October 2, 1975: Thursday

All morning was spent writing this journal, from notes and memory, for the last nine days. Put up pictures from the Erebus Ice Tongue and Marble Point.

Went over to Scott Base in the afternoon. Had trouble finding the place where you put the microphone onto the radio. It was right there in plain sight of course. We talk about making a road to Marble Point. Logistics. A D-8 bulldozer. Etc.

Dr. Dick comes up to check on us, our working group. Information for his virus study. We get called by John Oliver, the diver, to go help them on their dive. They’re going to get us a sample of the bottom sediment. They dive in a fish-hut hole. The ice is 8 feet thick and the water temperature is -1.9º C. (I stick my hand in it, just to say I had.)

The core samples have all sorts of strange little creatures and worm burrows and live clams and something that looks like a trilobite. We’re going to centrifuge it and run it through a photospectrometer and get a plot of particle size.

Next week we’re going out and take some current measurements on this side of the sound. Dr. Treves says we’ll publish it. Not many current studies down here.

Read and retire.

October 3, 1975: Friday

Today was a busy day. Tom, the Nebraskan, came up to put Plexiglas on the Satellite Photo. Emmett and Dave dropped by and said to put Plexiglas on all the maps. Jim Newman picked up my Marble Point negatives and Ensign Carter checked out our refrigerators.

We got out and cleaned up the Micron Photo Sizer and Centrifuge. We’re going to do a size analysis on the core samples we got yesterday. We figured out how to run the contraption, what it does and why. But all the manuals are in Japanese, so we can’t do anything about interpreting the data.

Started to make a thin section of a Marble Point dike basalt. Remembered all the steps and didn’t even need very much help.

Did my wash, read some early Mad books. I worked on Antigone and Mercedes, a little. My concentration was interrupted. Sam read parts of Richard M. Nixon, the Second Part.

We’re moving into the Hotel tomorrow. It’s not all that bad, even though there were frozen blankets all over the laundry room and the doors needed repainting with the paint spots on the carpet. There’s a red hat by the door that says, “Nebraska Cornhusker Football 1971-1972. Go Big Red.”

The thing in the Mess that says, “Structure, Lounge, 1 each G-0375-ML935,” was stamped on by Jim Matthews. I thought it was official.

October 4, 1975: Saturday

We went up to the lab and watched my rocks dry. Made another thin section and put them in the oven to bake. Moved all my junk over to the Hotel. Jim the Kiwi was supposed to be my roommate, but they moved him in with Max. Got a room to myself. Sound familiar? Clark will probably be down on the first flight.

Got a short wave receiver. Took it up to the lab and plugged it in. Nothing. Not even any static. Called them back. Doug was there. He diagnosed our trouble as a lack of speaker. He and us put up an antenna and installed a speaker. The thing works. Fiddled around with the knobs. Boston-Oakland and Cincinnati-Pittsburgh in the playoffs.

The Hotel reminds me of the Dorm. The rooms are smaller, but are carpeted. I’m on the ground floor two doors on the left of the front door. I face the street. The sheets are clean, just not white. I have a blue bedspread. Rearranged the furniture the way I like it. I’ll be comfortable. Beige-yellow walls, brown rug, wood-grained furniture, orange chairs. Three Sams in a row.

Lost one Bic black pen. Spilled an Oly on my pants leg. I wish they’d invent tops with pull-ring openers. Six days ‘til the mail is in. Hope I’m not disappointed.

October 5, 1975: Sunday

Helped Tim. Calvin even liked the music. He really put it on ol’ Mad Dog Jack. Asked him about Vulcanizing his Chickens. Remind me to tell that one to you someday. Jack got so riled up he’s going to have a special program Wednesday to get back at Tim. The Chalet Lecture was by John and Jeff and their diving pictures and their work with food cycles. The Winter Overs leave on Sunday. Last night they had a party. They strung up a hippie Summer crasher, kidnapped Jack and tied him into a straight jacket, and packed ol’ Nartsiss’ ass. (Any form by which cold snow is administered to one’s bare bottom.)

Sam got a sliver of metal in his eye. The Winter Over physician (they call him Doc Crazy) had to come down from the party to gouge around Sam’s eye.

It was cold in the Hotel last night. The dream I had of Joy was compensation enough.

October 6, 1975: Monday

Boy, the weather was bad. Dr. Treves couldn’t go out to the Dirty Ice to see if they could get a road through. There was blowing snow all day and very cold. I slept with pajamas and Mukluk liners. Didn’t bother going to breakfast.

Gather up supplies for our 24-hour vigil over a fish-hut and current meter. Learned how to drive a trackmaster. It’s sort of easy, pulling on break levers. The battery cable in 504 shorted out and left us powerless, while I was driving. Then we got it going and I drove her into the garage without knocking anything over.

