November 15, 1975: Saturday

Did the usual things.

Maybe I should explain ice deflection measurements. Cal sets up the transit so that it’s level. Then I go out to our flags and hold a pencil alongside the flag. When the point coincides with the cross-hairs on the transit, I mark it and measure its distance from a pre-measured “level” mark. The difference represents how far a flag has sunk or risen. To get the pencil to match the cross-hairs, Cal motions me up or down (or up a little bit, down a little bit) with his arms. At level, Cal holds out both arms. Most of the time it takes a considerable amount of time to get the pencil level with the transit.

Today I put the pencil against the flag pole. Calvin looked through the telescope, started, looked again, and held both hands out.

No core today. Forty feet of sand fell in, probably from pressure when all the rod was pulled up. They spent all day washing it out. Got lots of wash samples.

Kathy will be happy.

Mr. Scott Gordon and Gentle 18 came out to pick up Jack and take home core and lots and lots of plastic bags. One box said, “Please read log sheet before serious contemplation of this box, and Handle with Core.”

I talked to Mac Center at nine o’clock. Everything’s all right. Little did I know.

Penmarric is a very good book. It’s had a couple of surprises already, and the description is nice, one of the very best attempts I’ve seen to describe the nuances of interpersonal relationships among unknown characters. I can tell a good book when I start wanting a character to do things my way, and I get excited in anticipation of the author doing the same thing I would have done. I get disappointed when they don’t.

Oh, by the way, the author is a lady and the hero is a male (first person). It’s an interesting study in credibility. It takes an awful lot of observation and experience to place the spark of life into a male character from a female creator. Or vice versa, for that matter. It’s an interesting hobby, but the trouble is, the author will never, ever be able to tell if it’s done right. No matter what ERA says.

Radio trouble at six. 590 could hear Mac Center but no transmission from us was received. Couldn’t get them on single side band.

“Couldn’t get them at six.”

“We wonder how the drilling is going.”

“How much core do they have?”

We’re dying of laughter because of today’s problems, which have been resolved.

After a while, we broke in. Henry could get us very weakly; Dr. Treves not at all. Henry acts as a relay. He is glad to have some one to talk to. “I never though I’d get laryngitis out here.”

We pass an awful lot of nonsense over the air waves, besides a torturous explanation of our radio situation. It’s like playing gossip. And what’s funny is we can here Dr. Treves ask Henry questions. Henry asks us the question. We tell Henry the answer. Then he repeats the answer to make sure he got it straight (which they can hear in McMurdo), and then he repeats the answer to Dr. Treves (which we can hear). It’s hilarious.

Then we play games with the radio, change to lower side band. Dr. Treves counts to ten. “Tuning check, one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten.” Then real fast, “ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one.” It’s delightful.

Dr. Treves understands that we can hear him. “We have an unofficial, informal, not formal, request from U.S. and New Zealand representatives to expunge all reference to Oil Exploration. This is serious, it’s not a joke.”

Oh, Li’l Steve’s sign company gave the Government a “stick it” signal. It will remain to be seen if enough energy and enough paint can be found to remove all reference to Antarctic Oil Exploration by the time our Tuesday visitors arrive.

Kathy got on and Henry was glad to talk to her. I don’t know if they’ve ever met. Good ol’ Henry, always conscientious. Cal broke in to tell Henry that, “the radio is used for official business only,” meaning, good naturedly kidding, not time for pleasantries with Kathy.

Henry said, “Wait a minute, I got some sort of garbled message. Please repeat.”

Cal, “The radio is for business only, ha ha.”

Henry, “This is S-54. Who’s calling?”

“Ha, ha, ha, ha,” from Kathy.

“Laughter doesn’t come over the radio very well.” (Giggle).

“Will the drill site have anymore wash samples?” Ah, that Kiwi accent.

“We have 75 pounds. Seven-five pounds. L B S. A helicopter load by tomorrow.”

“Ah, Cal, I got the part about the helicopter, what was the first part.”

“Seven-five. Seventy-five pounds.”

“Ah, McMurdo, S-66 says they’ve got 75 something or others.”

“Pounds, Henry, pounds. El Bees.”

“They say they have 75 cows or pounds or something. Enough for a helicopter load.”

“Oh, no.”

Cal hasn’t had so much to laugh about in years. Neither have I, for that matter.

During all this tripe a Kiwi Herc made a low pass over the drill rig, wiggling its wings.

Today was very warm. I got hot in the little red jump suit, so I took it off and ran around in the ol’ State Champ jacket. The wind cam up, but I still stayed pretty warm. At least I didn’t freeze.

I think I’ll change my underwear tomorrow.