Flat white. Forever. Well, the horizon lies many, many kilometers away, but it is difficult to discern without a reliable reference for size or distance. The vibrant blue sky is interrupted with long, thin clouds extending in the distance. Snowflakes dance around in the atmosphere, blown from the surface of the ice sheet by the winds that shape the topography of this area. The sun shines through them to create intriguing features such as “halos” or “sun dogs,” sometimes both in tandem – these are 22-degree arcs of rainbows that encircle the low-positioned sun completely, or are rainbow-like spots that flank the sun on its right- and left-hand side. The sastrugi are well-defined and, because of the monotony of the landscape, the eye can pick out small differences in their shape, sometimes beautifully artistic. The high-pitch crunch of the snow trodden from our boots breaks the silence as we walk towards the skidoo (a.k.a. snow machine, or snowmobile) that is our mode of transport in the field. We then sit down comfortably on the snow surface at the skidoo’s lee side so that its substantial meters-long frame can block the slight breeze. One of our instruments is collecting data, silently sending radio waves into the one-and-a-half to two kilometers of ice below, and then listening for these waves after they reflect within or at the bottom of the ice sheet back to the surface. We wait. The only sound I can hear is my own heartbeat.
A glimpse into a day in the field in Antarctica. Well, I should emphasize, a day during quite fair weather.
A halo surrounding the sun, caused by light refracting through ice crystals in the atmosphere.
On a poorer weather day, working is more difficult and things are less ideal. Visibility is low and everything is light gray, either due to what is known as “flat light” or because of a fog layer that hugs the surface. It is difficult to place the horizon. Sometimes the sastrugi in front of our moving skidoo are tough to make out, so we careen across the landscape somewhat blindly, trusting that we are not going to drive over something terribly steep (which is usually a safe assumption out here!). Other conditions to be concerned about: the cold and the wind, which go hand-in-hand. The chill of even a slight breeze easily lowers the apparent temperature substantially, and also seeps through any gaps in the intense layering system of clothing needed to spend the day out in sub -20-degree C temperatures. Average air temperature is “only” about –25 degrees C (-13 degrees F). But with ten to twenty knot winds, the temperature you actually feel easily drops to -40 degrees C (also -40 degrees F) or less. Oh so cold. A cold that you can feel is serious and not to be messed with. Because if you do so dare to challenge that Antarctic cold, frost nip or frost bite is a real threat. (Which, unfortunately, did happen to me early in our season … a humbling experience, and a warning to take the cold seriously. And to leave that attitude of invincibility behind because, my goodness, you could lose some fingers or feeling in your face permanently. Apparently, there’s a balance between grit and self-care.)
So, when your hands and feet become very cold (the tell-tale sign that your core body temperature is dropping), where the cold becomes pain and then maybe numbness, that’s when you definitely know it’s time to take action. Bust out those jumping jacks. Those dance moves. Run in place. Face away from the wind. Drink hot tea. Or down that chocolate bar in your pocket that you stashed there just for this occasion. Or think about putting that extra layer on, atop of the seven or eight layers that already adorn you (well, this might have been only me and maybe a few others who needed so many layers to fend off the cold).
Ben, Gemma, and John waiting in flat light on a cold day near the South Pole as the phase-sensitive radar collects data.
Amundsen-Scott South Pole Station
On December 12th, 2019, we arrived at the Amundsen-Scott South Pole Station, situated at the geographic South Pole of Earth. What a rush of exhilaration as we stepped off the LC-130 aircraft onto the runway at the South Pole, which seemed to flood my body for an entire week. It was difficult for me to believe that I was at the South Pole. The southernmost point on the planet. The point where Earth’s axis of rotation intersects the surface in the southern hemisphere. That I was atop approximately two kilometers of ice. That I was making my way gradually to what I imagined was the true reality of Antarctica, away from comforts of station life and into the field.
The Amundsen-Scott South Pole Station at the geographic South Pole.
Gemma and the LC-130 aircraft upon arriving at the Amundsen-Scott South Pole Station from McMurdo Station.
