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Christchurch Cathedral

One of my duties as the Support Force Antarctica Chaplain (sounds impressive, doesn't it?) is to care for the Erebus Chalice. This ornate silver chalice was given to the Antarctic program in 1987 by a descendent of Admiral Richard Byrd and is housed at the Cathedral in Christchurch during the austral winter months. In October as the Antarctic seasons gets underway, the first chaplain of the season goes to the Cathedral for a special worship service, accepts the chalice, and carries it to McMurdo Station for the summer. A friend of mine, Ch Mark Smith, got to do that last fall.

The end of the season is less fancy. They don't always make a show of returning the chalice to the cathedral at the end of the season, some years we just bring it by the office before we fly home. This year, however, we managed to do a brief ceremony at the beginning of worship. Just a few hours ago, I addressed the congregation and thanked them for their role in sending the good news even to the end of the Earth (I took the chalice to the South Pole and celebrated the Lord's Supper there with it).

I don't have much for pictures of the event. In case you missed the entry a few weeks ago, here I am with the Chalice at the Pole, just after we celebrated the Eucharist there.

And here is today, returning it to Dean Peter Beck at the Cathedral (I'm the shadow on the right). Unless a better picture appears (PLEASE SILENCE YOUR CELLPHONES AND REFRAIN FROM FLASH PHOTOGRAPHY), this is my only record of this morning.


The cathedral is gorgeous and was a wonderful place to worship. It reminds me of something out a Patrick O'Brian novel. Dean Peter Beck was a gracious host and I especially enjoyed his invitation to the season of Lent. It was a tough sell for him to extoll the virtue of simplicity in such an elaborate location and service, but his sincerity was authentic.

Boys and girls, does anyone remember this color?

Leaving the Ice

Bag Drag

Our ride off the ice


Happy Camper


Loading cargo


On the ground in Christchurch!

A brief McMurdo dictionary

Bag drag: the art of bringing everything you own to a building at the top of a very tall hill so it can be weighed and checked in before flying off the Antarctic continent. Planes going to and from Christchurch land on an ice sheet runway and don’t shut off the engines to ensure they can take off again in less than an hour, the time needed to unload and load passengers, baggage and cargo. A “bag drag” time is assigned to departing passengers about 18 hours before take off to allow time to palletize all cargo for quick loading. "Can I get a shuttle to pick me up for my bag drag? There's no earthly way I can carry this all. Why did I think I needed this much stuff?"

Recyling: There is no "trash" in Antarctica. Because everything is shipped off the continent, it is sorted and recycled. Most dorms and offices have 8 to 10 different recyling categories and locations within the dorm. Categories include wine bottles (glass), beer cans (aluminum), condoms (biohazard), anything flat (mixed paper), anything that can be crushed (paper towels), coffee grounds (food waste), and others. "How do I recycle my deodorant?"

Skua:
1. a bird related to the seagull that spends some of the austral summer on the edge of the Antarctic continent. A scavenger for food in this barren land, known to attacks humans who hold visible food.
2.a. An item, or collection of items one person gives up so another can scavenge: “Crap, I have a lot to pack. Some of this is going to be skua.” 2b. Can be a verb: “I’m going to skua my extra shampoo and soap. The winter-overs might want to bathe.” 2.c. Also an adjective: “I’m drinking a skua-ed Coke as I type this.”

Cheech: colloquial for Christchurch, New Zealand, derived from the airport code CHC. “The weather in Cheech today is 70 and sunny.”

Off-deck: refers to a plane that has departed and is on its way to a destination: “The C-17 is off deck Cheech and on time!”

Transport time: the assigned time to arrive at the same building at the top of a hill to board a large all-terrain vehicle for the 45 minute ride to the airstrip. “Transport for flight ACH058 is 1300 hours. If you miss this ride, you’ll spend the winter in Antarctica.”

Pegasus: the white ice runway about 13k from McMurdo Station. “See the wings of that crashed plane over there sticking out of the ice? That was a Pegasus. We don’t fly those anymore.”

Have a good winter! A common farewell when someone leaving Antarctica after the austral summer season speaks with someone staying for the winter. Sometimes spoken in earnest. Usually followed by rolling the eyes upward and/or muttering unintelligible prayers of gratitude to an unknown God.

You coming back next year?: A common farewell phrase used among those leaving Antarctica after the austral summer. After living together in extreme conditions, people avoid saying “goodbye” and so use this, or similar phrases, to substitute. Generally spoken with derision or in a mocking tone.

