23 Friday Aug 2013
Posted in Antarctic Life
Tags
Antarctica, community, photography, tradition, Travel, winter, winterover
…and here we are.
I recently wrote a post about the traditions of wintering over in Antarctica, and in it I mentioned that I would soon be joining the faces hanging on the wall of winterovers. Well, here it is – our Palmer Station 2013 Winterover photo.
photo © Dave Anderson
19 Monday Aug 2013
Posted in Antarctic Life
Tags
Antarctica, Palmer Station, photography, seascape, sunset, Travel
The sunset tonight was superb. No other words necessary; the photos will speak for themselves.
12 Monday Aug 2013
Posted in Antarctic Life
Tags
Antarctica, Heroic Age of Antarctic Exploration, history, Midwinter, Palmer Station, tradition, winter, winterover, winterover photo
Wintering in Antarctica has a long history and a lot of tradition associated with it. The first recorded winter over in Antarctica – that is, below 60° south latitude – was the Belgian Antarctic Expedition of 1897 to 1899 aboard the Belgica. The ship was trapped in the sea ice near Peter I Island, and the multinational crew – which included such famous names as Roald Amundsen, who would eventually lead the first expedition to reach the Geographic South Pole – realized they would have to spend the winter in Antarctica. They were ill equipped for this venture and underwent many hardships; instances of illness and even insanity ensued, with one man ultimately leaving the ship saying he was “going back to Belguim.” It is unclear whether he made it… {<– We need sarcasm font.}
The first deliberate Antarctic winterover expedition on the mainland was the Southern Cross Expedition under the flag of Great Britain. They spent the winter of 1899 at Cape Adare. This was also the expedition that pioneered the use of sled dogs in Antarctica and established a new Farthest South record for the time before the South Pole was reached. Many reports of boredom and unrest from living in cramped quarters came from this expedition as well. (Do we see a pattern emerging?)
This was the Heroic Age of Antarctic Exploration, when nations were racing each other to be the first to do this and that, with the ultimate goal being to conquer 90° south latitude – the South Pole. Roald Amundsen and his party of five were the first to do so on December 14, 1911. However, even though Amundsen went down in history as the first to reach that milestone, Robert Scott’s ill-fated expedition may be just as famous, if not more so. Scott reached the pole only 33 days behind Amundsen, and his entire crew perished on the return journey.
There are books and articles galore that describe this age of exploration, and the impossible feats of endurance and perseverance undertaken by these men. I am not going to attempt to give a full history lesson on all of them; to do them full credit would take much more than one blog post. I merely wish to establish that wintering in Antarctica has an inherent pride associated with it. Though technological advances allow us to pass the dark winter months in a much greater degree of comfort, and we cannot even begin to compare our experiences to what those men suffered through in those days, we still find ourselves in a place of isolation. Even with phones and internet that allow us to communicate with the greenworld, all we have to do is climb to the top of the glacier behind the station and turn around in a circle to know how alone we are. 360° of beautiful views, and not another living soul in sight.
Even though our experience is not as extreme as theirs, we still feel a sense of camaraderie with those early explorers and pride in surviving a winter here.
There are many traditions in Antarctica, things that we try to keep alive year after year. For the winterovers, stations all around the continent, representing many different nations, celebrate the solstice; the Midwinter festivities are a big deal. For people who are typically spending months without any sun – or very short days, in the case of stations like Palmer that are above the Antarctic circle – Midwinter marks the farthest the sun will get away from us before it starts its return journey. It brings whole new meaning to “Here Comes the Sun.” 🙂 It is customary at McMurdo and Scott Base (New Zealand) to jump into the frigid, 28°F water on Midwinter Day for the winterover polar plunge. Most stations also decorate and serve an elaborate feast, many people bring a special outfit for the occasion, and there is often some sort of party afterward. You could say that Midwinter is the one truly Antarctic holiday; a holiday that has grown to mean something special to a mishmash culture of transients, explorers, vagabonds, and untethered souls.
One tradition that seems rather insignificant, but is actually somewhat meaningful, is the winterover photo. Typically, the summer population sees much more coming and going, and less continuity in the residents; thus it is not common for a picture of the entire summer crew to be taken, at least not at the U.S. bases. However, winter is the skeleton crew. For McMurdo, the planes leave at the beginning of March and don’t come back until late August. Here at Palmer, our period of isolation is not so long, but still the boat was supposed to leave us in June (though it was delayed until July 2) and will not return until mid-September. At each station, we are cut off from the rest of the world, stuck with the same group of people – for better or for worse – until the boats or planes return to claim us. It is meaningful for us, that we passed the months together, and so we always commemorate it with a photo.
Walking up the back stairwell of the GWR building (where I live), one is confronted by walls lined with photographs of past winterover crews here at Palmer. Starting in 1965, almost every single crew to pass the winter months here has hung a framed snapshot of their season. A couple do not feature actual photographs – perhaps they didn’t have the equipment that season? – but they still hung something; they still left a piece of themselves behind.
Everybody sees these, and perhaps pause once in a while to look a little closer at one or two photos, but for the most part they have become commonplace and people pass them by without a second glance as they go about their days. I have become fascinated by these photos. These men and women were the people that came before me, who hung their pictures up on this wall as a testament that says, “We were here, we are the history of this place.”