Into the field still seemed so far away then. The story that governed our experience at the South Pole quickly became: Can a Herc LC-130 aircraft land at Hercules Dome, our ultimate field site? Hercules Dome was named after the LC-130 Hercules aircraft because it was delineated as a notable feature of Antarctica during an aerial radio-echo sounding program that occurred from the late 1960s to late 1970s that used these kinds of aircraft. But a Herc LC-130 had never actually landed there before. With two of our team members already at Hercules Dome (Andrew and Knut), as well as a camp manager and mechanic (Shannon and Vito), we were anxious to join them. Again, though, we found ourselves to be in a sort of limbo (what was new?!).
The challenge was relocating all our gear, including our science gear, from McMurdo Station to Hercules Dome, which necessitated a large Herc LC-130 aircraft. Firstly, the four of them at Hercules Dome needed to groom a ski-way for the Herc LC-130 to land. What does this involve? Pulling a rake-like device along the surface of the ice sheet with a skidoo repeatedly to create an approximately 8000-foot long 200-foot wide level road in the ice for the aircraft to land and take off. What about maintenance of the ski-way? Needed daily before the landing, to battle the ever-moving snow drifts that continually interfere with the grooming process. Imagining that would take a lot of work? Yes! Secondly, the pilots and air national guard needed to approve the ski-way beforehand to make sure it was within their standards. Then, this all needed to come together: a ready ski-way, the right crew ready to fly the Herc LC-130, and the weather. This was no easy endeavor, and there were many frustrations and false starts. Back at the South Pole, where we had slightly more ability to communicate with others, we tried to aid the endeavor in whatever capacity we could – including constantly checking the flight status on the South Pole intranet, the weather, and being the bridge in communication between the team at Hercules Dome and those working towards this mission at McMurdo Station.
On December 22nd, 2019, a Herc LC-130, designated as HUMBG61 (following the trend of nicknaming late December flights with holiday themes … and perhaps in reference to the difficulty our project was giving them!) was finally scheduled to fly from McMurdo to Hercules Dome. I impulsively checked the flight status of the plane during that morning and afternoon. Flight status: Departed from Williams Field (in McMurdo) 9:14 am. Estimating Hercules Dome 12:15 pm. Good sign. Waiting seemed to be endless, and I think we all were unsure whether the aircraft would turn around mid-flight or bail right before landing (which was entirely possible), or whether there would be a successful landing. I tried not to think too much about things - that our field season, and the timing of the four of us getting out into the field, depended greatly on this; of what could go wrong; of what I needed to do if something did. After the suspense of many hours of not knowing or hearing anything ... drumroll ... the flight status updated: Arrived at Hercules Dome 12:04. Though this is rather tough for me to thoroughly capture, this was a momentous event – not only for our team, but also for Antarctic history as well. Knut soon sent a message to all of us, highlighting this success: “And after 50 years, an LC-130 Hercules had a successful field landing at Hercules Dome. It took eight tries to get off, but it got airborne.” Finally, a rather large obstacle in our path to the field was lifted. Team spirit was high that day.
You might be curious to learn more about other aspects of the South Pole experience, in which we immersed ourselves in for nearly two weeks. The most notable impressions of the South Pole Station and surrounding area? It is flat, very flat - a contrast to McMurdo. The only topography is created by the sastrugi – ridges of snow shaped by the wind – that populate the surface and are less than a meter high. Located on the high plateau of Antarctica at a physical altitude of just over 9,300 feet, it was an adjustment for our bodies coming straight from near sea level. Thankfully, the only altitude effects most of our team felt were headaches and becoming easily winded (how frustrating it is to be winded climbing stairs!). The station feels otherworldly in a way - modern (construction was completed in 2008) and outfitted to excel in the wind and constantly accumulating snow. It is built on stilts. Yes, stilts! The station is on the ice sheet where there is constantly accumulating and compressing snow. To raise and lower the building is necessary when snow accumulates enough or when compression is not homogenous over the spatial footprint of the building. It is also much smaller than McMurdo Station, with maximum population of only a couple hundred people. While we were there, the population was about one hundred and thirty. Only several tens of people winter-over here.