I mean no disrespect toward the flag or military tradition, but I wanted to tell this story.

Yesterday afternoon, we sounded “Retreat” here at McMurdo Station. The last of the LC-130 ski-equipped aircraft left the continent for the long flights home (the usual route is Christchurch to Pago Pago to Hawaii to California to New York). There are about a dozen of us military folk left here to wrap up the season and so it fell upon us to maintain the tradition of officially lowering the flag and bringing to an official end the military mission for the season.

And so the word came out that at 1300 hours we were to meet at the flag pole. One of the visions many people have of the military is how we wear our uniforms and all look… well… uniform. But there are a couple factors in the Air Force right now that complicate that: first, we are getting rid of the uniform with the green camouflage pattern in favor of a pattern with more grey and blue. Both uniforms, as well as three different colors of boots, are allowed now since we are still in the transition phase. The second issue is that because it is so cold here, and individuals need to regulate our own warmth, we are allowed a bit more flexibility in hats and gloves and coats. The sun has started to get lower and lower in the sky, brushing against the mountain ranges here and making it colder and colder each day. Yesterday was not only cold, but windy, and with all our different uniform combinations, I felt like I was in an episode of MASH or a scene in Catch-22.

I have the old style military issue coat (think: Hoth Han Solo). Most guys have a newer, darker, warmer version of this coat. Some have the grey camouflage pattern coat. I have a green stocking cap, other guys have grey or black hats and some wear a ball cap type (but that makes for very cold ears).

Again, I mean no disrespect, I just have a need to tell my own experiences yesterday. At 1pm (that’s 1300) I was in my uniform and at the flag pole. Because I’m chaplain to everyone on station, and since most people are civilian, I don’t wear my uniform often so I’d had to cut lunch short to get dressed. In other places, a similar ceremony might be held with dozens or more people lined up in perfectly boxed ranks. Well, Jeff and Ed have formal roles to play in the ceremony. Ken and Pedro are in charge of lowering and folding the flag, and Chris is our picture and sound guy. That left were six of us “in the ranks.” We lined up roughly tallest to shortest and waited. We were called to attention and I stepped forward to offer a prayer. I removed a glove so I could open my notebook and look at some notes I’d scribbled (I didn’t know I’d be praying at this ceremony until about 10 minutes before it started when I offered to say something). In my prayer, I thanked God for a safe season, asked blessings on our travels, and guidance for us when we return next season when the sun rises again.

When I was done, everyone else is at attention, so I get back to my place in line to join them quickly and try to pull on my glove. By now, my fingers are cold and the glove liners I have (which are not military issue, but are a possum and wool blend I got from some Kiwis because they are really warm) get caught in my outer gloves. So, I stand at attention with one hand only partway inside my glove – it looks like my right arm is few inches longer than my left. Then we play the bugle music. No one plays the bugle so we have a recording of a bugle. The order was given for the music, and from the corner of my eye, I could see Chris open the door to the pick-up cab, reach in, and then the music started. I’m not sure if he had a boom box in there or if it was played on the truck stereo. As we stand for the song, tears start falling down my face – and other guys as well, I learned later that night over a beer – not because we are emotional but because it was so windy. When the song is done, we salute the flag as it lowers. Remember the part about my right hand being longer than my left because of the gloves? I whack myself in the face with my glove and have to adjust my arm to stand while Pedro and Ken slowly lower the flag in heavy winds. I think I can hear someone groan when the wind messes up the lines at one point and they have to lower it more slowly. I can also hear a civilian behind whisper, “What are they doing now?” as if we’re the day’s entertainment.

At that moment, I realized that despite the mismatched uniforms, the sound system from a redneck backyard party, and the bewildered crowd we were drawing, at that moment, I felt a link to line of explorers and adventurers. People haven’t been walking on this continent for much more than a century. The military has had a presence here because as an agent of our government, we don’t exist only to kill people and break things, but also to assist our exploration of our world and our universe. And as that flag came down, and my thoughts turned to my final reports and packing up my room, I realized what an honor it has been to be here. Brave and very smart men and women work here to learn about our planet and our universe and endure harsh weather. It’s humbling to be one of the links in that chain.

Morning Prayer

It’s 8:45am. For the first time since I arrived here no one else has shown up for morning prayer. There were a few days last week, after Jim left to go home, that only Fr John and I gathered for prayer. But today, it’s just me and God.

