Christmas on Ice, Part 1

It's been a little while since I last wrote. And so much has happened in between now and then. Christmas, New Years, Antarctica, visiting family, how ever does one fit it all in?! Well, I've done my best and now I'm trying to catch up. I'll start at the beginning, but it might take some time. I promise you won't miss a thing.

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We were kitted out with the gear over a period of days before departure. I went in early on the Thursday morning and tried on boots, snow pants, jackets and tuques. Eventually, after all the right sizes were there, I motored back to school to finish up my work. Then it was home to pack. We were allowed 70kg in total, 20kg of which was the clothing and gear we'd just been given. I really struggled to acheive this goal, but I think I flagged around 40kg or so. There are just so many pairs of socks and underwear one can bring.

Friday whizzed by with more packing and last minute preparation. Early Saturday morning Stephen shoved me out of bed at 5am, into the shower and then into the car. He had thoughtfully made up some cinnamon buns the night before, so we munched them in the car as we drove through the rain out to the Antarctic Centre where I would be processed, scanned, briefed and put on a big, big plane.

At 6:30am, I along with my 18 other students and tutors, as well as a lot of American military personel, were bustled through the check and weigh-in and were ushered back out until boarding time at 9am (I guess it takes a long time to do this). We all kind of mingled around the cafe at the Antarctic Centre next door until we were called in for our briefing movie on the flight. Squished into a large curtained room, we watched as images of snow and ice and big, big planes flew by. A calm voice reassured us that our flight would go well, but in the unlikely event of something untoward happening our crew were all well trained to take care of it. It then went on to tell us how lucky we were to be travelling to this amazing place and that we should follow the rules and all would be well. As the lights came on and the images faded we piled out of the room wearing our extreme cold weather (ECW) gear (this is mandatory - the voice told us so) and through the sensors and scanners that made sure none of us was going to blow up the plane or knife someone else. Everyone gathered outside in the grey, dreary parking lot out back and the feeling of excitement grew.

Two yellow school buses pulled up (the first time I've seen them here as schools use city buses, not yellow school buses - I guess they're reserved for the American military) and we piled on. We were driven round the buildings, across the road and into the runway right up to the biggest plane I've ever seen, a C-17 Globemaster. With a light spattering of rain falling on the pavement, we hurried into the belly of the plane.

It was like being in a warehouse. Pipes, wires, crates and very basic seats lining the walls and up front. I fell into a side seat and unburdened myself of bag and coat. The noise was amazing so I quickly put in my little orange ear plugs and watched as everyone settled into their seats. Eventually, the noise got louder and we lurched into movement, without windows this was really all there was to tell us that we were going. As such, I couldn't quite tell you when we left the ground which made the whole experience an interesting one. The idea of travelling to this distant continent that I'd only ever dreamed of going to didn't seem any closer, it didn't feel any more real since I wasn't even sure it was happening. In geography, there's a term for that feeling of 'in betweeness', of having left but not yet arrived - liminality. The whole flight was just like this. We had spent so much time building up to the departure that getting onto a windowless, warehouse-like space was kind of confusing. You expected something more spectacular, more different. After an undefined and unknowable amount of time spent writing, dozing, reading and knitting our movement changed. We dipped forward and turned. We were finally arriving.

Godley Head Hike

On Thursday, two days before I head down to Antarctica, I decide the weather is too fine and I will be gone for a while so taking an afternoon off work and packing to go hiking is a great idea.

I had been to the New Zealand Antarctic Clothing distribution centre that morning and had loaded up on down jackets, snow pants, mittens and gloves galore, and boots the size of my head (all of which I'm sure you will see pictures of later). Although there were images of vast expanses of ice and snow floating around in my head, the sun was shining down and the temperature was just wonderful. So on the way back to school as I drove down Memorial Ave. and sighted the Port Hills through the trees, I knew there was only one thing worth doing that afternoon.

I got home from school at around lunch, wolfed down some leftover tourtiere and Stephen and I packed some water and a couple of apples into the bag and headed out the door. The car was warm from soaking up the suns rays all morning, so we were down to our shorts and t-shirts already (especially sitting on our sheep skin seat covers). The drive is about 20 minutes from our house, and the last 10 minutes are the best as it winds along the spine of the ancient volcanic rim covered now with grasses and the odd thistle. We parked at a little pull off before the actual parking lot, where a trail met up with the road briefly before dropping down to the far side of the crater. With our water and my camera over our shoulders, we set forth under the sun.


