Resonance

The almost full moon rising on the northern horizon

Day 17; February 8, 2009; Vesleskaervet, Dronning Maud Land, Antarctica
Average Daily Temperature: 13.64˚ F
Average Daily Wind Speed: 18.12 mph
Feels Like: -13.54˚ F

This morning I awoke quite early to find that the cold had seeped into my bones overnight.

Just before midnight last night I had walked down to ICEPAC, intent on sleeping the night in our field camp. The sun was below the horizon, but as I ambled across the snow to our field camp, there was still enough light to guide my way. The night was clear, and the deep evening colors had seeped into the ice—everything was indigo and pink, and the softness of the panorama lulled me into sleepiness.

Thomas and Firstborn were already there when I arrived, and after arranging my bed and getting settled for the evening, we decided to watch a movie projected onto the cloth divider, which provides privacy for the camp’s bathroom, at one end of the structure—powered, of course, by the wind and the sun. Snug inside my sub-zero sleeping bag, snacking on some sweets in our camp provisions, we watched “The Bank Job,” which played in stark comparison to our environs.

After the movie, Thomas and Firstborn already fast asleep, I lay there trying to figure out how to stay warm. Mummy bags, as they are called here, are designed for sub-zero temperatures, and their thick down-filled walls were quite necessary for camping in the Antarctic. There is a small peephole for your face, which, once you are completely zipped inside, allows you to breath. But even this small aperture lets the cold in, so I found myself wrapping my head in my wool hat and putting my scarf over my mouth so that I was breathing through it. In short, I was completely enclosed—and I was still cold. It seemed impossible, but for some reason, I just could not get warm.

My sleep was a bit restless, but upon awaking, my deep chill started to wane. The sun was quite strong already, and ICEPAC’s black exterior was starting to bring the heat from its rays inside. Touching the side of the tent’s red interior fabric walls, I could feel the radiation warming my skin, and the fabric itself was almost hot. So amazing that, even in this frozen terrain, one can still know the warmth from our star.

We lingered for quite a while at our field camp, racing back to the main base just as lunch was finishing. There had been an incredible light across the western planes, which I could see on our way back. The clouds, filtering just some of the sun’s rays, cast bright highlights and dark shadows across the ice. Nature is ever present in one’s consciousness here, and always unrepeated.

In the evening, after dinner, I gave a talk on my work and presented The Polar Project. It was great to have an opportunity to share my work with the scientists and base staff, as most of them did not know why I’m here. There was a wonderful response to the project, and I had lots of enthusiastic questions and people coming up afterward wanting to talk more about it or offer their services to the effort.

I reflected afterward, as I looked out my window at the darkening mountains to the south, about what a profoundly meaningful experience it was for me to speak the mission of the project while here in Antarctica. Sound, like light, travels across the landscape, gets absorbed by and reflected off of the snow and ice. Resonance. To know that my words and intent have, as sound frequency, reverberated into the ice, out beyond the wind and across the planes, I couldn’t help but wonder if Antarctica had heard me.

As the clock showed the day had come to an end, the almost full moon peeked its head up on the northern horizon. The moon has been below the horizon since my arrival, and so watching the luminous orb rise and set through the low clouds was like seeing an old friend. How fortunate we are to have a moon!
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