Short Story: Tomb of the God Emperor Penguin

“He’s just standing there.”

“Menacingly?”

“Like he’s already dead.” Martin lowered the binoculars. “I know we wanted to see some penguins, but I don’t think watching one slowly mummify was the intent.”

Chloe took a swig from her water bottle. “Look, you wanted to see a penguin and you need to keep up your training for the marathon. Now we get to do both. No complaints.”

“No, you want me to train for the marathon. I’d be just as happy back at base cramming cookies into my mouth.”

“Yeah, but you can never say no to me.”

“So how long has our penguin friend been standing here?” Martin asked, pointedly avoiding the implications.

Chloe shrugged. “Iunno, he’s been there since my shuttle came back from Willy, so at least four hours, but the driver said she saw him the other day, so maybe a day or two? And he hasn’t moved an inch. Basically the same position as when I saw him the first time.”

“And you’re sure it’s not just rigor mortis and that the skua haven’t gotten at the body yet?”

“Don’t be such a wet blanket. Doesn’t it at least make you think? To reflect on death and how even an animal can meet it with dignity?  The noble sacrifice of an animal, leaving behind his colony to not drain resources. Making the ultimate choice, controlling his own destiny. Maybe his mate died before him and he’s ready to go to the great penguin beyond and be with her. He’s a paragon; he’s a model to learn from; he’s the pinnacle of philosophy; he’s—”

“He’s leaving.”

“What‽” Chloe grabbed the binoculars from Martin. Sure enough, the emperor penguin they’d come out to the ice to see was now waddling his way further in the direction of Castle Rock. And he was making surprisingly good time for his little legs. She passed the binoculars back. “Well, I certainly wasn’t expecting that.”

“Really ruins your thesis paper on Noble Penguin Deaths.”

“Let’s tail him.”

“No.”

“I’m gonna.” Chloe began to follow after. Martin groaned and trotted to catch up.

“So it was less a suggestion and more of an order.”

“You’re free to do what you want. I have no control over your life.”

“Aren’t we violating the Antarctic Treaty doing this?”

“I think it’d be pretty hard to argue that we bothered the animal when we’re watching with binoculars.”

They continued their banter as they followed the apparently revitalized penguin. It led them along the same trail that would take them to Castle Rock.

“Surprisingly considerate of him to avoid the crevasses for us,” Chloe noted.

“I’ll have to recommend him for additional tours,” Martin replied.

The penguin stayed close to the cliff, occasionally stopping to scratch at one indiscernible patch of snow or another. Whatever had possessed the penguin to stand by the snowmobiles for two days had apparently worn off and he was back to being a regular bird brain.

“Okay, Martin. I guess you’re right. This has been nice, but we should get back to training for the marathon.”

“Thank you. Let’s go before my legs seize up.”

Just then, the penguin toppled over onto his belly and disappeared from sight.

“Did he just vanish into thin air?” Chloe made to run ahead. Martin grabbed her arm.

“Maybe he fell down a crevasse. Probably not wise to run after him. And what happened to marathon training?”

“Oh come on, where’s your sense of adventure?”

“I’m literally in Antarctica. How much more adventurous do I need to be?”

“You know what I mean. Of course there’s a rational explanation here, so let’s just find it. Then maybe we can go.”

“Maybe?” But Chloe was already poking around, though carefully. Apparently the crevasse idea had some merit for her. And despite his protests, the curiosity was starting to eat at Martin too. Methodically, he began poking around the area where the penguin had disappeared. Chloe worked on the other side.

“I think I found it,” Martin called over. He brushed some of the snow, revealing a gap in the cliff, just wide enough for a body to slide through. “I think our penguin friend knew where to go.”

“So do you think it’s some kind of penguin city? Like all the penguins are hiding out here in an advanced waddling civilization?” Chloe's eyes were wide with excitement.

“Sure, with flying cars and sushi 3D printers. Either way, we know where the penguin went, so let’s—Chloe, no!” Martin grabbed Chloe, hauling her back to her feet as she tried to squeeze down into the tunnel. She’d already slipped out of her big red coat to slim down. “You can’t be serious.”

“Look, Martin, we’ve come this far and I would bet money that no one knows about whatever Penguin Shangri-La is down here. We’d be revitalizing the Golden Age of Antarctic Exploration! They’d name whatever’s down there after us; we’d go down in the history books.”

“Or we’ll get caught in a rock slide and die a slow and painful death underground. Seriously, Chloe, there’s the spirit of adventure and then there’s reckless abandon. I don’t want you killing yourself for some stupid bird hole.”

“Martin, level with me. Despite my propensity for the dramatic, have I ever actually put us into real danger? We got through the running of the bulls just fine, despite your protests. Our skydiving adventure was good enough that you asked me to go again. We’ve camped on desert islands in Japan, rode on top of the train in India, and went white water rafting in Brazil. And every time, you complain that it was a dumb idea and we’d die, and every time after it’s over, you tell me how right I was.”

