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June 25th, 2003
Bit of excitement as we were leaving Palmer Station. The big
ropes we tied up with had so much ice on them that the Capstan
winches couldn't pull them in. Maybe a 4 inch coating of sea
ice around a 6 inch diameter gorilla line gets pretty heavy.
We had guys hanging over the side stabbing the lines with big
picks and other guys in zodiacs slamming the lines with sledgehammers.
Finally with lot's of people hauling we got the lines in and
underway about an hour after we planned to.
Next stop the Drake!
In the pic that's me with the orange hard hat.
Andy
Line Haul
June 24th, 2003
Here is a pic of the midwinter party crew. Andrea had a monster
daiquiri glass that was refilled again and again. By midnight
they were dancing on the bar, and by two they had started with
the disco music and pushed the pool table off the dance floor.
I tried to get a crew together for the hot tub and polar plunge
but everyone was saying no way, but after two more hours of
drinking they had 5 people make the trek to the rocks and jump
in.
And for all you people up there who are too hot,
a little snow scene to cool you off. The view from the deck
of the bar. It's too dark to see the glacier after about 4 PM.
All the Sooty Turns just love the snow. They land and bury themselves
in it and then don't fly off until you're right on top of them.
Big blast of snow in your face and a flap of wings and you're
left wondering where the hell that came from. Two hours later
and those footprints in the picture were completely covered
over. The next day they got out the snow mobiles and towed a
bunch of snow boarders up the glacier to make some tracks in
the powder. One last day of cargo work here and we head back
North.
June 20th, 2003
Hey! So we get here to Palmer station and it's cargo all morning.
4 milvans and break bulk and 4 nets of freshies and we didn't
break one egg or smash one milk carton in the cargo nets. To
celebrate I'm up here at the penguin bar. It's early yet, no
rounds of shots so far, but the moment is fast approaching.
The bar ice is out and frantic Cajun engineers are stabbing
it vociferously with ice pics for their Piscolas (Chilean Pisco
and Coke) and the moment when devil Tequila makes its fateful
appearance can't be far off. Everyone is trying to be mellow
though since the big party is tomorrow on midwinter's day, the
shortest day of the year down here. We all got a message from
El Commendante Dubya Bush hisself commending us on our science
type work and ordering us to have a "memorable celebration"
tomorrow night. If'n that's not an invitation to break out the
Wild Turkey and have a good ol' Texas style evenin' of hootin
and hollerin' I don't k! now what is. Anyhow, more cargo tomorrow,
then some drinks and a fine spread courtesy of the good folks
in the Palmer Galley, then some more libations, and then a spot'o'hot
tubbin (purely to relieve the muscles pulled during cargo work
you understand) and then the long awaited midwinter plunge.
High winds have kept most of the ice offshore so there's no
safety hazard at all except that goin' from a 102 degree hot
tub to 28 degree seawater can tend to sprong yer ticker a bit.
But we can take it! Anyhow, Enuf o this jabberin'. There's cold
Morenita beer waiting for me (and buddy, when it's been sitting
on the deck downwind from a glacier I mean cold) and I gotta
set an example here.
June 19th, 2003
Well we're past the worst of it now be we really got our butts
kicked crossing the Drake.
Big waves, blowing rain, and a really weird following sea the
was rolling the ship all over. We started to do an XBT
transect but the weather got so bad the Captain closed the main
deck. In all fairness, I was getting soaked every time I went
out to reload the launcher, so it was probably a good thing.
The waves were over that aft port quarter all the time and the
launch tubes were underwater a lot. Anyhow, we're past it now
and getting into some more sheltered waters. ETA at Palmer Station
is 9:00AM Friday morning. Saturday is a big party since it's
midwinter's day down here. The traditional time to do the polar
plunge. This time I'm at least wearing sneakers (if not pants)
for the wild scramble back up to the hot tub over the ice and
rocks.
