Farewell

"I don't wonder at people's being drawn back and back to Antarctica in spite of the hardships and risks--there's a fascination about the life that would appeal to most anybody. It's astonishing too, how one forgets about the outer world. No doubt there are times when one simply longs for civilization again with its attendant comfort and luxury but these fits don't last and you thank your lucky stars that you're down here, living a real life" -Irvine Owen Gaze, Shackleton's Ross Sea Party

Current Weather:

-10°C|14°F Temperature

-17°C|1.4°F Wind Chill

Skies: Clear  

Visibility (miles): Unrestricted  

Winds (knots): E @ 6  

Station Pressure: 28.939 in.

Well, the time has come. Leaving Antarctica. I've heard about this day since before I arrived on the Ice. Redeployment they call it. The day you redeploy back to the "real world." "Civilization."

I don't really know what to think of this because in my mind I haven't been living in what the majority of the world calls the "real world" for some time. I've been gone to remote, far off locations, tramping across the country side. In just a few weeks I'll turn 31 years old. That birthday will mark the end of my first year of my thirties and the end of ten years of traipsing like a vagrant across God's country. It's been a good ten years. It might be the wrap up of a decade of wanderlust, but it's also the start of another decade of exploration. I will be landing in Christchurch, NZ this evening and will be hitting the road the very next day with my backpack to go explore some mountains and ocean beachside.

In my mind's eye, this life I have led has been the "real world." I've gained life experiences that I will carry with me until the day I die. I've met amazing people. Antarctica has added to that. I don't feel any special urge to be away from the ice. I'm not finished with this continent. There is still much to see and do here. I don't know how to write about my departure. Perhaps it will come to me once I arrive in New Zealand and am overcome by sensory overload. The idea of trees, grass, chirping birds, gourmet smells is enticing, but at the same time terrifying. It's about to happen all at once. I feel I need to slowly be re-immersed back into the society I left behind in October.

For now, it's farewell. I hope to return to this continent in October and re-acquaint myself with where I left off. Until then, I'm leaving you with an essay I wrote a few years back when I was feeling something similar to what I am feeling now.

Changing Seasons ~~Fran Haynes
7/31/2007 Tuesday 8:51pm

Tomorrow, August 1st and already a nip in the air. Mother Nature’s way of telling us fall is peeking around the corner. Another year spent in the elements watching the seasons alter from one to the next. Will I ever tire of this, I ask myself. I think not.


It is amazing how in tune you become to the delicacies of Mother Nature while immersed fully in her realm. It awakens one’s senses, your awareness heightened. The wind becomes brisk. The water at 13,000ft slightly more bone numbing than it was 30 days ago. Dawn is breaking later while dusk falls earlier. Yet, the sun beats down just as hot as ever. Sweat still forms to streak my face as we huff and puff our way up and over steep mountain passes day after day. My legs tire, my feet trudge on albeit their weariness, and yet my heart beats strong.


I am longing for the views on the other side of the pass. The excitement of the journey, the unknown just around the corner, it never ceases to amaze, to inspire. That is what pushes me from mountain pass to mountain pass. I have to smile when I think of my response when my friends ask me how my course was. I have never been able to explain what I seek out here. What draws me to remain, year after year, in the elements? In a way, I don’t know. Why begin now? It is times like this, when words fail me I often wish my boots had lips, for the stories they could tell. Instead, I’ll simply nod, smile, and say, “It was a good walk.”


A year ago, one could find me in the Pacific Northwest, roving the wilderness like a gypsy, climbing peaks in leaps and bounds. This winter and spring, my wandering soul settled for the warmth of the southwest. I had once looked upon this land as a harsh, barren environment. Not long into my journey did I realize my mistake as I tramped through country fragile as fine china and just as beautiful.


Seven months have passed now, and here I am in Wyoming, still in the field, still roving. The only difference has become the location of my latitude and longitude. I often forget where it is that I’ve camped. In my dreams, one memory blends with another. How many days spent in the field that breaks down to, I cannot begin to fathom. Either way it does not matter. I would have lost track before I even started counting. Time moves with the seasons.


My time in these mountains is nearing to a close. Signs abound all around me. My feet are weary, my bones ache, but my soul remains satisfied. That is my body’s way of speaking to me. It has been a good course.


In a week, I will return to that foreign land we call civilization. I will leave behind these cold rushing streams, the distant bugle of an elk, and the crimson glories of an early morning sunrise. My boots, beaten beyond repair, will be given the rest they deserve. My hair will be washed and brushed, my pack hung up to gather dust.


I will slowly conform back into society. Shrill horns and whistles, the hustle and bustle of daily life will replace this soothing calmness. Chaos will re-enter, seasons of a different sense will fill the void. A schedule and the demanding timeliness of a clock will replace the laziness of wilderness. My body will slumber like a hibernating bear.


The winter season will pass. My body knows this. The mountains, far in the distance, asleep beneath a blanketing of snow will remain, awaiting my return. Return I shall. With the seasons, I will pass in and out, living and breathing what I can only find out here.