Coming to Antarctica is a pretty big commitment. It's at least six months of your life, often in some of the busiest months of the year. You're away from home and family, modern conveniences are absent, and any sense of normalcy is supplanted with work and ice. So what draws people to come down here and willingly put themselves through this?
Any look into the history of Antarctica will tell you the same thing: the spirit of adventure is a siren call for many. Antarctica is the wild unknown, and there's something in us humans that sees that as both terrifying and enchanting. To go somewhere that so few have been to and see it for yourself? The excitement is too much to resist.
That spirit of adventure is why so many of the recreation opportunities are outdoor. The hikes and ski trails let you see even more of the great unknown. Guided events (known as Boondoggles) take those whose job wouldn't let them out into the field and let them explore different parts of this unique continent. The desire to see as much of Antarctica as we can is a driving force. So many that I talked to say they're down here solely for the story: to brag to friends, to have another chapter in their travel log, to fulfill a lifelong dream. Adventure is still in all of us.
Some of us, though, have purely mercenary reasons for being here. While the pay isn't amazing, there're a few things that suddenly make it more tantalizing. There's no cost to travel down here. There's no food or housing cost. No utility bills or home repairs. A lot of what we have to worry about back home in our apartment or house isn't a concern here. With so little overhead, it's mostly profit from whatever you get paid. I've been making extra payments on my student loans, as well as donations to charity events that my friends have been running. Others I know are using the funds to further the things that bring them joy. One of my friends is an intense hiker. He's already hiked from Mexico to Canada, across the entire United States. He's saving to make a hike from the top of New Zealand to the bottom. And after that, maybe a kayak trip up the west coast of the US to Alaska. If you have a dream, this could be a good stepping stone toward it.
Others have their personal reasons to be here. One of my favorite stories is from a buddy I work with. For years now, his parents have told him that he could inherit their restaurant once they retire. And he's been waiting. But every time it's, "Maybe next year." Well, waiting was only going to go so far. So he made the move for independence and came down here. He's not going to put his life on hold for promises that are more like maybes. I've talked to more with similar stories: the need to wipe the slate clean, reset, and eventually return to life and try something new.
For another, it's almost a family tradition. Her son came down in 2009 and told her and her husband that they both would enjoy being down here. So she sent her husband down on a scouting mission in 2014, and the two of them have been coming down together since 2016. She's been a wealth of knowledge about how McMurdo and the program has changed and grown over the years. Many people are like her; they knew someone who came down and shared their experience, and that made them want to come down as well.
The one unifying theme I hear from those who keep coming back is that they return for the people. I've spent most of this article listing out the various kinds of weirdos that come down, and the fact is that most of us weirdos connect with other weirdos and want to stay in community. Many I've met talk about the friends they've made down here and the group texts, Facebook groups, and annual meetups that they continue to share. Whatever you feel about the work, it's the people that really make a job feel like an experience.
And then there's that one coworker I have who just really liked The Thing.
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