“I….” Martin hated to admit that she had a point. Chloe seemed to have an unnatural sense for finding adventure and how to best enjoy it. And he couldn’t lie to himself totally and say he wasn’t curious.

“Let’s just slip in, poke around a bit, and then head back,” Chloe suggested, reasonably. “It’s probably not that deep and there’s likely just a dead end a few feet in.”

Martin could feel himself giving in. “Fine, but I’m going first.”

“What a gentleman.”

“Don’t make me change my mind.” But he was already shuffling into the opening, scraping out snow as he went. In a moment, he was under the initial entrance and into the cave. The ceiling was already rising a few feet into the space. He could hear Chloe scrambling in behind him. “All right, it should be safe, Chloe. And—!”

Chloe watched as Martin disappeared just like the penguin had and heard him yell as he fell. She dove forward to try and catch him, but only succeeded in starting her own slide down the icy incline neither had noticed. If her mind wasn’t racing from losing Martin and possibly their way out, she might have found it fun. The ride was fairly smooth and she managed to avoid bashing into the walls.

“I got you!” Martin’s voice cut through her barrage of thoughts, just in time for her to thump against him as the ice finally gave way to rock. Chloe took a moment to catch her breath. Nothing hurt, and Martin was safe as well.

“So what now?” Martin asked.

“I don’t suppose we can climb back up? Maybe check along the walls for hand holds?” Chloe said, but even she didn’t believe it.

The beam from Martin’s cell phone flashlight lit up the rest of the cave. The ceiling was maybe ten feet high and the tunnel they were in was wide enough for the two of them and probably a third. With the slope behind them, ahead was a long tunnel, curving slowly down.

“Looks like we’re getting that adventure you wanted.”

“Not exactly how I wanted to go about it, but I’ll take it,” Chloe said, dusting herself off. “Lead the way.”

In the slowly bobbing phone light, the two began to slowly make their way deeper into the mountain. The tunnel was surprisingly dry, with only the central pathway showing any disturbance in the silt, likely from the penguin that came before them.

As they walked along, they found that it wound back and forth, sometimes turning sharply. And always leading down. It was a gentle slope, but it was definitely descending. While it was only a few minutes of walking, the seclusion and the silence they both felt compelled to keep made it feel like it could have been days. Antarctica was already an otherworldly continent, but now it felt like they’d stepped out of reality itself. There was only the two of them, their footsteps, and the light of an Android flashlight.

The beam caught a glint of white against the dull browns of the cave.

“Is that what I think it is?”

“Yeah, that’s a penguin skull.” Chloe confirmed.

With care, the two examined the skull. It was about the size of Chloe’s fist, with the long beak of an emperor penguin. There were pockmarks on the bone, as if something sharp had stabbed and scraped it. The hole in the left side of the crown confirmed that something had broken through.

“I doubt this is the one we saw come down here.” Chloe remarked.

“Clearly,” Martin sighed, standing back up. “This one has been here for a while. So I guess this means that other penguins have come this way before.”

“Agreed, unlikely that our friend just coincidentally came down here.” Chloe eyed the skull and then looked further down the tunnel. “So what then, some kind of penguin graveyard?”

“Or some kind of predator’s lair.” Martin’s gaze was darting around the cave.

“That penguins come to, seemingly willingly? I doubt it.” Chloe took the flashlight from Martin. “Come on, we need to go this way anyway. We won’t learn any more just standing around.”

Not wanting to be left behind in the encroaching darkness, Martin caught up to Chloe and the pair made their way further down the tunnel. A few hundred feet and around another bend, they found another bone, a few spine vertebrae.

“At what point do we think a pattern is forming?” Chloe asked.

“Let’s say at three,” Martin said, attempting a light tone, but he couldn’t hide his nervousness.

“Like that one there?” Chloe panned the light over another bone further ahead. It looked like part of a rib cage. Both the spine and the ribs had similar marks on them.

“I don’t like this.” Chloe took a few steps back from the ribs and leaned against the wall. Crumbs of dirt and stone clattered to the ground from where she leaned. “Maybe I was wrong. Maybe we can find a way back up that slope. We just turn around and not bother with whatever is happening to these penguins.”

Martin shook his head. “I’m not thrilled with this either, but going back is just going to waste more time. I don’t want to get stuck down here longer than we have to. If this is the only way we can go, let’s just go.” He gave Chloe a weak smile. “We at least know what kind of wildlife is down here. Even if we run into a seal that’s been apparently gnawing on penguins, I don’t think we’ll be in trouble. Let’s just grit our teeth and hope for the best.”

“Right.” 

Further into the unknown they walked. As they went, they found more bones, all of them likely from penguins. What had been one or two became seven or eight every few feet. As the minutes passed and they journeyed deeper, the bones piled higher. Soon Chloe took the lead as they had to walk single file along the one pathway through the bones. Neither said a word. To acknowledge it was to admit that something was very wrong. But both of them knew, there was really no other choice.