Good morning.

Three flights leave to Christchurch today. God, keep them safe and may weather and mechanics conspire to bring their passengers home safely and quickly. A lot of folk on these planes are tired and ready to be home: may their travels be swift. Some must leave to go home, but don't have much to anticipate: may they find meaningful work and fulfilling relationships. Others will wander home, traveling the world: keep them safe and bring to them a deeper respect for humanity and the cultures we have created.

There are probably 300-400 of us here now who will leave by week’s end. God may we stay focused on the work we have yet to accomplish. May our anticipation of the future not prevent us from living in each moment.

Our wintering crews are still arriving. May these men and women be safe and well during the coming long, dark night. Be with Gabe, John and Shayne who will watch over the chapel and the worshipping community here. Bless Alf, Scott and all the other Peer Counselors who will over a listening ear to their friends and colleagues. Grant endurance and vision to those in leadership this winter: Jeanne, Don, Allison, Bill, Rich and others.

Thank you for Shady Grove Baptist and the many other churches and faithful back the States who remember this chapel and ministry in their thoughts, prayers and gifts.

Be with me in my final days. I have reports to complete, book shelves to organize, a room to vacuum and pack. But there are also people here who would benefit from a listening ear and prayerful guidance. Help me balance between the needs of others and the tasks at hand. Christ be in the heart of each to whom I speak and in the mouth of each who speaks unto me.

As I look out this window, over the Ross Sea and through the clouds to the Royal Society Mountains, as I watch the sun spinning around the horizon falling closer today to the ground, as I hear the wind whistling through the steeple now shuttered for the winter, as I remember humbly those I’ve met who have such an eager desire to learn and explain more about your world, as I sit here in this Holy place that even in my two months has hosted many people of various or no faith who nonetheless sense something peaceful and meaningful within these walls, I am humbled. Who am I that you think of me, that you care for me?

The season of Epiphany ends today. I have indeed discovered you here. Even at the ends of the earth I could not escape your presence and grace. Your spirit indeed covers the whole earth. Grant me, even today, an opportunity to discover you anew.

Amen.

At breakfast this morning I heard someone say, "this is NOT a flight I'm going to miss" about their flight off the ice tomorrow. We have stopped flying to the South Pole now and have daily trips back to Christchurch (which is where we stage for the operation down here). I leave this Friday; there's one more flight on Saturday and that's it for a few weeks. There's one more scheduled flight in early March for last minute supplies and people, but after that, nothing more scheduled until an August resupply flight. Most of the winter-over crew will be here at least until October.

The American Tern

The American Tern is our annual supply vessel at McMurdo. She pulled in on Monday morning and started off-loading by early afternoon. Empty by Wednesday, they loaded her back up and finished at 4:24pm today. Why do I know the exact time? Because the captain, pictured below, invited Fr John and I to join him for dinner and a tour before they pull out tomorrow morning. Here I am with him on the bridge, sporting the cap he gave me.



One of the reasons the vessel departure is such a big deal on station is that during the complicated and very busy dance to offload and back-load the vessel, McMurdo is dry. No alcohol sales in the store or the bars. Because the vessel is pulling out of port tomorrow, the station manager this afternoon decided to let the store sell beer and wine tonight. And so for the single hour it was opened, the store looked like this:


The First Sergeant and I are wondering what this will do to church attendance tomorrow morning...

Point of View

Much in our life changes meaning or takes on new meaning if we adjust our point of view. One of the goals of my spiritual life is to adjust my view in order to accomodate not only my own life and desires, but those of my neighbor and my God. As a chaplain or pastor, I'm often seeking ways to illustrate this shift in perspective; yesterday I met a comrade whose art seeks to do the same thing.

The National Science Foundation offers grants to scientists to come down here for research. Additionally, NSF sponsors an Antarctic Artists and Writers Program in which artists working in different mediums get a trip here for their own research. There are at least two sets on station now: a married couple developing a marionette musical about Sir Ernest Shackleton, an early Antarctic explorer and Elise Engler, a visual artist. (For more about Elise, click here and for specifics about her Antarctica work and journey, check out this blog.)

