Letters from the Ice: June

Hi All,

Things continue to move along here at McMurdo Station. This letter is being sent later than I would like, but work continues and I have arguably never been in such a unique work environment where I work in the Dark, live in the Dark and sleep in the Dark. It does not extend past Nautical Twilight even in the middle of the day. The middle of winter in June is drawing closer. A few evenings ago was quite remarkable as our station went into Condition 1 which is the worst weather can get. A condition in which it is recommended no one leave any building. Temperatures can drop down to -76F and wind speeds can push 60mph. I went out against the recommendations and it was quite the thrill to be exposed to the power. A blizzarding maelstrom of snow and ice. It is a remarkable reminder of the inhospitality of the weather on this isolated continent.

The environmental stress of living in darkness is different. Having been blessed with the beauty and brightness that the Western United States has held for many years it is hard not yearn for a glimpse of the sun. Nevertheless, youth and resiliency are on my side, and thru visiting with people I’ve come to a conclusion that I may be the youngest if not close to the youngest worker on station. However, the climate and work each contain their own unique challenges. Working alone inside a building all day just turning valves, doing lab tests, swapping pumps and restoring water 6 days a week is a definite change of pace. I bit off a lot when I took this job as this plant has been neglected for many years. As I get to know more of the people here who have worked this type of life for a while there is a physical and mental toll that living and working down here takes. You can see it in the eyes and receding hairlines of those who continue to come down here year after year.

I also will write about the galley here where I eat most of my meals. It is missing something that a family table or gathering may have back stateside. A comradery, a sense of unity, a selflessness. While I admit I have not always been the best about relating to others or visiting, the galley is almost an empty shell of what you would expect for a community of 126. At the most there are 30 to 40 people who sit down and visit or even just take a seat to themselves. A good majority of the station eat alone in their rooms in isolation. Maybe it is just the stress of work, weather and darkness. Regardless, I have endeavored to pray and thank God for our meals at the tables and it is astounding to see the looks on faces for many of these people it is the first time they’ve ever heard a prayer down here. However, it is hard to remain in a state of un-gratitude especially when the entire station relies on the lifeline of diesel, food and water provided for by the collective efforts of others.

Thank you all for your collective thoughts and prayers. The oppressive nature of the darkness here can create a perpetual night, both mentally, physically and spiritually. However, I am reminded of John 1:5, KJV, and how it says that “And the light shined in the darkness, and the darkness comprehended it not”. For the very, very small group of grounded believers here, the light continues to shine amidst the darkness.

God Bless,