It is not often that I allow myself the time and space to stop or simply slow down. When I do find myself in a moment of pause, I am often left with a feeling of unrest. Admittedly, a part of my desire to come to Antarctica has had to do with a deep longing to escape both the societal and self-induced pressures inherent to the 21st century.  An era filled with ideas of endless growth and relentless perseverance that to me, appear to be bulging the seams (perhaps both literally and metaphorically) of first world nations. 

For a need of wanting to allow myself the freedom to move at a slower and conceivably more considered pace than I usually find myself traveling, I decided that when I came to Antarctica I would make a series of long exposure pinhole photographs. The process of exposing film paper over the course of several days to several months with a pinhole camera. Nearly a year ago, in a rather serendipitous way, I met the Seattle based photographer, Janet Neuhauser who just so happened to be leading, 'The Pinhole Project' - a long exposure pinhole camera project. 

Go figure. 

Janet was kind enough to teach me the ropes of long exposure pinhole photography and off I went. Before I left home I made 12 small pinhole cameras and since I have been on station, I have made approximately 10 more. The cameras are simple light tight containers with literally a pinhole serving as the open aperture. They are set either in or outdoors and left for several days/weeks and then 'developed' by scanning. 

It is a simple process that takes only a small amount of active time but one that challenges patience. Because I am so used to the instant gratification of digital photography, to wait a week (or much longer) for a single picture, can be trying. But the long exposure captures everything that a digital photograph could never quite grasp in the same way.

Like the idea of time measured by light with the movement of the sun through the sky. 
A poem rather than a definition.  

I believe that my intrigue to this type of photography comes from the same place that many other photographers find it - from a want to slow down and really look and see again. While my digital camera is no doubt a marvelous thing, I have to ask myself, what good are the thousands of pictures I have taken in just a few weeks? And how will they compare to the couple dozen or so pinhole images I will leave with, when all is said and done? 

It feels good to slow down and see more with less.

This material is based upon work supported by the National Science Foundation under Grant Number 1158885. 
Any opinions, findings, and conclusions or recommendations expressed in this material are those of the author(s) and do not necessarily reflect the views of the National Science Foundation.

This material is based upon work supported by the National Science Foundation under Grant Number 1158885. Any opinions, findings, and conclusions or recommendations expressed in this material are those of the author(s) and do not necessarily reflect the views of the National Science Foundation.

Perhaps I got carried away with this panorama.

Expanse of the horizon feels wholly endless. 
The air here is clear and feels good in the lungs. 

After three days of trying to get to station and only making progress of half the length of the boat in the last 24 hours, today it was decided that the L.M. Gould must start to make it's way to open water and then back up north to Punta Arenas. Just a few nautical miles away from station and well within viewing distance, it is a bit heart breaking for the 5 people on station who were supposed to be going home. They'll have to wait another 6 weeks, unless the ice blows out by the time the Gould gets to clear water. Unlikely with current weather conditions...

The light here is like none other that I have experienced. Sunset last for hours. 
Difficult to know when to sleep with 17 hours of daylight and the rest a dreamy twilight. 

This material is based upon work supported by the National Science Foundation under Grant Number 1158885. 
Any opinions, findings, and conclusions or recommendations expressed in this material are those of the author(s) and do not necessarily reflect the views of the National Science Foundation.

Palmer Station, located on the south end of Anvers Island, is the only US station located in the Antarctic Peninsular region. It sits at the end of a small point with a glacier towards it's back and open (or not so open, depending on the pack ice) waters on all other sides. The site for the station was chosen specifically because it is located in a biologically rich area that can easily be reached by ship. After four seasons of building, the station opened in 1970. 

The station supports a vast amount of research covering everything from diatoms to sea birds. Since it’s inception, it has also helped support long-term environmental research (LTER) projects, of which I am particularly interested in. The LTER projects study a range of subjects that are inevitably linked: sea birds, prey (krill), phytoplankton ecology and the microbial loop. Because these projects have been running for so long, an incredible amount of knowledge and information has accumulated. It is this knowledge that I hope to begin to tap into while I am here. 

Part of what makes research at this particular station interesting, is that it is located in the fastest warming region on earth. Though there are many factors to this, part of this warming is due to the Antarctic Circumpolar Current (ACC), the strongest fastest ocean current on earth. The ACC isolates the Antarctic from more temperate climates and is now hitting the peninsula with warmer waters as the ocean temperatures rise. (Please note that this is an especially simplified explanation of what is happening with the ACC and why it is warming the Antarctic peninsula. There is a lot more information if you care to read about it. I felt it worth mentioning in brief here…)

The average winter temperature has risen by 6 degrees Celsius, or 42.8 degrees Fahrenheit since 1950! Just here at Palmer, the glacier behind station used to be right behind the buildings, now it is half a kilometer away. The glacier is retreating 33 feet a year. In fact, it is widely agreed upon that if the glacier continues to melt/calve off as it has been, it will reveal that Palmer station is not actually on Anvers island proper, but a smaller island off of it’s coast. 