Bones rattled as they stepped past the growing piles. Bits of penguin would clatter onto the path as they brushed past precarious mounds of bird. The occasional snap of stepped on bone was the only other sound in the tunnel.

When it finally felt as if the catacomb walls would close in on and crush them under the weight of the dead, Chloe and Martin stumbled out of the tunnel and into an open cavern. The room stretched high and wide, with a ceiling that was domed. The walls were rough and rocky, but it felt like they were almost columns of stone, like a great cathedral. Bones were strewn across the stone floor and stacked in piles all over. If the tunnel had seemed dense with them, this room was positively filled with bones. Thousands of penguins must have met their ends here to make such a collection.

“I’m scared.” Martin spoke for the first time in a while. His voice was dry and cracked on the words.

“Yeah.” Chloe could only agree. They’d known each other too long to try and hide it, and in a situation as insane as this, it was comforting to know that at least they were on the same page. “But we keep going.”

“Yeah.” Martin nodded.

Around all the bones, it was hard to tell how far the cavern stretched, but Martin’s light managed to find a wall on the other side. It felt as though the skulls were watching them as they carefully stepped around the bones littering the ground. They could make out the small path that the penguin that started all this had shuffled through. It led down the center of the room.

The sound of something crunching stopped them dead still. Martin looked down; neither of them had stepped on anything. The crunch came again, echoing off the cavern walls and falling around them. Chloe pressed against Martin’s back, eyeing where they’d come from. Still, nothing moved amongst the remains.

Martin crept forward as Chloe watched their back. Now the crunching was constant, a slow, almost rhythmic, grinding. Occasionally it was punctuated by a wet slurping.

There was something in there with them.

A few steps ahead and the pile of bones opened off to the right, like it had been swept away. In amongst the bone piles was a shadow, a giant shadow. Martin’s light illuminated some of the thing, its body gleaming under the unnatural light. A thick web of spiny feathers covered its body, black at the top and cutting to a stark white towards the ground. With the sound of more bones snapping, its head raised into the air, tossing the intact corpse of a penguin up and catching it in its blood stained beak. Its head and neck convulsed as it swallowed the bird whole.

In front of them was a monstrous emperor penguin. It was easily the size of Ivan the Terra Bus. Sunken in its head were glowing red eyes, and unnatural teeth poked out from its curved beak. Despite the familiar shape of the bird, it was a mockery of life. There was no way something like this could be real. But the way its feathers bristled as it moved and the muscles underneath tensing, it had to be true. The beast rocked back onto its legs and stood up, again jerking its body as it further swallowed down its grizzly meal. Now upright, its flippers stretched all the way down to the floor, ending in a row of talons that no penguin should have. Spittle and gore dripped from its misshapen mouth and splashed onto the cave floor.

Martin and Chloe screamed. It was an unconscious reaction. They had expected something bad, likely dangerous, but this was beyond comprehension.

But their noise alerted the monster. It turned its head, slowly taking in the new presence. Mouth open, the thing’s rancid breath fogged in the air. Its next meal had arrived.

With speed unfit for its size, the beast lurched forward, swinging its taloned flipper to grab them. Chloe reacted first, tackling Martin and throwing the two of them out of the way.

“Run!” Chloe screamed. She hauled Martin up and sprinted further into the cavern. The penguin let out a thundering scream, like a propeller engine at full blast, and thudded after them. With a groan, it crashed to the ground and flung itself forward, sliding on its belly like a freight train.

Martin saw it coming and shoved Chloe to the left and dived to the right. The creature slid past them, careening into the bones and throwing them against the walls and ceiling. It tried to snap at Martin as it flew by, but only succeeded in upsetting its balance and tumbling further in.

“Are you okay‽” Martin called, struggling out of the bone pile he’d landed in.

“Yeah,” Chloe said. She was also fighting her way out of a pile of the dead. “We need to—whoa!” She nearly slipped as she stepped forward, but regained her balance. The penguin had left a slick trail on the ground. It smelled of rot.

“Look, there!” Martin pointed. Past the debris and behind the nightmare penguin struggling to right itself, was another tunnel. The entrance had been cleared of bone by the flailing, unholy bird. It was more narrow than the tunnel they’d come down. “Think that’s our exit?”

“Better than staying here!” Chloe said.

The monster faced them, its eyes blazing. It charged forward, sliding towards them again. Chloe and Martin, braced, ready to jump again. But before they could, the thing twisted and flung its flipper out, slamming it into Martin and throwing him back the way they’d come. Martin hit the ground in a cloud of dust and rolled to a stop.

“Martin!” Chloe dashed through the detritus over to him. The swing from the penguin had gotten it turned around and it struggled to maneuver to face them again.

Martin gaped like a fish, his mouth moving desperately, before finally he drew in a breath. “I’m… alright. ...Knocked the wind out of me.”