Straightened Nartsiss out on the difference between Nebraska red and Oklahoma red.

Measured cables of wire. Neither one was over 200 meters. Took them to the Navy to get them spliced.

Mike’s learning to play the Guitar. Tim and Doug know how. I have half a mind to play bass for ‘em. Dan, who’s leaving, taught Mike and me “Blackbird” from The White Album.

Warmer in the Hotel tonight. But it’s one o’clock and tomorrow is going to be a long, long day. Cashed two travelers cheques, then splurged at the Ship’s Store. Bought two sweat shirts, $3.75 each. One is Joy’s, for her birthday. The other is for Kay, I think. It might end up being Cathy’s. Have to find everyone a small souvenir.

Days Total:
$7.50 Operation Deep Freeze Sweatshirts

October 7, 1975: Tuesday

Dr. Treves went off to the Dirty Ice. Left us in charge. Cal, actually, because he had the list of things to do. I was tired and crabby about his go, go, go ideas and slowed things down, obnoxiously. We final settled down into a working compromise.

After lunch we took Al and a Navy Seabee out to catch fish with Steve and Ed leading the expedition. Didn’t catch a darn thing. I think it’s a rip-off. Get these unaware guys out in a fish-hut, close the blinds, and let ‘em hold a fish line for two hours. Then we replaced flags going home. Almost made us miss supper. Almost made me mad. No one should be deprived of supper. The job can wait.

Dr. Treves got back. 504 had a flat. So did 503. The Dirty Ice is passable with a D-4. With 5-ton trucks we can move all the equipment.

Made preparations for our 24-hours of current measurements. Going to take temperature readings and water samples for salinity tests.

Finished Time Enough for Love. Enjoyed it immensely, even though Heinlein doesn’t know what “moderation” and “will power” mean. Much better than Stranger in a Strange Land, although the theme was different.

Took a sauna and shower. All right! Talked with Doug and Pete. Pete explained Sidhartha to me. I think he might be right. The theme is the exact opposite of Stranger in a Strange Land.

October 8, 1975: Wednesday

Grumpy again this morning. Pete left his bag in my room.

I wanted to hitch the sled one way. Dr. Treves wanted to do it another. So I started, and Cal came around and told me to do it the other way. Gees.

Got over it. Remembered the joke told by Grabacki. An Illinois State Patrolman stopped a pretty you lady. “Gee, officer, are you selling tickets to the Policeman’s Ball.” “I’m sorry lady, State Patrolmen don’t have any Balls.” He looked up, thought about it, got back in his car, and drove away. It’s supposed to be a true story. Have to tell it to Deb.

At the fish-hut we unwound the spool of wire that Bio-Mike gave us. Measured off 400 meters. The wind came up and we had a white-out. Couldn’t see the fish-hut from 200 meters. Started to rewind onto another spool. Kept winding and winding. Must have passed our mark. Went out to remeasure and discovered the paint marks hadn’t been wound up yet. Dr. Treves put tape on the paint marks, which promptly slid down the wire. We finally pulled the strands apart and put little wires in between for a mark. These got torn out when the 100 meter mark hit the wood block we were using to keep the wire from eating the floor. After a lot of trial and error we figured out a system of pulleys, pry bars, and brute strength to raise and lower the current meter. It’s fun to watch the messengers slide down the wire and feel them thump the machine.

But it’s a real pain to haul up the stuff from 300 meters, especially when the spool warps, the crank comes out of its socket, the wire frame bends, and your back aches. We get some good readings (over 1.5 knots) and direction (150º from magnetic north, or SSW).

We fished. Caught nine Borchs. And the seal showed up, chasing the fish away. He filled the hole, posed for pictures, and blew snot all over me.

We had pastrami for lunch and steak and strawberries for supper. After the eight o’clock, 300 meter reading, it got so unbearable to bring it up. The stand broke and we decided to call it a day and went back to the Hotel. We’ll try to do some more tomorrow, if we can find a winch with a motor. Doesn’t look like I’ll get a chance to be a D.J., on orders of Dr. Treves (on a permanent basis, that is). And it doesn’t look like I’ll be able to phone patch Cathy tomorrow.

October 9, 1975: Thursday

Spent the morning fixing 666, changing tires, changed growsers, and tightening tracks. I did all the underside work. Felt like a real mechanic. Berzel would be proud. Got really dirty, too.

Ate pastrami in the lab.

Drove out to Winterquarters Bay to rip off a motorized winch. Then out to the far fish-hut to fetch the sled. Did a little fishing. Caught nothing.

I drove! The trackmaster! Like a tank. Clutch at hand, twisting her in and out and between sastrugi. Didn’t wreck her or anything. We kept 666 and plugged her in up at the lab.