Walking along the winding trail was wonderful. We watched ships come and go into Lyttleton Harbor, fishing boats being harangued by gulls, little pockets of flowers tucked into the wind protected nooks and crannies between rocks, and absolutely no one else. Half an hour later (I stopped a lot) we came up over a crest and were looking down into the parking lot at Godley Head. Godley Head is an old gun emplacement put there during the second world war to protect Lyttleton Harbor from the enemy. There are old cement bunkers littered all over the place, and down below (where we were heading) there was a small system of caves that went through the cliffs.


We wandered through the three buildings along the trail and then wove our way down towards the sea. Back and forth we followed the switch back track almost to the rocks being blasted by waves at the bottom. Before we could feel the spray however we found the trail disappearing into the hillside. Looking into the darkness, you could see a tiny prick of light at what I presumed was the far end, and little shadows of light trickling in along the entire length. The wind coming from the tunnel was cool on our hot faces and chilled the thin veneer of sweat on my face. I put on my cardigan adn stepped into the cool dark passage. The walls were rough and crumbled when you touched them. Every so often there was a side passage that took you a few meters and opened out to the sea a surprising distance below. At one of the openings we found a small birds nest tucked up into a rocky hole in the wall. Further down a sock lay wet and lonely on the floor.

We emerged minutes later back into the bright sun and onto a hill side covered with daisies, foxgloves and many more flowers. We ate our apples at the end of the trail, a small concrete pillbox nestled safely into the rocky wall of the cliff, and then headed back up the trail.


The return hike was wonderful with a faint wind at our backs helping to push us along the trail. We walked over the top of the rim this time and looked back towards Sumner and Christchurch and further out the Southern Alps as they climbed the back of the South Island. We sprawled out in the grass back at the car and watched the wisps of clouds moving overhead. A wonderful afternoon. But now I was exhausted and had LOTS of work and packing to do (in fact I still do).

One more sleep til I take off for the most southerly continent. I'm both excited and nervous. Lots of work to do there and a completely new experience. I'm sure it will pass by far too quickly and before I know it I'll have only the pictures and stories left. But really, that's all we ever have left from any experience and that's what makes us . . . us.

Christmas Tastes & Sights

Here are some of the things you might see at our place this Christmas. Buttons, pukekos, our first Christmas Cake, the truly Canadian tourtiere (with apple sauce), harakeke, and the sky still bright at 9:30pm.

Christmas is coming

Christmas is coming and we're both having an interesting time wrapping our minds around sun, warmth, and summer days coinsiding with this celebratory time. So on Tuesday this past week, I convinced Stephen to come out with me to the nearby mall where a man was selling little Christmas trees from his trailer.

An interesting thing to note is that when you go christmas tree hunting in the Yukon you go out in the cold. In fact, you have to be careful it's not too cold or as soon as you hit the tree with the axe all the needles will fall off. Not so here in New Zealand. In fact, if you don't go on cooler days the trees tend to be droppy and sad looking from the heat. We were given a hint from a friend of mine at stitch that the trees to get are the ones planted in pots with dirt which keeps them happier for longer.

Fortunately, the trees at the mall were in pots. And in the shade. And would fit both our tiny abode and budget. We (well, I) carried the tree across the parking lot, stuffed it into the back of the car and drove home, with a goofy smile plastered across my face.

The other difference between christmas trees here and in the Yukon is you don't need to defrost these ones. You can start throwing on decorations as soon as you want. Having decorations on the other hand is another issue. Unfortunately, packing baubles across the ocean had not been a priority so we had limited resources. Armed, however, with a plethora of paper and baking skills, Stephen and I soon whipped up a multitude of paper cranes and gingerbread bears (I did splurge on a few little glass balls as well and some lights). So with out little tree dripping with red and gold paper birds and gingery bears, we are starting to feel a little more of the christmas spirit.

I feel I must also take a moment to introduce Girard. Girard is a giraffe. In fact, he is a stuffed giraffe picked out from the multitude of plush animals pilled high at the nearby Farmers (rough equivalent to the Bay). He will be accompanying me to Antarctica and as you can see, he is taking his studying seriously. In fact, he has already told me he would like to ride in a Hagglund, see some seals and penguins, and his absolute can't-be-missed experience will be to spend the night is a snow shelter. I told him if wanted to last the night he would have to be sure to eat his Weetbix each morning to get strong. I'm sure you will all await the tales of his adventures with bated breath.