Elise's work is pretty fascinating, though I didn't quite get it at first. I went to a public lecture she gave last week and became intrigued. She created a series of colored pencil sketches of everything she owned and presented it as a "self-portrait" (isn't it intriguiing that in our society we put so much value in what we own?). A variation on that theme is a series of sketches of women's handbags, here's #28 in that series, linked from her website:

Her works about how our government spends money are quite thought-provoking (the contents of a tool shed in a public park, the equipment to fire weapons on a single sortie in Iraq). Watching the Rockettes in NYC during the war in Iraq produced a startling contrast she calls Life Goes On:


One of her projects that she's done over time is a collection of views outside of windows. (Talk about changing perspective: Should I sit comfortably at a window or step outdoors to see the world for myself?) Elise stopped in the chapel yesterday and looked out our windows and decided that her next sketch of McMurdo's windows would be from here. We have a few different windows that offer distinct views. The large window behind the altar has stained glass and a beautiful view of the mountain range across the Ross Sea. On a clear day lately, we can see whales, seals and skua off in the distance. My camera isn't that great, but this gives you an idea of it:

Other windows look out across waste pipes to the ice dock where the cranes on top of the cargo vessel are constantly moving. It's quite a different view.

Some views out of the chapel are of the glorious majesty of creation... other views are of the mundane work-a-day world. The chapel looks out on both. It's easier for me to we consider a God of majesty and power (and maybe judgement and anger). That's the Big Stained Glass Window version of God. It's more difficult for me sometimes to remember God in the mundane.

When Elise entered yesterday looking for a window, I noted the obvious: Sketching the big stained glass window, everyone will know it's from the chapel. I'm thrilled, however, that she chose to sketch the view of the mundane work-a-day window. A challenge of spirituality in our world is seeing God in the mundane, and I'm thrilled that her art will present this view from within this holy place.

Groundhog's Day

There's a running joke down here about Groundhog's Day. Before I came down I asked folk what it was like and several people said "Remember the Bill Murray movie when he wakes up and each day is exactly the same as the day before? Well, it's like that." Most folk work six days a week for 10-12 hours a shift so each day looks a lot like yesterday and tomorrow doesn't promise to bring much change.

So it's REALLY Groundhog's Day here and I've discovered it's really not too different from yesterday. Or tomorrow.

And so I made a joke at lunch today about it being Groundhog's Day and wasn't that cool because it was different than yesterday. The joke didn't really work, though. It was pretty lame, but the mechanics I sat with were patient with me and pretended to laugh.

Company Town

Some of you have asked questions about what it's like to live here. There's different aspects of life here: the science mission, the military flying, the amazing scenery and natural beauty of Antarctica. But there's also the day-to-day operations of McMurdo that can best be described as a Company Town.

The National Science Foundation oversees McMurdo (as well as two other US stations in Antarctica), but contracts with other companies or organizations to handle many of the daily operations: for example, the Air Force and a couple other operations provide airlift. Raytheon currently has the primary contract for support; these contracts run for about a decade and the current one is up for renewal in the next year.

Raytheon and other subcontractors hire people to fill in the support jobs: the heavy equipment operators to keep the runways clear and flat, cooks, the barber, computer geeks, custodians, waste managment and more. Some of these folk found the job listings on Criagslist, some by word of mouth (the barber answered an online ad to cut hair down here!). People settle on a salary before they arrive and once here, there is not much money that exchanges hands. The pay here isn't as good as most people make back in the states, but all expenses are covered and it's a pretty amazing place to work, so it's usually a wash in the end. (Also, pipefitters and carpenters and a lot of other folk can't find work back home so they need the job.)

You sign up for a haircut and don't pay anything. There's no gym fee, no library card, meals are all covered and the medical clinic staffs a couple docs, a dentist and even a physical therapist to watch over us. If your vehicle needs a part, you pull it off the shelf at supply or file a request to have someone make it for you. Most of our clothing is issued to us, so often you can tell if people are laborers, scientists, military or civilian based on our outer clothing layer. We have nametags that velcro on and off our jackets. There are town meetings for new safety procedures. There are maybe a dozen bikes that are parked all around town for people to borrow and use when needed.

It's a unique environment, at least for me, and really adds to the sense of us being on an outpost at the edge of the world. For the most part, there's a real sense of group identity and participation in the effort to survive and study here.

Jumping Jacks

Church went a little slow this weekend. The crowd that gathered seemed tired and not too interactive. That's not really my style, so for the second time in my career - though I've threatened it countless times - I had the congregation stand up and do jumping jacks.

