Antarctica, I Owe You One

I absolutely cannot summarize this experience in words, it is just too big on so many levels. But, as the adventure comes to an end, I would like to highlight some of the unforgettable moments and try to express what this place has meant to me. I must first say that my favorite memories will not only be of the extraordinary moments but will include the plainer routines that made up my daily experience here. That said, sampling in the zodiak will stay with me as one of my favorite routines. Alice and I would quietly go about our respective tasks and as I was sitting in the back of the boat, I would look around and just want to stay. It is a rare and special moment, especially in my seemingly fast-paced lifestyle, that I simply want to do nothing but be still and stay put. Relatedly, I am thankful for the time in the boats because we got to experience how different each day was. Sometimes it snowed, sometimes we had to hold on tight, sometimes the sun would peek through the clouds and reflect brilliantly off the mountains.
           The mountains alone are a separate highlight at the top of my list. Never did I think about seeing huge, tall mountains covered in snow and surrounded by water. I will never get over the odd and incredible impressions that dominating aspect of the landscape gave me. Completely captivating. A third feature of the landscape that I loved were the sunsets. Perhaps because they were rare or perhaps because sunsets are something that everyone can relate to, I'm not sure which. What made these sunsets special, though, were the icebergs that littered the foreground and how the low-lying clouds around the mountains were tinted orange. Sometimes the sunset glued all of the pieces together in my mind - the water, the ice, the rocks, the mountins, and our place in it.

         Something else I will unquestionably take with me is all of the wildlife that gives personality to the landscape. I cannot believe all of the marine animals I saw and got close to. The whales, the penguins, the seals.... all of it was awesome. That brings me to camping. I described it in an earlier post, but that feeling of being surrounded by raw, unadulterated nature is something that I never want to forget even though there is little room for that sentiment in "the real world."
           One aspect of this landscape that will stay with me is its expansiveness. Perhaps it is so evident because of the tall mountains, or maybe because you can look to the horizon and see it as your domain because nobody can ever claim it or develop it. I always try to observe my surroundings in all of their detailed complexity but I try to simultaneously see myself as the dot that I am. This was particularly easy sitting atop the glacier looking at the mountains that vanish into the distance not because of foggy clouds but because they actually keep going as far as you can see. The only way that I can think to convey the beauty of this expansiveness would be to tell you to close your eyes and create a mental collage of all of my photographs and allow that stitched image to extend infinitely to the horizon. I know that's what I'm going to do when I am surrounded by billboards and traffic lights.
             Hugh says that the real world will never be the same. I'm not convinced that this is true, but it does beg the question of how much of all this I will be able to carry with me. I know that you cannot hold onto everything in life, but I cannot help but think that this experience has changed me. The problem is that when old routines and habits set in, your current circumstances really dominate your past experiences - even if they are incredible, they tend to melt away. Perhaps the two things that I am determined to bring with me are the positivity and the peace that I have felt. Being so excited on a daily basis completely trumps all other rollercoaster feelings that are a part of life - it's a constant emotional high. When I tried to figure out why being at Palmer station was so easy for me, I came up with two things: no money, no cars. Never worrying about finances or sitting in traffic is a beautiful thing and it actually gives you the opportunity to see what you become when stripped of the usual concerns.
         All that said, when people kept asking me whether I'd be back or want to be back, the answer was far from a no-brainer. Living in Antartica gives you so much, but you have to give up almost everything in return. It works for some people. A notable Antarctic researcher once said that if you shake the earth, all the misfits fall to the bottom. I don't think that's entirely true, but you can look around and understand why certain people are just happier here. Speaking of people, the community that I found at Palmer is perhaps highest on my list of unforgettables! I will never forget the smiles and generosity that I met here. Working here felt very really and meaningful, but some might see Antarctica as an escape from everything. I'm not sure how my own perspective on this will change with distance, but maybe it's a little of both. My biggest hope is that there will always be a space inside of me where I can go to relive this incredible adventure. Through this trip, I have been reminded of how important it is to let my imagination run free and allow my heart and mind to simply explore the world.

    Thanks to my friends and family who have been following me in all of this - it means a lot. An even bigger thanks to my bunkmate, travel and gym buddy, my partner in exploration, laughter and microbrial crime, the one and only, Alice Alpert. This wouldn't have been the same without you for a companion!

Oh, Antarctica, it's been great - I owe you one.