Moved out of my office and over into Cal’s because of all the people coming in tomorrow. Mail tomorrow, too. The weather had better be good. Waited around to get a phone patch. Magnetic storm the last couple of days. They didn’t reach me by 8:30. So I went back to the Hotel.

I don’t want to write too much here. Want to save it all for letter writing (if I get any)!

A geneological sidebar:

What’s in a Name? (A book in the lounge):
Baker O.E., Bakere Village Bread Baker: Walter and Alan Le Baker, 13th Century Shield: Sliver background, five ermine seashells on a black X cross; an ermine covered lion on a blue stripe across the shield top.
Davis Eng.;Wel., David (Heb.) Beloved one: Name traces to Bleddyn-Ap-Cynfyn, 11th Century Welsh king Shield: Red background, three silver boar’s heads.
McCormick Ire.;Scot., from Gaelic Mac-Cormaig Son of the Charioteer: Clan originated in Ireland, but some descendants migrated to Scotland centuries ago. Shield (Irish): Silver background, a red, indented-edge cross stripe between three blue eagles, all within a scallop-edge black border. Shield (Scottish): Red background, three red disks on silver chevron, set between three silver daggers, point down. Ick is Irish. Ack is Scottish.

Owens Wel.; Eng., from O.W., Owein Well born one. Shield: Silver background, a black rampant lion, a black rectangle in the upper background.

October 10, 1975: Friday

Oh, what a beautiful day. Sunshine, warmth, clear skies, beautiful. Everyone laughing and joking. Mail’s coming in by noon. All right!

Spent the morning cleaning the lab. Moved Doug’s stuff to my closet. (My roommate is coming today). We saw a brand new bunny boot at lunch, with someone putting his initials on it. Far out. So warm, I took off the parka and ran around in my State Champ jacket. Jack came up, took some rocks, my address, and started our winch and told us how it works.

All sorts of Kiwi drillers and mustached USARPS, all new. My roommate is Steve Morrell, a Penguin Person. He’ll be leaving for Cape Crozier soon. He’s from California. Jan Boyd. Have heard a lot about her. (Yap, yap, yap, yap, yap.) Only female in McMurdo. Don’t think she isn’t rich by the time the station closes. Looks like a cross between Pam Harpham and Anita, but shorter than I had imagined. Rings all over and smokes Marlboros. She has a high velocity voice. One other older lady, who is a H&N secretary.

Six letters, with four different zips. I think the problem is I gave everybody the wrong zip code. Oh, well.

Two from home (air mail stamps enclosed), none from Kay. One from Marylin Bath, Nancy, Deb, and ANDRIA! None from Joy or Cathy.

At lunch I got called for a phone patch. Gave Cathy’s number, and charge it to mine. And no connection. Told them to look up a new number. It was busy. Signal faded out. No luck. Tended to ruin my day, not getting a letter from her and Joy. But on the other hand Debrushka (addressed to Paul R. Baer, all right) and Andria made my day happy.

We’re getting the new guys psychologically acclimatized to our catabolic nonsense. They walk around wide-eyed, staring, whispering under their breaths, “Antarctica.”

“Hey! Clean the bathroom!”

“Antarctica.”

Letters off to home, Baths, and Nancy. Thinking about Deb’s and Andria’s. Guess that Cath’s and Joy’s will be down later. But then, the rule is that post cards don’t count. So I owe ‘em all letters. I rationalize pretty good, don’t I?

Interrupted by Bio-Mike while writing to Deb. Two GFAs are geology graduates, and think highly of DVDP. I’m either going to enjoy myself or make a fool of myself. Party in Mike’s room. Telling Peter Bunch and Jack Steinman stories to the new guys. Won’t get Andria’s letter written.

Days Total:
$7.00 Bought a USARP baseball cap and a penguin.

October 11, 1975: Saturday

Finished Deb’s letter and wrote Andria. She writes very well, descriptive. Had a big meeting with Dave and Bob Thompson and Leon and Jack Hoffman. We decided to tell Washington to make the decision. Now. Dave brought some pictures taken on the flight down. Very poor pictures for our purpose. But there was one great picture of the Blue and Hobbs Glaciers, Mount Debrushka, and the Royal Society Range. Have got to get a hold of it.

Mailed the letters home. Cal thinks I’m crazy for writing four and five page letters. Maybe he’s right. Cost me $1.08 for the one home, plus some customs information, and 39¢ to mail Deb’s. They were nice at the Post Office about my inept mailing habits.

Dr. Treves spent the afternoon writing a nasty message to Washington telling them to say Yes, or say No, and have a good reason for No. Time to make a decision, and do it honorably. It was a very interesting letter.

Cal and I worked on thin sections, and petrography. I am learning, little by little. We walked up to the Nuclear Plant to take pictures of Mount Erebus (it was really puffing away), Mount Discovery, and the mountains.

