On December 14, 1911 , Roald Amundsen was the first explorer to stand at the South Pole and have his picture taken. On December 14, 2010 (exactly 99 years later), I did the same. My trip was considerably easier than his, and scarcely what I could call a hardship. My trip was immensely more comfortable than that of the Robert Falcon Scott expedition that arrived a month later than Amundsen, only to find a Norwegian Flag planted where they had hoped to be the first to set foot. Tragically, the entire Scott Expedition Polar Party perished on the return trip. I would stay at the comfortable Amundsen Scott South Pole Station.
My trip started when I boarded an LC-130 “Ski Bird,” and heard eleven of my favorite words, “Chaplain, would you like to ride up on the flight deck.”
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| "OK, Guys, let's take a heading south." |
From the flight deck, some cloud cover obscured a good part of the route that the Scott party took 99 years ago. I did get some pictures of the Trans-Antarctic Mountain Range, and the
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| The Trans-Antarctic Mountain Range |
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| The Beardmore Glacier winds its way down from the Polar Plateau |
When you say, “South Pole,” you may be thinking of one of three different places: If you followed your compass, you would find the Magnetic South Pole, which is somewhere out in the ocean off of French Adelie Land, outside the Antarctic Circle . Another South Pole is the “Ceremonial South Pole,” which stays in the same place relative to the surface of the roughly 9,000 feet of ice that rides over the pole. What most would say is the “real South Pole,” is the geographic South Pole that is the actual point of the earth’s rotation, projected to the surface and marked by a special marker designed by a different artist each year.
I noticed, as we flew, that the pilot’s magnetic direction indicator pointed to about 340 degrees—give or take a few. When you remember that a compass only has 360 degrees, one would guess, based on that instrument, that we were flying almost due North. That says something about the difficulty of navigating down here, especially when there is limited visibility. Even following a normal chart (or map, as we would say) is complicated by the fact that the longitudinal lines get closer and closer together until they merge at the pole. There’s not much space between those lines to put anything to navigate by. To solve that, an entirely different set of grid lines is used on these charts. Well, thank goodness for GPS; though there are not as many Global Positioning Satellites this far south as there are in other more traveled regions. For good measure, unlike most modern air ships, we carry a navigator.
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| So, This is the bottom of the world! |
What should we expect when we land? Well, for one thing, we would expect it to be cold. Even in mid-summer, as it will be next week, temperatures usually stay between minus 10 and minus 20 degrees Fahrenheit--cold, but not intolerable for a Montanan.
Secondly, remember all of that snow packed ice? It doesn’t snow much here, but since it seldom, if ever gets above freezing, most of that snow doesn’t go very far. What doesn’t get packed into ice just blows around the continent and makes a nuisance for those few hardy souls who try to make a living here. Anyway, it has been collecting for so long that it is nearly 2 miles deep. (Remember that Denver
What I’m getting around to is the potential for altitude sickness. Though the ground beneath us is actually near sea level, the official altitude at the Pole is 9,186 ft. Add to that, the low barometric pressure which fluctuates from day to day, and the effective altitude (pilots need to know this) is usually over 10,000 ft. For those of you from Montana
In the third place, this is the driest part of the driest continent on earth. It seems nearly impossible to put down enough fluids to keep from getting completely dehydrated. The Diamox pills I was taking to help fight altitude sickness have a diuretic effect. To put it politely, it elevates the rate of urination. It can also make a person rather sleepy. Put together massive fluid intake with accelerated output, and you get a sense of what the first night’s sleep was like.
Whoever had last slept in the berth that I was assigned, wanted more floor space, and elevated the bed nearly to the ceiling. Even as a tall man, I had to climb up the end of the bed to get in and climb back down to get out. Having had very long day, I fell peacefully asleep. When the urge would strike, I would climb down and go to the rest room down the hall. Then I would climb back up, settle back in, and fall asleep until the next urge. Did I mention that this is at 10,000 ft.? Did I mention that I was out of breath climbing one flight of stairs. Sheesh!
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| The bed in my berth was lofted almost to the ceiling |
The “Polies” (as they call themselves) were very friendly, and the food was good. I offered two worship services, one at and another at , so as to catch people somewhere during the 3 work shifts that go on around the clock for the 250 people on station. (Since the sun never sets in the summer, it makes very little difference which shift you work.) The services were lightly attended, but very rewarding for me. In between, I did the tourist thing; got my picture taken by two of the poles and took a walk around the “summer camp,” where many of the summer workers live. I mailed some post cards, and (of course) bought the T-shirt.
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| The Geographic Pole Note the date stamp on the picture is the same date as on the sign Behind me is the Amundsen Scott South Pole Station The tower on the left is called "The Beer Can," can you guess why? |
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| The Ceremonial Pole |
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| I had good food and conversation in the Galley |
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| The "Summer Camp" |
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| "Jamesways" for living quarters at "Summer Camp" |
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| Snow continually threatens to bury the Station |
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| This is the view looking North...from any direction...for hundreds of miles. |
I had originally planned to spend another night at the Pole and catch the first flight to McMurdo in the morning. But hearing that the only flight that day wasn’t going to arrive until 10:10 PM, (about the same as the one I came in on) and knowing that flights in and out of here are very unpredictable—and, perhaps, remembering the exercise I had, climbing in and out of bed the night before, I elected to take the 10:30 flight out. That would get me to the Pegasus Ice Runway at about . The trip across the Sound to McMurdo station ended up taking an hour and a half, so I would get home at . At least I would be home before dark.
As I boarded the plane, I heard eleven of my favorite words again, “Chaplain, would you like to ride up on the flight deck?” Yes!
