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Cooking with Rodents

I forgot a couple of things yesterday. First, orchardgirl’s question about special lighting on the ship to simulate sunshine.

In case you haven’t heard of this, some people get depressed from lack of sunlight (Seasonal Affective Disorder, or SAD, quite an appropriate acronym). I confess I have no idea how I’ll react to a month of seeing the sun just four or five hours a day. There are many reasons I love living in California, and the amount of sunshine is one of them. I enjoy it, and am so accustomed to it that I get crabby during a month with too much rain. Crabby and depressed are two different things, of course, but being a horror writer, I can’t help imagining worst-case scenarios. (Huddled in her dark cabin, unkempt, unwashed, and convinced that the water just on the other side of the hull is filled with seagoing zombies, the writer reaches desperately for her last gumi worm…)

As far as I know, there are no special lights aboard the ship. I should probably check with Raytheon about this, but I haven’t heard anyone talking about it. This possible problem occurred to me fairly early on. A friend of mine who is prone to SAD told me he had invested in a travel-sized SAD light, so I researched it, and discovered the TRAVelite. But the darned thing weighs 2 pounds. I was working on my packing list earlier today, and honestly…I don’t want to be one of those people who have a heaping pile of luggage and need a cart to schlep it around. But a month is a long time, and it’s Antarctica. I already have things on the list that I would never consider bringing on most trips. (Chocolate, aforementioned sour gumi worms, a water flask and drinking cup, an exercise ball and toning bands for the gym, more about which soon, etc.)

So I expect I’ll leave the TRAVelite and take the gamble.

Second thing I forgot to do in the last post is explain about “mid rats,” the fourth meal of the day. The first time I heard this, just for an instant, I thought of something very unpleasant. Note that I am the author of a somewhat notorious story entitled, “Cooking with Rodents,” which features a recipe for rat soufflé. But no, “mid rats” is perfectly innocuous. It is short for “midnight rations.” Which, now that I think of it, sounds like something the Vampire Lestat might enjoy…

The Shortness of Summer

This is the view from our terrace a couple of weeks ago. The weather here on the San Francisco Peninsula is turning toward summer, and each leaf, bud, and quail I see is vivid in a new and heartbreaking way. Summer is my favorite season. I wait all year for it, and all that comes with it — dream-filled hours in the vegetable garden; the scent of crushed grass beneath bare feet; the copper light of morning; the flavor of fresh apricots; the relief of a cool breeze after the heat of the day. For me, summer will be short this year, and the winter that takes its place will be darker and colder than any I have known before. Yet I lie awake at night, eager and half afraid to start South.

Last week I received word that I am officially “PQ’d,” Physically Qualified to go on this voyage. I’ve invested in a set of Icebreaker Merino wool underwear. (No joke. I discovered these on a trip to New Zealand a couple of years ago, and they are unbelievably soft and totally non-itchy.) Also got six pairs of REI heavy wool socks. And today, in a FedEx envelope heavy with possibilities, I received my plane tickets to Chile. It’s all becoming very real now.

I’ve been working hard to make my preparations while continuing with the more ordinary parts of my life, the ones we all deal with, paying the bills, doing the laundry, keeping milk in the fridge and bread on the table. As well as the ones that are peculiar to my own daily life, which involves the work of my writing, my work as a trustee for the Clarion F&SF Writers’ Workshop, and the tasks that go along with being married to Stanford University’s Provost. This week there are lots of them. Sunday night we hosted a dinner party for the Rathbun family and Sandra Day O’Connor, who will be giving the inaugural lecture in the “Harry’s Last Lecture” series on what constitutes a meaningful life. It’s hard to imagine a better person than Justice O’Connor to deliver such a message. The lecture will be tonight, preceded by dinner elsewhere on campus. Tomorrow night, a dinner for Fr. Patrick, long-time head of the Catholic Community at Stanford, and our much-loved priest. For that, John gets out his tux and cummerbund and I wiggle into a gown, thinking all the while of how much more comfortable a set of Carhartt bibs will be. Saturday night, the Stanford Symphony and a dance troupe from China.

