Encountering the Sublime

The Sun shining through blowing ice crystals as our airplane landed at SANAE Station

Day 7; January 29, 2009; Vesleskaervet, Dronning Maud Land, Antarctica
Average Daily Temperature: 15.3˚ F
Average Daily Wind Speed: 22.82 mph
Feels Like: -18.97˚ F

Yesterday morning, I awoke to a wild wind and intense anticipation. After a quick shower, I put on the first layers of gear, looked over the rest of my bags, making sure all was accounted for. My phone rang, and Thomas said the flight was confirmed and he’d be over straight away. Just enough time for a quick coffee, checkout, and then off we went to fetch Alfons and head to the airport.

The flight departed from the Cape Town International Airport, and the television monitors listing departures did in fact say “Antarctica” and indicated we would be departing from Gate B1. Although procedures seemed predictable, we were far from being a normal flight. With hand-written tickets we were ushered by the staff of ALCI (Antarctic Logistics Centre International), a Russian operated organization, straight through passport control, quick security, and then off to our gate.

The Ilyushin 75-TD converted Russian cargo plane was remarkable. A projection screen hung at the front displaying our flight information, normal airline seats were bolted to the floor to create a cabin-like feel, but then all around were the signs that this was not a luxury aircraft, but a rugged work-horse meant for utility.

Exposed pipes and insulation, wires and cables, and the Russian text hand painted on various instruments all combined to make one feel that we were in some sort of a time capsule. In an effort to make the space feel more habitable, huge flags from many of the countries who do heavy research in Antarctica and are members of the Treaty, lined the walls, bringing bright color and and a sense of unity.

The flight to Antarctica, despite some of my fears of turbulence, was in fact smoother than my flight to Cape Town. And the crew and staff of ALCI were masters of making our journey more comfortable. Sandwiches, coffee, snacks, juices, fresh fruit and chocolates were served throughout the flight, the beautiful nature programs by David Attenborough were projected onto the screen. Best of all, we were allowed to go down and up to the two flight decks at the cockpit (the second lower deck had window views below the aircraft, so you could see directly downward).

Arriving 6 hours later at NOVO Base, I stepped off the airplane and put my feet onto the ice of Antarctica. Words do little to express the exhilaration I felt. After four years of hard work and pushing steadily uphill to get the project even this far, sometimes against severe obstacles, my heart soared with a sense of accomplishment and gratitude. This beautiful vast frozen landscape is indeed the one I’ve been dreaming about. I fell immediately in love with Antarctica—in a strange sense, it felt like home.

The rest of the afternoon and evening were spent base-hopping in order to reach our ultimate destination, SANAE Station. From NOVO we were flown in a smaller aircraft to Neumeyer, which took about two hours. The flight was intensely gorgeous, and became even more so the closer we got to the German Base, which is right off the coast. From the plane, I could see huge icebergs floating close to shore, some of them the size of lower Manhattan.

We also passed over the second largest glacier in the southern hemisphere, called Jutulstraumen, which feeds the Fimbul Ice Shelf (120 miles long and 60 miles wide). The landscape changes discernibly when you fly over a glacier, and the world below looks unlike anything I have ever seen in a photo. The vast ice field suddenly seems to push upwards, bulging slightly, and is marked with rhythmic striations, geometric cuts, shimmering patterning, and a sense of enormity (both in surface area and in depth) that matches the Grand Canyon, or even deep space.

The only natural reaction I could manage when I saw this glacier was to cry. Nothing had ever seemed so beautiful, so powerful, so rare. Completely taken over by the emotion of the moment, I could not help but feel again the sense of urgency I’ve had from the first moments of initiating this project all those moons ago. How can I bring this back—this deep connection, this incredible nature, this extraordinary continent? How can we protect this unparalleled place?

At Neumeyer, we had some time to explore the base while they unloaded crates and passengers and refueled the plane. There is a new structure being built at Neumeyer, because the old one, which sits far below the ice’s surface, is sinking farther into the glacier it rests within as the ice moves out toward the sea. Descending into the base, you can literally feel the weight of the ice around you, the solid mass providing insulation and protection from the cold and wind.

Just a short walk from the entrance to the base is an artwork by German artist, Lutz Fritsch. The piece, titled “Bibliothek im Eis” (Library in the Ice) is a wonderful and surprising work. While the library itself is functional, in the sense that it has books, and provides a space to read them, the installation is in fact far more than what you see initially. The piece is a tangible experience of solitude, time and isolation.

As we took to the air again, heading now to our ultimate destination, I could not help reflect on how humans have attempted to normalize our being here, in spite of the starkly inhospitable environs. Looking at all we must do in order to survive in Antarctica, the question lingers: should we be here at all?

Our arrival at SANAE was an initiation into the extreme weather that is possible here. Just as we began to approach the base, a massive wind storm blew in, and I could see the snow blowing quickly at about a foot off the ground, floating over the landscape like river water over rocks. The runway had been cleared that morning, awaiting our flight, but the wind had been coming from a different direction then. The pilot tried to land four times, and had to ascend each time at the last minute for fear that the strong winds blowing at the plane sideways would tip the wings as he attempted to touch the ground.

In the end, the pilot had to land without a runway, making his own in order to accommodate the fast changing winds. We touched ground, slid on the plane’s skis until finally coming to a halt. The warm light from the low sun shown through the whirling snow, and the world outside looked like thick luminosity.

The cold does indeed follow the wind, and descending from the plane, I found myself putting on the remainder of my gear. I could hardly see anything in front of me, except refracting light bouncing off the blowing, airborne ice crystals. With visibility closing in rapidly, and the base still a kilometer’s drive away, efforts were made to quickly load the sleds which were attached to skimobiles, and go. The wind was painfully biting as we raced up to the station to beat what would be white out conditions in mere minutes.

Entering the base, the warmth of the inside immediately won out over the cold, and as I took off the 40 or so pounds of gear I had on, I began to realize that the SANAE station was designed to bring comfort to an otherwise uninhabitable environment. Anchored to the top of a gorgeous rock mountain, with shear cliffs that fall into the snowy landscape 600 feet below, and look out across a pristine landscape of ice fields and mountains, the bulbous and colorful structure feels a bit like a space station. Lacking almost no amenity, it is indeed a welcome respite after a long journey, and the forbidding weather outside.

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