Big Dead Place. Nicholas Johnson

      Table of Contents

       Title Page

       Dedication

       AUTHOR’S NOTE

       Foreword

       Praise

       CHAPTER ONE - FROZEN REALM OF MYSTERY

       CHAPTER I NOTES

       CHAPTER TWO - THE OFFSHORE ACCOUNT AND THE ALIEN ABDUCTION

       CHAPTER 2 NOTES

       CHAPTER THREE - LITTLE AMERICA

       CHAPTER 3 NOTES

       CHAPTER FOUR - THE SOUTH POLE

       CHAPTER 4 NOTES

       CHAPTER FIVE - THE MOST PEACEFUL SPOT IN THIS WORLD

       CHAPTER 5 NOTES

       CHAPTER SIX - THE GRINDER AND THE PROJECTED MAYHEM INDEX

       CHAPTER 6 NOTES

       CHAPTER SEVEN - THE ICE ANNEX AND THE MEDEVAC

       CHAPTER 7 NOTES

       CHAPTER EIGHT - DISASTER CITY

       CHAPTER 8 NOTES

       CHAPTER NINE - THE UNITED STATES EXPLORING EXPEDITION

       CHAPTER 9 NOTES

       CHAPTER TEN - THE ANTARCTIC SERVICE AWARDS

       CHAPTER 10 NOTES

       CHAPTER ELEVEN - FAITH IN SCIENCE

       CHAPTER 11 NOTES

       APPENDICES

       GLOSSARY

       BIBLIOGRAPHY

       Acknowledgements

       Copyright Page

       FOR MOM

       AUTHOR’S NOTE

      Though this book is non-fiction, most of the dialogue herein is reconstructed from notes I made at the end of the workday, with the exception of recorded dialogue, which is inset.

      Because the United States Antarctic Program is a very small world, I have changed the names of most of those who work in The Program, unless they have given permission, or unless their positions have already brought them media attention in other instances.

      In my menial position as an Antarctic garbageman, I was exposed to a wide array of unusual official documents that had been discarded in the White Paper category. My deep research in this area (sometimes to the bottom of the bin) would not have been possible without the conscientious recycling program of the National Science Foundation, for which I am grateful.

      Map Courtesy of National Science Foundation

       FOREWORD

      by Eirik Sønneland

      MY FIRST MEETING with McMurdo was the smell of diesel. The same that disturbed our noses when over a month earlier Rolf Bae and I had skied into the U.S. South Pole base. The clean and cold air of Antarctica’s wilderness had reset our senses. Approaching McMurdo Station, we could smell humans as far as 20 kilometres outside the heart of the largest infrastructure on this frozen continent.

      I looked at the GPS Monday 5^th February 01.00 a.m. Behind us lies a ski trek of close to 3800 kilometres, from Gjelsvikfjella in Queen Maud Land, via South Pole to McMurdo Station. 105 days on skies, 11 months as the first winter crew at the Norwegian Research station, “Troll.” Research, station upgrades, a year’s worth of maintenance, and the world longest ski trek had been a success. It almost seemed like our minds and bodies didn’t know how to react—all this would soon be over. A strong feeling of humility is the best description I can give today. Feeling fragile but at the same time strong.

      Near McMurdo, the first building we arrived at turned out to be part of the fire department at the airfield. Five guys stepped from the small barracks and walked toward us. They looked confused. “Where are you coming from?” was the first question. We explained. It was silence for something that felt like a long time, and then one guy said, “You must be tired!” I didn’t feel tired, nor happy. To be quite honest I didn’t feel a thing. It was unreal. The firefighters invited us in for food and hot chocolate. They treated us very well and were calm and polite. It seemed easy to make friends. After sleeping on their couch we were escorted to Scott Base the next day. The New Zealand Base commander asked us what had happened and why we had missed our boat, the Khlebnikov. We told him the truth: we hadn’t made it in time. It seemed like he understood and offered us use of the phone to arrange alternative transport. He told us that only the U.S. Antarctic Program had transport at this point in the season, except for some cruise ships arriving in a couple of days.

      The next day we were ordered to have a meeting with the U.S. base leader. I knew this meeting would be special. It’s well known that, for various reasons, the U.S. and NSF will not support any private expeditions, which was fine with us, because we believed we could find our own way out. He arrived with his big red parka and a National Geographic cap, probably to show us that he knew all about expeditions and exploration. Obviously he didn’t. He had a strange arrogant attitude and wouldn’t listen to our story about our transport from McMurdo. He talked to us as though we were criminals. He told us that