Rhythms

Let me just start by saying that becoming one with the daily routines of life on the Gould has been interesting.  Most specifically, I have found that my normally acute senses of time and gravity are of little use on the ship and even completely betray me at times.  Despite dramatic stories of what veterans call "the crossing," braving the open ocean of the Drake Passage is actually forced relaxation.  While I don't doubt those stories of 20 ft swells, the passengers can't do their science, so everyone just relaxes and hopes for calm weather.  Suddenly, I found that my days had contracted considerably.  Wake up, eat, peek out the portholes and maybe enjoy the fresh air on deck, read, nap, eat, read, nap, exercise (see above), fresh air, socialize, eat, pester the captain and mates on call, movie, email, read, sleep.  Repeat.  And, even though the extended daylight hours make you stay up late, time is immeasurable by normal standards.  This phase of the journey reminded me how burdensome (albeit fun, purposeful, necessary) our daily obligations and routines can become and how important it is to allow yourself the time and brainspace for quiet thinking that somehow excludes your balls and chains.

         Now gravity, on the other hand, is a much more humorous force to explore while aboard a ship; too many of your mundane movements are affected for it to go unmentioned.  First, there are the treadmill incidences mentioned above and the many embarrasingly unbalanced missteps and shouldered doorjams.  Second, even trying to fall asleep feels silly and brings on the chuckles.  Third, walking up the countless flights of stairs... As the ship sways from side to side, one moment you're carrying five hundred pounds with each step and the next moment you're as light as a grasshopper.  Relatedly, ship doors are heavy and you can only imagine how gravitational acceleration and momentum complicate these transition areas between narrow hallways and steep staircases.  Fourth, the galley stools... Mmm..... roasted veggies.... lower extremities swing to the left... mmm..... mashed potatoes.... and we're back to the right.  It's not entirely subtle if your legs don't quite reach the floor.  And lastly, the shower.  Closing my eyes to wash off my face is like being pushed through one of those fun-houses except you're blindfolded and the mishapen mirrors are all internal.  If you don't fall, your stomach will at least turn over a few times.  My advice for the unpredictability of ships and life in general: either brace yourself or be ready to laugh when you don't.

Closed Circuit: Slums and Villas

The Laurence M. Gould was built in Louisiana around 1995.  Somewhere during the design and manufacturing stages, mistakes were made and when the ship was put into the water, she tilted a whole 17° from vertical!  They solved the problem by fashioning “wings” for the sides filled with varying amounts of cement.  Her crew and passengers love her no less for the flaw, for she is quite a handsome ship - painted dark orange and reaching at least 30 feet into the air.  As we pushed away from the dock and our sister ship, the Nathaniel V. Palmer, I felt an unexpected surge of excitement.  Of course, I knew everyone would be out on the decks and lining the dock to witness the departure, but I could not have anticipated the exhilaration and sense of adventure that would follow.  Just as the ship was about ten feet away from the dock, I suddenly felt it: Whoa, we’re going to Antarctica….  Goodbye, Chile, hello ocean. 
    The Gould has five main floors and carries almost fifty people, along with tons of cargo and millions in science equipment.  The bridge offers visitors a beautiful view of the bow and the sea ahead and contains mysterious navigational charts and instruments along with nature field guides and binoculars.  The next floor down houses many of the passengers and crew.  Climbing down another flight of stairs gets you to the lounge area (computers, books, wall of VHS), the chief scientist’s luxurious quarters (my boss), and the gym.  (As a side note, using a treadmill on a rockin’ and rollin’ ship presents new and humorous challenges I had not faced until now).  Below this floor, one finds the group labs and the galley (yum!).  Scientists are well-known for always having a coffee cup in hand, but on the Gould, the other hand is busy too.  Homemade chocolate chip cookies are abundant on the ship and everybody knows when the cooks refill the bin.  Returning to our tour, the lowest and most important floor is the hold, which houses gear, fuel, and my cozy sleeping container, referred to by my boss as the “slums.”  I live in the bauls of the ship with four other women and a few other men in the neighboring container.  From our unique position in the tummy of the ship, we can hear everything from the boom to the engine kicking into higher gears.  Aside from being one with the ship, we don’t sway as much down below, which will become important once we reach Drake’s Passage – the open ocean that separates South America from Antarctica.
    Throughout the ship, small television units can be found in various corners, on lab benches, or in the galley.  These TVs are closed circuit and provide an interesting summary of the onboard activities at any given time.  From the lab, you can get a summary of the navigational stats, information and progress updates for the experiments that are taking place, direct feed from the main deck where they lower science gear into the water, and several other feeds from cameras in key locations on the ship.  The idea of being able to know exactly what is happening everywhere on the ship was so interesting to me but is best summarized by my boss’s response to my curiosity, “It’s the ship, it’s our world.”  So many people live and work on this ship for months at a time and it truly becomes their home.  I like it here, but I am also very glad to be getting off at Palmer Station so that I can more freely explore. 

