Antarctica 2018: Chapter 4: ECWs

Link to Chapter 3: Christchurch!
Link to Chapter 2: Auckland
Link to Chapter 1: From Hawaii to Antarctica

Tips for future Antarctic travelers: 

• Be early for every shuttle pickup!  

• Don’t let the vets fool you into feeling like this ain’t no big deal. Enjoy your first time — you’ll only get one. 

• If you get ill in Christchurch, don’t try to hide it from the ice Med team!

  • They’re not trying to pull you from flight status. They really will try to get you to the ice. 

  • It’s a small medical community in CHC. The Antarctic docs will find out from their colleagues that you were seen at a downtown hospital. 

  • Because you’re a tourist, you’ll pay out of the nose for med services. If the local docs recommend treatment, you’ll get fair pricing. 

• Try on EVERY piece of clothing that the CDC gives you. Right down to the glove liners. Or you may regret it later.

• Check that your computer is compatible with the NSF network at the CDC. Anti virus packages are free if you download them while connected to their network. 

• You must hear the word “confirmed” on the flight information line, or your flight is not on! “Scheduled” just means planned. Plans change, frequently.  

ECWs! You’ll hear this many more times across this blog: extreme clothing wear. Unless you’ve traveled to Antarctica multiple times, the NSF doesn’t trust you to understand just how cold it really is down there. As I’m writing this, it feels like -56 deg C, or -62 deg F at the Pole. It’s a number so low that even Minnesota locals can’t quite place how cold that is — which is how you know it’s serious. Life threateningly serious.

So the Antarctic Program issues you “extreme clothing wear”, and boy, they aren’t messing around. This is just the “mandatory” stuff: as in, they won’t let you board the plane without it. Everything else is optional, but believe me, I’m taking it all. 

Extreme Clothing Wear (ECWs). You must wear most of this equipment onto the plane to McMurdo, regardless of the weather in Christchurch, in case the plane crashes on the ice.

I’m staying in an NSF / USAP designated hotel in downtown Christchurch, so the SuperShuttle arranged by ASC Travel picks me up at the hotel 45 min prior to my appointment at the CDC for ECW issue. This date is usually the day before you fly out — you pack your stuff and leave it neatly piled up in the CDC, so you can grab it for weigh in on flight day.

We gather in the Antarctic passenger terminal for briefings and training. We are a group of about 45, crossing our fingers for good weather to go to McMurdo, which I’ll now start calling what everyone else calls it: MAC, or MacTown. Out of 45, only 4 are headed on to the South Pole, of which I’m one. There’s all kinds here. Workers, carpenters, riggers, scientists; Americans, Kiwis, Italians; men and women... all here for the same reason. The trip of a lifetime. 

The briefing hall in the Antarctic departure terminal, adjacent to the CDC. On the day of ECW issue, the NSF accomplishes most of its Antarctic pre-departure orientation.

It’s a mix of ice veterans and a sprinkling of “fyngies” like me. This early in the season, the vets outnumber the fyngies, and you can tell when they start up the “intro to Antarctica” video. It’s beautiful shot after shot of expansive Antarctic terrain and penguins, interspersed with people digging ditches, cranking wrenches and cleaning up spills. The vets chant along, eyes rolling, with “you’re about to embark on the journey of a lifetime” and “if this is your first trip, it’s one you’ll never forget”. They’ve heard the spiel before and are bored with it, but I’m enthralled, and they don’t spoil the excitement for me even a little. If anything, they increase it. One thing I have heard several times: 

“First time you come to Antarctica is for the adventure,
Second time is for the money,
Third time is because you don’t fit anywhere else anymore.”

The weather has been bad, and folks in my flight group know people that have been waiting for ten days. There have been a couple of boomerangs. But for the last two days, flights have made it to MAC, so we’re cautiously hopeful we might go with minimum delay. 

It’s a government program, so of course, there are briefings. Thankfully, they are delivered by the Kiwi staff, who do a good job of keeping it funny. Then, a series of VHS videos - about the Antarctic treaty, the Antarctic preservation act, and what that means for participants like us. It means we must all become fanatic recyclers. It’s a federal crime not to report a spill to the environmental group. You have to scrub the bottoms of your shoes and check your jacket Velcro for plant life you might have picked up — these non native species can destroy the Antarctic environment. There is a real focus and sense of mission about keeping Antarctica pristine — the last place on earth where Man’s presence is not destructive to its surroundings. Not even the veterans mock this one. They take it seriously, and so do we. If global warming doesn’t destroy it, Antarctica, if nowhere else on our planet, will be left to our children as we found it. 

