Anna McKee

There were 44 people at the WAIS Divide over the holiday weekend; camp
staff, ice core drillers, ice core handlers (who log and pack the ice), a
couple of scientists doing auxiliary research, and others organizing to set
up deep field camps on the West Antarctic Plateau. West Antarctica is beset
by storms and snow winter and summer, therefore, this established camp deep
on the plateau has become a launching point for accessing areas that are
difficult to reach otherwise.

A twin otter with ice penetrating radar equipment lands at WAIS for refueling

In order to maximize the short season here, the camp works 6 days a week,
sometimes through the entire week if things need to get done because of
weather or technical delays. When I arrived, the work schedule was
transitioning from one to three shifts. The first morning, most of the camp
ate together, but by the end of the week, the only times most of the camp
was in the galley at the same time was the Sea Level Party and Christmas.
Otherwise, folks are spread out and work in the drilling arch, the galley,
communications, outside on the winter storage areas, or grooming the runway
and camp. There is an elaborate variety of tasks to keep the camp habitable
in this environment. Every few days winds produce drifting that must be
leveled out to make the area passable on foot, ski-doo or planes.
Even with grooming, walking around is a bit of a workout. The snow is fine
and relatively hard, except that it is ever shifting with soft and firm
areas. It reminds me of walking on a beach. My foot sinks a bit into the
drifts and is firmer on the packed areas. Though the accumulation is high
here, the snow packs tight, so we never need snow shoes.

Footsteps left behind after a big wind

I spend as much time as possible walking or skiing around the camp. But I
always go inside before I would otherwise because of the cold, especially if
I am standing still drawing. I retreat to the Science tent with its small
desks where I can use my watercolors and computer. The graduate students and
other scientists come and go, working on papers, proposals or catching up on
email.
We have access to a very low bandwidth (56 bits/sec) server that uplinks to
a satellite approximately 5 hours every morning. So I can post these blogs
emails to family. Unfortunately, photos are too big to send through this
system, so I will post these once I return to McMurdo.
Speaking of my return, I am due to take a flight out of the camp tomorrow,
but the wind just picked up so it will likely be canceled. The flight
system here is a bit confusing to me, but unfortunately, it does not flex
with the weather, so I may not get back to McMurdo for several more days. I
will keep you posted! :-)

December 27th, 2009
WAIS Divide Camp at 79.47°S latitude, 112.06°W longitude – high on the West
Antarctic Ice Sheet Plateau.
Holidays – Why They Might Need To Be Special
In the days leading up to Christmas, I was a bit ambivalent about
celebrating; it seemed remote and abstract. I was enjoying the lack of
commercialism that is unavoidable in the US. At the same time, I was
experiencing more homesickness than I expected. Getting short emails from
family and friends in Seattle made me misty eyed.
The reality is that we are a group of 44 mostly strangers who must share
tight quarters similar to an armada out at sea, with sporadic and
unpredictable access to land. Everybody’s work is demanding and requires
constant vigilance to stay warm and healthy. I am not sure why, but it
creates an intensity that heightens emotions. “Herc” (LC-17) flights bring
in treasured mail from home, but those flights are often delayed or
canceled. Expectations must be kept in check because disappointments are
felt more strongly.
We all miss our families and many people in camp crave the familiarity of
holidays. It is a tradition from the Heroic age of polar exploration to take
time out from routine to celebrate and mark special times. Hanukkah was
observed the week before and the chefs planned a big feast for Christmas
night. Almost everybody had the day off and dressed for the occasion,
gathering in the Galley at 5pm for appetizers. This segued into a fabulous
meal including fresh salad and vegetables.
“Freshies” are a rare treat out here; almost everything we eat is frozen.
The food is kept in a big room dug into the snow. I visited this room today
after digging the door out from a drift. The ceiling is covered with a
filigree of hoar crystals, plates that shimmer even in the dim light from the
door like sugared plums.

December 24, 2009
WAIS Divide Camp at 79.47°S latitude, 112.06°W longitude – high on the West
Antarctic Ice Sheet Plateau.

To all of my friends, family and colleagues-

Have a wonderful holiday.

crystals in the air

WAIS field camp is taking the day off tomorrow with many festivities planned. There will be cookie decorating, hors d’oeuvres, a big feast and an elephant gift exchange. And, for sure, it will be a white Christmas!

drawing white

WAIS Divide Camp at 79.47°S latitude, 112.06°W longitude – high on the West
Antarctic Ice Sheet Plateau.

