I kept thinking, “People would pay millions for a flight like this, and here I am… on my commute to work.”
When we finally prepared to land, I couldn’t see out the window from where I sat. Instead, the change in air pressure, the slight shift of my weight, and the final jolt told me we’d touched down. I was antsy—buzzing with excitement—but had to wait patiently before we could gather our gear. The people beside me had never been to the South Pole before. For me, though, this place is the longest I’ve lived anywhere in the past eight years, so stepping off the plane felt a little like coming home.
I remembered my very first arrival: walking off the plane absolutely gobsmacked by how cold, how white, how enormous everything was. The buildings were so much larger than they looked in photos. I remember moving slowly toward the entrance with the huge United States Antarctic Program and National Science Foundation logos—moving slowly partly from awe, partly because the altitude was hitting me hard at 9,301 feet. I felt alone, overwhelmed, and exhilarated.
This time was entirely different. I practically bounced out of my seat. It wasn’t a walk into a strange land filled with strangers. Instead, I was immediately wrapped in the arms of friends I had wintered with in 2022. They were already acclimated to the altitude, so they grabbed my bags with ease and shepherded me into the warm building. Not before my glasses fogged and a few tears froze on my cheeks, though.
It is so good to be back at the bottom of the world.