The Journey North

Even though we are retracing the same path that we sailed over a month ago, I wanted to write briefly about it because no two journeys are alike.  Right from the start, it has been completely different in both the scenery and people's priorities and mindsets.  We had quite the send-off.  Even though it had been snowing for hours, everyone gathered in their warm gear to wave goodbye to us.  A group of ten or so were even carrying towels under their arms.  Why, you ask?  It's a good-luck tradition to take the plunge off the pier bumper as the Gould departs.  So sure enough, as we pulled away, surrounded by snow and ice, we saw our friends jumping and diving into the frigid water.  As Palmer was being swallowed by the dense clouds, we watched the penguin island go by and each took in the station for the last time.  Still in good spirits, we headed inside and out of the snow for what famously became the day of naps.  The Neumayer chanel was hidden from view by the clouds, so I felt no guilt in sleeping until dinner.  Thus began the routine of resting, sleeping, eating, and taking in the sights. 
             My favorite spot on the ship by far is the bridge.  You get to look at the charts and name the islands or sit at a back table and read while looking out the windows.  This is where I have spent most of my time, strategically avoiding the myriad movies that have been playing in the lounge, none better than Beverly Hills Cop.  From the bridge, Alice and I absorbed the last icebergs and Antarctic ice-covered mountains on the map and I am still holding the beauty of that afternoon in my mind.  For some reason, our shipmates did not seem as sentimental or eager to absorb the view.  In truth, a strange divide has become apparent between those who stayed at the station versus those who spent the whole month on the ship.  Naturally, the two groups would have drastically different experiences, but some people seem more eager to exchange photographs and stories than others.  Some folks are also very eager to get off the ship, for one reason or another.  One that immediately comes to mind is the rolling.
         I woke up from one of my naps, climbed to the main deck, and suddenly felt awful.  Why are we rolling so much?  Aren't we still along the peninsula?  Right then, I knew that we were in for a much rougher ride compared to our previous journey.  The constant and relentless swaying of the ship has been entertaining and fun (once you get used to it), but it definitely makes everything you do more tiring. I thought stairs and sleeping were a challenge before! Well, let's just say that I learned the value of bracing yourself and of using the adhesive placemats in the galley - without them your neighbor would suddenly lay claim to your dinner!  Despite my improved balance, I still avoided the shower.
            Sitting up in the bridge seeing the horizon sway back and forth in all directions is so interesting because you forget how huge the ship is when it is tossed about like a toy in a bathtub.  The ocean is just that big and that powerful.  Another interesting artifact of sleeping downstairs in the berthing vans is you are privvy to the powerful booms that reverberate through the walls when the waves hit the ship at the right angle - they send a shockwave of rattling vibrations through our quarters... very tough to sleep through, but made me chuckle all the same.  It's hard to get annoyed or frustrated at anything in an experience like this. 
        As I said before, some people are anxious to get off, but I am really enjoying these days on the boat.  Before, it was forced relaxation.  Now, it is the only buffer I have between me and going back to school!  I have mainly spent my mornings up on the bridge enjoying the view and catching up on schoolwork.  It has been a lovely transition, despite having moments when you feel so heavy that all you can do is sleep!  The view has been mostly ocean, but what an ocean it is.  Through the Drake Passage, the water is this unbelievable color of blue because nothing grows in it - no plants or even animals to absorb and scatter the light.  Birds will also occassionally encircle the boat for a few hours.  The beautiful cloud patterns complete the picture.
        Other than that, we have a fire drill this afternoon and dock around 2am Sunday morning.  Customs will meet us and then we are free to frolic about Punta Arenas for the day - I've heard rumor of a chocolate shop that we missed the first time around!  We're also staying in a beautiful old hotel with a glass greenhouse that sits directly on the town square.  Yep, traveling in style. An update: we saw these dolphins once we entered the strait of Magellan - so fun!  They were playing in our wake. 

Antarctica By the Numbers

Last night the station band gave us quite the send-off.  We had 2+ hours of rock 'n roll and many smiles into the wee hours of the morning.  Today the line-handlers will untie us and off we'll go, waving goodbye to Palmer station and heading for the open ocean.  It's been snowing all morning and everyone is in good spirits.  Stay tuned for final thoughts after the trip north, but first, Antarctica by the numbers......

  

Scint vials processed: 1500

Photographs taken: 900

Fantastic meals: ~100

Beatles songs in the Rad Lab: at least 40

Peaceful nights sleep:30

Days on the ice: 27

Bowls of homemade granola consumed: 15?

Mornings out with Bruiser: 12

Hours spent in the cold room: at least 9

Marine mammal species sighted: 8

Birthdays celebrated: 7

Cruise ships boarded: 6

House mouses and GASHs: 5

Evenings in the hot tub: 4

Climbs up the glacier: 3

Named icebergs: 2

Fantastic research buddy: 1

Polar Plunges: 1

Beautiful sights: Infinite

Great conversations and smiles: Countless

What a fantastic adventure.

