Ice Chaplain: McMurdo Station

One documentary narrator described Antarctica as entirely “indifferent.” It is the sea that supports life. The land itself discourages, and even forbids it. It does nothing at all to sustain life. Unless you count ice that can be melted, everything needed to sustain human life must be brought in, since harvesting from the sea or under the ice is not allowed. The Antarctic treaty insists that the continent must be kept as pristine as possible. Even sled dogs are no longer seen here. They used to be fed from seal meat, but hunting is no longer allowed. It is a major endeavor to keep human life sustained, so there are no domestic animals here. In the four days I’ve been here so far, I have seen only one seal and half-a-dozen Skua birds.

Skuas are drab brown birds about the size of an albatross or a large sea gull. They are legendary here for their aggressive behavior. If they see food, they will take it. If an unwary person comes from the Galley (the Navy term still abides for the dining hall) with, let’s say a hamburger that is unprotected, that person will be dive-bombed and harassed until he/she either gives up saving the food or dies trying (so they say). So, if anything is lost or stolen around here, it is labeled “skua.”

In regards to sustaining human life, McMurdo Station is 2,415 miles from Christchurch, New Zealand, which is its closest supply point. So, all supplies must be brought by cargo jet until the sea ice melts enough, in mid January or early February, and ice breakers can cut a path into McMurdo Sound to allow ships to re-supply the station for an entire year. Then, all waste materials, including food and human waste, must be loaded onto ships and taken out.

As for McMurdo, itself, my first impression was that this place is in close running for the ugliest hill on earth. Science is the object, not beauty or any extravagant human comforts. The people here come from every background imaginable, but there is an amazing sense of community and camaraderie. There is a sort of individualism and spirit of adventure that is prevalent. There is also a sort of stoic acceptance of the lack of comfort or luxury.

The weather here has been unseasonably mild for this area since I came. We’ve had temperatures between the mid twenties and low thirties (Fahrenheit)—perfect skiing weather back home. (You have to remember, though, it’s spring here—the equivalent of May for us.) When the wind comes up, though, it’s “no-kiddin’” cold. Even on a nice sunny day, you don’t want to be too far from your cold weather gear. Sight-seeing trips are offered almost daily, but even in a vehicle, people are strongly encouraged, and even required, to take a cold-weather bag along, if it’s more than a half-hour from “home.”

There are ample opportunities to take in science lectures and see some of ground-breaking research that happens here and at the South Pole. I hope to share some of that with you as time goes on.

Today is Sunday for us, so it was my first introduction to the chapel community. We have a number of good musicians that like to help lead worship. There is even some talk of forming a choir. We’ll have to see how all of that goes. For now, I’d better show you a few select pictures.