The Solice of Open Spaces

DAMN IT! I watch as one partner shoots past the north end of tent Island and out of site. My other partner heads to the south, completely oblivious to the obvious absence of our ‘teammate’ as well as the gaping open-water crack she just drove her snowmobile over. Soon she too has disappeared, but behind an icy wall of pressure ridges. I call for anyone on my radio. No response. Surprise. I wait, weighing my options. Who is more likely to die without my help? What was the original plan that we finalized less than 5 minutes ago? Isn’t someone else supposed to be the responsible one here? Can I just do this survey on my own today?


I stick with the plan; the person most likely to die; and decide that although it would be nice, I should probably not try to do the survey alone. I head to the southeast skirting out and around the yawning (but recently and boldly crossed) crack to catch up with Adia before I lose her in a maze of pressure ridges. She knows I am frustrated but not why. She asks… I’m done.

The rest of the day I work by myself (at least as much as is possible down here.) I relish the silence, I delight in the work. I am glad. Content to let my thoughts and imagination run where they may; unhindered by the incessant drivel that tends to ruin days like these. Regardless of my complete satisfaction and enjoyment, by day’s end I am purportedly ‘in a weird mood’. Cause for an intervention.

I try to dodge their prods, knowing they won’t understand or believe anything like the truth. They want a simple answer with a simple solution. They want blame. They want to create and exaggerate a feeling of discomfort for all involved. They want a fight.

I break down and give them the blood they are looking for. I unfairly and inaccurately pin ‘my mood’ on my team. The rest of the crew seems satisfied, a little drama to help fill those silent spaces.

Our season is dragging to a halt. The effects of two months on the ice can be seen in us all. We are worn, weary, and tired. We love the life, but its looming end has us thinking of people and places beyond our little camp; has us taking stock and preparing for our departure. It is different for everyone. For my part I choose to shed the external nonsense that I could get anywhere else in the world, and take in as much pure Antarctica as I can, storing it up in bulk for temporary escapes from the hustle and flow of all that lies to the north of ‘The Great Southern Unknown Land’.

Tonight Adelie Penguins once again mill about our camp. It pleases me to be content simply watching and experiencing them as if they were old friends. I no longer feel the NEED to run for my camera, and miss the moment by trying to reduce it down to two dimensions. Instead I watch the penguins slip and slide on the ice, teeter around in all directions with their wings held out for balance, and investigate anything they come across. I don’t have to wait behind the lens for different poses, instead I watch them sleep, listen to their little feet padding across the ice, and imagine the lives they lead.