Status Updates From Where the Earth Meets the S...

Next to the neatly clad women and close-shaven men of the Coast Guard crew, we're a ragtag bunch with our dirty hair and sunburned faces, our coats and trousers stained with a colourful accumulation of penguin shit. The crew, out on deck for a smoke break, eye us covertly and presumably give thanks for their daily showers.

I've heard a mountaineering friend say that being stuck on the side of a mountain in a tent in a storm is like spending days in the trunk of your car. It's not quite that bad here--the hut is not that small--but the claustrophobic feeling of not being able to leave these four walls is bearing down on me.

When I sit on the ice nearby to take a couple of photos. I begin with my telephoto lens, but in short order have to switch to a 35mm and then to the wide-angle zoom as the curious [emperor penguins] come closer and closer. Soon one is pecking at my camera case beside me, and then peering right into my face while bowing to me and calling, and I realize I am being courted by an emperor. I feel inordinately flattered...

I'm reminded of the saying in Antarctica: The first time you go for the adventure, the second time you go for the money, and the third time you go because yo3no longer fit in with the rest of the world.

Working in the deep field is a make-it-or-break-it thing for human relationships. By the time the season ends you're either firm friends for life--a bond born of profound mutual respect forged in the fires of some interpersonal hell--or you despise each other with a burning hatred forged in that same place.