McMurdo, Monday 21 Nov 2006 - Tuesday 22 Nov 2006

Before our regularly scheduled blog entry, a promotional consideration:

Don't miss the first of four South Pole webcasts hosted by the Exploratorium (San Francisco's science museum and our partners in education and outreach) and featuring all your favorite South Pole Telescope personalities (such as your narrator; Jeff, Ryan, and Joaquin; Big Boss Man John Carlstrom; and Kathryn Miknaitis live at the Exploratorium). Hosted by the Exploratorium's Mary Miller, the webcast takes place Saturday, November 25 at 12PM Central Time and can be found at the Exploratorium's Polar Science website here. www.exploratorium.edu/poles/telescope.php. (Kudos to Stu Baker for finding that site all on his own).

Thank you, and now on with the post.

After one aborted attempt --- which thankfully ended with a 4:30AM phone call to my hotel the morning of departure rather than a plane turning around 90% of the way to the ice as was the case on my last Antarctic adventure --- we made it to the continent of Antarctica. Not yet to our destination of the South Pole, but within 800 miles: McMurdo Station on Ross Island. McMurdo is the primary American base on the continent and has a population of over 2,000 during the summer. The weather here is quite pleasant (at least compared to the Pole): high temperatures around 20-30 Fahrenheit, light winds, and lots of sun. There are some spectacular storms, but they're fairly rare. The other main difference between McMurdo and the Pole is the scenery: in McMurdo, you have the trans-Antarctic mountain range, the Ross Sea, and Mt. Erebus (an active volcano); at the South Pole, it's flat and white as far as the eye can see.

The flight from Christchurch to McMurdo wasn't too bad; in fact, by Antarctic travel standards, it was positively luxurious. We almost got flown down on an LC-130 "Hercules" transport plane, which is 1) a propeller plane which takes 10 hours to make the trip and 2) is really more of a cargo plane with makeshift seats that bolt in to the sides of the fuselage. But we lucked out, the Herc was requisitioned for some other purpose, and we flew on a C-17 jet, which takes 4-1/2 hours to make the trip and has honest-to-god airline seats but spaced about twice as far apart as commercial economy class. It even has a "no smoking" and "fasten seat belt" sign and a safety spiel read in a monotone by a disinterested flight attendant (in this case a New York Air National Guardsman). For a veteran of Antarctic travel, this was rather surreal.

The entirety of our stay in McMurdo consisted of several safety lectures, two meals, and one walk out to Hut Point, where one of the shelters that Scott's men built on their 1902 expedition stands almost perfectly preserved, down to the seal that they killed --- presumably intending to eat it but dying before they got around to it. (Don't worry, a picture of this will go here really soon. And here it is (that's Jeff with the seal, and Ryan took the picture):



The safety lectures were predictably dull except for the one meant to scare us into taking the anti-altitude-sickness drug they were peddling. This particular lecture was frighteningly effective --- apparently they've medevac'ed seven people out of the South Pole already this year with what someone in authority considered life-threatening altitude sickness. Apparently, chemical changes brought on by breathing faster and harder (in an attempt to get enough oxygen from the low-pressure air) alters your body's pH, causing tissues to leak and swell. Tissues like your lungs (which fill with fluid) and your brain (which swells and pops out that tiny hole near the back of your neck). After this lecture, we all dutifully lined up to take the what the Man was selling, except Jeff who inquired quite thoroughly about possible side effects. Apparently the Man doesn't like back talk, because everyone else woke up fine the next morning, but Jeff found himself just about blind. This was categorically NOT one of the side effects mentioned in the lecture, but a search of the Big Drug Book by the kindly McMurdo doctor revealed that Diamoxx is sometimes prescribed to glaucoma patients to reduce the pressure of the optical fluid around the lens. All we can figure is that Jeff's optical fluid is somehow more susceptible than ours, and his lens was no longer able to focus. I'll spare you the few days of suspense and tell you that Jeff is fine now, but people were worried (though not worried enough to refrain from making jokes at Blind Lemon McMahon's expense). For his part, Jeff was remarkably calm --- I personally would have run screaming through the streets of McMurdo until I ran face-first into a telephone pole.

Impaired or not, the four of us piled into a C-130 early in the morning and were off to the South Pole.