After supper we developed three rolls of his black and white film. I think he wastes a lot of film to get good pictures. I have no objections. I’ll have to see them enlarged before I can comment on their quality.

The new head mechanic looks like Lou Costello, I swear. Short, fat, flat nose, slight mustache when he doesn’t shave. An exact replica. (Another couple of jokers look like Captain Kangaroo). Anyway, his name is Frank A. Costello. Yes, believe it or not. I hope the “A” stands for Abbot. He dropped by to borrow some writing paper and an envelop. He talks with a bit of a lithp, but I’ve never held that againtht any man.

Started to ready about Harry Truman in Plain Speaking. He was a doddering old man, with all those infuriating habits. But he had a flair for honesty. And words.

About Eisenhower: “Of course literacy is not an absolute essential for the Presidency. So far as I know, it is not anywhere written into the Constitution as a requirement, but somehow, I do feel more relaxed with a literate man in the White House.”

Said farewell to Jack. He had Jo Ann B. dressed up like a train (the AT&SF).

Learned today that Captain Van Reeth, the new commander, has a son. He works for Holmes and Narver. Ah hah.

The ensign in charge of Special Services is a lady. I’ll have to check this sucker out.

Total Expenditures:
$0.67 Stamps.

October 12, 1975: Sunday

Up early to help Tim. Played mellow songs. “Leavin’ on a Jet Plane” for the Winter Overs. Then some good heavy things. Jan came down to visit. Tim doesn’t really like her. She has a face like Hot Lips Houlihan and a voice to match. She leaves the lingering essence of “Flau-en-tet” behind her when she goes. She and Tom were sitting together in the mess, so Tim razed him a little.

The Happy Hawaiian didn’t show up, so ol’ Raoul took over. Played album sides. Got a lot of requests, from Tim (Alice Cooper and the Beatles), from a mess cook (Tull), and one for Rick Wakeman and Genesis and Marshall Tucker and Grateful Dead. Had a blast, welcoming everyone to “Radio McMurdo, Capital of Antarctica.” Met Pat Somebody or Other, Pete’s roommate. He wandered in. He’s a Country freak.

An Army dude named Bob “Spider” is in charge of fixing up the station with new equipment. I played Close to the Edge for Sam and turned things over to him.

Met Donna, an enlisted woman. She’s short and fat, but has a face like Marylin Bath. (And hair and freckles.) There are some other enlisted women down here. First year for it. I just know that Marie will show up, but I don’t have 20 dollars.

Locked myself out of my room. Called the Chalet. Wouldn’t have done it if I’d known there was a conference. Seems, according to Bio-Mike, that someone got killed today.

That’s a sobering thought.

Mail, again. Got a package from home with my duffel bag - clothes bag in it. I can reuse the box. Also had all the papers up to September 12. No wedding announcement. A letter from home and Grandma. Gee, she likes to talk about all her friends illnesses.

I think I’ll enter the football contest, just for the heck of it, even though I am an employe’s son and it’ll be five weeks late. Send along a letter to the editor, too.

Going to write Grandma, if I can remember the address and start to work on the McCormick-Guy family tree.

Got another letter from Nancy. It was almost mushy. ‘Tis a very delicate problem. The letter deserves an answer. It was a good letter. But I don’t like to be in sticky wickets. When someone’s feelings are going to be hurt, I know a fairly painless extraction. But it’s not my style. Maybe I should just tell Deb, and it will go away.

Six mailings, four zip codes. Gee. But they still get to me.

Speaking of ol’ Deb, got another letter from her. Started off with “Hi, love.” I wish she’d quit doing that. She even got her own zip code wrong (it was Auburn’s). She was in a Mood for a Day. I hoped I helped her.

The monthly bulletin from church came down. Good old junk mail. Haven’t even met J.B. Choate.

One from Janet. Signed it Jan and no name on the return address. But I know her handwriting and her way of phrasing things. She wins a penguin.

And from Cathy. Said she and Toodles missed me. The last six weeks have all been worthwhile and there is peace in my soul.

Death affects different people in different ways. Some people die from it. (I’m sorry.) Jeff Rude was a nice, quiet scuba diver, for what I knew of him. Very dedicated. He happened to be driving 504 on very thin ice and did not get out when the trackmaster went in. It’s strange. Everyone knows, but no one will say, that Jeff is dead. So I’m still not positive.

John Oliver goes on like nothing happened. A little too much like nothing happened. Dan Watson relates his misfortune in the accident. I don’t know the seal person. They walked fifteen miles from Turtle Rock to McMurdo.

Sam and Emmett went out to mark the bad ice. A job has to be done. Pete is indiscreet. My main source of information. Crude enough to ask the wrong questions to get the right information.