Between briefings and training, I wander the halls looking at the history of the program. It hasn’t been that long that we’ve been able to travel to the South Pole with ease. The first flight was in 1956. The South Pole station I’m going to was commissioned only in 2012 — the last one started to sink into the ice, and had to be dismantled. It’s still a long and taxing journey to the ice, made possible only by a continued Congress-level commitment to funding NSF Polar programs, and the massive logistical resources and support of the US military (Air Mobility Command). It’s the only place on Earth other than the international space station where we freely collaborate with other nations for the betterment of humanity through scientific exploration. 

Left: President Eisenhower’s signed memorandum on the setup of Amundsen-Scott South Pole Station. Top: The first aircraft ever lands at Pole, 1956. The US has maintained a continuous presence since 1957.

In 1974, the iconic “domed” South Pole Station was setup. Every year, a foot of snow piles up against it, sinking it deeper into the ice with every year, creating an issue.

In 2016, just two years ago, the last sections of the Dome Station were dismantled and flown back to the US. Today, we live in the futuristic elevated Station building.

The medical coordinator briefs us about things we need to know for Antarctic travel. Us four “Polies” get our own supplemental brief about high altitude and colder-than-MAC hazards. The doc offers us Diamox to help avoid altitude sickness. I’ve been working at 10,000 feet at Haleakala for two years now, off and on, but I take the pills. The clock will be ticking from the moment I hit 90 South, and I need to hit the ground running. 

Next up is ECW issue! The CDC crew, led by a hilarious guy named Haggis, has it down to a science. You walk in to the (massive) changing room and voila! There’s two bags with your name on it, and everything is (almost) your size. You try it all on — yes, everything, even though you’ll almost instantly overheat. I didn’t try on my work gloves, and I have regrets (and, apparently, fat fingers). 

Next, we test that our computers are compatible with the NSF network — mine isn’t. No approved anti virus software. I have plenty of time to fix it. 

Too easy, so next up is baggage. I’d called Dave J. at the cargo yard earlier — he has already lined up my bags to go on my flight the next day. If Christmas cards were still a thing, this guy would get one for the next decade. But there is still the pelican case. And wires everywhere. 

Haggis, the CDC coordinator, is quick to jump into action (seriously, the Kiwi NSF Crew is just amazing). He tells me to package it up in a carton, and digs up a f—-ton of bubble wrap. “Don’t give it to me now, or it’ll go at the bottom of the pile. You want it at the top. Just bring it with you as your check-in, and be the last person to check in. That way it ends up at the top.” 

This guy gets my worries. “No fun getting down there if the toys are broken. Just let the guys know it’s scientific equipment, and they’ll handle it with care,” he says. Jetstar could learn a thing or two from Haggis. 

Left: The Pelican case, and the red bag containing all the wires coming out of the Pelican case, in the carton. Top: The final luggage piece, ready for shipping. Paradoxically, “NPX” is the airport code for “South” Pole: the story behind it is here.

And with that — we’re done! The flight group lines up ECW bags neatly, where they will be waiting for us tomorrow when we show up to fly. 

The only thing remaining is: the flight itself. 

We’re scheduled to lift off at 0900 the next morning. The pilots check the weather four hours prior to flight time, and make one of three decisions. “Confirmed” is what you want to hear. This means the pilots have decided weather will permit the flight. Weather could still roll in while you’re in flight, in which case you’ll boomerang, but that’s out of your control and theirs. “Delay, short” means everything is pushed by 4 hours, including shuttle pickup and takeoff. You can go back to sleep. “Delay, 24 hours” means it’s a wash for the day, and they will re-evaluate the next day. You now have a day to explore Christchurch, if you haven’t already. 

Haggis tells us to call the flight information line at 0505, and if it says confirmed, the shuttles will pick up at 0545, for a show time at the CDC of 0630. “Do not be late,” Haggis warns. He doesn’t have to say it; there’s no way in hell I'm going to miss a flight to Antarctica.

With that, it’s 6 pm and time to go back to the hotel and pack. I leave the pelican case at the CDC with the ECWs, ready for the morning. Just enough time for dinner, and a beer at the hotel bar. There, I try not to think about how much I hope that my next beer is at the MAC bar, on the ice, in Antarctica.