By mid-afternoon I was hearing from people on station how they were sorry they missed church. "The chaplain made us to jumping jacks!"

I hope someone remembered something else about worship.

Meet Sue Sue the Seal

Here's BP and Sue Sue the Seal (a new addition and birthday gift) at the South Pole a few weeks ago.

Happy Birthday, Charis

Six years ago, Charis, you were born into our lives. You have been a great gift to us and I'm glad I'm your Dad. I miss you today, but as I look at these pictures, I'm smiling as I think of you. I love you!

I feel sick

I heard about this today and feel queasy. And angry. Bible bullets have never been right.





From ABC News:
U.S. Military Weapons Inscribed With Secret 'Jesus' Bible Codes Pentagon Supplier for Rifle Sights Says It Has 'Always' Added New Testament References
http://abcnews.go.com/Blotter/us-military-weapons-inscribed-secret-jesus-bible-codes/story?id=9575794&page=2

From the NY Times:
Firm to Remove Bible References From Gun Sights
http://www.nytimes.com/2010/01/22/us/22guns.html

Thoughts of Tevya

This weather information gets updated every few hours for us. We can access it on the computer or through the television. Since I've been here, the time for Sunrise and Sunset has been listed as "N/A." For the first time this week, I noticed the next Sunrise and Sunset times are posted! It's nice to know the world keeps spinning.

An open letter to my kids

Hi girls!

I really miss you guys. I like being your Dad and I’m sorry I can’t be with you now to hug you and hold you. You two continue to amaze me with how smart and kind you are. Your mother and I very blessed that God trusted us with you two.

I wanted to write a bit about the people I'm meeting here and the job I'm doing to maybe explain why I'm not home now. Your mom and I teach you that God loves you. Well, a lot of people in the world don’t hear that and don’t know that. Sometimes people think they have to do something different for God to love them. We know that’s not true. In my work, I can help people meet the God who loves them no matter what.

And down here in Antarctica, there are all kinds of people. Since I can’t be with you now, I thought you might be interested in learning a bit about the people here and the work they are doing. Most everything America is doing in Antarctica is about science. You know I used to be a science teacher, and I know that you two enjoyed some of the museums and books about science, so I think you might like this. You may not understand it all now, but when I get home, I'd love to tell you more.

Last week, I met Johan who has been working on Antarctica for at least 13 years, mostly learning more about Earth's atmosphere. We know our planet is changing, but we don’t all agree about why. Johan is convinced that we people are making some changes here faster than Earth has ever changed and he’s worried about what we’re doing. For example, we started measuring the amount of one certain gas (carbon) in the atmosphere when Grandma and Grandpa were your age and that level has been steadily increasing. One of the ways this is happening is the smoke out of our cars. To make sure their measurements are correct, there are different scientists working on this and they are using different techniques. One group has been using the exact same type of bottle for about 60 years, and some of those bottles are that old! Johan let me hold one.
Here's some heavier science stuff: Some people think a carbon level we can live with might be 350 parts per million (that’s a way we measure the amount of one thing when it’s mixed up with a bunch of other things) and when I was talking with Johan, he read the current meter and we were up over 384 ppm (we haven’t been below 350 ppm for over 20 years).
We’re pretty sure this will have an impact on our planet – probably the temperature, possibly other things as well – but folk are still debating that. I’ll be honest that I don’t know all about the science, but it seems we are changing the air on Earth and that's not good. I hope we aren’t messing up this planet up for you guys too bad. From down here in Antarctica and from the other places of the world I’ve seen, this is a beautiful world, a gift from God, and we need to take good care of it.

Speaking of that, will you guys go camping with me when I get back?

I first wrote this letter to you in my journal, so I'm going to keep copying it more or less as I wrote. At the time, I was sitting inside one of our LC-130 “Hercules” aircraft – the ones we see flying around our house – getting ready to go to the South Pole Station. The flight I'm on today, as you can see from the picture below, is pretty empty. The South Pole Station needs fuel to run all winter long, so one of the reasons we fly down there is to bring them gas. We load up as full as we can from McMurdo, fly to the Pole, and then offload as much gas as we possibly can before turning around to fly back to McMurdo. They put me on the plane as well since I'm going for the day, but it was pretty empty.