Yesterday morning I took off on a snow machine driven by the fabulous GA
(general assistant) Sucha, to get beyond view of camp. We planned to follow
the route to Byrd Field Camp, marked by flags every 1/4 miles. The weather
has been overcast with flat light, but it was forecast to get worse, so the
camp manager (another amazing woman) suggested I go while the weather was
mild.

It took about 45 minutes to get ready; many layers for the ride – long
johns, thermal pants, wind bibs, wool shirt, vest, primaloft jacket and of
course, the beloved Big Red. We also packed cameras, tripod, warm tea, food,
a radio and GPS.

We first zipped down the skiway (an ice runway, for planes equipped with
skis) heading west and caught sight of the green flags that marked our way.
We traveled over the wind swept snow, a bit bumpy, but it was a good
reminder of our space and helped confirm that we were actually moving. It
was a bit unpleasant to have two stroke engine exhaust blowing in my face,
but lovely to gain so much distance from camp.

I looked out to the horizon. In some directions it was indicated by a faint
change in tone from snow to sky. It other directions the white became a
wall. If I looked away from the flag line in front and behind us, it was
impossible to gauge distance.

About half way, we stopped for a radio check, looked around and snapped a
few photos. It was no time at all before we got to 7 miles – our arbitrary
destination. Then Sucha was able to turn off the skidoo engine and there
was just the wind and white.

I reflected on William Fox’s writing in his beautiful book, Terra Antarctica
about our impulse to seek empty spaces. I have desired this experience for
so long and spent two years actively working to get here. This desire was
motivated by a few impulses that I understand and several that remain a
mystery. First there is the simple curiosity of space. What is undefined
space like experientially? Will it alter my perception, and if so, how? Will
this give me insight into mortality, the ultimate lack of sensation? And how
does this differ from other meditative states?

What I did experience first hand is a clarity of vision that comes with
limited input. For instance, the flags became supremely important and jumped
out at me. Without them we would have driven in circles and without a GPS
device would have likely lost our way. Also, I was more aware of wind
direction, aided by the strength and consistency of the blow on the plateau.
Even with the wind, there was a stillness and quiet that I can’t really
reconcile.

I am aware of the holidays, because there are decorations in the galley and
a big feast celebration is planned, but solstice went by without the power
that I feel towards it in lower latitudes. The sun revolves around lower and
higher in the sky above the white, giving me little indication of the
turning of seasons.

WAIS Divide Camp at 79.47°S latitude, 112.06°W longitude – high on the West
Antarctic Ice Sheet Plateau.

The snow pit is quiet, still and very calming. I wish I had one at home!

Today I went out the snow pit made earlier in the season by John Fegyveresi. He and Anais Orsi were going to dig it out from the last storm and I hitched a ride. Ice scientists make snow pits to assess the snow pack for a variety of characteristics. John was measuring the physical properties of the snow layers to determine their accumulation rates, variation in storms, annual layers and frost layers. He also took samples to determine their densities.
Back in his lab he will test the ratio of oxygen 18 to oxygen 16 to determine temperatures when the snow fell. There is very little climate information from this part of Antarctica, so all of these measurements help to develop a model for recent, as well as past climate conditions. It took about a half hour to dig out the entrance covered by the last storm, alternating shoveling and cutting out blocks to move the snow. This snow pit has a main room, about 2 meters cubic with secondary pits behind two of the walls. The ceiling of the main room is covered in plywood while the others are kept open to the sky, so that the ice walls are back-lit. The result,
even on a cloudy day, is blue tinted glowing walls, layered with darker and lighter strata showing summer and winter seasons. Snow falling in the summer is less dense (warm temperatures favor larger crystals) so creates a lighter
stratum, winter snow is more dense and darker. Individual storm events are often marked by thin, wind formed crusts that show hard and white.

John and Anais looking at the seasonal layers

I stood gawking while Anais and John discussed the layers and speculated about particular phenomena they observed, informed by their specialty. It was surprisingly difficult to get a good exposure with my limited photography experience, darn it. We kicked in the snow a bit, and then I walked back to camp. The light was particularly flat, so I had one of many experiences of feeling detached from the ground, trusting my feet to find sure footing over the sculpted terrain.