Snow Stakes

-29.7C (-21.5F)
Wind Chill: -41.9C (-43.5F)

Aerial photo of the South Pole Station. The new main station is just to the left of the Dome. The actual South Pole is south of the main station, in the lower right hand corner. The Summer Camp is the first set of horizontal lines you find going north of the Dome.

When you’re young you have a very small vision of the world. Your world consciousness doesn’t reach beyond yourself and life is very good when it’s only revolving around you. Now being older and having broad world awareness it’s strange that the world still appears very small. Right now, the world is literally revolving around me, or just a few feet away from me and yet someone said during dinner “What are the chances that 3 people sitting at this table have traveled through Minot, ND and are currently at the South Pole?” Small world indeed. Francie had traveled to Minot during her stint in restaurant sales and Don had traveled through as he returned from Alaska. Don was very excited to go to Tool Crib in Minot and had a meal at a diner there in which the meal still stands out in his memory.

It has been estimated that fewer than 10,000 people in the history of mankind has ever stepped foot at the South Pole. More people than that have stepped foot in Minot, ND but the number of people who have done both is minute and quite the accomplishment. Thoughts of eternity and numbers and statistics plaque me often these days. I am continually wondering how many people have ever been on this exact spot and made a snow angel? How many have walked this line and thought these thoughts? How am I different from everyone before me? How am I the same? This is a vast, harsh continent.

All of the station managers cooked this past Saturday giving the galley workers a day off for their Thanksgiving holiday. The meteorologists (mets) on station gave the galley workers first opportunity to volunteer for a field trip. The mets have stakes placed every 20 meters for 20 km leading in 7 different directions from the station. The stakes consist of bamboo poles with a flag marking the path next to a small diameter pvc pipe stuck in the snow. Once a season, they take 7 trips and travel straight out in each direction measuring each snow stake to determine accumulation and to replace the flags that mark the way. Four of us galley workers were excited for the adventurous trip on our day off. We traveled in the Pisten Bully, a slow moving, mini tractor-type, snow ATV that bounced and jostled us across the vastness on hard benches. The entire trip takes anywhere between 5-6 hours. At each stop we would take turns jumping out to record the data as John, the meteorologist took the measurements of all 40 snow stakes. Often we would all jump out to take pictures and run around in the complete isolation.

As we traveled further and further away from the station, again complete vulnerability and insignificance set in. All we had marking our way was a set of bamboo flag poles, no road, no previous tracks. For 360 degrees around us was one long, beautiful complete horizon of solid white that continued on without interruption by a telephone pole or wires or road or hill or mountain. Only the sun that chased us in a circle overhead broke the horizon view.

We were to check in the comms (the communication office) every hour. We eventually drove out of radio range by stake 35 and were unable to check in. This silent, bright and brilliant white world with all of its bitter coldness now felt more cold knowing a very limited amount of help would be hours away if needed. It also evoked a very calming and peaceful reality. Life always goes in circles, uninterrupted like the sun and the horizon. Nature does not have perfect straight lines.


After our short break of hot chocolate and sandwiches at the end of line, we turned around and now, since our work was done, were able to return driving continuously. I sat in the passenger seat of the Piston Bully on the return trip and quickly became mesmerized by the small ripples and waves of snow passing beneath my feet. One of my most favorite pastimes is fishing with my dad and siblings on Lake Sakacawea. When I was younger I used to crawl to the front and hang my head over the bow and stare at the waves being swallowed up by the boat as we drove fast over the water. This was very hypnotic and calming to me, the feeling of the safest place on Earth, meditation of being one with the water. Whenever life gets too crazy to handle I find my center again staring at those waves. I guess that’s why my dad named his boat “My Therapy.” Now, in Antarctica, just off center of the axis of the Earth it was happening again. The waves of snow being swallowed by the Piston Bully were eerily reminiscent of hanging my head over the boat. I slipped into a trance and stared at the waves all the way back to the station.

During the trip, Francie commented how crazy it was that 2 months ago all of us where in completely different parts of the US not having any idea who each other was and that now we find ourselves at the South Pole sharing our inner most selves. Although nature does not have any perfectly straight lines or direct routes, some adventures certainly feel as if a direct route was taken to get here.