Week 5: Sa 25 November 2017, 18:29. Cape Shirreff, Livingston Island, Antarctica
Possibly never in my life have I had such mixed feelings on blue sky and sunshine.
This is Antarctica. It’s supposed to be snowy and cold forever, right? Actually, no. Little by little, the sunshine is melting the snow and tearing our camp apart.
Nai and Sam are on Team Melt. Adam and I are on Team Snow. Our clever conversations go something like this –
Snow: Yay! It’s snowing!
Melt: Noo-o. Melt, baby, melt!
Snow: But it’s so pretty. Even Wonder Woman thinks snow is magical. Melt team + Doug: If she shows up, let us know over the radio.
There are many reasons I don’t want the snow to melt. My primary reason is functional and lies in my preference for skiing over snowshoeing. The sooner the snow melts down, softens, and becomes slushy, the sooner our days of skiing are over. Not only is skiing more fun – it’s also faster and a better cardio workout. In one small spot today we finally lost all of our snow and had to negotiate around the revealed rocks at the top of our one downhill. It was a sad moment.
Snow also keeps everything cleaner. My bibs, gaiters, and boots are always splattered with mud and poop when I leave the penguin colonies. Snow helps clean some of that off on my walk back to the Skua Shack. Once the snow is gone, layer after layer of “mud” will build up on my gear.
Maybe most importantly, the longer the snow sticks around, the longer I get to sled. Body sled, real sled, whatever. IT’S THE BEST! I have 2 different chutes for body sledding on my penguin colony rounds, and I’ll be heartbroken when I have to just walk down hills. The ride down from ridge 29 is initially a steep drop, but it mellows out as it continues to the flats. With below freezing temperatures lately, the surface is frozen enough to let me set new distance records! There’s always a part of me tempted to climb back up the ridge just so I can slide down again.
A few nights ago our evening activity turned out to be everyone else watching me sled down El Condor, the steep hill behind camp. The slog uphill with large sled in tow was taxing, but the ride back down was guaranteed to be pretty epic. It was the tail end of a beautiful day; the skies were muted dusky colors, and the setting sun turned the surrounding hills a pleasant shade of orange. The distant snow-covered mountains were out in their glory, and the air was clear.
I turned the sled around at my Launch Point and had a moment of questioning my sanity, as I noticed a steeper drop near the beginning of my descent. Nonetheless, I radioed camp with the message “This is a little intimidating, but I’m ready to go.” As the crew gathered outside camp, I did my classic “act before you can think about what you’re doing” and jumped headfirst on the sled, which was already pointed downhill.
Whoosh! With ski mask in place, I shed no tears from the wind but instead had a clear view of my path toward Playa El Modulo. It was Awesome! Once I came to a stop, I learned from the crew that jaws had dropped as they observed the speed of my descent. Next time I think that needs to be measured.
Clearly life is better with snow. If that means taking away our sunny days that make me want to play tourist and take lots of pictures as I make my way through my work, I’ll be okay with that. Just send me more snow for summer.