October 23, 1975: Thursday

Hasn’t been a terribly helpful day. Leon and I spilled developing fluid all over the counter. Dave insists I go on the survival course. Jim the Kiwi developed negatives last night. I was supposed to help him. My first roll was broken off after 24 shots. Lost my picture of the surveyor and one of Otis. The aerial roll didn’t have enough developer in it, so the edges are not good.

The surveyor’s gone to Vanda and nobody knows if he’s done our position.

Besides all that I cleaned up the lab a little. Cal’s on his way home. No perceptible current. “Zero or less.” Dave sat next to me at lunch and was very pleasant. Got everybody’s mail. I didn’t get any, though. Lot of stuff from Northern Illinois. I’m curious but dare not open it.

Boston won yesterday.

Developed pictures. Lot of good ones. The aerial shots are poor. Must be something about Antarctica. Cal got back. He saw me hanging out the door. They surveyor hadn’t figured out our position.

Went to the meeting about the Survival Class. Showed some pretty good slides from New Zealand. My partner is Noel, Henry’s friend. Henry’s not going because he’s sick.

I don’t like (really) people who are gung-ho outdoor, mountain climbing, expensive junk enthusiasts. Besides, I’m a natural disaster, anyway. It’ll be fun, not trying hard and just enjoying my incompetence.

The Kiwi instructors could have been Jesus Freaks if they’d been called to a different avocation.

Hope Dr. Treves, et al, get back tonight, so I can get my jump suit from Mike.

Forgot to mail Cal’s post cards from a couple days ago. They were pretty chewed up by the time I dropped them in the box.

My new roommate is Martin McGale, from the company that built the drill. He’s an older man, almost fat, smells like a grandfather. Snores a lot. And speaks with an accent. I thought it was Irish, but it must be Canadian, eh?