If you haven’t yet read The View from Antarctica: Coronavirus, check that post out first. It documents my understanding of coronavirus while living in a remote field camp in Antarctica, as well as travel on a research vessel back toward South America.
In a whirlwind of events following a day of extremely slow cruising toward and through the Straits of Magellan, everything worked out – in the opinion of most people.
A pilot to navigate us through the Straits boarded the Gould sometime in the afternoon of Friday, March 20th, officially ending our status as a guaranteed coronavirus-free ship. We arrived at the Prat Pier in Punta Arenas on the morning of Saturday, March 21st, already aware that we had permission to dock and enter Chile. At least 2 empty cruise ships were already docked there.
Throughout the 21st, we couldn’t go anywhere or do much of anything. The ship’s MTs (marine technicians) worked on offloading containers from the ship, but passengers mostly watched movies and wondered if flights would come through. Having watched the highly uplifting “Avengers: Infinity War” on the night of the 20th, “Avengers: Endgame” played in the lounge on the evening of the 21st. Despite being physically apart from the threat of coronavirus, everyone on board was stressed about the international situation. That stress came with good reason, as the United Airlines flight carrying USAP (United States Antarctica Program) and ASC (Antarctic Support Contract) personnel from Punta Arenas to Santiago on Sunday the 22nd had been canceled. Hope for a future was necessary.
The morning of Sunday the 22nd dawned with final showers, the stripping of beds, the making of lunches, and the packing of bags. As the time came for the agriculture and health inspection, the issue of where to be checked arose. If customs and health agents boarded the ship, that would compromise the cleanliness of the galley and potentially the health of the ship’s crew. If we all headed to the building tourists typically pass through for our check, we then couldn’t return to the ship because we would all have been in contact with people. For the USAP and ASC folks, it was too early to leave the ship for good, though. Somehow we could neither move forward nor backward.
This is when – for the first time – we Cape Shirreffers felt like the high profile passengers. At 10:00 our agent arrived at the ship, ready to receive us and our bags before driving us to the warehouse to repack gear for the sea shipment and then take us to the airport. Being just 4, we were approved to take our bags and drive to the tourist entry point for customs and the health check. After the approximately 20 other passengers helped pass our pile of bags off the ship, away we went. Already interacting with Chileans hidden behind face masks was somewhat surreal.
We were in it.
From there, the tale lessens in activity. While the rest of our crew worried about potential flight cancellations, I assured them that they’d at least make it to Atlanta with me. Every time a field season ends and I don’t want to go “home,” I make it home; it’s my curse.
Surprisingly, the Punta Arenas airport was the busiest I encountered in my 5 airport tour. We were grateful to have arrived when we did, as the line behind us lengthened when a group of tourists from the U.S. joined us. Not long thereafter, the USAP and ASC folks appeared in line; most of them were flying standby on our flight to Santiago, and they’d be staying the night in Santiago before continuing up to the U.S. the following day.
After passing through security, we bided our time for another hour before it was time to board our flight to Santiago. Having been prepared to spend another ten days in Chile, I still had a wallet full of Chilean pesos, meaning I had no reason to not start drinking at the airport. Besides, I couldn’t enter Torres del Paine, but Torres del Paine could enter me!
To Santiago (@14:45 Chile) we flew, landing a little late but still managing to retrieve our luggage and check it back in on our Delta flight bound for Atlanta (@20:50 Chile). With a line of 10 people for customs and no line for security, this is where the emptiness of airports began to hit.
Our fellowship broke in the Atlanta airport on the morning of March 23rd. We’d landed a little before 05:15 EST and had clear sailing through customs before needing to separate for different departure terminals. In case anyone is wondering, saying farewell to your family of 3+ months while riding an airport tram is not satisfactory. Typically we have a few days in Punta Arenas to bask in the glory of spacious hotel rooms, cocktail hours, and delicious restaurants. This year we jumped from the ship to the airport scene, depriving us of the slow goodbye. It didn’t feel real at all.
Doug, Laura, and I had departures from the same terminal, so I wasn’t alone until I watched Laura board her plane for Boston at 08:20. With that, I had another 3.5 hours to wait before my departure to Seattle at 12:05. Wandering, looking at pictures, and misidentifying strangers as friends – and even calling their names through the airport – all helped pass the time.
Fortunately, I had an entire row to myself for the 5-hour flight. Unfortunately, I had another 6 hours to pass in SeaTac before my flight to Fairbanks at 20:47 PST. Fortunately, my friend Teri and I were able to talk for over an hour while I wandered around most terminals. Unfortunately, I was very tired by this point. Fortunately, my last flight was very empty, and I even managed to score an exit row to myself.
Finally, at 23:38 AKDT on March 23rd, my plane touched down at my final destination. Both checked bags amazingly in tow, I cleared my rental car of snow, drove to my friends’ house, and crashed in the spare room.
See, I knew I could cover 9,764 air miles – in the midst of coronavirus-caused flight cancellations – without a problem. Curses!