I feel sorry for Bio-Mike and Dave. Bio-Mike would have been the one responsible three days ago. He’s upset because he is no longer responsible and can do nothing. I think he feels shut out and still feels a bit responsible. And Dave. I wish that he and I were friends for I feel he needs someone to talk to. (And I need the facts.) But I cannot intrude. He was defensive before about safety. And now he might get irate.

Me. I cannot be happy when misfortune happens to others. I feel guilty being happy about Cathy’s letter.

October 13, 1975: Monday

Nebraska beat Kansas 16-0. OU beat Texas. Spent the morning writing letters, running errands, and polishing my thin sections. Boy, did I make a mess of that thing. Not unusual, considering it’s my first try.

Mailed the penguin to Janet. The guy at the Post Office really hassled me. A buck twelve, plus ten cents for having personal correspondence in it.

We got the negatives and prints of the break out. Cal and I made ten copies of the drill site frame. It’s very clear what’s going on in terms of ice thickness. The pictures are good. My project is going to be trying to make a panoramic view from Discovery to Bernacchi from different frames.

Max made up this really neat cable spool frame for winding up the sounding cord. He’s a good designer. Jack Hoffman took my old office. We changed typewriters. Told him his was better. I don’t know if it is or not.

Nartsiss showed Cal and me all his data from the Erebus Ice Tongue samples. Photomicrographs of the crystal structure and electroconductivity tests at different depths to analyze the amount of salt.

We filtered the ash layer and put it into the oven to dry. Dr. Treves is disappointed because it doesn’t look very positive as an ash fall of any significance. We started filtering the bottom samples, but that’s a long, slow process.

Did the wash after supper. I wrote Grandma for family tree information. Got Deb’s letter finished. Read some more Plain Speaking. Had a discussion with Doug about music theory. Asked Deb to be our tutor.

Pat, Pete’s roommate, plays the steel slide guitar. He had it out. I think it was invented by someone who didn’t like to play chords. I think he’s a pretty good bull shooter. I put some on him about DVDP. He’s an Earth Science - Astronomy major. Hope I didn’t get too deep, because I know I would be wrong about what I said. Sort of screwed up describing the geology of Ross Island. Stayed up late to write Cathy so I could get up early to get it in the mail tomorrow. Good night.

Spent:
$1.22 Stamps.

October 14, 1975: Tuesday

Ran errands this morning. Took the dried bottom samples from 15 feet out and sieved them into grain sizes. Had to fix the sieve shaker, first.

Cal put the samples in the epoxy, after I weighed them and made percentage data. I actually have some real, live Data. It’s sort of thrilling. Now I have to find out what to do with it. The particles are concentrated in the first, second, and fourth largest sizes. The other sample isn’t dry yet.

Dr. Treves is kind of interested in my latitude and longitude determination. The plan is for a driller, Bob Thompson, and Dr. Treves to drive a snowtrack to the site, have a helicopter bring in a crew to cut a hole in the ice, fly away (after bringing a surveyor) and have the three of them sit at the hole, measuring currents. I might get to fly in the helo! But they need strong guys, and I may not get to go.

Cal and I have a good system for getting things out of the Bio-lab or the BFC. We walk in, say we need one thing, then gradually pick up more things on the way out.

Met Peter Barrett. He’s the coring geologist. He has a machine that measures the speed of sound through the core.

Doug came by to help us put the X -ray machine together. The ammeter doesn’t work and that’s holding us back. Doug had the same impression about Pat that I did, but it bothered him. I’m used to it.

No mail. Didn’t expect any. Might get one from Joy on Thursday. Hope so. If not, I’ll write her next Sunday. Saw some perfume, called “Joy,” in the Ship’s Store. $31.58. Glad I already bought her birthday present. Helped Calvin buy 100 sheets of Kodabromide print paper, 86¢.

I think the panoramic areal view is going to work. I spent the night in the dark room lining things up.

We’re going to film a TV series and cal it S*A*R*P.

Sidebar: The Christchurch papers had the story about Jeff’s death.

October 15, 1975: Wednesday

Peter Barrett is a genius, or must be. He figured out, from the Japanese instructions, how to get useable data out of the photo sizer. It’s complicated, but learnable.

I feel like I’m doing an experiment. Weighing sieve fractions, finding per cents, being careful with procedure. Dr. Treves took yesterday’s largest size and the per cents I did to look at. Maybe this is what writing a paper is all about. Just like writing up an experiment.

Spent the afternoon learning the photo sizer. By guessing at the size range you want analyzed, you figure out the “h” setting from an equation dealing with Adsorption, Density, Viscosity, etc. Then you take your chart record. Plot the Delta recorder position, multiplied by the midpoint of Delta-Tee (which is Delta Mu from a graph depending on which Tee you use). This is your partial fractions, which can be computed into percentages.

