“Oh, Shit”
The words came out involuntarily from both of our mouths as we looked from the bed to the flight scroll on the TV. After hitting the snooze button on our alarms, a habit created by a week of flight delays, neither of us had expected to see WSD-001 WAIS Divide listed with a 0715 transport. It was 6:45 AM when my feet hit the floor of our room, scrambling to remember where I’d placed all the things that had slowly started wandering back out of my packed carry-on bag, including most notably… the clothes I’d have to wear on the C130, which I’d conveniently placed at the Fuels Barn the day before. Figures.
But thanks to some speedy maneuvering to grab my things, and Abby generously going to the galley to grab me food to last potentially the next 18hrs, I arrived at transport with just enough time to have Fran remind me that I wasn’t Jaimie or Ildi, his favorite fuelies, but that he was happy I’d shown up. Kaija, the camp manager, was also excited to see me running in the door of building 140, stuff everywhere. I kissed Abby goodbye, said a couple departing words to a couple other friends that were traveling that day, and headed to the Delta. The drive to Willy Field was quick enough, most of us putting down a breakfast burrito or coffee, or both. But we arrived at the airfield and… waited… several of us laughing about how the rush to get out to Willy was likely un-warranted, something we’d laugh about over dinner in McMurdo later that night.
But the laughter subsided as we felt the Delta move out onto the packed snow of the tarmac at Williams Field (Willy for short), slowly angling towards the C130, freshly fueled and sitting in the fuel pits. We grabbed our things, and after waving to the fuelies, boarded my second ever C130 for the three and a half hour flight to WAIS Divide. Safety checks done, ear protection on, seat belts and cargo fastened. The four massive props revved up and we felt the skis drop to the snow as the cargo plane moved to the skiway and like that, we were off.
The West Antarctic Ice Sheet (or WAIS) is a massive expanse sitting between the Trans-Antarctic Mountains and the Pacific Ocean. Due to the accumulation in this area, science groups over the last 12 years have used this area to study ice cores pulled from the ice sheet itself, measuring over 10,000ft thick in places. WAIS Divide Field Camp, located at roughly 6000ft above sea level and 79.45 degrees South latitude, maintains a hub of activity in support of several on-going research projects funded by the National Science Foundation and supported by the United States Antarctic Program. The camp is seasonal, only staffed during the summer research season from late October to early February. At its peak, its possible that up to 40 people may be sleeping in tents and eating in the fabric-sided galley. Many of the field camps lie on what is known as the “Flat White”, or the ice caps and shelves that make up greater Antarctica. The name comes from the view. Looking around, there is no topography to be seen, only a sea of flat ice and snow as far as the eye can see. It is an extremely humbling feeling.
WAIS Divide Field Camp has been around since 2005, when it was established after scouting for an area of significant accumulation on the West Antarctic Ice Sheet. The ice at WAIS sits in a depression in Earth’s crust accentuated by the severe weight of the ice above. The ice here logs back to roughly 65,000 years which is nothing in the grand scheme of Antarctic ice, but because of its thickness and age, is able to provide a higher resolution of data from the ice cores that were pulled. The bore hole itself is maintained by an extremely dense fluid, and logged for changes and additional data. What is seriously incredible is that during the initial drilling for cores, there was an immense arch built on site that housed the coring apparatus. This arch is over 30ft tall inside, and has completely drifted over outside. Completely. All that is left of the arch from outside is a set of vents. Inside, the frost on the steel walls gives the arch an eerie industrial feel.
As the fuels operator opening the camp, I was part of the put-in team consisting of our camp manager Kaija, chef Fran, weather forecaster Tony, equipment operators Todd and Andrew, mechanics Fabian and Mike, and carps Brad and Dave. We all sat there in the C130, relatively quiet as the drone of the props prevented any real opportunity for lasting conversation. I mostly sat there, head on my chest, trying to nap as best as I could, knowing that once we landed we’d have a good long day ahead of us.