We discovered that there was potential for many activities within and around the station in our free time: cross-country skiing around the station, rock climbing at the small bouldering alcove, working out at the gym, drawing or painting in the craft room, sitting and enjoying the humidity in the greenhouse, playing instruments in the music room, meditation in the reading room, or enjoying the many classes they offer for yoga, uni-cycling, and other fitness. Other festivities included the South Pole Christmas Eve 2-mile run and an annual “head-weighing” contest.
Our team at the ceremonial South Pole flags after the Christmas Eve "race around the Pole." From left to right, Ben, John, Nick (who joined us about a week into our time at the South Pole), Gemma, and me.
Ben and Gemma, plus some others sporting costumes, after the "race around the pole."
Gemma on our cross-country ski outing from the station to the telescope on a windy clear day. Apparent temperature dipped to -40 degree C.
Gemma and Ben inside an igloo built near the South Pole.
Me at the geographic South Pole of the Earth.
Logistics did not align for our departure before Christmas, as we had hoped, so that we could spend it all together in the field at Hercules Dome as a team. Instead, the five of us (including Nick, who joined us about a week into our time at South Pole) enjoyed the Christmas festivities at South Pole, with wonderful food, decorations, and camaraderie amongst our team and newfound friends (and warmth!). We also came together in holiday spirit and played Christmas carols on the instruments that anyone could use in the music room of the South Pole. It was strange for me to spend the holiday so far away from family. In a way, it did not feel like Christmas to me, just because what makes it so is being with my family. Like many times on this trip, the deep yearning for being with family and friends back at home would hit in waves. In addition, on my mind then was the fact that two of our team members, Andrew and Knut, were out at Hercules Dome spending the holiday alone together (both Shanon and Vito had left on the Herc LC-130), something that I knew was probably very difficult for them. During those times, and the many other ups and downs that we faced, I would remind myself to lean into the experience. “Let yourself be gutted. Let it open you. Start here.” I felt those words, written by Cheryl Strayed, deeply. I wanted to, because I don’t want to live where I am numb to my life, and the experiences that I can grow from, though it is not easy.
Map showing the grid for the South Pole Lake survey, and the data collected last year.
South Pole Lake Geophysical Survey
After arriving at the South Pole and letting ourselves acclimatize, the four of us skidoo-ed across the white expanse of the ice above the South Pole Lake and took geophysical measurements as a continuation of a project that was started last year by Ben (described in the previous blog post). These measurements were very similar to the ones we would take at Hercules Dome.
A review of the main objectives: to learn about ice-dynamics and thermodynamics in the vicinity of the South Pole Subglacial Lake. Some questions that we wanted to answer: Why is the lake here? What are the melt rates at the bottom of the ice sheet and what are the surface velocities of the ice here? Can this give us information about past ice flow here?
We try to answer these questions by collecting data with (1) phase-sensitive radar, and (2) static GPS, with the aim to provide us with information to infer the (a) vertical ice motion, and (b) horizontal ice motion from repeat visits with those instruments, respectively, for sites in this area. (More details of these techniques to be provided in a future post). Good news, we successfully repeated most measurements from the previous year.
Gemma and John cruising along on their skidoo, named "The Polar Roller," at the South Pole in flat light, GPS aboard and batteries, survival bag, and other gear in tow.
The setup of the phase-sensitive radar: the two antennas (white) and pRES computer (yellow).
Ben setting up the GPS before one of our field days at the South Pole.
Above: Gemma and John making adjustments to the GPS setup during a day out at the South Pole.
Below right: Me demonstrating the typical Antarctic get-up for a day out in the field.
In the field, we became familiar with using the instruments and troubleshooting, being out in the cold (this was the first time we spent day-long trips in such cold temperatures), and how to plan for and manage a day out in the field, including how to layer our clothes appropriately.
