Bertha, The Beast, Emy Lou, Slim

              There was a point last year that I got in the Ob Tube and saw what the under-side of the ice looked like and realized where I was. The recollection that dishes and pots wasn't the big pictures was as a friend said, "... amazing that we're at one of the most remote science stations supporting studies that will impact the entire world and our job, whether food, garbage, or plumbing, directly impacts that. Without us there'd be none of this."
              I had that moment again this year. With the switch in contractors and the 27 person team this year it took 60 people to do last year there have been a lot of growing pains trying to acclimate and find the energy to give a damn. It's been hard coming back and doing my old job at a higher pace as well as learning the Jano side of life and adopting the laundry room as another arena for fast paced hard work. Add the duties of dumping everyone's garbage and washing the public toilets and the glamour of it all gets lost pretty fast.
            This week we had one night that was clean, still, and relaxed. I went to Hut 10 for game night and stood out on the deck to watch the sun set behind the mountains. Mother nature has had some work done because there is no way anything is organically this beautiful. No pictures, because it wasn't doing it justice. The sun was still glowing dark orange and red behind the mountain range back lighting them as black peaks. The ice shelf filling the gap between the mountains and our island was illuminated by the crescent of a moon hanging over the scene with stars everywhere behind me. In effect it was a Sci-Fi book cover of some distant planet where day and night can be shared in the same sky.

             I looked at the scene and had the thought, "More people have been up there (the moon) than over there (the mountains). Cool"

             With new gusto I have been working in the galley again as well as in laundry and around the station cleaning wash rooms and hallways. As the newly named "Steward" we get to flip flop between the two worlds of DA and Jano. I wash people's dishes and their toilets, just not in the same day or uniform. The "fun" part of the job is following the theme of going back in time. The machinery we use is original to the station and slowly but surely going down the drain.
             Bertha is a huge, loud, ancient dish washer. She takes up a room twice the size of my apartment back home. The rumor mill has it that she has been leaking for so long the floor under her has rotted and the only thing holding her up is an ice pillar from her leak. I've been assured this is not the case, but just to be safe I've requested if I die in a dish related collapse, the people here fabricate a story of me falling in a crevasse or into the volcano, or any story that doesn't involve me going down in dish with the old girl whom I hate. At the moment she has broken again to the point where we are testing the pH of the water to make sure neither poisoning from too much soap nor the serving of rinsed, dirty dishes occurs. There is talk of replacement.
            Slim is the "Old Faithfull" of the group. So far the pot sanitizer has held up to banging, slamming, and the overall chaos that is the pot room. We may have to scrape the walls of bacon grease, chicken juice, and other nasty shit that sprays back from ladles into our faces, but Slim seems to always stay on track and in the lines.
           The Beast and Emy Lou work with me in the laundry room. I wash bed sheets, blankets, towels, ECW gear, oil and fuel soak clothes, as well as anything else that doesn't fit into standard washers. They were interestingly enough produce in East Berlin, Connecticut. I didn't know there was one. These are both huge washers from the 60's still so powerful they shake the foundation of the building when on the extract cycle. The third machine, Gloria Jean, I call the organ donor. These are so old there are no parts available anywhere and she was the first to kick the bucket.
           Although working with such ancient machinery gives me a headache sometimes, I think about the 50 years of tinkering and wear and tear on these puppies and I agree, they DON'T make them like they used to. Get 50 years out of an iPod and get back to me.

Season 2!

                 And I'm back. After a 4 month vacation in the states it's time for "The Real World Antarctica: Season 2". Our second season started with my friends Shelby, Mike, Brian, and myself getting delayed in Christchurch, New Zealand four days in a row that allowed us to live every day as if it were our last, knowing ahead of time what to savor before leaving. Along with walking the botanical gardens every day and drinking gourmet coffee, this included random bus hopping to nowhere, a day of haircuts that ended with Shelby having half her head shaved, and plenty of bottles of Scrumpy (delicious kiwi hard cider). After our fourth "last meal" of every option of fresh fried fish available at a Vietnamese restaurant, we had the conversation of if we don't fly tomorrow we're tattooing the side of Shelby's head. We left the next day.
                The first and only thing that hit me as I walked out of the C17 to the ice was "Damn is dark!" It was kind of great seeing everything in the night with a complete idea of where I was without the memory of ever seeing it this way. The following days produced only hours of sunlight for us to get our barrings again, but the most amazing sunsets bouncing off the mountain range and surrounding glaciers.
                 I have only seen the night stars twice since being back and they are amazing. The chances of seeing auroras at this point are getting slimmer, but with the worst weather of the year it is hard to find a time where the sky is clear and the conditions perfect. Going throw Con 1 conditions where the light post 7 feet away from the window is hidden by 40mph gusts of thick snow has been fun though. Not quite worth missing out on nigh time, but giving the true movie experience of -40 windshear and sounds matching the most epic of storm films. That noise you make with your tong pushed up against the back of your throat to mimic wind actually happens here.
                  There are a few things happening this time I didn't get to experience last season. Since I am here for Winfly and not Main Body, I get to see the weather go nuts and in turn shovel out my work place frequently. There is a certain excitement shoveling your way out of a room, it's just strange when you have to start inside because of the wind blowing threw the cracks created an ice pile in the entry. I am also taking better care to watch out for door knobs. Cold is fine, but super chilled to where it burns my skin isn't as much fun.
                  That said, it is nice having the place to ourselves. Where the number of people hit 1200 last year, right now there is around 300 of us. It's made readjusting a lot easier. And for the next month there are no flights in or out which pretty much means I'm stuck on this barren ice shelf I call home and these people I call family. Another day in paradise.