“Come on, while it can’t see us!” Chloe grabbed Martin’s hand and the two ran to the right edge of the cavern, keeping themselves between the penguin and piles of bone as much as they could. The monster righted itself and began scanning the area. Crouched as they were, the beast couldn’t see them. It let out a roar like grinding steel and swung its flippers, bashing a bone pile out of the way. It swung again and again, clearing out the surrounding area.

“No time for stealth!” Martin barged forward. “Keep along the wall. Hey, over here!” He shouted, waving his arms at the creature. It sighted him immediately, and with another screeching roar, took off after Martin. Bones splintered and scattered as the creature bore down on Martin. Again it dived forward, sliding on its belly to swallow him whole.

“Hey!” Chloe yelled. She’d managed to get around to the opposite side of the cave and was standing at the other tunnel’s entrance. She saw the creature’s eye briefly glance in her direction, and at that moment she hurled the penguin skull she’d picked up. It soared across the open air and bounced off the penguin’s barrel-sized eye. The beast roared, squeezing its eye shut and losing control.

Martin lunged forward and just managed to avoid the penguin’s bulk as it slammed into the wall. Nearly falling, he got his feet under himself and made a headlong dash for the tunnel.  But the fiend wasn’t done with them. It kicked off the wall and unsteadily trailed Martin’s retreat.

“Faster!” Chloe screamed.

Martin could feel the penguin gaining on him, its death-tainted breath clawing at the back of his neck. With a burst of energy, born of desperation, he launched himself forward, Chloe right there with him, and into the tunnel. Following behind them was a scream of rage and a bone-shaking crash as the monster slammed into the wall.

“Did we—” Martin began.

“Move!” Chloe dived at him, dragging him down as the beast’s wicked beak scraped the floor of the tunnel where he had just been kneeling. It lashed out again, cutting through Chloe’s jacket and causing a spray of blood from her shoulder to splatter on the rocks.

She screamed.

Martin grabbed her and pulled her deeper into the tunnel as the monster continued to thrash and peck at them, furious that its meal had gotten away. No matter how hard it smashed into the rocks, it couldn’t get to them through the narrow passage.

Somehow, they were safe.

Martin looped Chloe’s good arm over his shoulders and practically dragged her along. The howls of nightmarish rage were the only thing that followed them.

When they finally had a moment to breathe, Martin stripped off his inner liner and ripped what he could into strips. Under Chloe’s direction through gritted teeth, he did his best to wrap and staunch the wound, at least enough to keep her from losing more blood.

Together, with Chloe leaning heavily on Martin, they continued through the pass. As the sound of the monster faded, they found that the path was sloping upward. In a few more minutes, they found an opening similar to the one they had entered. Sunlight streamed in, illuminating the ground.

Martin helped Chloe to sit and then crawled out the opening. He pushed his way out into the snow. From where he came out he could see Hut Point off in the distance.

In short order, he’d managed to clear more snow and widen the gap. With only a little blood spilled onto the snow, Chloe joined Martin in the sunlight.

She slid down and sat on the snow, leaning against the stone wall. The wind had died down and it was surprisingly quiet. Martin sat down next to her.

Chloe sighed. “I’m so getting NPQ’d for this.”

Thawing Out and Looking Back

I went to Antarctica knowing it would be an adventure and to get my head back on straight after some less than stellar career moves. Now having been to the Edge of the World and back, I'm looking forward to my next adventure. But before I start something new, I want to think back a bit on what I did and what it taught me, if anything.

I'm not one for introspection, at least verbally. For me, doing any thing is less about being able to identify the various small ways I've grown through it and more about letting it add to the overall fabric of who I am. If I can't identify each thread, that's fine, because the complete work is still better for it. So bear with me in this while I try and express what I've learned.

At least it's easy to talk about some of the cooking things I've learned. So Number 1: Add more salt than you think. One of the reasons food doesn't taste as good at home is just because it's under salted. So adding a bit more helps bump up the flavor. Of course, don't salt something to death. I had a buddy that made these really nice marinara crostini with egg for a staff meal one night, and he used way too much salt. So if you kill it with salt, just know it happens to the best of us. But adding a bit more than the recipe calls for is a great way to bring it all out.

And speaking of recipes, Number 2: Did you all know the DoD has official recipes? I sure didn't, but the ones we worked with were official documents from the US Government. Some of them were actually pretty decent, if you added enough salt. And others were an eight-step instruction guide on how to put frozen sausage into the oven. They can't all be winners.

Number 3: Hunger is the best spice. We were real limited on what we had down there, and when pepper could be a rare commodity, you had to make sacrifices. But something I noticed out at Willy, the air guard never complained about the food I served. Willy didn't have a lot of good equipment for cooking, so when I made something it was often more like reheated leftovers from the main kitchen. But many a night I would get compliments from the guard, about how good the food was and how they appreciated having a meal out here. I didn't do anything special to the meals; I just made sure it was safe and edible, and had something fresh if we could manage it. But their gratitude for even a simple meal like that was something I appreciated, and it made sure that I'd put in a little extra effort if I could to give them something nice. At the Edge of the World, a hot meal can be the reminder of home that you need.

