Week 10: F 15 February 2019, 22:50. Cape Shirreff, Livingston Island, Antarctica

A few years ago I caught a ride from Fairbanks to Seattle on craigslist. Due to an unusual medical condition that kept him unable from easily getting around, the driver was offering a free ride in exchange for some help with driving and assistance with getting gas. We’d spend the few nights of the drive camping in his Roadtrek Sprinter campervan – him on his bed in the back and me in my sleeping bag on the reclined passenger’s seat.

On the drive Jim made a comment that I’ve been proud of, one that’s stuck with me. At one point during our days together, he said, “You’re pretty much the definition of low maintenance.” I guess he got that impression because I did my best to never request bathroom stops, I didn’t mind the lack of real bed or shower, and I was game to eat whatever, whenever he felt like stopping.

Those traits sure have come in handy for a life of fieldwork. Living in places without running water for months at a time really is no big deal to me. After all, I did spend half of my college career living in a dry cabin in Fairbanks, and those truly were the days.

Here at Cape Shirreff, life is pretty sweet; it’s just that none of us smell sweet.

Since seabird work is based in the penguin colonies around the Skua Shack (1 mile from camp), Laura and I spend less time in camp than the others. Because of that, we end up showering less. When you work for months without a day off, spending your precious free time in the evenings to heat up water and then shower is more hassle than it’s worth. I have showered 4 times since our arrival on 11 December, at increments of 13 days, 13 days, 15 days, and 13 days. Apparently I’ve grown even more low maintenance than last season when I found myself on an 11 day shower cycle. Oops.

When my face feels gross from day after day of sunscreen application, I wash it with baby wipes. When my feet have too much funk, I wash them with baby wipes. When any part of me feels too dirty, I wipe down with baby wipes. When I’m done in the outhouse, I wipe with a baby wipe.

Ahh, the outhouse. Here at the main camp on Cape Shirreff, we have the luxury of a double seater: one seat with a bucket for #1 and a seat right next to it with a bucket for #2. The pee bucket gets dumped daily, and the poop bucket gets dumped and cleaned weekly. When we’re by the penguin colonies, squatting is our only option. And if extreme duty calls in the middle of the day, we have to visit the intertidal area.

Beyond my 4 showers, I’m pleased to share that I have washed laundry twice since 11 December. Yep, 2 times. Washing laundry takes even more time than showering, so why would I do that very often? Pantiliners keep underwear clean enough, in case anyone was wondering. For socks, I alternate between 2 pairs of liners and wool socks every other day. One pair airs out while I wear the 2nd pair. I get to don clean socks and underwear after I shower.

It seems I should also share that I’m sleeping in my 3rd set of sheets for the season. I changed them after shower 2 and shower 4, and I don’t expect to change them again before our departure in a month.

Living in a very windy, humid environment has even made me proud of my “snot rocket” skills. Because I’m always sniffing and aware of the wind direction, I’m capable of completely turning around to blow a snot rocket and then spinning back forward in my direction of travel without missing a step. Considering I didn’t adopt the snot rocket until mid-season last year, I’d say I’ve grown a lot as a person.

Clearly I lead a clean life. I admit I am excited for the next shower; I keep smelling funk in different places. It’s not worth using that many baby wipes.

Note as of emailing this post on 19 Feb: I have now showered 5 times. The 5th came 14 days after the 4th, and it really was time.