The put-in would be quite the crazy experience… The C130 overflew the flag-marked skiway a couple times at low altitude, checking for any significant threats to a safe landing, and finding none, set down. The soft snow cushioned the landing quite well, and the pilots powered through towards the “apron” as the flight crew opened the rear doors to drift the couple pallets of cargo we’d brought. Each person had a minimal amount of personal items, plus some needed items for put in. As the plane powered up, the flight crew dumped the pallets, dropping them neatly in the snow behind us before coming to a stop a couple hundred yards down the apron. We waited until the crew dropped the door, then grabbing our personal carry-on bag and supplies, marched out onto the flat white and up the slight incline onto what is known as the Winter Berms. These host the modules, cargo, and equipment during the winter to help minimize drifting in the town site as well as elevate things to hopefully help them stay relatively drift-free. We noticed right away the snow blown slightly up in front of the buildings facing the prevailing wind direction, and the massive drifts at the back, sometimes as tall as the module itself.
Time was of the essence here, as the C130 sat on the apron running while we worked to establish three things… First was shelter. Efforts were made to remove the coverings and gain access to both the wash mod, and the galley mod. Check. Second, fire and heat. Fran handled this one, by lighting a propane stove in the galley mod and beginning the process of melting water. Third, communication with McMurdo Operations (or MacOps for short). Kaija made the call to MacOps letting them know that we had shelter and fire, and the call established communication. The C130 was cleared to take off and return to Willy Field, leaving the 10 of us alone in an area bigger than the state of Alaska. Our trip had taken us 1000miles from McMurdo, and we were several hundred miles from the closest humans. As we dug into the snow to clear out doorways to get hermies (gas-powered heaters) and snowmobiles, we watched as the C130 made multiple passes up and down the skiway, each time compacting the snow a little more. Or so we thought… In the end, the pilots had to make 7 or 8 full attempts to take off before they were able to, narrowly avoiding using the JATO (jet-assisted take-off) rockets attached to the side of the aircraft. But once they were up… It got real quiet. Well, except for the rasp of the hermies and the generator-powered arco-therm heaters, working to thaw out snow and ice from the voids inside the generator housing before we could get it started.
We called it a night after a wonderful dinner from Fran, exhausted and the ten of us spread out amongst several mods, all depending on our desire for any quiet and privacy. The next morning, we all rose early and started getting the equipment thawed and going. Nine months of blowing snow had forced snow into every crack and crevice in every engine compartment of the vehicles, which required careful clearing before Fabian and Mike could check fluids and start the equipment up. But we made quick work, taking advantage of the beautiful weather and overhead sunlight. After helping all morning, it was time to get started on working through getting the fuel system set up. As with most of the deep field camps, fuel at WAIS is stored in bulk 10,000gal bladders within portable containments. Two of these bladders had remained out over the winter, sealed up and ready for us to find among the drifts. Thankfully, the departing crew the prior year had flagged the bladder containments well, and we all took turns at shoveling snow out of the bladder containments so that Todd could “sculpt” the area around the bladders to create the fuel pits area. Each of the bladders was buried under at least 6” of surface snow, and at least two feet of snow in the containments, hardened by the harsh winds and temps. That ended up being a blessing in disguise, since we were able to “chunk” up the snow and toss it out vs just shoveling. But hard work paid off and within a couple days, we had the fuel pits up and running, able to keep the stoves warm and the equipment humming.
Over the first week, WAIS quickly changed from a lineup of “chateaus on the hill” to a well laid-out townsite a few hundred yards from the apron. Modules were moved into place after basements were dug, RAC tents were built, and the local tent city arose. You read that right… Deep field has no dorms. No bunk houses. No hotels or hostels. What it does have is a few dozen plots in the snow that we all get to call home, by placing our tents there. For the semi-permanent crew of WAIS, we were provided with an Arctic Oven, which is roughly 8 feet by 8 feet and 6 feet tall inside. Surprisingly roomy, considering that we all share dorm rooms in McMurdo that feel much smaller some of the time. Given the tip to place a folded tri-wall underneath the tent to provide a solid floor that wouldn’t melt into the ice and snow, and plenty of snow around the skirt to seal out the wind, we all picked our spots and made our tents “home”. Grabbing a cot made things much roomier, and easier in the mornings and evening to get in and out of bed. A spare foam mat on the floor to keep the toes warm, and bags under the cot itself to free up floor space. I spent 7 weeks in my Arctic Oven, and I have no complaints. Even in the few storms we had that buried part of town, the tent stayed relatively warm and sheltered. And it was peaceful to fall asleep to the ripple of the tent fabric in the wind. The toughest part was the light… I can’t sleep with anything snug over my eyes, so an eye mask was out, and with the 24/7 sunlight, it left me with few options for blocking out the light to get sleep. In the end, I spent many nights falling asleep curled up in my sleeping bag with my head in the darkness. I could do it again. For sure. You’d think that sleeping in a tent at 6000ft, on top of 10,000ft of glacial ice in a windy bright place would be… awful. But it truth, it wasn’t. Many of the folks who came in for shorter terms were in “mountain” tents, more of what you’d expect to find at any major basecamp worldwide. It was a pretty cool scene, especially once we’d had multiple storms come through and the avenues between tents had been groomed leaving little walls of snow in places.
