Touched down in Union Glacier, a camp sectioned into guest and staff quarters, a fully functioning airstrip, and a mask wearing mandate despite everyone having at least 5 negative covid tests prior to arriving. It’s bordered in the south by Mt Ross which shelters the camp from the Antarctic gusts and maintains a quiet and protective environment.

Surprisingly the temperature was quite warm, maybe 32F. Comparable to Boston so the recommended four layers of clothing were not necessary. The most concerning aspect was the ever-present sun. 24hrs of bright light coming from the sky or reflecting off the ground snow. You can’t escape the it. It’s blinding and disorienting. Each waking hour motivates you to remain active despite your circadian rhythm telling you to wrap it up.

With extreme locations I always worry about potential cancellations of flights and postponements of excursions, but I was elated to learn that my Gould bay flight will leave the following day.

No road bumps as I entered the Ronne ice shelf bordering the Weddell Sea. It’s a temporary collection of icebergs which converge during the winter and break apart late spring. Upon arriving my host took me to the boundaries of the camp and pointed out a crack in the ice leading to the southern ocean 40ft below - 20ft of snow, 20ft of ice, then 2000ft of the Southern Ocean. One dip in the cold water and you’re done. I was advised not to venture beyond any marked boundaries as these cracks can appear anywhere.

This treacherous slab of ice also hosts a colony of 6000 emperor penguins which return from the sea in winter to nest and raise there chicks. An interesting fact about these birds is that the fathers stay with the chicks after they’re born while the mothers hunt for food. The males are know to lose 40% of their weight during this period. Quite a sacrifice to ensure the future of their progeny.

The staff consisted of a chef, naturalists, and a professional photographer who did not greet me upon arrival as she was recovering from snow blindness, essentially sunburn on the cornea.

Traveling down a 1 mile trail to the colony while pulling a 60 pound sled elicits an increase in body temperature and encourages removal of excessive jackets, hats, and goggles. After the trek the cacophony of chirps and squawks was my introduction following by the sight of tuxedoed and fluffy grey bodies. The ubiquitous presence and stench of guano was my last.

After shooting for 2.5 days wearing nothing more than a couple layers of clothing and a hat I woke up with erythema, moderate discomfort, and lacrimation of my left eye. It was difficult to open the eye as the bright scenery served as an irritant. The snow blindness likely developed after leaving my non-dominant open while shooting without protection. After this I never left my tent without proper eye protection. Symptoms lasted for about a day at which I lost an opportunity to shoot. If anything, I took more time to appreciate the landscapes and uninterrupted interactions within the colony of parents feeding their young and the chicks vigorously flapping their wings.

After 4 nights in Gould bay I returned to Union Glacier. The forecast predicted heavy clouds and an impending blizzard. The groups whom have been at the camp told us that we will unlikely leave the continent on our scheduled departure date. Morale was worsening as the conditions looked calm but the predicted weather prospects were grim. The buzz amongst us laypeople was that a plane can certainly land in these conditions, but what do we know? We’re not meteorologists or pilots. It’s like when one of my patients tells me what rate to run an epidural infusion or the exact amount of narcotics they require after surgery. Either way I made the best use of the situation. Days trips, walks, bike rides, and dominoes occupied my time.

The storm came 2 days later around 1am Monday morning, my date of departure. Temperatures dropped to -20F and 80mph winds threatened to rip my tent from it’s posts. One of the staff’s tent collapsed on her while sleeping. A true Antarctic blizzard. Stronger than anything I’d experienced in Boston. Wind gusts continued until Tuesday morning. The constant rattling of the tent from the wind combined with my tent mate’s buzzsaw like snoring ensured that I would not receive a good night’s rest.

Weather briefings 2-3x a day, usually at mealtimes, revealed little to no good news. Either poor visibility, snow on the runway, or strong winds. All updates ended with a “definitely maybe” to keep morale.

Endless days with light unable to escape made time perception difficult. I estimated time by the mapping location of the sun. Sun to the east of my tent indicated morning while the west was evening. The best light was midway between East and north. 2hrs after north was harsh and was best avoided for shooting.

I took the opportunity to explore. I hiked the 10k trail outside the camp. With occasional breaks in the clouds I was able to capture blue skies and mountain landscapes. I’m sure this is what the early explorers like Amundsen experienced as they rushed to the South.

On my last walk I was caught in a lengthy wind gust and headed back towards camp. The wind was howling at around 40mph as I carried 20lbs of gear in my back. Maybe 1/2 a mile outside of camp I heard the sound of motors and quickly peered over my shoulder. A group of 5 snowmobiles from the Chilean army camp were rapidly approaching. I didn’t know what to make of it so I played it cool. Was I trespassing on their land? Were they watching me as I veered off the designated walking trail? Neither, they were probably bored and wanted to help a lone traveling braving the strong winds and offer a ride back to the camp. It was pretty cool returning to camp with an entourage of official snow mobiles from the Chilean army.

When the situation turns from sugar to shit I reflect on what makes the situation more savory. While most are preoccupied by inflation, mask mandates, and Kenosha verdicts, I’m in the middle of Antarctic blizzards, photographing emperor penguins, and absorbing unique icy landscapes. This was more of an experience in which modern technology bows to the temperament of nature. Remember, my glass is always half full and likeminded people help reinforce this ideology. Would I return to union glacier? Probably not, but that’s because I was satisfied with my shots. However, the future is unpredictable and I might find my self trekking to the south pole or climbing mount Vincent… you never know.

December 2021