Oden

The first ship has arrived in McMurdo Sound: the Swedish icebreaker Oden, clearing the way for more ships to come (a research vessel, a fuel tanker, and a cargo ship). For weeks leading up to its arrival, the rumor mill was awash with tidings of "hot Swedish chicks" that would soon descend en masse upon our island. Anyone not stuck at the bottom of the world will recognize the absurtity of that idea, but there was some genuine optimism. In the end we settled for eighteen hardened Nordic sailors and guided tours of the ship.

[Yes, the ship can be fully crewed by just 18 Swedes. On research trips, however, they can accomodate up to 80 with extra crew and scientists. 10 bonus points to anyone who can correctly guess why the Oden sprays water out her bow, as in the picture below.]


Another recent arrival is NASA's inflatable "lunar shelter" test structure. If you haven't heard, we're scheduled to return to the moon by 2020, and this time we're going to stay. This is one potential shelter design: it packs small, insulates well, and inflates quickly. Already it looks promising for use near Earth's poles. If it survives the coming Antarctic winter, it might one day make it to the moon.

[No website yet, but they've promised to have one with live webcams and educational material.]

Now you see it...

Now you don't!

Cynics will be forgiven for calling to mind the proto-hip-hop track covered most famously by Gil-Scott Heron.

pepe

the peach and the pain

i've done it: 26.2 miles of white nothingness. a marathon. something i've always wanted to do, but never enough to train properly for. so i didn't! and paid for that with utter exhaustion and pain so great i've been shuffling around like an old man. even made it (by the skin of my teeth) in under 5 hours. more importantly, i've done it, and need never do it again. hallelujah for that.

a few of the things that got me through:
-michael franti
-one fresh peach
-jules' inspiration
-supporters: very few but very enthusiastic
-visions of mom's white pizza on becca's thin crust dancing in my head

others' pics will probably be more interesting--i'll share 'em when i get 'em.

pray i can walk tomorrow.
pepe

Assisting, Generally.

In Antarctica, work days are ten hours long, and there are six of them every week. Efficiency is valued less than "looking busy," productivity takes a back seat to bureaucracy, and the entry for "planning" has been blacked out of every dictionary. Managers inhabit a parallel universe where logic has no bearing, and punish the slightest infractions with the dreaded "verbal written warning."

Perhaps this explains my reluctance to take up the subject of work. Until recently, my job as general assistant has been an incredible disappointment. I don't know what was worse--the days with nothing to do, or the days full of painfully pointless (yet micro-managed) busywork. I came very near to quitting several times. But all that wouldn't make for a very entertaining blog, so I'll try my best to focus on the most interesting tidbits. Nonetheless, this could be a rather dull entry; if so, I'm afraid I've accurately characterized the job.

But don't feel too badly for me--recently my duties changed dramatically, and for the better. This will be a long entry as it is, so I'll write about that next time.

Officially, I'm assigned to a small team of pipefitters and general assistants working on the fuels projects around town. The biggest such project was building a pipeline from the fuel tanks to the helocopter pad. This is where we spent most of our time: under Observation Hill, working out of the white shipping container on the left. If you zoom in, you can pick out the completed 6" diameter pipeline cutting accross the bottom of the hill, a yellow welding machine, and my two fellow GAs, John and Stevo.

Welding the pipe together is left to the certified pipefitters, but pretty much everything else is up to us--guiding heavy equipment to move the pipe into position, cutting pipe sections to length, and as seen here, assembling the stanchions the pipeline rests on.

This was a decent tasking for two reasons: first, it wasn't pointless--there was a clear objective that we had a hand in achieving. Second, we got to play with fire! Here I'm preparing an oxy-acetylene torch for cutting the stanchion steel.

Pure physical labor wasn't too bad either--you could listen to music, get lost in the work, and come home tired and full of endorphins. This manhole was particularly challenging: we needed a hammer drill to break through the ice and buckets to haul out each shovel-full of snow. (Pointless work, exhibit 523: After chipping away at this hole for an entire day, we were told to "never mind, we don't need it dug out after all.")

One interesting task involved helping out at the new power plant: read the plans, correct any inconsistencies between the plans and the plant, and tag every valve with the appropriate label (here, I'm decked out in fall protection to reach valves 30 feet up). Essentially, "explore the plant and figure out how it works." But of course it was too good to be true. Never mind that I excelled at this task, and even helped the veterans find errors in their own tagging; once the manager found me being useful, I was ordered to get back to my own job: sponging down the walls.