All of this talk about the sea temperatures rising and glacial retreat makes it hard to understand that why today, the LM Gould could not reach station because the pack ice is too thick to break through. It is important to understand that Antarctica started off extremely cold and though temperatures are rising, temperatures are still very cold by a temperate climate perspective. And just like every place on earth, fronts move in and create overly cold or hot periods. The important thing here is not to look at just one week or even one season – but the overall trend spanning many years. 

Current life on station:

Since arriving a week ago, pack ice has blown into Arthur Harbor locking all researches on station, ‘in’. Most of the research here is related to marine biology in one way or another, meaning many of the scientists collect their data away from station, on Zodiacs. Because the weather has been cold and the winds are blowing in the ‘wrong’ direction, the ice has become more compacted and we are now looking at a thick cover of pack ice in the harbor. So thick in fact, that the L.M. Gould cannot navigate it’s way back to station to pick up folks who are ready to go home. One fellow who has been here since April is particularly disappointed. Worse case scenario, it could be another 6 weeks before he can go home, due to the shipping schedule of the Gould.

Others on station who are waiting for the waters to clear, appear to be doing ‘busy’ work. The birders are looking through frozen Cormorant boli (a mucus like sack Cormorants regurgitate that is filled with indigestible food such a fish bones) samples from last year looking for otoliths. The otloliths will be saved and sent to the University of Washington to determine what fish species the cormorants are eating. Important work, but not necessarily their main field work or purpose for being here.

In the mean time, we wait for the winds to pick up from the north to move out the pack ice. And if the weather is clear, it changes by the minute - go for a hike up the glacier. 

This material is based upon work supported by the National Science Foundation under Grant Number 1158885. 
Any opinions, findings, and conclusions or recommendations expressed in this material are those of the author(s) and do not necessarily reflect the views of the National Science Foundation.

As much as we try to control our lives, sometimes it just happens to us. All of the things that we intend to do that never happen and all of the other things that come along unexpectedly, hold us up to our very selves. 

Snow falls on the birder tent where I write this blog and it sounds like rain. Posting a blog or accessing the internet onboard the Gould proved to be an impossible feat, or rather one that I could not bear to face, with internet speeds barely perceptible. All the same, I am astonished at the fact that one could even tease the idea of internet on board a boat in the middle of the Drake Passage... From my perspective, we are wholly and truly in the digital age. I remember signing up for my first e-mail account in 1998 - little did I know. 

But back to the point. 

A week passed and I was not able to post a blog.  At times, a week can dissipate and disappear like a deep breath in cold air, but not this week. This week passed in an extraordinary way and I now find myself wondering where to start.

As you may have guessed, I made it through the Straits of Magellan and the Drake Passage. The weather did end up turning on a dime and our passage was uneventful. As much as a small part of me wished for a rough crossing - after 5 days of a good crossing, I can tell you that I am grateful we did not find ourselves in the midst of rough seas. A smooth sailing still got the boat rocking and swaying with every never ending swell after swell of the ocean. 

When we finally spotted land on fourth day out, it was time to help the Cape Shirreff crew off of the boat and onto Livingston island. A small island off of the north west tip of the Antarctic Peninsula, where five NOAA researches will spend five months at a field camp, studying seals and sea birds. The research team will have only one resupply in the middle of January. 

Volunteers were recruited to help unload all of supplies that the team will need for the next several months. Their personal gear, various equipment for their research and food. Lots and lots of food. I imagine that after five months at the field camp, any sort of fresh fruit or vegetable will be quite noteworthy. The respective supplies and volunteers were loaded onto Zodiacs and multiple trips were made to and from the Gould and shore.

We boarded the zodiacs via a rope ladder on the starboard side of the Gould, in big ocean swell and approx 20 knots of wind,  bundled in plenty of gear. Long underwear, fleece pants, snow pants and Helly Hansen rain pants for the bottom. On top: long underwear, fleece jacket, and float coat. Of course our outfits wouldn't be complete without our Extra Tuff knee high (on me) rubber boots. A two person team acted as surfers, dressed in full-body 'dry' suits to help secure the incoming zodiacs while they were unloaded. Others piled the supplies on sleds and pulled them up to the camp buildings. I helped shovel snow. 