Peter met Peter.

Peter B. needed probability graph paper. Nobody around here has heard of it.

Boston lost in ten innings.

It occurred to me today that the price for eternal peace is eternal wishy-washiness. There can be no conviction where there is no conflict.

We got the go-ahead to drill IA. Hurrah!

The trackmaster was only a mile off-shore when it went through. It was an accident that could not have been prevented nor occurred by negligence.

The big long print paper to do the mural on didn’t develop right. So instead of wasting six hours in the dark room, I printed some of the negatives as 8 by 10s. Three of Mount Debrushka from the air, one of the site, and a couple of Mount Discovery and the Daily Islands. I wrote this whilst they washed.

October 16, 1975: Thursday

It snowed last night, a fine white powder undisturbed by the wind. Kay would be out with a broom sweeping it off.

Spent the morning trying to explain to Peter Barrett exactly what I was, so he wouldn’t expect too much out of me. Especially after he caught me trying to be a sedimentologist.

They had a memorial service for Jeff.

Chaplain Merlin Howe (called Merlin the Magician) looks like a cross between Radar and Bohaty, with a Baptist accent. He got run into yesterday by Orville

Dr. Treves took a helo ride with Mike Wing out to survey a route to the site. Calvin took Peter over to Scott Base to call Wellington.

Mac Center called and told me to meet the helo with a truck. I ran down to the garage, and to the Chalet. No luck. They gave me trouble because our truck was gone. Very frustrating to be blamed for doing your job.

Fought off that feeling, went down to the pad, explained to Dr. Treves what happened and carried his bag to the hotel. Nobody told me anything about this flight, and then expects me to take the responsibility when things go wrong. I attribute the feeling to fatigue.

Lost contact with the game after 3 innings. Reds 2, Red Sox 0.

Spent the afternoon metering 600 meters of steel cable onto a makeshift spool, and 1050 feet of white cord onto Max’s spool.

Met Henry Harris, a hydrologist who’ll be working for DVDP in the Valleys. The surveyor from Scott Base was here. He needs 12 hours to get an accurate fix. We give him 5. He’ll take sun readings. He wanted astro shots. Unfortunately the stars don’t come out.

Went to bed at eight and wrote this Friday morning.

Here’s the plan. Monday Dr. Treves, Mike Wing, and Peter Barrett will take the snowtrack out to the drill site. Monday Calvin will take two Navy trucks out to flag a road. Tuesday I’ll take a helo out with a crew to cut a hole in the ice for the current meter. I’ll be in charge of loading the helo.

Henry is a big Danny Oestmann. There’s a Navy officer who looks like Hawkeye.

October 17, 1975: Friday

Started over on my granite thin section. That first one was a real disaster. Did the first finishing of our sieve samples. Cal did the fine sampling and mounting.

Read Peter’s paper on sediments from the Glomar Explorer’s Ross Sea drilling. I’m beginning to understand. I made a histogram (bar graph, you illiterates) plotting phi size against per cent. I need to check the sieve number against half-phi intervals. I think they’re right. I wonder if I know what I’m doing. One of these days, I’ll get up enough courage to ask Peter about percentiles.

Red Sox won yesterday. But we lost the ball game, again, with the score tied in the bottom of the fourth.

Two Navy guys came up to go over plans to flag with Calvin and one of the older drillers. I’d met one of them somewhere before (full black beard and friendly eyes). The other’s name is Otis.

Read about icebergs and sea ice today. Ross claimed he’d seen icebergs a hundred miles long. Ours has got to be twice that long.

Explained to Nartsiss about our traverse at supper. He doesn’t understand me too well, because I don’t speak English very well. He wanted me to repeat what I said, “using a subject and a predicate.” I wanted him to give a lecture at the Chalet Sunday. He was very reluctant about it. Peter’s going to give it, because Dr. Treves didn’t want to prepare in so short a time, with a trip coming up.

Mike brought us back a rock from Hutton Cliffs.

There are two Navy officers (ladies) that might be worthwhile knowing. One is on crutches (the only pair in McMurdo) and has black hair and glasses. The other is blonde and reminds me of Valerie What-ever-her-name-is-now.

We have the largest separatory funnel in Antarctica.

The Crozier penguin people loaded up in three Navy Nodwells. What a collection. My roommate leaves tomorrow at six. Hope the weather is good for them. I’ll miss his tape player, but only two of his tapes, the Ozark Mountain Daredevils (for Ann) and Beethoven’s Fifth.

Doug stopped by. Talked about the CIA. I think Tim is the real CIA agent, keeping tabs on Dr. Treves. I like advanced paranoia. It’s so delightfully unreal. Doug takes it seriously, I think. He takes a lot of things seriously, which I classify as non-important.

