| Today started as any day should start when you don't finish your first cup of coffee...badly. |
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The morning comenced with Aaron and myself (yes this is Andrew) trekking down to the ski doo's (or as I call them jet skis) to fill the generator that is powering our time laps camera at Cinder cones. This wouldn't have been that big of an issue except that the wind had started blowing the previous night and kept us encamped in MacTown instead of driving out to the field camp. The camera had been down for at least seven hours. This was OK because it meant we got to great sunset of the sun not going down from a warm lab window.
Back to the ski doo's. So Aaron got down there first and refueled them. At this point I showed up, primed the engine, took a few pulls on the starter cord, and relished in my usual frustration that my effort had resulted in a non-running engine. I sat and contemplated said non-running engine. This process is usually repeated many times until finally the engine or I give up and I get to then struggle trying to get the twenty-five hard Antarctic year old transmission into forward (sometimes a five minute process.) Today was different. I looked down and to my surprise there was a fluid running down the side of the seat. I leaned down to get a nice big whiff (after wafting the fluid towards my nose failed as it always does) and to my non-surprise it is gasoline (or MOGAS as they call it on the frozen continent (at least the sections where they speak English.)) In Antarctica chemical spills of any kind are no laughing matter especially for the poor shmoo who has to fill out the paperwork. This poor shmoo (who was very nice) was called down and looked at the rapidly emptying gas tank and the small and rapidly becoming inadequate spill kit provided. Needless to say he brought out all the absorbent pads necessary and stopped the spill right in its tracks even though it did not slow its rapidly spewing pace. At this point he said that we could leave and we did plan to but alas the coffee was still not in our stomach and luck was not on our side.
For some reason Aaron and I decided that it would be best not to start the other snow mobile right next to one that had a bag full of gas sitting next to it. We each grabbed a side and started pulling the beast forward. At this point the hazardous spill people turn to look and pointed out, none to our surprise, there was a puddle of gas beneath the "good" vehicle. This stopped us yet again at our job and we abandoned what was our hope of making it in some reasonable time to fill the generator and get to our dive site.
I ran up and checked out another one of the tanks without guns (i.e. piston bully's) that conveniently didn't have another job on this day. It was, of course, empty on gas. Upon reaching the fill station I chose the poorest nozzle possible. It wouldn't fill other than snail pace slow. This has two problems associated with it. 1) The handle is metal and sucks the heat out of your hand so having to hold it a long time outdoors is not a good idea. 2) I am impatient and already running late. After this seemingly never ending filling escapade I pass the hazardous waste people who kindly were giving Aaron a ride to find out where exactly I had been this past thirty minutes. At this point we finally hit the open ice road.
We finally reach the generator and realize that our luck has not quite turned. Although we did remember the gas can and it did have gas in it, we forgot the nozzle. It was sitting with the snow mobiles which were now sitting in the shop. Now it is possible to pour gas from a gas can into a generator. Even an awkward gas can such as we have. Even when the wind is blowing twenty miles an hour. But this is all only possible if you happen to be well trained in the use of a spill kit. At this point Aaron and I were spill kit pro's for the day. Although gas went everywhere, even in the tank, it was thwarted at every turn by an absorbent pad instead of snow or ice which would have created more paper work for the aforementioned "poor shmoo." At this point the generator started and the time lapse camera came to life (with a scary pause that could always mean you will pull up a sponge instead of a water tight housing.)
Our day turned for the better. We slowly trudged along in our tank on the roughest road we could find and arrived some time later at the dive hut (at turtle rock) that we should have been at an hour before. Aaron and I caught the rest of our team mid dive and got ready to build a fence just like at the other location. Our previous attempt had taken 21 people dives to complete (i.e. two divers go down that is two people dives) This fence took 10. We had two days allotted for it and it took one. We rock. With dreams of fairy tales, candy canes, and a morning of sleeping in we consult our fearless leader Stacy as to what are plans are for the newly available day. With the exuberant joy and energy that none of us can comprehend (as we feel like walking zombee's and she wants to go for a hike!), Stacy exclaims "this is great now we can collect some samples that I didn't think we would get."
We have a new dive site to look forward to tomorrow. We return to the lab in time for dinner and a lecture by a glaciologist with a very long name. The lecture was very good but after a big day our beds were calling.
Aloha,Andrew
