Winter

We've had some beautiful skies lately. Fire red. What's another word for sky? That whole space, dome, all the air, that void around you, the entire thing, the bell, the hemisphere is seems, fills with red. Excess light from a sun that is still focused on Spain and far below our horizon. When the globe is visible, it's so bright we just get white. So I like it shaded, this way we see the glory of the red. The sun's overflow of light.

It's not every day: just on clear days. Cloudy days are dark. So dark you trip over your feet. Which makes me realise – it's the cloud that makes days dark, that obscures the light, not the lack of sun. There's a moral in there somewhere. Like when you fly above the clouds in a plane and suddenly it becomes a glorious day despite the grizzliness below. But here, when you clamber above the clouds, the stars and sometime moon are waiting. That's the best bit. The night sky is so full of stories.

I've had a few emails lately from friends and colleagues. 'I hope you're not too lonesome down there', 'you must be pleased the light is returning', 'rest assured the worst is over', 'you're very brave' and so on and so forth. I appreciate the concern but feel like a bit of a con. Gnarly hard-core antarctic heroes and all that. One hundred and five days of darkness, temperatures so cold it doesn't matter whether you speak in Farenheit or Centigrade (they cross at -40), blizzard conditions, isolation, the extremes of communal living. It is all that, it is all that and more, but it's easier for me than navigating the streets of Manhattan, far less stressful, much simpler. There's no questioning what's happening when it's blowing a hoolie outside. More than that, the winter is comforting somehow. I know some of my companions are struggling a bit without the sun but so far it's been my favourite time of year. And when the clouds do part, well, there's nothing close to it that can touch on it. The entire sky is sunset light. The snow reflects pink. You realise that the sun, far away, really truly is a ball of fire. And you get to see the stars. I'll miss them most when the light returns. But like the clouds, I just have to remember that they're there, even if I can't see them.

I'm reading a book at the moment about the first international antarctic expedition in 1949-52 (Foothold on Antarctica by Charles Swithinbank). So far, it is all very familiar: the work, the weather, the struggles and highlights, even the clothing and equipment. Sixteen men wintering for 2 years to study science. It makes me smile when there are translations for words I use daily: sastrugi, dunnage, mirage. However much our society develops, some things here will never change. Dogs may leave, women and internet may arrive, but the place is the same, the conditions will always be the same, and, to a certain extent, so will the people who come down here. He talks about the different jobs – the scientists and techies, the doctor who works all night and is never up for breakfast, the meteorological observers who work shifts, record the weather every three hours and launch daily met balloons.

It makes me see my job as a scientist down here in a new light – as part of a long tradition. Gives it more purpose and reason somehow, something to be proud of. The tents are identical and so are the supplies boxes used on a field trip: tent box, pots box, personal box. We even have manfood boxes still, all the same size, all designed to fit on a sledge and laid out inside the tent according to the same tried and tested system. They even use the same stoves, lamps and pots and keep the snow on the same side of the tent for melting. I like it. It feels very familiar. I haven't been very interested in reading about past antarctic adentures until now because I wanted to form my own opinions first. But now that I'm here, it seems to me that in some ways not much has changed in the past 50 years and not much will change, however hard we try.

Posted by Rhian at 12:26 EST

Comments

Wicked.

Posted by: Jame at 5:06 EST, July 13, 2004

Happy Birthday to you, good spirits and very good health
Love Ulla and R�deger

Posted by: Ulla and Ruedeger at 7:33 EST, July 21, 2004

Wow left speechless by the beautiful pictures.
I just stumbled upon this site and am offering my "wow".
I on the other hand am in Vegas of all the places in the world for a fashion convention and the temperature hits over 100F.
I wish I was there with you.

Posted by: dani at 1:15 EST, September 02, 2004

it was a feast to the eyes

Posted by: soudipta das at 4:33 EST, September 11, 2005

What a fascinating life you must lead, the stars must have been fantastic. All we get to see is lights from the street, i can only but imagon the sites you have seen. keep up the good word and keep showing the picks

Posted by: steve at 15:11 EST, May 03, 2007