As we're getting past the superficial I guess, Number 4: Adventure isn't as hard as you think. A lot of people have told me that they don't know how I could do something like this. But from having gone through it, it's really pretty easy. I'm not the first person going to Antarctica. I don't have to brave the ice and storms like it's 1912. They get hundreds of people down there every year, and while it was certain some nonsense would happen to me while traveling (and it did), there's no reason to be afraid. If you're looking to do something different, to go on this kind of adventure, even if it's not to Antarctica, there's definitely a way to do it. Getting this job was as easy as a few Google searches and sending in a resume. If there's somewhere you want to go or something you want to do, just start taking the steps to do it. You're not gonna be the first person to ever do it, and the people before you likely made it easier for those that come later.

And for me, with that call of adventure comes Number 5: Communicating with family makes it easier. A warm meal might connect you to home, but you know what's better at doing that? Wi-Fi. From what I know of past years, getting in touch with your family or friends was difficult. But with the new Starlink they've got down there, I was able to keep up with the weekly Zoom call that my family does (even if I was moving at the speed of PowerPoint). I made some good friends in the kitchen, but even that wouldn't have totally kept me from being homesick. If you're looking to do something big, to go somewhere new, having a lifeline back to where you're comfortable can make all the difference. Even if it's not family, close friends will help keep your heart full.

I don't think I'm much of a philosophy teacher. I've been trying to think about this article for like six weeks and I still don't know if "what I've learned in Antarctica" is actually true or if I'm just applying things I already know to a recent situation in the name of CONTENT. But I hope that this whole series has been a message to all of you reading to try something new and take chances (reasonable ones at least).

Before going to Antarctica, I had been fired from my second job in my career path. Writing was what I went to college for and it's what I thought I wanted to do with my life. But I haven't been able to really start my career long-term with it. Even my unfailing arrogance was getting a bit shaken up. But to have written this series for the love of it and to hear so many kind words from all of you reading, it's been a real boost to me. Even if I make some professional changes and look more into the world of contract employment that this has opened up for me, I'll at least know that writing is still something that I can share with people. And I hope you all continue to enjoy these unshackled ramblings of mine.

Anyway, adventure still calls me. Next stop: Germany.

Giving Antarctica the Midwest Goodbye

I write this article from the comfort of home, back here in Illinois. After almost seven months away, it's good to be back. But if you ask my folks, they'll tell you that no travel story of mine is complete without things just constantly hitting setbacks and unexpected twists. We call it an adventure. Because calling it a pain in the neck would be too depressing.

(The first picture of me on the Ice and the last)

For one, I was supposed to be back a solid week before I actually left the Ice. Willy Field shut down on February 14; I was supposed to fly out February 15. But I've already talked plenty about how the flight situation has been this year, and needless to say, the flight was cancelled and pushed back. But that happened for every flight for about a week, so my next fly out date was the 22nd. Now, a delay for any other department isn't terrible. See, if you're a part of one of the trades, a delay just means more "vacation" time on the Ice. They don't have to go back to work. But as always, people gotta eat, and flight delays means that many people are still coming to the galley for meals. So while everyone else was getting time off, any of us galley workers were expected to come back in for another shift. I ended up working about a week's worth of additional shifts in the main kitchen.

But then it was my turn. The 22nd rolls around and we go through the whole process of getting ready to go. All of our baggage was dropped off a few days before. Unlike commercial airlines, our bags are packed and weighed ahead of time, on what is known as our Bag Drag day. From my understanding, all the bags are then organized and put onto pallets to be transported. We're readily reminded that if we need something like medicine or even changes of clothes, don't leave those in your packed bags. Because if the flight is delayed, you don't get your luggage back. It'll stay on the pallet until New Zealand and you're out of luck if you forgot extra socks.

On flight day, we head up to the loading area, check in with our carry-on and passports, and get ready to board our transport out to Phoenix Airfield, the field we use for planes that have wheels instead of skis. But before that is the bane of every introvert and emotional leaver: the Hug Line. When flights leave is public knowledge, so many people who are staying, or just haven't left yet, will run up from work to the building and pile in to say their final goodbyes. As the name suggests, there's lots of hugging, jokes, and farewells to be had. The Hug Line has apparently been a tradition for a long time; I imagine it's one of those things that was never officially introduced, but grew out of the community life.

Once all the goodbyes are said, it's off into the transport. There are two main large quantity transports that they use. The first is probably the most famous, Ivan the Terra-Bus. Ivan is a large orange bus, that's been on the Ice for years. I don't know if he's a specific make or model. When you see him, I'd wager that he's custom built and might have lived his whole life in Antarctica. Ivan is probably the best transport, if only because I think he has a working heater. Because the other is the Transport Kress. The first time I saw this thing, I thought it was some kind of land battleship. This one is basically a shipping container on the flat bed of a transport truck. It's got portholes in the sides and the whole thing is painted red. Not that the windows help much, since they stay perpetually frosted over, and only the most vigorous rubbing can create the barest view to the outside. And as you might have inferred, this one doesn't have a heater. So even when it's full of bodies, the heat slowly dissipates. On the 22nd, the Kress was what we took to Phoenix. Well, almost to Phoenix.