Andy
June 16th, 2003
So, a description of a night on the town in PA. For once not
filtered through time and decorum. For once I am writing drunk,
damp and exhausted, not more than 1 minute after staggering
back to the boat. We started the evening out at Santino's. A
respectable place with waiters and silverware. I must say my
first hour there was tough. I was a little tired and not feeling
my wittiest. But slowly the beer worked it's magic. I became
more loquacious with every bottle. Soon I was holding forth
authoritatively on any topic that entered my head. It stared
out with Me and Josh, plus the Captain and the Chief Engineer,
but the crowd kept growing. The breaking point came at 11pm
PM when Jonnette arrived. Jonnette looks innocent, kind of like
a school teacher, but she has a habit of accreting chaos around
her indiscriminately, like plaque on unbrushed teeth. Before
you know it we're at Nano's. An establishment I've told you
of before. Loud music, a full bar, the chiseled hobbit style
corridors with dance floors at each end. The only reason the
women there weren't naked is that the strips and slashes of
clothing they did wear were far more erotic than mere nudity.
A bit of fun was had at Josh's expense. The girls remembered
him from the time he was here months ago, when he staggered
off without remembering them at all. They pronounced him a "Malo
Hombre" and stuck there tongues out and gave him the evil eye
most of the night. I was (and still am dammit) in the grip of
trying to be responsible, with the new job and all, so I made
my farewells and began working my way surreptitiously towards
the door. This did not sit well with Jonnette at all and she
followed me out. She had been surrounded by a crowd of working
girls, and had just been explaining in broken Spanish that she
didn't think they were "bad", but that they had just made different
"choices" than she had. Anyhow, somehow she got in the car with
me and the AGUNSA agent Christian, and somehow, against my will,
and without me even being dully cognizant of the fact, we ended
up at Kamikaze's, the disco, and not at the ship. Now let me
tell you, from a man that has been at a normal bar(nice girls
with wit and promise in their eyes) and a cathouse(jaded girls
with an intoxicating blend of pure republican capitalism and
pure democratic empathy in their eyes) that you have never experienced
anything like a PA disco. Imagine if you can a few hundred square
yards of rhythmically seething feminine flesh at once accentuated
by strobe lights and softened by smoke machines. In this environment
alcohol and decorations are entirely superfluous. The same crowd
in any bombed out corner of Tikrit would look as good. Through
no fault of my own I found myself on the dance floor for a short
while. Trying spasmodically (and I suspect failing miserably)
to keep up with the cunning gyrations of a Chilean girl half
my age. Jonnette was dancing too, and I would see her pale Gringo
arms waving above the sea of dark Chilean hair every time the
music segued from a pulse rocking local favorite tune to the
polished and Americanized Pop stylings of Ricky Martin or Madonna
or whoever was the flavor of the month. Finally I had had enough,
and here I am, back on the ship. After walking back over uneven
sidewalks in the normal chill drizzle, I somehow got the urge
to write a dispatch. Mysterious how these things happen.
Anyhow, here I am, dazed and confused, and a mere 4 hours from
that fateful point in time when the cargo trucks arrive and
I have to act both efficient and knowledgeable. Morphing sleeplessly
between strong armed longshoreman and all knowing shipping accountant.
I stagger off now to my bunk knowing the my only saving grace
is that I left the rest of my crew out there amongst the tender
mercies of the Punta Arenas entertainment industry. There is
every possibility that no matter how club tongued and sluggish
I am in the morning, that compared to everyone else I will be
a fountain of grace and wisdom. This too is one of the miracles
of Alcohol.
All for now,
Andy
June 15th, 2003
Well we're finally tied up back at the pier after three nights
off in the Straits.
Actually last night we took on Fuel and tied up for the night
at a fuel depot pier about 10 miles north of town. Those places
are cool with all the gas flares and twisted Escher pipe complexes.
The PA pier today is about as busy as I've ever seen it after
being closed for so long. Fishing boats unloading, giant Chilean
troop ships, cargo ships. There is so much traffic it's hard
to get to town. There are busses unloading soldiers from the
troop ship and all kinds of private cars and taxis. Seems like
every ship has some welders working on it, including us. They're
fixing the bit that tore loose. There is a truckload of big
deck cannons getting loaded on one of the military ships, and
giant cranes working up and down the pier. We're just about
done with cargo for the day, but more tomorrow, plus all the
southbound passengers arrive. We're heading out now for a little
R&R at the local dives. First stop is Santino's, but who knows
after that. It'll be good to have a beer after three days of
work. Being driven offshore for weather is even harder than
being on a long science cruise because this time we could actually
see the light of PA the whole time, there just wasn't any way
to get there.
Andy
| Pretty good wave for 20 feet from the pier in the "sheltered"
waters of the Straits of Magellan isn't it? We normally
try to keep people off the main deck, and definitely out
of the yellow zone during rough seas. |
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