Pre-Departure Session

Well, this weekend was our Antarctica pre-departure session. The PCAS (post-graduate certificate in Antarctic Studies) course I'm tutoring in spent 3 days out at the UC (University of Canterbury) geography field station in Cass (a stop along the TranzAlpine railway). We were introduced to some of the gear we'd be using, but mostly it was about getting to know one another better - bonding. With winds up in the 80-100 km/hr range we spent lots of time inside discovering the intricacies of living together and talking about all the fun things we'll be doing down in Antarctica.

Cass Field Station. In the background is the Craigieburn Range with Arthur's Pass just off to the left.

Steve showing off his weather station. While we're down on the ice, this station will be set up by the students and recordings will be taken every day. Unfortunately, due to the high velocity winds we weren't able to fly the ginormous kite he has to take up some of his other instruments.

Here's one of the tents we'll be using down on the ice. There are four poles that are put into the tough outer fly, the inner tent is then hung from inside and the white flaps are covered with snow and the guylines are anchored into the surrounding snow to keep it all on the ground.

This is the emergency tent provided for each group of two people. Whenever we go out of camp we have to carry these emergency bags with us which contain things like a shovel, a saw, food, a stove, a tent, sleeping bags and other useful things to keep you warm.

On the last day, we did a hike up Bealey Spur (overlooking the Waimakariri River). It was a 10km round trip through beech forest, grass tussocks and boasted some fantastic views.

One of the aforementioned fantastic views of the Waimakariri River.

Home

With our recent visit back to the Yukon I've been thinking a lot about what "home" is. Stephen and I would get into discussions about whether we were going home or leaving home, often we would be on alternating sides of the debate.

We're lucky in the sense that we both grew up in the same town and so visits back are easy-ish. We discovered though that there are other problems with having two families and multiple groups of friends in the same community, all of whom expect plenty of face time. We really enjoyed the time we did spend with everyone, but trying to do everything with everyone proved somewhat impossible. And so we had to make do (lots of driving was involved).

Much of our discussions revolved around the idea of heart. Having grown up in the Yukon we both have a deep abiding love for the vast lands of forest and mountain and river, and it is an integral part of who we are as people. It is a part of our identity. But something we've also realized is that as we've grown together and learned to be a family, we have put down various roots in the places where our relationship has developed the most; Victoria, British Columbia and here in Christchurch. These two places are the landscapes where we have shaped our relationship together and really, our lives to come. It is in these places that we can look forward more easily and find new paths to follow. And so we are left with two distinct homes, a place a rememberance, of youth, and of roots. And a place of looking forward, of new roles, and of endless possibilities.

Home, now, is about change. It is about loosing the shackles of a "role" into which we've grown and instead, making our own place in the world. It is a new and wonderful experience to be making our own way in the world, where no one has predetermined ideas about what we can or cannot do, about who we are and where we belong.

I will never forget where I have come from and will never stop calling the Yukon 'home'. But for now (and for who knows how long), New Zealand is proving to be a wonderful home in which to learn, grow, and become.

Yukon Visit

First I must apologize for being so slack on up dating this site. After my visit back to the Yukon everything here at home seems to have piled up on me keeping me very, very busy. It's been a little over a week now and I'm still settling back in. Though it is wonderful to come back to summer I must say!

Here are a few pictures from my visit to the North. I was so pleased to spend time with family and friends, though trying to visit everyone was harder work than I ever thought possible. Such is life once you've moved away from where you grow up I suppose. We spent lots of time outside, camping, hiking, walking, canoeing, boating, and just generally enjoying the gorgeousness of the Yukon.

Dad, Mom, Andrew, Marina & I spent a weekend camping on Egg Island, a 5-minute boatride down the Yukon River from where the Takhini River joins it. A lovely two-nights of snow, rain, sun and lots of crossword puzzles.

The wall tent proved a warm and comfortable place to spend the night. Unfortunately there wasn't room for everyone so Marina and I got to sleep in the pup tent, which was cool and damp (Photo credit: Dad).
The beer was delicious as always.

I also went up to Dawson City for a short visit to do some work. It snowed there as well.
A lot.
There are lots of old, abandonned pieces of machinery in the Yukon. The highest concentration being around the Dawson area.

We also made sure to get up to my favorite place on earth, the White Pass Summit. It was amazingly warm up there, even nicer than back in Whitehorse.