Antarctica, we are go for launch
No one goes to Antarctica twice. That's what I was told by a long-timer on my first deployment to Antarctica. People either go once, have their fill, and never come back, or they become a lifer. Before going to Antarctica the first time, I wasn't sure if I was going to like it. I hate camping and I hate being cold – my friends and family can attest. But I knew I wanted to go to Antarctica. I worked for five years to get there. I just didn't know how I would feel once I was there.
This uncertainty manifested itself by filling my stomach with butterflies and jittery nerves when I was dropped off at my home airport to embark on my journey. What was I doing? Five years of work to get to this point but what if I hated it? I was worried how I was even going to haul 200lbs of microscope gear through multiple airports by myself, no less how I would cope with five weeks in Antarctica.
Against all the uncertainty, I absolutely loved it.
"Where are you headed to today?" the airline agent asked me when I checked in to return to Antarctica this week. "Antarctica by way of New Zealand," I beamed, though maybe less-visibly with my N95 mask on. "Oh, Antarctica, huh?" he said and I nodded. "Ant...arctica...," he said, this time quieter as his eyes drifted off into the distance for a moment before he then abruptly resumed typing into the computer. "Next time, take me with you," he said as he handed me my ticket and comped my excess bag fees.
I'm now a few hours away from flying here in Christchurch, New Zealand, to the compacted snow runway near McMurdo Station, Antarctica. The pandemic delayed my plans for a return to Antarctica for a couple years, but now, four years after my original deployment, I am returning. I'm so excited to return, and yet, if I'm being honest, I'm filled with all the same nerves and butterflies as last time. Just like last time, this isn't a tourist trip – I'm there to contribute, create, and deliver a project in the span of two months. It may seem like a long time, but it's actually quite short for fitting in shooting a full documentary while simultaneously working as a ecological researcher. It's hard not to feel the pressure building at this point. I look forward to once I've had a few days out in the field and can point to metaphorical sawdust of my labor to calm my nerves about leaving empty-handed.
Tomorrow morning will be the start of a long day. We got bumped from the C17 aircraft I thought we were flying on that boasts dedicated jumper seats and a "quick" five-hour flight to McMurdo, to instead flying on the propellor C130 military aircraft that takes eight hours to get to McMurdo and was absolutely not designed with human cargo in mind. There are no seats, just cargo netting to sit on. Everyone sits squished up next to one another, often interweaving their legs with the people sitting across from them. And there is no bathroom. What do people do on an eight hour flight to go to the bathroom then, you ask? They bring a single bucket on board for everyone to share and tie a curtain around it.
To try to block out what my next several hours will entail, I have been soaking up the summer here in New Zealand where possible. It's a sweet cruelty to spend a few days here before Antarctica. My research team and I have been walking through the parks, me with my ridiculous glacier sunglasses, enjoying the sun and the smell of jasmine and the sound of a light summer rain before we leave. I'll be dreaming of it all on the noisy military plane while simultaneously dreaming of the silence of glaciers.
<3 Ariel