We had started with 10 folks on the put-in crew, and started climbing to our peak population in the mid-30’s after the next flight, arriving at 2120hrs and taking off 50 minutes later. Twelve days without seeing anyone else in our little flat slice of awesome. So sixteen souls, some cargo, and 275 gallons of fuel arrived. That day was also awfully cold, hovering around -30F ambient… A wonderful temp for flight operations. Our next flights came the week of Thanksgiving, with a cargo flight and two tankers arriving with fuel. The cargo flight was welcomed because it contained our liquor orders, so that we could all have our glass of wine or whiskey (or both) with the amazing Thanksgiving dinner that was prepared. Quick side note… The food at WAIS was incredible. Homemade granola, freshies when available, wonderful pizzas and pasta dishes, delicious soups and breads… All of it. And so it went with Thanksgiving dinner. The entire camp set down to a family-style table and enjoyed a full holiday dinner. A wonderful event.
The days at WAIS were simple. With the objective being to support the science groups basing or transiting through the camp, and my main role being handling the fuel needs for the camp, things went smoothly. The schedule varied slightly based on flight schedules, but in general I started my morning by checking the fuel storage for any issues, recirculating the fuel and taking a visual sample, filling any equipment that was running around, and handling the basics of fuel management in the camp. A few days a week, I’d hook up the fuel bowser sled to either the D4 dozer, Tucker sno-cat, or Happy Camper tracked forklift and make rounds through town to fill stove tanks, and head out to the drilling arch to make sure the borehole logging crew had their fuel needs met. Power in town was handled via the Smurfs, which was a pair of large generators that with their smallish tanks, required fueling every day, which was okay since I just parked the bowser next to them and could fuel them without needing to hook up any equipment. When a flight would come in, I would assist with marshalling the aircraft in and if they were delivering fuel, offload that fuel into one of the bladders. Ken Borek air also had one of their Twin Otters at the camp periodically, requiring fuel for missions to Pirritt Hills or for Polenet. For the most part, I stayed busy. When it wasn’t sustaining the needs of camp and science, I would work on helping around camp by grooming with the Pisten Bully after storms, helping with the cargo lines and waste, handling fuels projects such as the conversion to a new pumphouse structure, maintaining a fueling station for snowmobiles and other light equipment, and general camp “house mouse” tasking. Water, for instance, was an important task that required the constant filling of the snow-melters of clean snow that was pulled in from outside of the “town line”. We all took turns cleaning dishes and helping in the galley, and cleaning the wash mod. Because of this cooperation, the camp was kept fairly neat despite us all living in close quarters with exception of sleeping in our tents.
I ended up leaving WAIS two days before Christmas. On a day we didn’t expect, on a week full of flight cancellations, a flight came in and I was able to get on to return to McMurdo and resume my duties as a town fuelie. But the experience in the Flat White was incredible. I loved it. The sense of community was incredible and life was simple. The weather would come through periodically and provide a reminder of where we were, but then the clouds would part letting the sun back in and we’d get back to work.
But yeah… I loved it. Because… Flat White, Feels Right.
Here is a list of science projects that we supported out of WAIS this past year:
Borehole logging at WAIS / Pettit – Obbard
Pirrit Hills Traverse / John Stone
Here are some additional links about WAIS and its history:
West Antarctic Ice Sheet – Wikipedia
WAIS Divide – University of New Hampshire
And some additional photos
Yeti Ramblings 
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