This flight is pretty exciting for me, so I want to tell you about that. You probably remember that I went to the South Pole last week. It’s about 800 miles away from McMurdo, where I’m usually working, and takes about three hours on one of these planes. We have skiis on the plane as well as wheels, so we can use whichever one we need (today it’s skiis).
The South Pole is a pretty unique place, as you might imagine. Less than 250 people live at the station now, but about 70 of them are part of building a new science project which they'll finish up next year. In their winter months, about 30 people live here, mostly to keep it running until the other 200 come back. The current station was dedicated two years ago, it’s the third station the US has had here. (The first one is now covered in snow and the second we dismantled to ship off the continent.) There's a picture of it here.

People here get along real well with each other and are pretty friendly. There’s no keys on the doors and they trust each other a lot. They have to: they are pretty brave to live out here at the bottom of the Earth. It takes about two months to drive here so the main transport they have are the planes. They get visitors regularly, some for a few hours, some for a few days. When chaplains come to visit, some of them really like seeing us and some of them could care less, but I’ve discovered most everybody likes to have someone to talk to who takes an interest in their lives and their work.

When I went up to the Pole last week, it was pretty foggy, so we had to delay our flight by several hours. That meant that the evening worship service I’d planned had to be pushed back later which I thought was fine. But what I didn’t realize is that some people had to go to work or had to go to bed and so they missed church. A guy named Bob emailed me when I got back to McMurdo that he’d missed the service and hadn’t had communion in six months and really missed it. I asked around and within a few days, I had permission to go back to bring communion to Bob. So that's why I got to go back.



I’m carrying with me something pretty special called the Erebus Chalice. It’s at least a 100 years old and there are a couple different stories about how it got down here. It's got a connection to one of the early explorers here (it might even have been on his ship when he sailed here). About 25 years ago, it was donated to the chapel here in McMurdo and dedicated to Robert Falcon Scott, an explorer who died here in 1912 on his way back from the South Pole. Each summer, we bring it to the chapel and at the end of the season someone brings it back to the Cathedral in Christchurch, New Zealand, where it stays all winter. This chalice is pretty famous and while I’m the chaplain, I’m in charge of it. I talked to the pastor in New Zealand that watches over it in the winter and we both agreed that it's famous and valuable and pretty, but it's also supposed to be used, not just looked at. So, I’m taking it with me to the South Pole to celebrate communion. Someone who came to church took my picture with it.

I think I'm most excited about this trip for two reasons:

1. I’m going to the South Pole! I will be standing at the bottom of this amazing planet, at the axis where we spin around. My mind still can’t totally grasp that.

2. I’m going through all this - six hours of flying, six hours on the ground, the elevation change - so I can bring a visible reminder of God’s invisible grace to someone who needs that reminder. Psalm 139 has a great image of God being everywhere, that there is no place we can go to escape God’s presence: as far as planet Earth goes, I get to be a part of reminding people of that.

Something else about the South Pole that’s pretty amazing: The water we drink at the Pole is made by melting ice from a deep well. The well is so deep that the ice fell to the Earth about 2,000 years ago as rain or snow. So, the water we drink and flush and shower in at the Pole (well, not shower, they are allowed two 2-minute showers a week there!) was rain when Jesus walked the planet. Incredible, huh?

So anyway, I wanted to tell you about some other really cool people I’ve met here. Yesterday in church was a lot of fun. I think I surprised some of the people – I made them talk and help out a lot in the service. Some of them had planned to do something, and some of the other folk who have gotten to know me a bit know that I want them to help out. For the sermon, I asked a lot of questions and expected people to answer: they were kinda quiet at first, but eventually caught on. Danny was a lot of help: he’s leaving Thursday but I’ve known him since I got here. He’s a real kind man, a “salt of the earth” person as your Grandma Marvel (and Jesus) would say. He’s an electrician and I’ve seen him smile so much I’ve wondered if maybe electricity is that much fun? Frederick played his violin which was cool. I don’t think he used to go to church much, maybe not at all, and he’s still learning a lot about God and Jesus, but he can really play his violin; yesterday at the bottom of the planet, we were treated to Jesu, Joy of Man’s Desiring as a gift that he played to God. It was pretty amazing. Gabe prayed for us in church – his parents were missionaries and he’s been to seminary. He’s also a skilled radio technician and is here working with the radios that contact the planes when they want to land or take off. He’ll be the official leader of the chapel over this winter after we all leave, so it’s good to have him helping out so people get to know him. He’s a guy on a very fruitful journey. I’m glad I’ve met him.