(The most famous bus on the continent)

(USS Transport Kress)

I've talked about the weather before, and how it can change on a whim. We were only a mile out from the airfield when we got the call that a storm was rolling in and that our flight was canceled. I'm sure you can imagine how excited we all were to get packed into a rolling sardine can and then get told our flight wasn't happening. Just overjoyed, every one of us. So we take a detour to the remains of Willy to turn around, and back to McMurdo we go. And it was only then that I realized we didn't have heating. I think the excitement of leaving the Ice had kept us pumped, or maybe people just shouldn't be sitting in the Kress for an hour and a half, but my breath was fogging and my hands were chilling. If we'd stayed in it any longer, I might have been concerned. We had tried to leave on a Friday and our flight was delayed to Saturday, only for it again to be cancelled. Then no flights leave on Sunday, and it wasn't until the 25th that we could try it again.

This time, we had more success. For one, we got to ride in Ivan, so that was nice and warm. And two, we actually made it to Phoenix! We were at the airfield. We could see the C-17 that we'd be flying out in. It was almost real. But I'd messaged my parents before leaving, and I said I wouldn't celebrate until I was rolling in the grass in Christchurch. Phoenix Airfield is a much more spartan affair than Willy. There's only a few buildings, one services as sort of a gate for the plane, where you can drop your carry-on and sit down while the plane is unloaded. And also a bathroom that's not much better than two outhouses duct taped together. But as long as you're leaving soon, it'll suffice.

(Our chariot home)

We were flying out on a C-17. Those are big military cargo planes, for those of you unfamiliar with them. There's seating along the walls, and for this one, there was additional seating strapped in along the floor so that it looked more like regular plane seats (except with more legroom, which I was thankful for). Once the arriving cargo was unloaded, we were given the green light to board and find our seats. In short order, the over one hundred of us were loaded into our seats and awaiting take off. And waiting. And waiting. In one of those moments that continues to confuse me, the human cargo was loaded before the rest of the cargo. So all of us were sat on the plane for over an hour as the baggage and other items were loaded onto the back. And it's no exaggeration that this might have been the coldest I felt all season. Cargo planes have a giant door on the back that they use to load the cargo, and this was open the entire time, along with the crew entrance door at the front. So a perfect wind tunnel is created. And unlike hiking or other outdoor activities, we're just sitting there, not really able to use motion to warm our bodies. I ended up putting on every piece of cold weather gear I had and constantly flexing my fingers to keep the blood circulating in them. I didn't want to freeze to death on the day I'd be leaving.

(A plane of slowly solidifying popsicles)

Eventually, our plane was officially packed and the heaters turned on full blast. With the lingering warning of another approaching storm, we were cleared for take off and into the air. The flight time from Antarctica to Christchurch is about five and a half hours by C-17. While the C-17 is the most common, there are other transport methods on the Ice, with both 787s and Airbuses being used to transport people on and off. I was originally supposed to leave on an Airbus, but considering that it apparently takes over nine hours for one to fly to Christchurch, I don't think it's a bad experience to miss. We left around 4:30 p.m. and landed in Christchurch a bit after 10 p.m. We did need to go through customs at the airport, but I think it was more ceremonial than anything. With luggage in hand, I could finally roll around in the grass outside the International Antarctic Center. It was good to be back in civilization. There was the smell of rain in the air, grass to touch, and actual darkness to enjoy (a first since October).

As much as I wish rolling in the grass led swiftly to getting home and hugging my parents, nothing is ever that simple. After arriving and dumping our issued gear with the Center, we were all shuffled off to various hotels to get whatever shuteye we could, with promises that our flight information would be emailed to us by tomorrow, if it wasn't already. So I managed to catch a good night's sleep and woke up the next morning, ready to check out of my hotel and head over to the airport with my itinerary in hand. Except my email was empty. I had been told I'd be flying out that day, but didn't have any information on the flight, not even a confirmation that I was flying. All corporate paperwork is a nightmare, so I'm sure that I just slipped through the cracks. Thankfully, after an email exchange with the travel department, my flight was sorted and confirmed and I was in a shuttle to the airport. Now I don't know if you've looked at a globe before, but New Zealand is kinda far away from America. The flight to San Francisco was about 15 hours, with another four hours to make it to O'Hare. Although if you want to have fun with time, as far as the clock is concerned, it was only a three-hour flight from Christchurch to Chicago. I left at 2 p.m. and landed at 5 p.m., at least if you ignore crossing the international date line. I was home.

And I finally got my ice cream.

Prologue to the Final Journey

February is a time for anticipation at McMurdo. You can practically feel it in the air. Almost everyone is thinking about one thing: redeployment. I don't know why it's called that—another of those naming conventions that probably made sense 25 years ago—but redeployment is the time for everyone to go home. After being here for six months, I can attest that the thought of going home is what gets us through the day.