We worked hard and unloaded in just a few hours. Back on board by 12:30 and underway before 14:00. For the final leg of the journey to Palmer station we headed south through Gerlache strait. The most spectacular part of the voyage was through Neumeyer Channel. A narrow waterway with towering snow covered mountains on either side. After we made it through the Neumeyer Channel we made our way through a field of pack ice and eventually to Palmer station! All on board made their way to the deck to watch as we neared shore and our new home.  

Video shows part of our passage through Neumeyer Channel.

And now, even though I feel like I have just begun the story of my adventures thus far - I have to step away for the day. One (or I) can only spend so much time in front of my computer, most especially - Here.Now. 

This material is based upon work supported by the National Science Foundation under Grant Number 1158885. 
Any opinions, findings, and conclusions or recommendations expressed in this material are those of the author(s) and do not necessarily reflect the views of the National Science Foundation.

This blog post was delayed due to the lack of internet connection on board the LMG. Am now playing catch up...

The whole blog thing was supposed to have happened before I left Seattle. Then the government shut down and the wind fell from my sails – for a moment there.

After two years of planning and a lifetime of dreaming, nearly two weeks into the October, 1st government shut down I was notified by an Antarctic Support Contractor (ASC) that there was no need for me to continue packing for my October, 23rd deployment to Palmer station on the Antarctic peninsula, with the National Science Foundation's (NSF), United States Antarctic Program (USAP). Got all those acronyms? My deployment would be delayed until further notice. The NSF would run out of money on the 14th and on the 8th, they announced that they would be bringing all three USAP stations into, ‘Caretaker Status’. No small task indeed.

The story is long and convoluted and frankly not worth any more of my (or your) time, but when the government avoided default on the 17th, I was hurriedly (and might I say unexpectedly) booked to fly out on the 23rd - my original deployment date. I got my ticket info 4 days before departure.

And so I packed.

Not without more than a little help from Zak who helped me gather my things (but mostly my mind) and before I knew it, I was on a plane to Punta Arenas, via Dallas and Santiago. 

And so I was deployed.

As ASC promised, an agent greeted me at the Santiago International airport, there to help through customs and transfer luggage. A small office in the airport made the 12-hour layover tolerable and a few hour adventure into town, made it even enjoyable. After 36 hours of traveling I finally made it into Punta Arenas at about 1:30AM, Friday the 25th.

 

Saturday morning I made my way to a bright yellow warehouse with an equally bright blue roof at a secured port, where I was outfitted with my NSF issued Extreme Cold Weather (ECW) gear.  After swapping some things out, adding a few others, I am confident that I will not freeze in Antarctica.  Pretty stoked about my insulated Carhartt bibs! Thank you NSF.

Spent some time wondering the surrounding neighborhoods of Punta Arenas (the southernmost city on earth), taking photographs and preparing myself for the next leg of my adventure. The presence of the two USAP research vessels (L.M. Gould and Nathanial B. Palmer) felt ever omnipresent as I meandered the hillsides above the city center. Moored at the end of a long gated pier, dressed in bright orange and yellow, they are visible from nearly everywhere above sea level.  I was wishing that my Spanish were better (or perhaps existent is a better adjective) to talk with the locals about the vessels. From what I could gather, they seemed quite familiar with their presence. 

Saturday afternoon was move in day on board research vessel Laurence M. Gould, the beauty I would be sailing on through the Straits of Magellan and the Drake Passage (I hear she rides like a cork screw). The Drake Passage is the only place on earth where the wind can travel all the way around the world without ever touching land. Will be on board for 4 to 5 days depending on weather/sea ice conditions etc. and will arrive to Palmer the 31st or 1st , with one stop on the way at Cape Shirreff, on Livingston island. Eight to ten days to get to Palmer Station on Anvers Island, on the Antarctic Peninsula from Seattle, WA, USA.

All day Saturday the winds ceaselessly howled making it difficult to use the crane on board to load all of the gear needed for the various research projects it supports, along with the resupply for Palmer station. In fact the port closed due to the high wind speeds. Heard mixed reports on the actual wind speed but some said 35 knots with gusts up to 50 knots. Regardless, a walk down the pier may lift one off of their feet if not careful.

On Sunday, our departure time moved from 12:00 to 18:00, due to more delays attributed to high wind speeds. Hoping that by late afternoon the winds will die down for a smooth departure. The weather here can change on the turn of a dime, so we cross our fingers that the wind will subside. However, if the winds continue and a front comes in, we could have a wicked ride, through some of the most wicked waters on earth.