After church I met a whole bunch of other people. Chris has traveled all over the world recording nature sounds. He said he used to record music but when he started listening more to the sounds of nature he got tired of music. He’s recording sounds for a new BBC program that I think will be called “Frozen Planet.” He also helped make “Planet Earth” and “Blue Planet.” We talked about New York a bit – he’s been up our way recording bird song and lecturing at Cornell. He let me listen to what he was working on: orca songs!

In that same room of the science lab, I met up again with Jack and Bill. I got to know them when I flew down here – we were on the same plane – but they took off soon after we arrived in McMurdo and spent a couple weeks in tents in a place called the Dry Valleys. There’s not much snow in the Dry Valleys and I’ve heard that some scientists work there to examine what it might be like to visit Mars! I had breakfast with Bill on Saturday when they’d returned and he invited me up to see their project. When I got up there, I learned they are actually working on a couple different things. Their big project is a three-year study of wind patterns and dust in the air here. We are still exploring Antarctica and so all different kinds of scientists are down here working on stuff and cooperating with each other to learn even more. They have been measuring how the wind blows down here and also how the rocks have been formed. While walking around setting up their wind contraptions over the years, they noticed that some rocks here had familiar patterns to them. Some are flat and some look like squashed three-sided pyramid. But most people, including them, think that they've been laying there for thousands of years and they wonder why they haven't been blown to sand over that time. So they collected some of these and when I got there, they were scanning them into 3-D images they could rotate and move on the computer. As with the other project, they are very excited and curious. It made me think a lot of you two: you guys ask us questions a lot and want to know about things around you. These scientists were the same. They reminded me of little kids who never really grew up – well they are bigger and smarter than when they were kids - but they are as curious and interested in the world as you are.

I also met Roy last week who listens to satellites. Actually, he controls the receiving dishes that listen to satellites. Some satellites are on an orbit around Earth that passes the South Pole regularly, so his job is to listen to them and collect the things they are seeing. Each satellite pass lasts about 10-15 minutes and with the eight satellites he’s watching now, the dish is busy about once an hour. This is Roy’s second time here and he’s having more fun now because he’s made some great friends. One of his friends got a little hurt a few weeks ago and she doesn’t really want to tell her boss because she wants to keep impressing him so she can come back next year. I went and asked the doctor here about it and he looked kinda sad and said that happens sometimes. She’s in a tough spot, and I hope she’ll be ok.

Sunday night I went to a lecture about penguins and seals. The scientist was explaining how these animals are changing where they swim and where they go hunting for food. His theory – and he had some pretty convincing evidence – is that the Earth is getting warmer and it’s changing these animals’ patterns.

As I said before, I wrote this on the airplane. I went up to the flight deck and talked with some guys I know and learned something really cool. For the first hour that we flew, we were over the Ross Sea which is frozen solid so we call it the Ross Ice Shelf. We are now getting close to where that ends and the continent begins (we call the “transition.”) McMurdo, where I live now, is actually on an island formed by still-active volcanoes in the Ross Sea. The water for the sea comes from the Beardmore Glacier which is one of the largest glaciers in the world. It covers the south pole which is over 9,000 feet high and flows down to the ocean. Of course, glaciers move really slowly, you can't see them move. I just learned that a piece of ice that starts at the south pole can travel the Beardmore Glacier out into the Ross Sea near where I live at McMurdo. But to give you an idea of how fast glaciers move, it would take that piece of snow about 10,000 years to travel those 800 miles.

Well, that's all I'm going to write for now. There are some pictures below of me at the South Pole (both of them). I miss you guys a lot and look forward to seeing you in about a month!

Daddy

Welcome USNS Paul Buck

One of the five tanker ships our government owns pulled into McMurdo today. It's another gorgeous day so people were already in a good mood, but the ship is today's talk of the town. The Swedish-flagged icebreaker Oden led the way.




The tanker holds about 8 million gallons of fuel, but I guess they still need this sign:

Wildlife

Took a walk in the gorgeous clear day and thought I'd share some of the scenery:

This is Mt Discovery, named by the early explorers.

This is the picure I took of Hut Point and the water that has melted near it. A moment earlier, I'd seen a whale breach and spout. Someone else who had a better view (and had their camera out BEFORE the whale breached) took this picture:

This is as close as I've gotten to a seal (he's the blob in the middle).

Except when they let me fly, this is as close as I'll get to Mt Discovery.