Hope that helps explain what I actually DO down here. It ain't much, but to use the popular Antarctic cliche--it's a harsh continent.

Working hard and/or hardly working,
pepe

Odds, Ends, Etc.

Happy New Year!

Here by the Ross Ice Shelf, we had the unique distinction of being the first people in the world to see the sun in 2008. To celebrate, we had an outdoor music festival and chili cook-off. In a snowstorm.


Thus far, the new year has been filled with various athletic pursuits. One you might not recognize is "Nagel"--a thrilling game where strategy meets carpentry, eye protection is mandatory, and performance-enhancing drugs are encouraged (in the form of beer, aka "aiming fluid"). Jared, why don't you show the folks at home how it's done:

Thanks, Jared--well played. In soccer league, our mighty team was felled by an extraordinary goalie (the frustratingly talented woman blocking my shot below), knocking us out in the semi-finals.


Ultimate frisbee has thus far been confined to the elementary-school-sized gym seen above, but this weekend we made a special trek to play out on the Shelf. (Brought back fond memories of winter 3v3 and Get Ho Ho Ho--any of you guys tuning in?)



Finally, another race--this one 8k--with plenty of uphills, upwinds, and upchucks. Fortunately, I was able to finish well without losing my brunch.


Yours at 77.8 south and 7:32/mile,
pepe

Merry Christmas!

And a very happy Chranukkah, Festivus, Kwanzaa, Ramadan, Hanukkah, and New Year!

As a holiday gift, I present to you a video of last week's Cyclocross race. This was my first ever attempt to ride a mountain bike, much less race one. And I'm proud to say that I achieved my goal and finished within the top half of the finishers! (Allow me to clarify: I achieved my goal, which was to make it out of the race alive. Barely. I somehow happened to place well too.) I hope my clumsiness brings you joy on this special day, as it has brought so many of you so much joy in the past.*

(If the video doesn't work, or for higher resolution, try here)

With stockings full of holiday cheer,
pepe


*See for example: trying to catch a frisbee on a bicycle; "freestyle rock diving" in Brazil; and countless attempts at dribbling a soccer or basketball, only to end up flat on my face.

PS - Antarctica is largely void of seasonal decor...but not entirely! Our room is the one with the palm tree.

Adventures in the Touch Tank

Lately, I've been craving some fresh sushi. Of course, such a delicacy is never served in the galley, so I headed down to the local aquarium to find my own. What I found was the delicous Cockroachus Giganticus, or the Giant Sea Cockroach. At least, that's my best guess at its name.

I dipped him in soy sauce and prepared to gobble him up...

...when suddenly I was attacked by an enormous sea spider (real name)! These guys are the size of your fingertip normally, but grow to enormous sizes in Antarctica.

Eventually we reached a truce, and I hobnobbed with the remaining sea creatures peacefully.





yours,
pepe

The Bazaar

Several weeks ago, I signed up for the annual arts and crafts fair, hoping to exhibit and possibly sell some jewelry of my own design. There were three problems: (1) I had nothing to exhibit. (2) I'd brought few supplies with which to make anything to exhibit. (3) I'd be displaying my wares amongst ten other jewelers, all far more experienced and entirely prepared. Thus the past couple weeks have been a rather frantic test of my creativity and resourcefulness. (I can't take all the credit: mom and sis saved the day by picking out and shipping down a bunch of fantastic stones!)

Leading up to the show, some crafts were displayed in the store windows, including a set I made with copper wire from the power plant dumpster. This turned out to be exceedingly popular--a night shifter set her alarm to make sure she'd be first in line to buy it!

Perhaps most interesting was how poorly I predicted my audience's aesthetic. What I considered my finest creations were touched a lot, but went unsold. What does this mean? Wrong price point? Yet my trail flag earrings--which I thought were rather unspectacular--sold like hotcakes.

In addition to jewelers, the show featured knitters, painters, potters, and photographers. And customers. Lots of customers.

My humble booth.

Definitely an interesting, eye-opening experience...but perhaps not my calling. As nice as it was to take peoples' money, the pressures of production and salesmanship took much of the fun out of this otherwise enjoyable (if expensive) hobby.

In other news, my roommates and I finally completed the legendary "beeramid."

It toppled over soon after completion.