Birthday brings gift of friendship

loading...
Whop whop whop whop – the unmistakable sound of a helicopter comes from behind the glacier, headed toward camp. I pause, standing still in the kitchen, and listen – it sounds like a Bell 212, not an A-star. That means that I’ll have not only a pilot to…
Sign in or Subscribe to view this content.

Whop whop whop whop – the unmistakable sound of a helicopter comes from behind the glacier, headed toward camp. I pause, standing still in the kitchen, and listen – it sounds like a Bell 212, not an A-star. That means that I’ll have not only a pilot to feed, but a helicopter technician as well. I stick the vegetables I had been chopping into the fridge and set out a plate of raspberry brownies.

Sure enough, both Chad and Philip troop into the house 10 minutes later; Laura, the fuels operator in rotation here at Marble Point for two weeks, is not far behind them. We pass bowls around for everyone.

They’re stopping quickly today, just long enough to bolt some soup and put cookies into their coat pockets for later. They have to go pick up science cargo from Lake Bonney and bring it back into McMurdo Station, where new samples can be tested at Crary lab. On their way to the door, Chad stops. “I almost forgot,” he says, and hands me a large box. “For Meg at Marble Point” is scrawled on one side. “Some stuff from people in town,” Chad says. “Happy birthday.”

I grin and thank him. I turn 23 in two days, and it looks like I’m not the only one who has remembered. I watch to see that they take off safely, following the red helicopter as it gets smaller and smaller, disappearing over the far mountains, on its way to dip into Taylor Valley. Then I go inside to see what the town has sent me.

Inside the box is a small collection of little gifts, amenities and treats from town – organic chocolate bars, whiskey, candied fruit, hand lotion. I sit back on my heels and read the card (which has been sewn – yes, with needle and thread – out of cardboard and cloth) and I think about the collection of people who have sent me birthday wishes. They, in my mind, are the real birthday gift.

Liz, an old friend of mine from the South Pole, sent me the chocolate. Liz accepted a job for the winter in McMurdo working for the Byrd Field Center, set up to support the field camps with food, gear and supplies. Liz washed dishes at Amundsen-Scott. Now she spends her days organizing survival bags, sewing up tears in tent seams and servicing camp stoves. As a BFC worker, Liz already has made an excursion out to the Dry Valleys camps, working at Lake Bonney for a week.

The others who left me birthday gifts at the McMurdo helipad are new friends, made since I arrived on the coast. The trip leader from my Snowcraft course sent along wishes, as did the helicopter technicians. A few other people who have passed through this remote camp sent birthday greetings as well: two microbiologists from the Dry Valleys, the helicopter flight scheduler, a utilities technician. I am struck anew by how interconnected this community is and how, even out here at remote Marble Point, in just six short weeks, I have made new friends.

You learn to look out for each other in a place like Antarctica. All of us who are left on the continent either will be here until the end of April, when the next and final flight leaves, or are here for the long, dark winter ahead. Even if we didn’t like one another, we are all we’ve got now. This birthday, I am far from my family, but I am by no means alone.

I celebrate by making pies – pumpkin, cherry and almond – and by going on an extra-long walk. Recent snow has fallen, dusting the rocks and making small drifts in the dells. The temperature has dropped to 15 degrees below zero, but it is still warmer here than it was at the South Pole when I left there in February. Right now the temperature at Amundsen-Scott Station is in the negative 70s. Here, though, I can still enjoy hikes. A skua soars overhead, framed by the hill in the background.

My reverie is broken when my VHF radio crackles to life – one of the pilots is telling Helo Ops that the visibility is improving. I turn around and head back to camp so I can make coffee for the boys if they stop here again for fuel. After all, in Antarctica, we have to look out for each other.

Meg Adams, who grew up in Holden and graduated from John Bapst Memorial High School in Bangor, shares her Antarctic experiences with readers each Friday. For more about her adventure, information about Antarctica and to e-mail questions to her, go to the BDN Web site: bangordailynews.com.


Have feedback? Want to know more? Send us ideas for follow-up stories.

comments for this post are closed

By continuing to use this site, you give your consent to our use of cookies for analytics, personalization and ads. Learn more.