That Moment You Don't Forget

Hello from Antarctica! I'm here! I'm so disoriented and feeling crazy, so I'll do my best to recap this whole unforgettable experience.

On Tuesday, a shuttle picked us up at our hotel at 5:15am in New Zealand. I wasn't convinced at this point that we were even going anywhere. But we went to the CDC, put on our ECW gear, weighed in (I weighed 174 pounds with all my gear), checked-in our luggage, drank some coffee, and before I knew it I was boarding a USAF C-17 military plane. Just like that. Before we left Christchurch, we were "briefed" about how to board the plane, what to expect, and exactly how much water needs to be drunk. There was a point in all of the strict instructions and overload of information that hit me hard, and I didn't understand it until last night when I fell asleep in my dorm in Antarctica...we were told, "Today is one of those days in your life that you will never, ever forget. What you will experience today is one-of-a-kind, that not many of us ever experience. Take it in."

At some point on the 5 hour flight, we flew past the Antarctic Circle. I looked out the peakhole window to catch a glimpse. There was a layer of clouds, and a few chunks of sea ice floating. An hour later I looked again and saw white - with cracks and crevasses of ocean peaking through. A little while later I looked out and saw where the thick sea ice meets the continent. I can't describe to you how breath taking that image is. It is one I will never forget. An hour later, I looked out and saw the jetting mountain peaks making their way out of the thick ice upon snow. The bottom of those peaks are miles below the surface. That's when I started getting nervous. If we crash, we'll all dead.

After breathing my way through that scare, the captain announced our descent to Pegasus skiway, our final destination. The landing was bizarre to say the least, and to be honest, I hardly remember those last few moments of the flight. What I remember is the moment in our lives we were warned about, the one you never forget. The moment that has been anticipated for months. The moment I've been imagining in my mind, yet is truly unimaginable. I can't even remember what I thought it would be like, because the real thing was etched into my memory and filed away in a place of moments I'll never, ever, ever forget.

First it was bright. Then it was frigid cold. I waddled down the C-17's metal, monstrous staircase in my awkward boots and took my first step onto the Antarctic continent. Packed snow and bright, bright sun. For about 10 seconds I lost time. I was suddenly confused, could barely realize anything. I couldn't breathe, couldn't see. I felt my body go weightless and my brain go numb. Behind me was the loud C-17 and its roaring engines. To my right was an astonishingly gigantic mountain peak, probably 100 miles away, but I felt like I could reach out and touch it. To my left was absolutely white nothing. Something inside me took over and I managed to walk in a straight line, in the same direction as the other 130 people on my flight. I could see big, alien looking trucks and lots of excited people, lots of hugging. There was no sound, just my body trying to catch breath. I came to, and I was sitting in one of those alien vehicles with tires twice my height. And we were moving; actually, bouncing on what felt like 10' tall boulders. My nose and eyes were frozen and I couldn't feel my fingers, despite the "extreme cold weather gear" I was wearing. And despite the 5 layers of North Face and Columbia and Under Armour I was also wearing.

About 45 minutes later, I stepped out of the spaceship vehicle and followed the escorted group of new arrivals into a building, where I saw the familiar faces I've been wanting to see for days. Comfort and familiarity, my co-workers smiling, happy, excited faces waiting for me - Jaime and Andrea. Strong, long hugs. Kisses on cheeks. Another familiar face, Brandon, tells me he and another guy are going to pick up my bags and take them to my dorm. Jaime and Andrea tell me to go sit through another briefing and they will be waiting for me right there. I could handle this, even though I felt more physically confused than I've ever felt in my life. Disoriented. Completely out of touch with my location, my hands, my words. Unstable. Mixed up. Bewildered. Perplexed. Unbalanced. I'm not sure there are words to describe what I still feel, at this moment, more than 24 hours later. I'm still....lost.

Andrea picked up my issued bedding in another building. Jaime walked me to my dorm, pointing out buildings I still can't remember how to find. Brandon picked up my bags for me somewhere else. The rest of the night was a blur. I ate dinner in Building 155, aka "the galley". I drank so much water I had to use the restroom every couple hours throughout the night. I curled up in my North Face sleeping bag, tugged the covers over my head, and fell asleep instantly.

Today was better, but something still isn't right. I'm just...lost! I managed to get to my office where Andrea decorated my desk with fake flowers and laminated pictures of Taj and Maci :) When I saw their faces I almost lost all emotional control. I made it through the day, following everyone around, meeting people I can't remember in places I don't recall how to find. I did some simple data entry stuff, figured out how to log in to everything and changed my desktop wallpaper. I fed myself, took a shower, did some laundry. I drank a lot of water and tea.

I can do this. I can live here on this unexplored, uninhabited, pristine continent on the bottom of Earth. It was -30 degrees today and dry as a bone, but I will figure out this cold weather gear whether I want to or not. Before my Mom died, I saw life through very different eyes. Although I have always lived as if anything is possible (because it is!), I was never as hesitant to do things. I never mulled over the thousands of versions of how something could go completely wrong. I used to buy plane tickets to places, strap on my backpack without a second thought; make decisions as if there were second chances right and left. Handle things on a whim, on a feeling, completely impulsive. Now I think about every microscopic detail of how I will handle myself in every way. But I am wrong to do that, because the truth is, you never know how you're going to handle yourself until it happens. You just can't prepare yourself for anything in life, you just DO IT. No matter how much I relive those last few weeks of my Mom's life, I could have never prepared myself for the miserable, catastrophic crash that was my life. Anyone who has lost anyone as close as a Mother knows that feeling too well. Even though us humans are amazingly resilient and complex and intelligent, you change when something like that happens. You are suddenly completely lost. Disoriented. Unstable. Are there words for this? But you have two options, survive or not. And you do survive, little by little. Day by day. Experience by experience. And here I am, sitting in my office in Antarctica. Completely lost and confused and taking every step lightly and carefully. I will do this. I will absorb every second of it. I will love it.

And I will find a penguin for my Mom. Hopefully she's there with them :)

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