Finally

This is my last entry. To read from the beginning,
click on the first link (02/04/05) in the archive.


I miss the snow. It burned my eyes, swallowed the tools that slipped from my fingers, hid endless cracks in the ice, but never did it turn into the grey sludge that sticks to the sides of our cars. It fell without warning, cushioning my every step; the world wrapped in such lucid silence.

My whole life I have searched for a place to belong. I suppose we all do; resisting our natural inclination to climb the next hill, then the next, wondering what lies on the other side. Even if we find a place to call home, we feel the undertow of what we truly are. . . EXPLORERS. That drive has taken us across every earthly boundary, and someday I firmly believe - to the stars. I have travelled far, travelled wide, seen many different ways to live a life. Never have I felt I belonged anywhere particular. Never did a place seep into my bones and keep me awake at night with its absence.

But the Ice is not like the rest of the world. Its canvas cannot capture vivid colors. Every picture must be painted in shades of white, then locked between layers of ice, doomed to be covered completely, buried beneath kilometers of snow. Countless valleys lie draped in ancient forests, bones of unknown, nameless creatures lying on the shores of long-gone rivers, nestled between crushed mountains - and all we see is a flat sheet of ice racing to the horizon.

We know those valleys exist. Machines with X-ray eyes have pierced the ice and stirred the imagination. But just like ships sailing far above the bottom of the sea, we walk far above the valley floors of Antarctica. At least, most of the time. Ross Island is part of the two percent that lies exposed. It juts up through the canvas with a splash of orange lava and screams "Explore Me!"

I belong there. I wasn't sure until I got back to civilization, to the suburbs of Philadelphia, to my friends and family and overweight cat. At sea, I always longed for home, but what I was really longing for were the people in my life. This is different. I find myself longing for a place, a kind of frozen hell. But why?

I don't miss the food or the isolation, the darkness, the blizzards (well, maybe a little), or the insane cold. I certainly don't miss the paycheck. But for the first time I truly belonged somewhere. Antarctica challenged me, dared me, forced me to be alive, to confront the nature of existence, to test the limits of my potential. Some would be afraid to discover what their real limits are, sure that the answers would disappoint them. I am here to tell you that you would not be disappointed. Mankind has made a royal mess of things, but our potential is vast.

The mysteries we explore shed light on our place in the world, especially when they refuse to give up a single answer. Antarctica is a place of answers and mysteries both; ancient, accursed, awe-inspiring. After eight months it became impossible to take the universe for granted. All the trappings of society were stripped away, one by one, and loosely laid on that sheet of ice. I am not a masochist, I do not despise contact with other people. I just felt that each day counted.

It has been awhile since I put pen to paper. I needed to step back and sort out what I really felt about the bottom of the world. What I've just written are my final thoughts on the subject - my first night in Antarctica. There will be other nights, someday, somehow. There will be southern lights, and penguins and seals, new friends and old friends and newfound constellations, active volcanoes, Erebus shadows, Erebus crystals, red apples, green apples, and lasers, Castle Rock and Observation Hill, Arrival Heights and Winter Quarters Bay, Vince's Cross, Scott's Cross and Scott's two frozen huts, Shakleton's Hut, The A-Frame, Black Island, White Island, Ross Island and Inaccessible Island, the Chapel of the Snows, a treasure chest buried in the side of an unknown hill, the winter storms, the setting sun, frozen soap bubbles, the Polar Plunge, an upside-down moon, Piston Bullies, meteorites, starfish, the Deep Cold, and things I've never dreamed of.

Some people think I'm a bit touched in the head for going to such a place. They're probably right, but then again, I like myself more now than I did before. I also like this planet more, and the whole universe it's floating in, so maybe it's a good thing that I went. As always, I'll leave you with some photographs. They all made it back to Philadelphia safe and sound and whole...

just like me.

THE END
______________________________________________________

POSTSCRIPT: It took 8 months, but I finally saw a penguin. . .
Crary Lab: Emperor in a glass case:
Crary Lab: Baby Emperor Penguin

Crary Lab: Seal Skull

Crary Lab: Pertified Tree

Crary Lab: Lava Bomb

Departing Antarctica:

UNITED STATES ANTARCTIC PROGRAM

THE END
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