Leaving the Ice doesn't involve nearly as much paperwork as getting there, but there is still plenty that needs to be done, both personally and professionally. In January, they hosted a few meetings talking about how to leave, as well as what you might need to know when you get back to civilization. Despite being as far from civilization as possible, you can still get organized on things like unemployment and COBRA coverage. Even something simple like a business address needs to be cleared up. It would be hard to tell a future employer to contact your boss down the road from the penguin colony.

There's also everything involved in packing up and leaving your room. Despite it being home away from home for the past six months, you can't leave your things behind and move back in like it's your parents' house. Everything needs to be reset to how it was when you found it. For me, that's pretty easy, but for others, that's going to involve a lot of moving furniture. My roommate took a small desk from somewhere and had that next to his bed, so he had to move that out before he left. Others I know rearranged their entire rooms, pushing beds together, sectioning off the room with the cabinets, and other budget interior design. So that whoever lives in that room next doesn't have to deal with your warped sense of living aesthetic, everything needs to go back to the status quo. Although I'm sure some people left hidden stickers and trinkets around for others to find. That's just part of the fun of community living.

The real reason you could tell it was redeployment season, however, was because of the attitudes. For those of us not staying for winter, or even staying until late March in what is known as the Shoulder season, all anyone could talk about was what they'd be doing when they got home. For some of us, this was a one-off thing, something to fill the time while we sort out life, or another contract job between other seasonal work. For others, this is what they do for work, so when they're off Ice, it's adventure time. They live life six months on, six months off, and have balanced their situations around Ice life. 

For many who are done with their season, they're looking to travel. We don't have to fly back immediately when we reach Christchurch. I think by now the program knows that people will want to make the most of their opportunity, and exploring New Zealand is an attractive offer for many. I have a group of three friends that are renting a car together and driving all the way to the north island, then to the south island, and returning to Christchurch. One woman I worked with is having her mom fly down to New Zealand and the two of them are going to explore to their heart's content. Another friend wants to get back to the states as quickly as possible, because he's got a flight to Japan a few days after getting back. Still another got a ticket to participate in a big Iron Man race that apparently is rather exclusive, and she's pumped for that.

Some of them are using their downtime to polish up new skills so they can come back and do something new on the Ice. One friend is getting certified in ham radio and its installation so that he can work on the communications relay team down here. Another wants to get familiar with the way the helicopter team works down here so he can get his license and training back in the real world and then join the flying team in Antarctica. Having been down here and seeing what all goes into living life at McMurdo, it's inspired a lot of people to pursue new avenues and bring a different set of skills to their next deployment.

For those staying, there's also a lot to consider. Some of my friends were staying on to do the same work they came down for. But others are taking this as an opportunity to try something new. I had some friends join up with the Waste team, Shuttles, and one friend I didn't realize was so exceptionally smart until he joined one of the science teams! Once the main body clears out, those staying will have the chance to move rooms as well, with many of them probably going into the 200 block rooms, which have smaller rooms and more opportunities to live by yourself. Probably not a place I would stay if I was working over the winter. Because then, outside of work, other people would definitely not see me.

I asked around to some of my friends, and finding out what people were most looking forward to was a lot of fun. Some really wanted a good cup of coffee. No shame to the stewies, but from what I hear, the same galley coffee day in and day out gets tiring. Even if it's just a Starbucks something, that change will be welcome. Some really wanted to pet an animal. We already talked how we aren't allowed to bother the penguins and seals, so for animal lovers, they've been a bit touch starved. I wish the best of luck to any family pets when they get home. Of course, food was a common answer. There are restaurants in Christchurch that people were making plans to go to, but also some were excited to get back, get their own ingredients, and make something that they love and couldn't get down here. Hand-rolled sushi was a common answer. For me, I'm most looking forward to real ice cream. The soft serve from Frosty Boy is fine—when the machine works that is—but some good chocolate nonsense will hit the spot.

My parents can attest that when things were coming to an end, I was feeling it. I compare it to being a college senior—that senioritis we've all felt. I've enjoyed my time on the Ice, but when you know an end is near, then you can't help but look forward to the change. It's an effort to not let it affect my work, but I also don't want to leave a bad impression if I ever want to come back. Thankfully, my sous chefs are pretty understanding of it, and things were pretty relaxed. No one had to clean the ceilings or behind the shelves in an effort to look busy. We would get most of our cooking prep done with plenty of time to spare, so if we had time, it was fine for us to mostly hang around and socialize. I think I talked more with my coworkers this last week than I had in the past few months working at Willy Field.

Endings are more like new beginnings, and for those staying and those leaving, McMurdo was going to be a different place in a few weeks. So while the air is filled with excitement, there's also a lot of reflection, remembering what the season was like, and seeing how we've all grown through it. While I'm looking forward to everything I'm going to do back home, looking back still has a bittersweet taste to it.

But I still want my ice cream.

