The plan was that I would be on the flight from Christchurch to McMurdo on November 11th. The morning of November 10th, then, I had to be at the Clothing Distribution Center to be outfitted with my Extreme Cold Weather gear (hereafter known as ECW). A few months previous, I'd sent in my sizing for jacket, trousers, gloves and boots, so that they could set aside a selection for me to try on.
This is the real Clothing Distribution Center (CDC). I told you it was less exciting than the hangar.
On arriving, though, the first order of business was a briefing from Haggis, proprietor of the CDC. He told us what many of us knew already, that tomorrow's plane wasn't flying – the season so far had been marked by a series of mechanical faults with the Air National Guard C-17 that flies people and cargo down to kick off the summer's operations, and its latest problem was waiting to be solved with a part being flown in from Hawaii. That part would be delivered by another C-17, and that second one would be the one to take us to the Ice while the first was being repaired. The question was, when would the Hawaiian plane get here? Maybe tomorrow. Maybe the next day. We will wait and see.
So we watched the requisite intro video – the first of many, I was to find. Then we got a spiel from the health officer, who was to make sure we'd had our flu vaccine and weren't bringing any exciting bugs down to the close confines of the base. In parallel with this, everyone with a laptop was getting it scanned by the Information Security bot, in order to join the USAP network. I am happy to say my laptop passed its inspection; whether it's also got CIA spyware installed on it now is anyone's guess (hi, agent!). As we filed out to the clothing distribution rooms, we got scanned as well, having our temperature taken by means of a laser to the forehead, an excitingly sci-fi start to the day. Whether or not my memory was wiped and I have CIA spyware installed on it now is anyone's guess (hi, agent!).
I had been advised by my wise coordinator to be very picky about the clothes – make sure all the zippers worked, test all the velcro, make sure everything fit just right in all its layers. I had ordered the boots one size too big to allow for extra socks, and was pleased to find this made them exactly as roomy as I expected. The first balaclava got sent back for being stretched out in the cheeks, and I traded my windproof overalls for a set with shorter straps. The first parka did not pass the zipper test, so my velcro nametag was ripped off and put onto another which did. Despite all the rigamarole I'd been through to get to this point – months of forms, the neverending medical, flying literally halfway around the world – seeing my name on that parka was the first thing that make this whole adventure feel like it was actually going to happen.
In the whirlwind of excitement at the CDC, I neglected to take one single picture. This is from the plane, but that's skipping ahead.
The happening was still a few days away, though. We were told to expect to fly maybe Tuesday, and that we would be notified by our respective hotels the afternoon before. Sure enough, Monday afternoon a sheet of paper was left on my bunk telling me to check in at the Passenger Terminal (i.e. the next unit in the office building after the CDC) at 6:00 the next morning. Very exciting! That was, until about 9pm when the receptionist found me doing the final pack for departure and told me the flight was cancelled. (I found out later that the plane, shortly after leaving Hawaii, had developed its own mechanical fault and had to return. It's been that kind of year.) The following day I was notified again that I was flying, and every time I phoned the flight information hotline that night, the trip hadn't been cancelled. Somehow I managed to catch a few hours of sleep that night, knowing that as soon as my alarm went off I'd be starting the last leg of my journey to Antarctica.