Antarctica, Austral Summer 2019 - 2020 (Part 10 - Vessel)

Once the holidays have come and gone, things slow down a little bit at McMurdo. After weeks of partying, it honestly feels as though most people in town have had their fill.

Things in the kitchen became slightly boring as the dinner crew was so good that we were riding two days ahead on prep pretty much consistently. This often left us looking for things to do before we were handed some task that absolutely no one wants to do. It didn’t help that the numbers in base began slowly trickling down which meant there were fewer people to feed. The population of the town even dipped below 800 for the first time in months at one point.

It was during this time that most of us had to choose our route back to the real world known as our “redeployment.” One of the options is to stay in New Zealand and take control of your own ticket back home so you can do some traveling. After being away from Audrey and our two dogs for nearly five months, I had no intention on prolonging my stay away from home and chose the first available air (FAA) option, meaning I would take the first flight back home after landing in Christchurch.

The slowdown was short lived as McMurdo prepared for the arrival of the first resupply vessel. For the first time in the history of the base, McMurdo would be welcoming three ships full of cargo: a fueling tanker, a routine resupply ship, and an addition boat full of building supplies needed for the AIMS project.

Things got real with the arrival of the US Coast Guard Cutter (USCGC) Polar Star, an ice breaking ship that annually clears the path into McMurdo sound for the annual unloading of cargo.

On the morning of January 22, the first cargo vessel, the MV Ocean Giant, docked by the wharf at McMurdo sound. The ice surrounding Ross Island this year was very thin and as such it was deemed unsafe to be used as an ice pier. Because of this, the ship had to bring its own mobile causeway in order to unload its cargo.

On board the vessel was roughly 1.2 million pounds of food. Most of it was to be stored in the large frozen warehouse near the galley but a few thousand pounds were the first freshies that we had received in over a month and a half. Although most of it was things like carrots, potatoes, onions, and fruit, we also received whole eggs, something the station had been without for several weeks.

Upon the ship’s arrival, base goes dry meaning the bars close and the station store is no longer allowed to sell alcohol. In the time leading up to this “dry period,” people begin stockpiling their alcohol rations in order to make them last until the end of the season. Its honestly kind of sad to see just how reliant on alcohol a lot of people on this base are. Once the bars closed, a lot of people seemingly didn’t know what to do with themselves when they weren’t working. I actually liked the dry period as it calmed things down at night around town and allowed me time to write, spending quieter evenings with my group of friends, and continue climbing Observation Hill.

During the vessel offloading, several areas around the station are fenced off and made off-limits to most people. The increased traffic of heavy vehicles in the area helping with the offload makes the area too dangerous to allow any unnecessary foot traffic.

The arrival of the icebreaker and vessel also meant the arrival of the NAVCHAPs (Navy Cargo Handling and Port). NAVCHAPS come to the base every year to help with the unloading of the cargo ship, during which time McMurdo sees an influx of almost 300 military personnel causing the population of the base skyrocket well north of 1000 people.

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These new military arrivals put a massive strain on the kitchen. Not only are we now cooking for hundreds of additional people, but these guys and gals eat like starving animals. This comes at a time where the station as a whole is running low on food for the season. This isn’t due to some kind of improper planning on the part of management, it’s just the way things seem to go down here.

During the dinner service of January 27th, we ran out of food for the first time so far this season. We all had to scramble in the kitchen to put together something similar to what was on the menu that night. We snagged some meat that was set aside for dinner a few nights down the road and started cooking on the fly. It also didn’t help that we were short staffed at the time as one of the cooks from our crew got moved to the overnight shift for the rest of the season to help them with the food required to feed all the additional midrats.

By the end of the day on the 28th, the Ocean Giant officially completed offloading and would soon make the journey back home. The ship does not return back to the US empty however. Due to the Antarctic treaty, all human presence on the continent must be kept antiseptic as possible. As such, several tons worth of trash and human waste are packed and loaded into conex boxes that are then placed on the ship and sent back to Port Hueneme, CA to be disposed of.


The end of January meant that the C-17s could resume flying down as the weather was cold enough for Phoenix airfield to stay solid. The return of C-17 flights also marks the beginning of the end of the summer season. The first “exodus” of passengers was scheduled for January 31st with but was delayed a few days due to weather and mechanical issues. This delay made me feel pessimistic about my odds of leaving as scheduled on February 19th. The delay also caused the population of the base to balloon north of 1200. Since McMurdo doesn’t have beds for that many people, foldable cots were set up in the big gym near the helipads for people to sleep in.

Our dreams of going home on time were continuously getting beaten down. In the days that followed, we learned that the C-17 suffered some moderate damage to one of its engines and would be out for roughly a week. Upper management also hit us with the bad news that the second vessel broke down on the way down from California and was stuck in New Zealand getting repaired. Management continued to tell us that we were all still on schedule to redeploy as planned but most of the crew in the kitchen rolled their eyes and we started joking that this continent was like the titular spacecraft from the sci-fi horror movie Event Horizon, “You can’t leave. She won’t let you.”

Luis Fayad