Perros y Palta in the Windy City

Punta Arenas is a colorful port town that has expanded over the years along the Strait of Magellan.  I don’t know a lot of history about the place, but I recognize it’s liveliness.  They have a small town square with permanent artisan vendors surrounded by bustling one-way streets lined with countless pedestrians no matter the time of day.  From a large hill on the outskirts of the town center, you can see all of the brightly painted rooftops with the strait and Tierra del Fuego in the background.  It’s quite a sight that makes me wonder why urban areas in the U.S. seem to have such an obsession with or social obligation to beige.  During the summer in southern Chile, strong winds and dramatic clouds are an all day, every day experience, making for beautiful skies that seem to go on forever.   
    As with many other cities and towns outside of the U.S., the residents that really run the show are the stray dogs that prowl the streets day and night.  No, they aren’t really as scary as all that, but more than anywhere else I have ever been, these animals seem to have character.  Some sleep on stoops, some play around on the beach in pairs or threes, some follow you down the street in packs, some viciously defend their sidewalk territories, others you wonder if they are even still alive.  One particularly interestingly individual chauffeured our group across two street intersections, just like a crossing guard.  It walked at the head of our pack, barking proudly until we reached the diagonally opposite corner, and then just sat quietly at the curb as we walked away.    
    Another prominent feature of Punta Arenas was something I never would have guessed.  Palta, or avocado, is a staple of almost every dish.  In fact, you would be hard-pressed to find a sandwich without it.  Ave palta is the signature sandwich, which is chicken breast, mushed avocado, and mayonnaise on a flatbread bun.  I have no idea if it is grown locally, but it makes me wonder why they charge us so much money for avocado in the States when it comes automatically in sandwiches, salads, and soups here.  Fantastic, but odd. 

Clouds

Next time you look at a map of the world, take special note of the length of South America.  Chile and Argentina reach way way down.  (Historical perspective – I cannot believe this used to be the main shipping route to get goods from one coast of the U.S. to the other before the Panama Canal!).  Three planes and 24 hours after leaving Los Angeles, our wheels touched down at the Punta Arenas airport.  This seemingly long trek is still a small price to pay for travelling such a long distance.  Air travel often allows us to take for granted the many miles and small wonders that separate us from the final destination.  Countless families, political disputes, farms, roads, mountains, animals, and even national borders define the expansive landscapes and are passed by in an instant.  One way that I am reminded of these details is by watching the clouds outside of the window.  These ever-changing cloud formations are as dynamic and heterogeneous as the land below them and can even come to resemble scenes that are familiar to us.  First, we flew over what reminded me of frozen tundra covered with a thick layer of snow, smoothed by constant winds that send a transparent layer of snow flowing across the ground.  Soon this scene changed as the clouds broke apart to form rolling hills and finally dissipated as we flew over the Andes into the agricultural valleys of Santiago.  We followed dramatic, puffy clouds all the way down to Punta Arenas where they parted to reveal a beautiful but peculiar landscape of large, flat, shrubby islands separated by large waterways that I have since learned are characteristic of Patagonia.

Follow the Luggage Tags

The setting: Scientists and aficionados gathering
The place: Dallas Fort Worth airport
    As I was getting situated in my window seat for the flight from LAX to TX, I caught the eyes of the young woman who sat directly in front of me.  She looked as though she enjoyed the great outdoors but I thought little of it.  Once we were leaving the airplane three hours later, I glimpsed what would become the simplest symbol of solidarity: the purple luggage tag.  This prized piece of flexible rubber depicting an anthropomorphized penguin next to the letters USAP (United States Antarctic Program) was not only a great way to know you were in the right place but indicated status as well.  Along with a few familiar faces at the international gate in Dallas, I was confronted with not only other friendly purple luggage tags but all the colors of the rainbow from past seasons.  Red, blue, green, and orange were only a few of the colors that marked the scientists, students, divers, support staff, and journalists that were assembling at E24.  This was both an honor and a humbling experience to quietly become part of a relatively small group of people that have shared this arguably unique experience throughout the years since the continent’s discovery and exploration. 
    As with most extraordinary endeavors and adventures, this one is comprised of people of all ages, backgrounds, and goals, all of which are unified by the underlying curiosity and love of nature around the world.  Weather it is their first or fourteenth time and whether they are studying the spatial variability of particle flux and nutrient sequestration (and hopefully science communication!!), sea ice formation, microbial communities, or penguin diets, everyone bubbling with excitement for the scenery, the science, and the friendships both new and old.     

Ten days 'til wheels up...

Welcome to my blog!  I will use this page as a forum to describe and share my thoughts and experiences during my adventure to Antarctica.

Thanks for stopping by!