I, too, will be a face on that wall before the winter is over. After this season, I will be taking a break from the program for a while. It is entirely possible – I would even say probable – that I will return to Antarctica in the future; but really, who knows? Who knows what could happen, what could change, or where I could end up? Maybe another great opportunity will come my way and I will never feel the pull to come back to this continent. Maybe I will return, but I will go to one of the other stations or into the deep field. Who’s to say that I will ever see Palmer Station again? Maybe I will, maybe I won’t.
Because of that, I take a strange sense of comfort knowing that I will have a place on this wall amongst all the other winterovers who have come before me and who will come after. Maybe most people won’t ever notice me or my face, or even the entire crew that I spent these months with; maybe we will be stuck in a corner, or have an uninspired photo composition, and nobody will ever look twice. Maybe. But maybe somebody, like me, will find themselves drawn to these pictures, many years down the road, and wonder who these people were and what their stories were.
I will be a part of this station’s history, for any who care to study it.
26 Friday Jul 2013
Posted in Adventures!
Tags
Adélie penguins, adventure, Animal the Traveling PEZ, Antarctica, Bahia Paraiso, boating, cocoa, exploring, hot chocolate, Janus Island, nature, outdoors, Palmer Station, penguins, photography, Stanley thermos, Travel, wildlife, wreckage, Zodiac
There are many things that set Palmer apart from the other U.S. Antarctic stations – a maritime-supported versus air-supported operation, smaller crew and thus smaller station, certain freedoms or perks that go along with a smaller operation, et cetera. But one of the greatest things about Palmer is the abundance of wildlife near the Peninsula. Being further north than McMurdo, the temperature ranges are less extreme and there are more animals able to call this environment home.
Of course, headed down here for the winter months, and arriving later than most of my winterover colleagues, I wasn’t sure how much wildlife I would really get the chance to see. I figured that, like McMurdo, there was really only one peak season towards the end of the austral summer when wildlife would deign to show themselves. Little did I know that there are a few critters than hang around all year.
Of course, wildlife sightings are not as frequent this time of year as they are in the summer. Some animals do head to more hospitable climes for the winter, plus we have fewer daylight hours and thus fewer hours that we are able to be out in the boats. All of these factors contribute to fewer wildlife sightings. But they do still happen. There are still birds, seals, and (you guessed it) PENGUINS in the area.
A couple weekends ago, our day off dawned calm and beautiful. The time was ripe to jump in the boat and go exploring. Urjeet, Ashley, Yuki and I did just that. We headed out to Janus Island, swinging by the site of the Bahia Paraiso wreck one more time. This time we were actually able to catch a faint glimpse of the wreckage under the water – eerie and unsettling!
From there, we circled around the backside of Janus and as we cruised by, suddenly the surface of the water erupted and black and white missiles started shooting into the air! That’s right – penguins! We slowed down so as not to disturb them, and watched as these amazing creatures – deemed flightless on land – soared through the water. The sea is their sky, and there they fly, swift and graceful. I love watching them in their natural habitat. (Sorry, I was driving the boat so I wasn’t able to snap any pictures of the penguins in the water.)
After the penguins went ashore, we decided we would too. We had some initial trouble landing with the surge (the trials of a novice helmsman – me 😦 ), but once we put our most experienced hand at the rudder we were able to safely tie up and disembark. We struck off through the knee-deep snow – ugh, we should have thought to bring snowshoes – in search of more pengies.
And find them we did – eight of them! Thank goodness I had my zoom lens with me.
simply incredible © cheater_tree
After laying in the snow watching penguins for a while, we needed a little warm-up. Luckily, I had my trusty Stanley thermos with me, full of hot cocoa. Even Animal, the Traveling PEZ, couldn’t resist a taste of the sweet concoction!
Once we were warm, we had to race the light back to station, as we have strict recreational boating hours (for our own safety). We made it home with exactly two minutes to spare. We’re just that good. 🙂
Another successful outing and amazing page in my Antarctic adventures. Until we meet again, friends, as always, be warm and be well.
Ceds
19 Friday Jul 2013
Posted in My Likes & Interests
Tags
color pigments, color sensitivity, colors, existential crisis, eyes, mantis shrimp, matthew inman, nature, The Oatmeal, vision, webcomic, wildlife, wonders of nature
I am a big fan of Matthew Inman’s webcomic The Oatmeal.**
But today I read his comic about the mantis shrimp and it sparked a bit of an existential crisis for me. Apparently, said shrimp has sixteen color-receptive cones in its eyes. SIXTEEN! Upon a little further digging, it turns out that 12 are for color sensitivity and 4 for color filtering. So, okay, a conservative estimate would be that they are picking up 12 distinct color pigments, and all of the possible combinations therein. Compare that to the human eye, which has a measly three photopigments. This means that the mantis shrimp is capable of picking up exponentially more colors than we are.
© The Oatmeal, all rights reserved
WHAT AM I MISSING OUT ON??!!!
I want to experience the “thermonuclear bomb of light and beauty” that these little murderous monsters of the deep are seeing.
I feel like my life is a lie. **siiiiiiiiiiiiigh**
Okay, I know I’m overdramatizing a bit here. But seriously, somebody smarter than I should get to work on inventing “Mantishrimp Vision” stat. I would pay for that experience.
In the meantime, I’m going to vent my frustration by eating the little suckers out of spite. Because they really do sound quite tasty.
**If you are unfamiliar with the webcomic, for real, what rock have you been hiding under? You should rectify your ignorance quickly by checking it out. I highly recommend The Terrible & Wonderful Reasons Why I Run Long Distances, the Ode to Rooster Sauce, My Dog: the Paradox, or the homosexual steamroller.
FreezerBurnt 