The ВЛАДИМИР ИГНАТЮК Has Landed

And that is truly an indicator of the end of the season. The Russian icebreaker Vladimir Ignatyuk broke through the ice edge, some miles out from McMurdo, on February 3rd, and slowly made its way toward the station over the course of the next day. Since then, it's been carving out a channel and turn-around area big enough for the fuel, supply, and cargo vessels that will be making their respective ways to the base over the course of the coming weeks to remove waste and science gear, and to refuel and resupply the station for the 150 or so people who stay here for the eight-month winter.

The Vladimir Ignatyuk, with the Royal Society Range in the background, carves out a turnaround for cargo ships in front of McMurdo Station.

We've been busy preparing to ship everything off-continent. This includes charging batteries (about 100 of them), taking apart circuit boards, sorting cables, moving things from box to box, cleaning, and many other tasks both menial and substantial. This has all been made easier by the fact that we managed to finish our field work for the season - we made a helicopter flight to Butcher Ridge on Thursday and a Twin Otter flight to Iggy Ridge on Friday, closing out our obligations for this field season. Very exciting!

We almost didn't fly to Butcher Ridge because the weather was bad at McMurdo, but since we didn't have any time left in the season, we decided to go for it, and that turned out to be a good decision. Out there it was sunny with no wind, which was good, because at temperatures of -10 or less, any wind becomes painful. The ride out took us above canyons and high cliff walls. Actually, it rather reminded me of Utah, except for the massive amount of snow.

You have to admit that it's got sort of a southwestern feel.

Iggy was another story entirely. It was sunny when we got there, but as we landed the plane pitched a bit and we could see the snow blowing across the ice sheet. Iggy sits right at the edge of the plateau and it's particularly susceptible to katabatic winds. When we first got out of the plane, it wasn't miserable. The temperature was around -25 with 20- to 30-knot winds, and while we were hauling all of our gear (about 500 pounds) up the ridge (and over a crevasse we didn't notice until later), we were keeping warm enough not to notice. But when we started working on the station, the winds picked up to 30 knots consistently, with gusts up to 50, and the temperature dropped independent of the extra wind chill factor. Our backpacks, which we left on the ground, were covered by drifted snow within an hour, so we kept moving it around. The gear we left by the plane was buried by the time we got back. The whole experience was intense and actually kind of fun (although it wouldn't have been if we had to be there any longer). When we got in the plane the pilots, who had been sitting in the plane and freezing, cranked the heat. But to us, just being in the plane and out of the wind was a relief. The heat was almost too much.

It still wasn't cold enough to put on our ECW parkas.

It was a great way to end the season. Now all that remains to be done is packing. In 6 hours my luggage goes to the plane, and tomorrow morning I leave The Ice. I can see what draws people here season after season. Life here is uncomplicated and immensely rewarding. While I'm excited to be going home, seeing friends and family, I know I'll miss this place when I'm attempting to cross Lane Ave in Columbus at rush hour in three weeks.

But so it goes, until next year, anyway. For now, it's off to summery, sunny New Zealand to give myself just a taste of the mountains and the sea before heading back to the landlocked, flat expanse whence I came.