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.
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