The Pole
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| Heading South on a LC130 |
Conditions (South Pole): Con3: Temperature -17°F (ECW weather). Population ~ 150
So I guess it pays to complain. Right after my last grumpy post, I was sent on a medevac to the South Pole. Typically, when someone gets ill down there, they are medevac'd first to McMurdo and are then to Christchurch if necessary. An Air Force Air Evacuation crew member always accompanies them on the flight. Depending on the acuity of the illness, the Air Force may send more than one attendant.
Yesterday, there was a medevac of a stable patient, someone with worrisome laboratory tests but largely asymptomatic. Out of the goodness of his heart, the Flight Surgeon here at McMurdo (John), sent me along with the flight nurse, Major Crystal Gomez, to do the medevac. There really was no need for me to go but we all want to get to the South Pole and this was my chance. Joe, our PT, joined us. The South Pole doc (Chris Martinez from Winfly here at McMurdo) wanted some advice on specific PT issues so Joe is staying for the week.
We took off from Willy Field in an LC130 somewhere around 7:00 PM in snowy, overcast, windy conditions. Air and sea were indistinguishably white with no horizon evident. I was nervous. Remarkably, though, I couldn't even tell when the plane took off. The airfield crew grooms the runways so well, and the skis float so smoothly on the ice, that you can barely tell you're moving. Yes, you can feel a bit of acceleration but without windows, there is no indication that the plane has left the ground. And after takeoff, nary a bump.
For the first hour or so, there was nothing to see out of the few windows but clouds. Major Gomez lent me a headset and then gave Joe and me a tour of the plane. She showed us where the hatches are, how the cargo is strapped down and how to put on the EPOS hoods (made me claustrophobic to look at them) and the life vests (no need there!). She then got to the nitty-gritty of patient transport: how they hang the litters for wounded soldiers, how they provide oxygen and cardiac monitoring, and how the flight medical team--which can be small compared to the number of patients--works together to tend to their critically ill charges, sometimes on extended missions.
Although in clinic, Air Force and civilians staff typically call each other by our first names, I've converted to just calling Crystal, "Major". Under that sweet, quiet, polite shell is an impressively competent warrior. The Major, however, still calls me "ma'am", despite all my requests. Ugh.
After the first hour, the skies cleared and we passed over the Transantarctic Range. Transcendent and forbidding.
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| Views from the cockpit of Transantarctic Mountains |
Somewhere around 10:00 we slid in to the Amundsen-Scott South Pole Station airfield. We knew we had limited time there. The Air Force didn't want to turn of the engines--they needed a quick turn around of cargo and passengers. We had been forewarned about the quick trip and Joe, the Major and I ran off to the "tourist" sites. Oops.
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| The LC130 on the ice runway at the pole. Flight nurse, Major Crystal Gomez, is under the propeller |
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| The welcome sign for the station |
We got reprimanded. After a few minutesat the Ceremonial South Pole, some guy came up on a snowmobile screaming, "where's the PT?". He then obstructed our picture taking and fumbled to get a helmet on Joe, chastising him the entire time for not coming in for the orientation. The smallest thing here (five minute delay) always seems to be a crisis. Chris Martinez, our former McMurdo colleague, now at Pole, then briefly tut-tutted at the Major and me for taking pictures before entering the building. Then he gave us a quick tour of the beer can (the stairs that go down to the tunnels) and the tunnels themselves with water treatment, sewage, power, and food storage. By the time we reached the warehouse, we heard ourselves called back to the plane for return to McMurdo. Barely 30 minutes had passed.
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| Amundsen Scott Station. Inside, is one long, metallic, sterile hallway with all rooms coming off it. I felt I was in the Starship Enterprise |
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| At the ceremonial South Pole. |
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| The Geographic South Pole. From here, every place is north. The magnetic south pole is nowhere near here. It is drifting NW and is now 1700 miles away near the French base. |
We trudged back up the stairs. Trudged, you ask? Yes, trudged. I forgot to mention that the Pole is at 9300 feet and physiologically, is at 11,000 feet. My heart was pounding by the time I reached the seventh of the eight flights of stairs. I struggled to lift those stupid bunny boots up the steps.
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| My heart rate on Pole day. Between 1 and 2 PM , I was at the gym on the treadmill. Between 9 and 10 PM, I was at the South Pole. When I got back on the plane, my oxygen saturation in the low 80's (normally, close to 100), as was the Major's and that of the flight crew. Fortunately, we were all relatively asymptomatic though the loadmasters kept taking sips from the oxygen tanks. |
We were paged again as we entered the main living/working spaces so we didn't get a chance to see anything else: not the clinic, not the galley, not the store. Nothing. We passed down the hallway, emptied our bags of things people asked for from McMurdo, hopped on a cart being pulled by a snow mobile the 100 yards to the plane, talked for a bit with the patient (already on the plane) and were off. We arrived back at McMurdo at 2:00 AM. Sun shining, of course.
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| View on the way back of the Transantarctic range. |
I wish I could have stayed longer. Or could go again. But apparently, a complaint was lodged against the medical crew for going to take pictures and delaying orientation. So it's possible there will be no further "extra" air crew.
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