What's It All About?

If you are ever in Christchurch you should consider staying at the Hotel Commodore near the airport.  A stay at this place is worth a year of therapy.  For quiet comfort, courteous staff, and good food, this is pretty hard to beat.  The memorabilia on the walls attest to the Patterson family’s long standing support of Operation Deep Freeze, and the aviators who frequent New Zealand while transiting to and from the ice, particularly the members of the 109^th Airlift Wing of the 13^th Air Force.  The people of New Zealand (the Kiwis) embody the best of British culture in their warm and friendly courtesy and innate graciousness. 

Before I set off on my 36 hour endurance trip back to the winter snows of Montana, let me make one final post to this blog, and reflect on the meaning of my whole experience; the blog, the “Ice,” the ministry, and the adventure.  They say that to see current events through the news media is to see the world through a straw.  The media can only focus on one narrow place or event at a time; and they will naturally choose the most dramatic or shocking views to show.  What they can’t normally convey is the everyday mundane events and human interactions that go on all around, but outside of, the view of the camera lens. 

While writing the posts in this blog, I was aware that I couldn’t bring it all to you, nor would you want to read it all if I did.  What I tried to share with you were some pictures and descriptions of highlights of the overall experience.  What I will bring home with me is a much larger experience of the moments and the days, the work and the routines, the conversations and encounters, and so on.  I have tried to err on the side of brevity, not only for your sake, but for the sake of the important work I came to do.  While the overall experience was one of adventure, there are also the daily chores and trials of life that follow us anywhere.  Going to Antarctica is something like going to another planet, but even that is not ultimately an escape from life itself.

I have intentionally avoided featuring and focusing on people in this blog; not because they are not an important part of this adventure, but because they are.  People are the reason I came here.  I have largely not shown their pictures or related their stories.  Their stories and experiences are for them to tell; and for me to treasure as I remember them.  Why do people come to Antarctica?  Well, the joke is, “You come the first year for the adventure; the second year for the money; and the third year, because you no longer fit in anywhere else.” 

The people here are all alike and as different as night and day.  They are all people willing to trade comfort and security for adventure and austerity.  Some are admittedly vagabonds (wanderers), traveling the world in search of the next unique experience. Some come for seasonal work. Some come to leave some part of their past behind.  Some come out of a sense of duty—to their country, their company, their field of science.  Together they bring the strengths and weaknesses that make us all human.  They bring their individual talents and trade skills. 

Whatever reasons may bring individuals here, overall it’s about science.  The very forces that make it hard to support life here make it an ideal place to study our planet and its place in the universe.  Scientists are always looking for ways to isolate whatever it is they are studying view it in a controlled environment.  For instance, some scientists spend the austral summer in the Dry Valleys of Antarctica; so called because snow seldom falls and doesn’t collect there as it does on most of the continent.  Here they can study small worm like life forms that actually feed off of the minerals in the sand, rather than organic matter.  These life forms exist in other places, but here there is little or no competition from other life forms.  This is one of the few places on the planet where human beings and other life forms have had very little impact on the environment.  At the South Pole, weather patterns through the ages can be studied by examining ice cores dug from thousands of feet of accumulated snow and ice; untouched for thousands of years.  The high altitude, thin atmosphere, and lack of light pollution from civilization allow telescopes to get a clearer view of the skies than at most places on earth.

To be a chaplain here is a very rewarding challenge.  There is a certain liberation, for me, in letting go of specific denominational doctrines and approaching Christian worship in a way that is not specifically “liturgical,” nor “Gospel,” nor “Pentecostal.”  Never was I bashful about presenting the theology of St. Paul and the gospel message that it is precisely because the world is broken (not in spite of it)  that Christ came; allowing himself to be broken for us.

Is there some vast chasm between science and theology that will not allow for an honest and open look at one by the other?  I think not. Nor do the significant numbers of prominent scientists who worshiped faithfully with us at the Chapel of the Snows.  I am fascinated by virtually every aspect of science.  I can’t get enough of trying to learn what makes creation work; and perhaps catch some further glimpse of the Creator of it all.  I had the opportunity to attend weekly science lectures—free.  The earliest explorers to the Antarctic Circle would entertain one another through the long winter nights, by sharing lectures on their specific specialties.  That tradition continues much the same to this day.  More than once I had the privilege of sharing a mealtime conversation with one or more of our nation’s leading scientific minds.  They didn’t seem to tire of my elementary questions—and once in a while, they asked some questions of me.

There are many at the McMurdo community (scientists or not) who see no particular need to worship a god they don’t know, or particularly believe in.  I take no offense at them.  I would only hope that they could at least know what it is they reject.  Too many of them have a very poor knowledge of what the Christian message actually is.  I had frank and open conversations with some of them.  I think I was, to them, a representation of a belief system that they had many questions about.  I hope I answered a few of those questions.  My ministry was as much as possible a ministry to all.  I hope I was a positive presence in the community—a visible reminder of the Holy.

