Blog . Eli Duke . Com

It’s always a weird sensation. There’s really no way of avoiding it. No matter who you are, four (4) months in Antarctica will change you (even if only temporarily). When you finally get back to the real world, to the land of the living, you’ll be shocked at the darkness of night; the warmth, smell, and wetness of the air; the greenness of the grass; and the fact that you actually have to pay for food.

But what would probably shock you the most is how quickly all of that fades away. It only takes a few minutes of darkness before the darkness is completely normal again. And just as the funky smell of a dorm room fades away after only a few minutes, so does the smell of life in the air. Before you know it, Christchurch becomes the norm and it’s hard to believe that you just spent the last 4 months in Antarctica.

But there are reminders.

A lot of the jobs in Antarctica involve using radios, and a lot of the people using radios have to call the Firehouse on a daily basis (“Firehouse, firehouse…”) to check in and check out and stuff. When we got into the airport shuttle last night, I immediately heard someone through the radio saying, “Firehouse, firehouse… 4011,” or something like that. The few of us sitting in the front seat couldn’t help but laugh.

I worked with the Linemen for the last 3 weeks this season, helping them put up power lines, configure elbows (high-voltage connectors) in transformers, and do other generic grunt work. Sometimes we’d ask for short power outages if we needed to switch power from one place to another. This morning I checked-out of Hotel So and checked-in at the YMCA (Raytheon only pays for 1 night in Christchurch and the YMCA is quite a bit cheaper). As I was walking up to the YMCA I noticed a large transformer outside was open and I could see all the wires and elbows and stuff. Then, as I walked up to the front counter, I saw a notice for a short power outage later that day.

I played in 3 bands this season: The Legendary Beep Beeps, HOT WONT QUIT, and Brute Force. When I was at the public library earlier today, trying to upload photos to Flickr, I saw a book on the shelf entitled BRUTE FORCE.

Walter the Plumber, who I had a blast working with all season, was always going on about “the numbahs.” What he was referring to was work-order numbers and/or part numbers. After a job was completely, we had to put down the part numbers on the work-order itself, and then we had to put down the work-order number on our time card. Whenever you asked Walter what he was doing, he’d say, “I’m gettin’ some numbahs.” One night in Christchurch a group of us went out to Bailies for dinner. I asked one of the people at the counter if I could order and she said, “Yeah, but I gotta get some numbahs.” She was referring to the numbers on a stand that identify where to deliever the food when it’s ready.

I can’t escape.

Filed under: general , antarctica, christchurch, mcmurdo, new zealand