km from the South Pole. Svein, Kjetil and Rune are the cracker-jack mechanics who will fix two of the vehicles, which are currently non-operational, and replace the differentials (this being the part that broke several time last season) in all of the vehicles. Lou and I are going to drill an ice core while the mechanics do the repairs. The spot where we will be working is called Camp Winter, since that is where everything spent the last season.

Last week, a reconnaissance flight over the vehicles determined that the surface out there is too rough to land for the Basler aircraft we were scheduled to take on Saturday. This is because there has been more than one main wind direction, which results in sastrugi (wavelike ridges on the surface of hard snow) oriented in different directions, and a rough landing for any plane.

Sastrugi at the South Pole.

The Basler has two skis and is heavier compared to the Twin Otter’s three skis, lighter weight, and beefier suspension. The pilot on the recon flight had done a “ski drag,” touching the surface, but not landing, to determine how bad the surface really was there. He didn’t even want to land the Twin Otter near Camp Winter, but saw a smoother area a bit further away where he planned to land, and then taxi everyone over to the vehicles. The crew on the recon flight took pictures of the vehicles, so we think that, at least from the air, things look ok, and nothing major is missing or completely buried. As Einar happily pointed out there are no “little black spots scattered all over the snow.”

The Twin Otter plane.

The plans were changed so that John, Kjetil, and Svein will fly out in a Twin Otter to set up Camp Winter with minimal gear on the first flight. Glen, Einar, and Rune will follow. The Twin Otter cannot carry as much cargo as the Basler, and so there will be 3 more Basler flights as soon as they can make a skiway (a snow runway) for the Basler. The South Pole has a clean air zone, which happens to lie directly in the path between the South Pole and our vehicles, and so the Twin Otter, an unpressurized plane, had to fly “over” the clean air zone, at an altitude of 30,000 ft. This means that the passengers have to fly with oxygen masks.

At Camp Winter, the plan is to open up the workshop module (all the doors have been screwed shut to prevent them from blowing off and to keep snow from blowing in) and start heating it right away using a generator for power. The next task is to get one of the vehicles running so that they can groom a skiway for the Basler aircraft to land on, bringing the rest of our cargo out to Camp Winter. Making the skiway flat enough for a plane to land on means that the group out at Camp Winter will have to knock down the same large sastrugi (snow dunes that form into the wind) that the pilot had a hard time landing on. Sastrugi tend to be very hard, as they are made from windpacked snow. The plan for now is to use the blade on Jack to knock over the tops of the sastrugi, then improvise some sort of grater using materials out at Camp Winter…2 x 4’s, the decking for the modules, or chain. In a few minutes, Lou, John, Rune, and Kjetil, who all have experience grooming skiways, were able to come up with several options using materials out at camp.

Just to set the scene for what these guys are doing…they are flying from the South Pole, already in the middle of nowhere, but at least the middle of nowhere with 240 other people, and a galley staff dishing out warm, hot meals, an extremely large, warm station, wireless internet access in our tents (our tents!) in Summer Camp, running water, telephones, a game room, a gymnasium and weight room, lounges and big screen TVs, a pool table, and 3 to 4 daily flights coming in to diminish the sense of isolation. They are leaving to go 350 km from here, to four vehicles that have been left on the ice sheet for the entire winter. We have the recon flight pictures showing that nothing has blown away, and that nothing is completely buried. But we don’t know if the seals on the doors have held, or if the windscreens on the vehicles have broken and everything is filled with snow. We don’t know if the vehicles will start or if the heaters on the modules will fire up.

The Jamesway tents in Summer Camp where I’m staying while at the South Pole.

John has considered all these scenarios, and we have multiple plans for the multitude of things that can happen. We are sending the first group in with medical supplies (including a Gomow bag, oxygen tank, and meds to deal with altitude sickness, the most likely major thing that would go wrong), several generators, fuel, emergency shelters, clothing, some water, and a minimal set of tools. That’s it!

The mood leading up to the flight is one of relaxed confidence that everything is going to work out just fine. I think this is part of the Norwegian character. All of our meetings and discussion have an element of humor (except the safety meeting we had in McMurdo…that was all business). Today, handing out the emergency communication devices to use in case of a plane crash–an Iridium phone, a PLB (personal location beacon) and radio–Kjetil jokingly gave Svein the PLB since it “only has one button to push.”

Glen, Einar and Rune wait for the second Twin Otter flight to load while Tom offers his support, and a few jokes to ease the tension.