orchardgirl has asked a couple of very good questions. Hiya, orchard. 🙂 First, how big is the Nathaniel B. Palmer? The NBP (as she is fondly known among those closest to her) is one of the National Science Foundation’s Antarctic Research Vessels. She was built in 1992, and is 300 ft. (93.9 m) in length and 60 ft. (18.3 m) in breadth. Her four 12,000 horsepower Caterpillar diesel engines allow her to break up to 3 ft. of ice at a speed of 3 knots.

orchardgirl’s other question is about what we’ll be eating while we’re at sea. “What will your diet consist of for a month? I assume it will be high high fat (maybe unlimited access to Payday candy bars), and few fresh veggies by the end of it all. Does the ship have special lighting to simulate sunshine? I’m serious about this.” I wish I knew the answer to this. Well, I know some parts of it. We’ve already been warned to bring our own junk food if we can’t do without it. So much for the unlimited Payday candy bars. I plan to pack a pound or two of sour gumi worms. Probably right about the fresh veggies, which, if we leave port with any, will surely be gone after the first week. On the other hand, we’ll probably have a copious supply of frozen food. Heh heh…

I don’t know whether the food is chosen for high fat content. That would make sense. I do know that four meals a day are served. The fourth meal, “mid rats,” is served from 11:30 p.m. to 12:30 a.m. daily. One of the researchers who has done this before told me it’s one of the most popular meals, because everyone is so starved after a long day in the cold.

Of Scientists and Seas

So why are we doing all this in the dark of winter instead of waiting for better light and higher chances of good weather? Asked about this, our chief investigator, Ken Smith, responded as I suspected he might. Time on the icebreaker is at a premium and is often booked years in advance. So our group got a good slot for our 2009 voyage (March/April), but had to take what was left for 2008, which was…winter.

Even though winter is not the optimum time, Smith and his colleagues took the June slot anyway, because they need a field opportunity before 2009 to test and calibrate the new instruments they’ll be using. Also, winter provides an unexpected chance to see how the iceberg ecosystem changes with the seasons.

I have spent the past ten days or so writing up a press release and a fact sheet about our trip, and have learned a good deal in the process. My guess in the previous post concerning the latitudes we’ll be haunting was technically correct, but too broad. We’ll spend most of the voyage between 60 and 62 degrees South latitude, and 30 to 50 degrees West longitude. Here’s an excellent map.

The Weddell Sea is essentially an enormous bay (2000 km across at its widest point). Until recently, its coast was almost entirely hemmed by ice shelves, including the Larsen, Ronne, and Ruser-Larsen shelves. The Larsen Ice Shelf is much diminished, and the Ronne and Ruser-Larsen have experienced very significant breakup in the last decade. As a result, there are more icebergs in the Weddell Sea than anywhere else on the planet, and any effects they may be having on the environment will be easiest to detect there. So we are drawn to this place.

And what else have I learned? That while they are vastly creative and imaginative, scientists are also careful and conservative about the claims they make. I tried to rework a quotation I found belonging to Tim Shaw, a geochemist and one of the principle investigators on this voyage. My intention was to make it easier to understand, and a bit more exciting, without really changing its meaning. Tim’s response? “This is extremely speculative. It will cause a firestorm!” His quotation was much more carefully worded than I realized, and could hardly be changed at all because its meaning was so precise.

Next posts, how the machinations of fate crossed my path with that of a woman who has spent her career in Antarctica, a good deal of it traveling on the Nathaniel B. Palmer. My search for the perfect cold-weather underwear. And a bit about the nearness of a long-time goal: to learn the first form of TaiChi Chuan, and more recently, to learn it before embarking for Antarctica. I use the term “learn” loosely…