You may be curious, what is this layering system? Well, layering seemed to largely depend on the personal preference. Unfortunately, I generally have low cold tolerance as it is, so it took almost all of my clothing to keep warm, especially as the season went on. The breakdown for the top on really cold days: two pairs of thermals, a fleece, a wind breaker, two puffy jackets, then maybe another fleece and the classic “big red” jacket. So goes a similar breakdown for the bottom, minus the puffies, but plus what are known as “wiggies” (i.e., thick down pants). Then you’d need a face mask, two beanies, a fleece neck gaiter, and goggles on the top, and finally liner gloves underneath thicker gloves of some sort for your hands; and one liner sock, one wool sock, and hard-core FTX boots for your feet. If that was exhausting reading through, imagine trying to walk or move in all that. Soon into our field season, I realized that I would have to adopt a new way of moving, where my walk became more like a waddle, and normal movements easily became a struggle that could make me winded (well, we were also at high altitude, so there’s that too). Fine motor movements would, brace yourself, require taking off your gloves, sometimes all your gloves. Just don’t touch any metal, which could instantly give you frost nip (again, something learned through experience).
There was a contagious enthusiasm within our group during our days in the field at the South Pole – we were finally doing field work in Antarctica! So very new and exciting. I look back on those days as some of my favorite of our trip because of that. And it kept occurring to me that we were a bunch of late twenty-somethings, skidoo-ing across this flat remote Antarctic landscape at the South Pole, doing incredible science, so far from home, full of enthusiasm, unleashed from the captivity of waiting for so long at the stations, and truly full of joy and gratitude for this experience. Something very special.
Other science at South Pole
So much other exciting science is being done at the South Pole, some of which we learned more about through some tours of the venues. I’ll share a little about what’s going on there.
The South Pole Telescope, in the midst of a rotation.
South Pole Telescope
This massive 10-meter diameter telescope sits at the South Pole and was designed to sense electromagnetic radiation to detect anisotropies in the cosmic microwave background, or CMB (the oldest radiation from the early universe). CMB measurements can tell scientists more about the early universe, including give more information concerning the inflation theory (i.e., which states that there was a period of extremely rapid expansion during the first moments of origination of the universe).
You may be wondering, why would you ever construct a telescope at the South Pole?! Well, it's actually an ideal place. Ground-based astronomical observations that require mm- to sub-mm wavelengths as these do need to be taken in a stable atmosphere. This means atmospheric emission and fluctuations in atmospheric brightness need to be kept at a minimum. One of the components that affects these is water vapor, as its density varies greatly through the atmosphere, which affects the brightness of the sky. The South Pole is high in altitude ( 9300 ft) and is very dry, which lowers the emission and fluctuations in brightness.
IceCube Neutrino Observatory
This observatory consists of thousands of sensors within a cubic kilometer of ice at the South Pole. These sensors, called Digital Optical Modules (DOMs), are located one to two kilometers deep within the ice. They are designed to sense cosmic particles known as neutrinos from the cosmos from the sensor's position deep within the ice sheet. These subatomic particles have almost no mass, and can give scientists information about events that are happening in the cosmos, such as exploding stars, or other violent occurrences involving black holes or neutron stars. Scientists use data from this observatory to think about questions related to the nature of dark matter (a form of matter that accounts for possibly 85% of the universe; its presence is implied through gravitational effects that theories cannot explain); properties of neutrinos; and how cosmic rays interact with the Earth’s atmosphere.
South Pole Atmospheric Research Observatory (ARO)
Located upwind of the Amundsen-Scott South Pole Station, ARO is within what is known as the Clean Air Sector. The Clean Air Sector, the size of a small US state, was designated to preserve the atmospheric conditions from the influence of the station – this means that all foot and vehicle travel is banned, and air travel is limited. The ARO aims to measure and assess the importance of long-term trends in trace gases, aerosols, and solar radiation on climate of Antarctica. You can obtain some of the cleanest air in the world here within a vial (as some of our team members did!).
Keep tuned for the continuation of our story traversing the remote icy splendor of Antarctica.
Until next time,
Annika