Bio-Mike and this helo guy came by looking for a pound of lead. Doug had some, so I drove him out to CosRay, brought back the Navy guy, and his pound of lead.

CosRay is a nice little place with a kitchen and a big lounge with lots of books and a good stereo. The back is chock-full of electronic gadgetry that makes a racket every two minutes. I though it was counting bosons. No such luck.

Read Plain Speaking up ‘til Harry S. was re-elected. Maybe I should be President. I need a good paying job.

Sam got some peanut butter cookies in the mail. Not bad for 12,000 mile cookies. Mom’s are better.

Dr. Treves, every time we get a foreign station on the radio, says it’s in Armenian (kind of like Clark and his Jewish music). Well, tonight we got the Something World Network in the East Indies broadcasting “the next hour in Armenian.” (Gees).

October 18, 1975: Saturday

Weighed all the stuff that goes onto the helo Tuesday. Pry bars, winch, tripod, food, etc. Spent the morning and afternoon finishing the Cape Armitage thin sections or reading Antarctic geology papers.

Bio-Mike and I went over to the Chalet to give Emmett an order. Dave hassled me about being in his office.

“I’m with him.”

“Do you have to come into my office to do it?”

I shrugged, looked at him peculiarly, and by that time Mike and I were gone. Mike told me not to worry about Dave. I don’t.

We walked over to the ET shop to fix a Vortex Genie test-tube stirrer. What a bunch of technicians. “Ah, let’s see this thing.” “Hmmm, touch the wires here.” Hissss. Short circuit and no lights. “Go fix the breaker.” “Where is it?” It took them twenty minutes to figure out the crankshaft needed oiling.

We think S*A*R*P will be a big hit, with all sorts of weird people, including our token Russian defective, reading Playboy, drinking Wild Turkey, and listening to golden oldies on his tape player.

Nartsiss asked Al to translate for him. But Al doesn’t understand me, either. I guess I don’t speak English.

Met Carl, a geology GFA from Montana. Short, dark haired, looks oriental, but who knows. He’s a good kid. But another graduate in a GFA position, while I’m a scientist. Doesn’t seem fair.

Doug gave me a tour of CosRay, along with Gary, a biomed GFA. He’s tall, blond, with a juttly jaw.

CosRay is a neat place with a good deal of complicated recording equipment clacking away every two minutes. Doug did a real good job of explaining things. I almost understood what was going on. It’s a real nice place out there. Doug and I could get along all right. He needs some more indoctrination into my type of insanity (which is the only way to remain sane).

We stopped by Sattrack and looked around. Doug convinced me he wasn’t a data gatherer, but I’m not so sure Sattrack is scientifically important. Met Bruce’s replacement, a Tex-an, with ah real ac-cent. Name ah Mike Haga’. Plays the ‘lectric geetar. A shy, southe’n look with long blond country boy locks.

I’m not sure about him yet. Bruce got a message saying he was relieved one morning and his relief arrived at noon.

Cincinnati won 6-2.

Found both of my other Bic black pens.

A plane today but no mail. Expected one from Joy. I’ll have to write to her, and Marilyn, and Ann (and Anne?).

I saw some kaersutite under the microscope. It’s a red amphibole that forms in the rocks here-abouts. Cal found a very good crystal of it over behind Sattrack. Also discovered what trachytic texture is, and why the rocks are called trachytes, not phonolites.

October 19, 1975: Sunday

Slept ‘til 10:30, except at 8:00 I called 459. But nobody answered. Tiny Tim must not be having his show today. Went to breakfast-lunch, and the equipment was torn out of the studio.

I planned to go up to the lab and write letters and help load for Dr. Treves’s journey tomorrow, but I fell asleep until 3:30. I wonder if he’ll be mad about it. So instead of going up and finding out, I wrote letters.

I guess they didn’t do anything this afternoon. So after dinner we went up to the BFC to load this real long, narrow sled and the snowtrack. The weather is bad, blowing and snowing. Peter B. and I drove over to get some gas in the these two 15 gallon barrels. Peter insists they’re 12 gallon. But he’s Imperial.

Peter’s talk was on the drill sites. It looks, according to Cal and Emmett, who worked for oil companies, that there’s a better than even chance of hitting natural gas. We won’t admit it. There was a good crowd. Two girls, Jan and some Navy girl, in the front row. She was with a Navy-type guy. She looked like Mary Ann Wilson. But I think she had an ugly face. I couldn’t tell. I was in the balcony.

Dave was real nice to me. He wanted me to run the slide projector. Figures.

The old gentleman that looks like somebody’s grandpa, wears a white turtleneck sweater, and looks like Albert Einstein’s brother, is with the interior decorator the Navy hired. He sat next to Nartsiss and thanked everybody for being so kind to a foreigner.

