November 10, 1975: Monday

I went to bed last night at six. Got up at 1:00 a.m. Cal and Henry had been to Marble Point, the storm having died down about 11:30. When I got up the weather was clearing, gusts half of what they had been, but colder.

The road to Marble Point was blocked at the tide crack a mile from land by a five-foot snow drift. They went to bed and I held the night shift. Operations had begun again when the wind died down. About eight they recovered a bucket and a half of wash samples.

At seven thirty I went out (drove 590, had no trouble at all, just nudge the wheel the opposite way the hood is going, no trouble at all) to check on the iceberg. It wasn’t moving up and down, but a new puddle of slushy ice was found at the tip. A crack, 150 feet long, was formed in the new snow, filling an old crack, and going several inches into the older ice.

During the night I wrote two scenes in Antigone and Mercedes, and even some in The Forest Beyond the Trees®.

Dr. Treves, a Navy photographer, and Nartsiss came out. Nakai showed me how to run a water sample through the gas chromatograph. It’s really quite simple, so I wonder how I’ll screw up when Nakai goes home tomorrow.

Went to sleep about 13:00. Slept with my head outside the bag. Very comfortable. The Scott Tent without Henry is just right. Six and a half feet tall and six and a half feet square base pyramid, two foam mats, plenty of place to throw things, and a duffel bag full of clothes for a pillow. However a sharp block of ice acts as a mean back breaker. The green light that filters through gives a ghoulish, dried-blood color to red and orange.

Got up about 18:00. Ate a cold supper.

Sat around and talked. The bullshit is starting to pile up in here. Martin tells all sorts of impossible stories about Canada, and we tease him about it. Don is a very good ad libber and everyone takes the jokes as jokes and no one gets mad when they or their country are insulted (because it’s not really meant).

That’s the way it should be.

They thought they had hit a boulder about nine o’clock, but nothing was recovered.

About ten or so Jack was in the truck as Dr. Treves came on the radio. There’s a big storm (50 knot winds) coming from the south at 70 mph. The winds will be from the northeast, a grave threat to the drill site. We had four hours to get to Marble Point or two hours to get helos out for evacuation.

The helos were sent. Marble Train Three was at Bowers Piedmont Glacier. All together 27 people were evacuated in three helo trips. They sent two helos for us.

I stood by the radio to talk to Dr. Treves for developments. There was sort of the prelude-to-the-storm excitement that builds tense efficiency. Except this was a bit more nonchalant. I read Cosell waiting in the truck, talking to Mac Center, and watching the first helo land.

Calvin asked which flight I wanted to go on. I said, “The second. I don’t think anything drastic will happen in fifteen minutes.”

“O.K. I just thought that the least experienced people on the ice should be on the first helo.”

I thought about that statement for a minute.

“Which category do you put me in.”

“Ahh, you’re borderline…Mike and I have the most experience, then you’re right after that.”

Calvin went on the first helo. I think he realized that an ice-wise guy should be with them. He boarded last, when the helo pilot signaled for one more.

It was all very well done. No one acted rash or panicky. Everyone did their jobs; drillers securing the rig, tents, and beer; Nakai making the gas chromatograph safe; Jack and Cal and I organizing and communicating. And no one trying to take over as hero-leader, just a normal everyday routine evacuation; Kiwi’s standing around, watching helos land, drinking beer, boarding helos, drinking beer, and ten Kiwis in a helo, drinking beer.

Just routine.

The funny thing about it was that the weather at 1A was delightful, little wind, warm, no cloud cover except the dark gray patch to the southeast. We’ll see tomorrow if the predictions and evacuation were right.

Sidebar: Blackboard in Mess Hall
Dome Charlie 3
Navy 0

Back home Dave B. and Howard were waiting for us with things to eat over at the mess hall. Cal and Kathy came walking down the hill. He’s had three days and now fifteen minutes head start over me.

I shouldn’t really care. Kathy draws a lot of attention. I found out Kathy slept in the back part of the tent to avoid the ice block. Rich Sluys said, “She knows how to lay on ice.” So it goes.

We waited for Sluys to come back with the Marble Train crew, to thank him for rescuing us. He’s a wolf in wolf’s clothing. He went up to eat with us. I got in back of the pick-up. Kathy slid in beside me and got out my door.

At the table she was very, very attentive to Max, who was pretty tired.

She and Dr. Treves and I went up to the lab to tie things down. She certainly isn’t avoiding me, which is easy enough to do. (She’s met Peter Bunch and doesn’t want to be trapped in that building with the GFAs.) And the politics of body language and positions appeared to be in Calvin’s favor. But he retired from the field to take a shower.

Not that any of this means anything. I analyze things too much.

Got a Newspaper. Had my adventures and photographs in it.

So Kathy showed me the post she hit with 589 (because she reacted the wrong way after driving 590) with all its red paint marks. Swinging around it, telling me how she’s “left her mark on Antarctica,” I caught her eyes, the sun flashing across those green-brown pupils. For some brief instant she hesitated in mid-sentence. And in that instant (for me an hour) I felt two souls at each other gazing. When the effect had reached its height, I shifted my glance and she moved hers, and we continued on our conversation.

I seldom look in girl’s eyes. But sometimes I think there is power in it.