Cage the Wild Animals

When I was in college, I spent all four years in the dorm. I figured I had all the rest of my life to live in apartments and that it would continue to be a unique experience for me. Well now I wish I could go back and tell 2014 Todd that it's not as unique as he might have thought. I've compared McMurdo to college life before, but when it comes to community living, that's where it really feels like dorm life all over again.

Since coming down here in August, I've been living in Building 155—Big Blue—in one of the dorm rooms. There are a number of dorm buildings on base, probably more than I know about considering I just learned about another one the other day. The dorms of 155 are set up to accommodate 4–5 people, while the others are for 2–3. My dorm has three single beds and a bunk bed, spread out in the four corners, each with their own standalone closet, with a fifth closet in the center of the room for the unlucky last man. Housing tries not to fill rooms with five, at least this year, and the only times they typically do is when someone will be here temporarily. This is usually people stopping over before heading to the South Pole, one of the research stations, or a visitor of one form or another.

Roommates really are the make or break when it comes to living in confined spaces. When I first arrived, I was the third man, and really didn't end up talking with my roommates too much. But I will always appreciate that one of them let me use his phone to text my mother that I'd arrived safely. That roommate situation lasted only a week or two as those of us who came in on the Winter Fly In had the option to move to one of the 2–3 person dorms. My two roommates did, but I decided to stay in 155 since that's also where the galley is, and I didn't feel like walking outside to work every day. So for over a month I actually had my room all to myself. It was a better time.

The downside to roommates is if there is a lack of respect for each other. When the summer season began, my room filled up with four of us total. One of my roommates worked in the galley with me and we actually got along quite well. The other was pretty quiet and we didn't talk much. But the third was where I started to feel the strain of community living. By this time I was on the midrats schedule, so I slept from 2 p.m. until 9:30 p.m. and then had my shift starting at 10:30 p.m. This roommate, however, liked to come back to the room from his shift with his girlfriend and sometimes another person and flip the lights and carry on like they were the only ones in the room. Every day for almost two weeks I was woken up like this. Thankfully, there are workarounds for these situations. Housing can be pretty accommodating if there are "personality difficulties" in a living situation. Luckily it didn't need to escalate as he and his girlfriend apparently were approved to move in the couple's dormitory. The guy we had move in later was similarly quiet as the rest of us, and the season went by with little issue there. In fact, I've said that all four of us could be in the room at once, behind our various privacy curtains, and none of us would know he wasn't the only one there.

While rooms might be where the tensions arise, other areas in the dorm are where competition begins. I could probably make a tier list of the best showers in the men's rooms, since I've had to use all of them at least once. Showers are one of those prime territories where their availability isn't always ideal to your schedule. The showers in the bathroom near my room are always the ones I go for: they're the tallest, have good water pressure, and don't change their heat based on other people's water usage. But that also makes them the most popular, and if you're not on a schedule that lets you take advantage of weird times, getting the good shower might be a rarity. Surprisingly, toilets aren't usually an issue. I've never been in dire need and not been able to easily access one.

Laundry, however, is another one where time needs to be on your side. If you're on Town Hours and your day off is on Sunday, the competition for a machine is fierce. And if you're not on top of your times, don't be surprised if you see someone's piled your clothes on the dryer and put their own in. Of course, there's not anything truly malicious. I haven't seen a frozen pair of pants outside from someone who didn't empty the washer or anything of the kind. But we're all working a lot, and having to carve out time for these means you have to keep a tight schedule. Just don't use too much of the detergent concentrate; management hate that.

As you can imagine, a bunch of people living together in close proximity tends to be a bit messy. Thankfully, we have an excellent janitorial team that handles most of the public spaces. But to keep from working the "Janos" to death, each of us will get assigned some chores from time to time. Known as House Mouse, for reasons I'm sure are very clever but have not been explained to me, this is a bi-weekly schedule that gets sent out letting us know who is cleaning what. It's on a rotating schedule, so everyone will likely have a few turns doing something over the season. Since I arrived, I've had three House Mouse tasks to attend to. These chores are typically something fairly easy, like cleaning the laundry room, shoveling and sweeping one of the entrances, or vacuuming a hallway. Ostensibly, this is to encourage us to have "ownership" of where we live, but I think it's mostly so the Janos don't feel like everyone's maid. Luckily, the House Mouse work is considered part of our contracted position, so typically you get an hour or two off of normal work on your House Mouse day to attend your chore. So if you get out of work early and finish your cleaning quickly, that's a little extra free time.

The mechanics of living together are always pretty straight forward. Respect is what carries you through the time, and if you're not giving it, you can't be surprised if you're not getting it from your roommates. But it all seems to work pretty well. I've written a few articles about all the parties, events, and gatherings that happen down here, and those wouldn't be possible if we were all at each other's throats. So while living tightly packed like this has its ups and downs, it keeps you from feeling totally cut off from the world at large and is part of what makes life at McMurdo unique.

But seriously, respect the Day Sleeper signs.