Nartsiss wants me to get some of Peter’s and Dr. Treves’s publications run off. From Peter’s talk, it seemed that we were contributing greatly to scientific knowledge in Antarctica. I wished I’d known that earlier.

After the lecture we (Peter is part of we, now), with Dave and Mike Wing (a driller) went to the Officers’ Club. Dave and Peter bought. The movie was Fiddler on the Roof. I hope they show it again, because I thought of Andria when I saw it was playing. Besides, it’s a good movie to see, anyway.

I was informed that I will be going to the Antarctic Survival Seminar next Thursday. I don’t want to go, but I will. I’m not very adept at camping. They’ll send me home after the first night. I’ll go along, just to see if I weather out the hassle. I’ll go along, but I won’t put any effort into it. I’ll miss moving the camp to the drill site. If the weather stays bad, I’ll miss this seminar.

Sidebar: From Plain Speaking - (About MacArthur) He was just a man who couldn’t sleep easy at night without thinking up ways and means of getting himself and everybody else into trouble.

October 20, 1975: Monday

Had this absolutely ridiculous dream about something that seemed perfectly ridiculous at the time.

Cold, snowing, high winds. No traverse. Worked on thin sections of the 1A samples. Developed some more pictures of the iceberg drill site frame. Peter’s using one as the cover for the DVDP #6 Bulletin. It’s very difficult getting a perfect print down here. Made two large (12 by 16) prints. Gave one to Dr. Treves. The other goes to the lab. We marked the drill site on it.

Ran off some of Dr. Treves’s Antarctic Journal articles for Nartsiss and gave him reprints from Peter’s papers.

Bio-Mike determined that McMurdo Sound sea water was 3 counts above normal background radiation. He was going to recommend that the Sound should be drained, transported back to the States, and disposed of. But someone in Washington might do it.

Important revelation from Plain Speaking. C. Estes Kefauver was a Tennessee Senator, head of a Senate Organized Crime Investigation . He ran for president wearing a coonskin cap. He was nominated for Vice-President in 1956. Defeated by Eisenhower-Nixon. All right.

Mike has a tape of the Ohio St. - Michigan St. game. Gees. I’d swear it was a comedy tape. The first half-hour is all that pre-game junk. The sports writer for the Des Moines Register is picking the outstanding player. The winning athletic department gets a La-z-boy rocker. R-O-L-A-I-D-S. Relief. Sick.

October 21, 1975: Tuesday

Up at about 2:00 am. The sun was either coming up or going down. Didn’t stay around to figure out which.

Roommate Steve took off for Cape Crozier.

Weather today was clear, windy, not too cold. Dr. Treves got off about ten o’clock, after giving me numerous instructions and incidentals to bring along. Mike Wing borrowed my jump suit.

Calvin, Don Murray (a driller), Howie, and Otis took off about eleven. Howie and Cal came back about 11:30. Never did figure out why. But by the time lunch was over, they were on their way across the ice.

That left me in charge. Sort of. I did two thin sections, listened to Dr. Treves’s radio and Cal’s tapes. I’m going to take the radio back to the room with me. Hope Dr. Treves doesn’t mind.

These things I’m in charge of:

A. Getting the New Zealand surveyor over here for a nine o’clock departure. And to make sure he only has one theodolite.

B. Jim the Kiwi and Terry and their survival gear.

C. A three hundred pound winch, plus tripod, wire meter, C rats, juice, chain saw, chain saw fuel, oil, and Nansen bottles.

D. Making sure three barrels of oil and a hurdy-gurdy are brought out when they pick us up from the drill site. Delegated that to Mike at the BFC, who delegated it to Pete.

E. Lining up transportation to get all our gear down to the helo pad and picked up on our return. Jack and Leon are responsible.

F. Deciding that sleeping bags are primary survival gear.

G. Showing the pilot how to get to the drill site.

Besides all that, I went over to the machine shop to get some slide holders. 590 is in the garage and 587 is a real bummer to drive. No emergency brakes. Glad there isn’t much traffic in McMurdo.

Dave pulled down a news bulletin right in front of my face while I was reading it in the Chalet.

At 6:15 p.m. I picked up the field party’s signal super well, but words were garbled. I couldn’t get Scott Base at all. I did get the impression that their “110 volt electric ice drill” was broken or something.

Called Scott Base. They confirmed it (much to my surprise), that I had to take one with me tomorrow. Dave said he put Pat Hagerty on the job of finding one.

Went over to the Bio-lab and read some history on Iowa and the U.S. Presidents. Nartsiss cut his own hair. I asked him to cut mine and he laughed. “It would give me great pleasure,” and he went to get his scissors. He showed me an ad for a pipe. I told him it was propaganda. He said my blue hat was one like Lenin wore.