So I go on not knowing,—I would not if I might; 

I would rather walk in the dark with God than go alone in the light; 

I would rather walk with Him by faith than walk alone by sight.

--From the poem, “Not Knowing,” by Mary Gardiner Brainard  

Thanks to all of you who have written and commented and followed.  I have felt your presence and your prayers.

...by the way--no I didn't see even one penguin!

God Bless You -- "see you on the flip side."

John

Coast to Coast

I took a trip on New Zealand's Tranz Scenic railway today, taking the Tranzalpine tour from Christchurch on the east coast of the South Island to Greymouth, on the west coast shores of the Tasman Sea.  The mountain range that divides the Island is called The Southern Alps.  The railway crosses the Canterbury Plains, climbs through alpine foothills and the Waimakariri Gorge to Arthur's Pass National Park.  Arthur's Pass is at 737 meters (2,418 ft.) high, surrounded by alpine peaks.  Heading down the other side, we pass through the Otira Tunnel, a length of over 8.5 kilometres (5.3 mi).  We spend about 15 minutes in the tunnel, while dropping 250 meters, or 820 feet in altitude.  We find the weather on the west coast remarkably different than the warm 80 degrees at Christchurch.

Here are a few pictures to give examples of the New Zealand countryside (sorry about the smudge on the camera lense):



A Quick Lunch Before the Return Trip

 

A Quick Glimpse of Greymouth




Reboarding at Greymouth

Where else can you travel coast to coast and back, and still  get home in time for supper?

Hello Darkness, My Old Friend

I left the ice on New Year’s Eve.  I have two regrets; one that I left just before the “Icestock” festival (McMurdo’s version of Woodstock).  Bands have been rehearsing for months now, to play on an outdoor stage with food and refreshments and all the fun.  The other regret is that I didn’t have time, or make the time, to visit any of the outlying base camps, in various places around the continent.

  

The C-17 has been unable to land at McMurdo for several days because the warm weather has made the runway temporarily unusable, and in need of repair.   So, I hitched a ride on one of the Ski Birds rotating Air National Guard troops back to Christchurch.  Whereas the C-17 can make the long crossing of the Southern Ocean in about 5 hours, it’s closer to 8 in the C-130.  Rumble, rumble, rumble—but, I still prefer that to the flying cattle cars that we call commercial airlines.  At least the Ski Birds have lots and lots of leg room.

In the occasional breaks in the clouds, I saw more of the Trans Antarctic Mountains and glaciers that are so familiar on the continent. Then I saw broken ice and open water.  I haven’t seen much water in liquid form for two months.  It means that warm summer will continue its work and allow ships to come to McMurdo soon.  Then I saw what seemed to be small white blocks in the ocean.  At first I wondered what kind of strange pontoon boat was out floating in this vast ocean.  But, then I saw more white blocks, and realized that I was looking at massive icebergs.   Many hours later, near Christchurch, the bergs were much smaller, but I was surprised to see them at a time when air temperatures in New Zealand average in the 70’s and 80’s F.  Then, as the plane descended and began to depressurize, I could feel and smell the humidity.  I was back in a world of sounds and smells and colors again.

I checked into the now familiar Commodore Hotel and enjoyed a New Year’s Eve BBQ with friends of the 109^th Airlift Wing, who make the Commodore their home away from home when not on the ice.  As we enjoyed the nice tree lined patio and good conversation, an amazing thing began to happen—the sun started to go down.  Back at McMurdo on TV weather page, you can read the temperature in Centigrade and Fahrenheit.  You can see the high and low for the day, the wind direction, and the forecast for tomorrow.  Down in the corner it says “Sunset: 01:52 A.M. February 20.”  At the South Pole I think it’s more like March; and it will be the only sunset all year.   I’m thankful that I don’t have to wait that long.  Even though it was overcast, I just had to go out for a walk (without my big red parka) and let my brain absorb this wonderful sensation that most people experience every night—glorious darkness!  Meanwhile, my skin seemed to be drinking up the moisture that it has been deprived of for so long. Aaahh!





Darkness!

Christchurch is in beautiful mid-summer.  I was able to meet with my replacement here, as well as my Kiwi friend, Father Dan.  We enjoyed a long walk in the indescribably beautiful botanical garden downtown, and a visit to a museum display of the photos taken by photographers on the original Antarctic expeditions.  These historic pictures are of places that are now familiar to me.  I could say, “You see where these guys are standing—I walked right across that picture 100 years later.”

Well, as the fickle finger of fate, and airline schedules would have it, I have a few more days in New Zealand before my final 36 hour endurance trip home.  I bought myself a train ticket for tomorrow to cross the Southern Alps from the east coast to the west coast of the Southern Island of New Zealand.  They say this is one of the most spectacular train rides in the world, and I don’t expect to miss it.  I don’t know exactly how or when I will end this blog, but I will probably go on at least until I share with you some of the results of that little adventure—No promises—I just want to keep you in suspense a little longer.