Day of the Whales

There are a few pictures up around the station that are titled "Day of the Whales, 1987" that depict zodiaks meters away from big, curious humpback whales.  I never expected to experience this myself, but we marked Feb. 1st as "Day of the Whales, 2010."  A day that merits this designation is more than a series of lucky close encounters or distance spout sightings.  Rather, "Day of the Whales" refers to a whole day or even several hours where many pods come into the area to feed and play.  Not only that, but for me it means that everything is about them rather than us, when they could care less about our presence.  Well, today was certainly one of those days and it was........ for fear of using the word "surreal" yet again, I will call it phenomenal.

       Where to begin on humpback whales... Let me first set the stage.  Alice and I were regrettably retained in the lab throughout the day and became more and more agitated about being cooped up inside when we could here exclamations of awe over the radios from those out on the boats following the whales around.  But, we got lucky in the late afternoon and were able to sneak away when we heard that they were still there.  The first few dorsal fins and tails we saw just overwhelmed me, but the bubble feeding was an entirely different and more incredible sight to witness.  We could see a ring of bubbles forming on the surface..... then a fin..... then a sudden burst of activity with three or four gaping mouths surging into the air.  This was always followed by a mix of strangely curved and colored body parts as the whales sank back under the surface.  These were not just isolated displays but continued happening for at least an hour and in multiple pods around us and far off into the distance.  Day of the Whales indeed. 

        What was perhaps most incredible about this experience was how close we got to the animals.  We kept a safe and respectful distance, most of the time.  We were so close that we were occasionally overwhelmed by their awesome but gross-smelling spew.  I felt like a whale pod groupie.  They would surface, give us a frothy baleen show of bubbles, swim briefly underwater, and repeat.  Each time they moved, we moved alongside or behind and then oooooed and aaahed when they came up again.  

         Three things surprised me most about getting up close and personal with the humpbacks today.  First is the distinctly recognizable variation that you can see between each individual.  We practically had our small pod named within ten minutes.  "Oh, that's orange tail," or "there goes curvy fin!"  Their flukes really are like fingerprints, where no two are alike, but I always thought you needed fancy imaging techniques or binoculars to distinguish between them.  As it turns out, that is not the case at all.  Second, is their form.  Humpback whales are somewhat oddly-shaped creatures when it comes down to it.  I have seen dozens of textbook outlines and diagrams, and I have even been whale-watching.  However, none of these previous exposures had prepared me for the immensely large chin pouch or how strangely flat the tops of their heads are.  Their surfaces are also very heterogeneous.  Everyone has heard of the barnacles that mooch off this gracious host, but those little mounds combined with the natural nubs they have on their heads and flippers make for a very lumpy sight.  Lumpy but spectacularly graceful, of course.  Diagrams also don't do justice to the distinct grooves that run all along their underside.  Third, humpback whales are not just black, grey, and white.  Whether it is algae also hitching a ride on their huge bodies or whether it is true skin pigment, these whales have orange and brown patches on their chin like a beard!  The white underbelly is a beautiful contrast to their sleek black heads. 

           We followed one pod along the backside of the penguin island as they moved away.  At one point, they seemed to take a turn in front of us and suddenly, the unbelievable happened!  One and then another of the whales breached and flew into the air.  The second even added a half twist for effect.  We were all nearly speechless!  It was like a postcard or some other picture-perfect representation of reality.  The penguins and birds were also taking advantage of the krill that the whales were driving to the surface.  It was a beautiful display of natural excitement.  Overall I think the most awe-inspiring aspects of them are their size and grace.  Their backs are massive coming out of the water; pinnochio really could have been easily swallowed in the surge of water entering their bodies.
            As you can imagine, this was an incredible ending to our final, more normal day here at the station.  Tomorrow the boat arrives and the whole place will be abuzz with cargo operations, changing room assignments, and a great amount of science equipment being disassembled and reassembled or packed away.  It is difficult to imagine what it will be like having our big ship docked at the pier and seeing distantly familiar faces that signify leaving.  Last night, the Gould did a fly-by and appeared out of nowhere off at the very limits of our boating range.  It went something like this: "IS THAT THE GOULD?!?!?!  Nooooooo!"  It just feels like an intrusion to even think about disrupting the routines we have established here. 

          But, in truth, I am ready to come home and have so much to look forward to when I do.  I am only trying to convey how strongly confused and emotional this transition feels.  But, I am guessing that once the ship arrives, it will all feel natural to carry my suitcase down the plank and back into the bowels of the ship.  It has just been such a grand adventure, and because it has been so big, I almost don't feel too sentimental about it.  There haven't been any "lasts" to worry about because I have already absorbed more than I ever thought possible.  Thank you, whales, for the great show.  They must have known it was a special night!