The honeymoon was short and sweet

My first day at the South Pole involved a wonderful bow to a wondrous place. My second day involved going to work. Below is an excerpt from the second letter I wrote to my grandmother, dated the 14th of November.

"I’m working hard, and I’m working outside most of the day (temperatures have been ranging from -40 to -50 Fahrenheit with the wind-chills between -50 and -70 Fahrenheit). This sounds cold, and I was quite worried about the extreme conditions when I first arrived. But so far, it hasn’t been that bad. The wind has been pretty calm, which makes all the difference in the world. For instance, yesterday, the temperatures were in the negative 40’s, but the wind was only blowing at a few mph. Everyone was commenting what a nice day it was! If the wind isn’t blowing, it is not difficult to stay warm, even in extreme temperatures. And it only promises to get warmer as the summer season peaks.

More challenging than the cold has been the thin air. The South Pole station sits above nearly two vertical miles of snow compacted ice. Our altitude is approximately 9,200 feet, but there is less air pressure at the poles than at the equator, so it feels like we are working at approximately 11,500 feet. I can get winded by simply walking from point A to point B. So we take things slow and easy. People who have not adjusted to the altitude (which is most of us) have a signature saunter: slow, short, deliberate, and leisurely as we take large, quick, deep breaths. Some people have more trouble than others dealing with the thin atmosphere. Luckily, I have not had any major problems and have been able to dive into work. Little by little, my body is adjusting to the reduced air pressure. Little by little, I can push myself harder and harder.

My job is very physical and conditions can be extreme, but I am lucky enough to have adjusted well. My body has responded well. I am feeling well, loving my job and co-workers, adjusting smoothly to novel conditions, and having a great time. I am very glad to be here. I can honestly say; all is well!"

By the end of the season, my relationship to the climate had changed a bit,

Our brief “summer” is over, and the cold has become inescapable. It’s a sneaky, dry cold. You can be working, feeling fine, and suddenly notice, that your body temperature has dropped, and it takes all day to warm up again. It’s a deep cold; a cold that you feel in the depths your body, through and through; a cold that saps your resources; a cold that makes you stupid and tired. It’s really something else . . . and I love it. Everything becomes a challenge – walking to the bathroom, unscrewing a bolt, opening a door, even thinking clearly (as if I didn’t already have that problem!). But I enjoy it, the challenge of it, and the novelty of it. Even on the coldest days, I muster a laugh and a deep, warm smile, at the opportunity I have here, at the outrageousness of what I’m doing and where I am . . .

So you get it - its cold, "Of course it's cold, stupid", you may have muttered to yourself. I'll get on with it. My job was simple: move things around all day - by hand, by shovel, by snowmobile, by heavy equipment. I received, I delivered. It was a simple job, made complicated by the wind & cold and bureaucracy & air national guard shipping regulations.

Pictured are all the people in the umbrella 'cargo' department - i.e. people who move stuff

And the stuff we move . . .

And the stuff we move it with . . .

Downloading fuel from the aircraft . . .

The 'Cargo' Office (Check out the cutie in the left background)

Surf's Up!