Why Antarctica
“Why Antarctica?” That’s a question I’ve been asked time and time again. You’d think by now I’d have a better answer, considering how many times I’ve tried to explain it. But to my surprise, it’s not just a flat piece of ice dominated by cold and wind—though, okay, the cold and wind part might be true. It’s so much more than that. If you try to compare it to the beauty of our "green world," you’ll miss the beauty in the ice. But when you look at it for what it is—a desolate expanse with sparkling white snow in every direction, ruled by cold and wind—you start to see Antarctica for itself. Comparing the green world to the ice world is like comparing apples to oranges.
Depending on the time of year, it’s either 100% daylight or 100% night sky. Personally, I’ve only experienced the endless daylight. Maybe I’d see the continent differently if I’d been there for the total darkness.
Look closely at the ice and sky on a sunny day, and you’ll see the rainbow that dances across the top layer of snow. The flakes reflect colors—yellow to orange to blue to violet. Notice how it’s everything but white? But when Antarctica wants a storm, she gets a storm. In minutes, clouds turn furious, blocking out the sun and making the world feel like a black-and-white movie. The bright reds of tractors fade, and the ocean shifts from aquamarine to a choppy, angry black, threatening the shore. Sometimes these storms last hours, sometimes days, and sometimes weeks. But just as quickly as it left, the sun returns—turning snow into a blur of colors, transforming icy waters back into playgrounds for penguins.
And that’s just the landscape. I could write a novel about the people. But since publication probably doesn’t allow for a 100-page, 12-point Times New Roman essay raving about the folks at the bottom of the world, I’ll be brief. Imagine 600 people, dropped off by a U.S. Air Force C-130 at McMurdo Station, Antarctica. Planes that carry about 100 people—and every single one of them chose to be there. They went through an intense hiring process just to get shipped off to the bottom of the world for half a year. Prestigious doctors and scientists become food stewards. A carpenter from Louisiana drives tractors. Someone from California comes to weld. People come from all around the world, each with different reasons: a childhood dream, the desire to say they’ve been, or, in the rarer case, to conduct groundbreaking research. No matter who you meet at McMurdo, you all have one thing in common: you chose to be there. It creates an incredible culture and atmosphere.
This year will be a bit different. At the beginning of October, I’ll fly to McMurdo like usual, but I’ll only stay for about two weeks. In mid-October, my soon-to-be partner in crime, roommate, coworker—the only other person I’ll see every day—will head out with me to our remote field camp. The excitement and anticipation overshadow any nerves. Every day, the realization that Antarctica is just around the corner hits, reminding me to start packing and making me restless with excitement.
Right now, I’m not afraid of the isolation. I think the environment will speak loudly enough to keep me company. I look forward to learning how to think like ice thinks, hear like wind speaks, endure like glaciers move, and let my body dance in the wild.
So, if someone asks me again, “Why Antarctica?” Well, I guess that’s why.
