On the side of the LC-130 is the logo of the New York Air National Guard. One of my homes is in upstate New York, so seeing “New York” written on the plane while standing on the ice felt strangely grounding, like a tiny thread connecting two completely different worlds.
Some of my colleagues were stuck in McMurdo for two weeks due to weather and were desperate to leave. I had the opposite problem: I felt short on time and hardly had a moment to hug my friends stationed there. Still, I managed to join the run club for a jog over Scott Base Hill—a perfect way to move my body after so many cramped hours on planes. The temperature hovered around 20°F, but between the neck gaiter, hat, gloves, fleece, and the heat I generated from running, I was more than comfortable. I tried to soak in the sweeping views of the Royal Society Range and the seals lounging among the pressure ridges below. Soon enough, there would be nothing but flat, white emptiness—an entire landscape without a single sign of life.
Before reaching the polar plateau, we flew over the Transantarctic Mountains—one of the world’s best examples of a rift system, with peaks carving their way through the massive ice sheet. The sight is indescribable, yet describing it is literally my job. With my face pressed to the tiny window and cold seeping through the glass, I wondered how I could possibly convey this to students. The best analogy that came to mind was a jar of Cool Whip sculpted by a spoon, peaks and folds everywhere—or maybe the cracked top of cream cheese left out too long. I hope the photos help illustrate the sheer scale of these mountains, with glaciers spilling off their sides in every direction. The vastness seemed endless.
