October 15th and 20th, 2012. Sea Ice

Me next to Main Body Crack, wishing the Royal Society Mountains were closer

The first few weeks at McMurdo for people that will deploy to field camps and work on the sea ice is constant training, a lot of which are informative and down right exciting; like becoming a ninja. Sea Ice training was one of my personal favorites, I'll get to that after a more recent incident on sea ice patrol. 

The Tucker!

A lot of science and therefore work is conducted  out on the sea ice in Mcmurdo sound during the first 2-3 months of the season depending on conditions. We place and service "fish huts," that are scattered around the sound anywhere between one to fifteen miles from station. Typically we use Pisten Bully's as transport vehicles but ours is being worked on and we're short on mechanics this year. So, we've been using Tuckers. A Tucker is made in Medford, Oregon of all places and can go anywhere pulling just about anything. It travels at the speed of smell however and is not ideal for getting anywhere in a timely manner. Driving out onto the sea ice is always thrilling, knowing that a meter or so of ice is between you, a 12,000 lb Tucker and a 27 F ocean.

Fish Hut, Erebus in the background

 A few days ago I was out in a Tucker on "Sea Ice Patrol," a pretty rad gig for around station work, and was lucky enough to have a close encounter with a Weddell seal. 

After loading up with provisions (we often miss lunch on patrol) including frozen burritos to be cooked on the Tucker engine block, two way radios, and a GPS unit, we hooked up to the Diesel Weasel which holds fuel for the heaters inside the fish huts and Tuckered out onto the ice. The inside of a fish hut is similar to the shanty huts used for ice fishing in Minnesota, but instead of grumpy old men drinking moonshine we have Phd's drinking tea, the London gentlemen of ice fishing. Inside hut number 3 was a team of divers, a photographer and a lab assistant. Looking down into the hole in the ice I could see two divers as clearly as if they were in the room with me. Two beams of light illuminated the ocean floor as they scanned their flashlights over beds of starfish and giant sponges flourishing in their ethereal world . The visibility in the ocean in Antarctica is better than anywhere else in the world when the sea is covered with ice. The lack of photosynthetic organisms in the water and the undisturbed surface allows for the conditions to be flawlessly clear. That day the divers were at 120 feet with visibility of around 200-250 feet; which I was told was below average for Antarctic standards where 1500 feet is par. I have always felt like a strange visitor when diving, a peasant gazing upon the antiquities of liquid kingdom, someone who is welcome to look around but doesn't belong. We're the only species on earth that is able to transcend mediums by bringing oxygen giving life with it no matter where it chooses to go. How remarkable that we are able to breath underwater and on land, in oceans covered in ice and on the desolate surface of the moon. Watching those divers investigate that beautifully mysterious world made me proud to be human, something we're all to often taught to feel shame for. 

Typical Weddell seal (not my photo)

Cranking on the hurdy-gurdy like a giant jack-in-the-box I topped off the fuel tank and was onto the next hut. Hut number 15 was vacant, just a large hole through the ice into the frigid ocean. As I turned my back to leave I heard an unmistakable sound; the gasping inhalation of air. I turned around and was face to face with an adult Weddell seal who had come up through the hole inside the fish hut for a breather. Adult Weddell's can reach lengths in excess of 10 ft and weigh over 1300 lbs, they are massively fat and can hardly move on land yet effortlessly graceful underwater. We stared at each other for about a minute; the seal was clearly unafraid and taking the opportunity to be in a heated building with a harmless animal, catching its breath and watching me inquisitively. After the seal disappeared back into the still water I walked to the edge of the hole to see of I could catch another glimpse. Down in the shadows another seal must have seen me peering and came up to investigate. Two oily spheres trained on me as it lumbered upwards, bubbles caressing whiskers flowing gently out of its snout, eyes open and blinking slowly. As it broke the surface, ocean beaded off its furry face like water in a greased pan. Nostrils working rapidly in cadence, pulling air into starved lungs, a curiosity so common among mammals filled the warm hut as we stared at each other in silence. It was gone in no hurry, not scared away or threatened, just gone. I could have stayed there all day staring into the sea beyond the frozen surface but the Tucker was outside idling and there was work to be done.

Sea Ice School

A windy day for Sea Ice School

Our Hagglund

Loomy was our instructor last year for Happy Camper snow survival school at South Pole. He's part of a medically qualified helicopter and land based extraction team for Denali National Park in Alaska, teaches survival techniques in Antarctica in his spare time and is a shameless quilter. When Loomy isn't instructing on V-anchors and igloo construction, or rescuing hypothermic hikers, he's quilting. It was like finding out that Rambo loves knitting and plays the jazz flute; the personality dichotomies here never cease to amaze me. We were lucky enough to have Loomy as our instructor on sea ice navigation and safety this year at McMurdo. After 2 hours of classroom logistics involving sea ice cracks we boarded a Hagglund, sort of a double lunch box on tracks, and started an hour long drive out to Main Body Crack (they could have just called it Ass Crack and saved a syllable); a dynamic crack running several miles long about 12 miles outside of station. 

Upon arriving at the crack under investigation the wind out on the "open ocean" was absolutely ripping.  We worked in the wind shadow created by the Hagglund in relative comfort, venturing out of its protective shield to feel the wrath of the wind and take photos.

Investigation Main Body Crack

Snow is constantly blowing around and rarely precipitating, so there is actually less than a foot of snow in most places out on the sea ice. After uncovering the gun metal blue ice we practiced setting V-anchors.  V-anchors are used in ice because they are incredibly strong and easy to set up. Basically two holes are drilled about 8 inches apart at 60 degree angles toward each other, connecting under the ice in a V. Cordage is then thread through and tied to whatever you don't want blowing away in the wind, like the tent I'll be sleeping in soon. So we huddled around like frozen strawberries practicing this anchoring technique that some of us would need in a big way unless we wanted to wake up with a sunburn and a tent rolling across the plateau like a giant neon tumbleweed.

Jenna practicing V-anchoring

Sea ice separates, twists, grinds, and reforms; changing constantly and therefore requiring our attention when driving giant heavy equipment on it. When a crack is spotted we stop short of it, pile out like Eskimo clowns in a Volkswagen and  get to work assessing it in the following steps: Uncover ice completely across the crack, drill down until water is reached, check depth with measuring tape and weight, drill again until a minimum and maximum depth have been found across the crack in question. Then we cross reference the information with whatever standard the NSF (National Science Foundation) has set for that vehicle. If we're within the specifications for that vehicle we are free to proceed across the crack.

Me measuring ice thickness

Because I am not always graceful and always paying attention to my surroundings and often gazing off at mountains daydreaming, I take my share of spills and "oh shit," moments no matter where I am. The following pictures compliments of Jenna were taken of me posing with an 8 foot drill bit and then falling over holding it:

Looking good!

Not so much now

I've been out on the sea ice several times now for various tasks and always find it thrilling. If only we had class like this growing up.

I'm leaving for WAIS Divide soon (was supposed to leave Monday, Friday at time of writing; multiple day delays are common) so I won't be blogging for a 3-4 weeks.