Published in the Antarctic Sun
Almost exactly 99 years ago, construction began on the first building on Ross Island: Robert Scott’s Discovery Hut. Now, researchers and fundraisers are stepping up the effort to preserve and restore the historic huts in the Ross Sea area.
Ross Island’s three huts – Scott’s on Hut Point and Cape Evans and Ernest Shackleton's on Cape Royds – are the primary targets for preservation, though there are over 30 historic sites in the region, including memorial crosses and supply depots left by the early Antarctic explorers.
"We have the responsibility for the practical management of Heroic Age sites in the Ross Sea area," said Nigel Watson, executive director of the Antarctic Heritage Trust, a New Zealand-based, non-profit organization.
To date, the AHT has hired conservators to come to the Antarctic to slow or halt the decline of metals, woods and fibers at historic sites. The trust also maintains a collection of artifacts in Christchurch, which are being worked on and will eventually, Watson said, be returned to their original locations.
But the trust’s work so far has only slowed the rate of decay of rare historic artifacts. "We really haven’t halted the decline," Watson said. "As you look through the huts you can see the decay. Don’t take it for granted, because one day it might not be there," he said, noting that one of the two buildings at Cape Adare is no longer standing.
Watson said the trust is now looking at different approaches to maintaining each historic hut site, ranging from a possible full restoration of the Discovery Hut to its original condition, to preserving a hut at Cape Evans or Cape Royds in something close to its current condition, though treating the materials to prevent future decay.
This could cost several million dollars, Watson said. The AHT relies on donations from the public for its operating budget. The money must fund responsible care for the huts, Watson said.
To that end, the conservation effort is backed up by scientific research. Bob Blanchette of the University of Minnesota, and Roberta Farrell of the University of Waikato in New Zealand are conducting a joint effort, funded in part by the U.S. National Science Foundation, to study the decay and deterioration of wood in the historic huts.
The main source of damage to the wood is erosion. High winds sandblast the outer walls of the huts. This is visible, Blanchette said, particularly on the beams supporting the verandah of the Discovery Hut.
There is also chemical deterioration. The high salt content of the snow in the area, due both to the nearby seawater and to gas emissions from Mount Erebus, weakens the wood fiber.
Further, Blanchette said, fungi within the huts are attacking the materials that are sheltered from the storms to which the outer walls are subjected. In addition, there seems to be a soil fungus attacking the wood foundations. It is not clear, Blanchette said, how this fungus arrived at the historic sites or how it retained its ability to attack wood in a wood-less environment.
"The fungi that we’re finding are very unusual and appear to be unique to the Antarctic," he said.
Part of the research is also looking at the impact of visitors to the hut, who introduce dirt, heat and moisture into closed-up buildings. Blanchette’s group has installed temperature and humidity monitors in the huts, and is trying to keep close track of the length of time visitors spend in the huts.
Blanchette and Watson are optimistic. Watson noted that the centenaries of the construction of each hut are coming up within the next decade. That provides a unique historical angle on fundraising, he said, which may have very positive results for the huts’ preservation.
Blanchette also believes that research and conservation can work hand in hand to restore and protect the huts before they disappear.
"It’s not too late," Blanchette said.
Sunday, January 21, 2001
Sunday, December 24, 2000
Warm bodies, warm hearts: A day with McMurdo's GAs
Published in the Antarctic Sun
It’s early morning. Most folks are struggling to get to work with coffee in hand. But several brighteyed, low-paid men and women are bouncing off the walls in the GA shack next to the carpenters’ shop at McMurdo.
Led by former general assistant Sally Lyon, this season’s operations GAs are ready to work. Lyon doles out the day’s tasks.
"Heather, you’ll go to waste. Lynn, you’ll go to the galley, but it’s just for the morning," Lyon says. She also sends two GAs in a Spryte to replenish the Penguin Ranch fuel supply. The remaining two head out to Williams Field to re-flag a route on the ice shelf.
These operations GAs are not the only ones in town. But the work of several other GA's assigned is with designated departments in town, such as facilities maintenance and fuels department, is bit more specialized.
The nine operation GAs are the ones out shoveling snow, moving boxes, entering data and generally helping out all around McMurdo Station.
It doesn’t take a lot of training to be a GA, though they do go to happy camper and sea ice schools early in the season. But it does take a certain type of person.
Lyon picks her crew carefully from a pool of applicants that by far outnumbers the number of positions available. They're all seeking a job with adventure. "The variety is what attracts most people," Lyon said.
Most of the people she picks, Lyon said, are flexible and have a sense of humor as well as
a broad range of life experiences. This year’s GAs include a former Peace Corps volunteer,
a former tour director with the Ringling Bros. and Barnum & Bailey Circus, and a person
who worked with delinquent youth.
But there is one characteristic that pervades all else in the application process, Lyon said: "Somehow they’ve made it clear that they will do anything to get here."
This means Lyons doesn't have to sell the job; she even tries to discourage applicants. She starts an interview by telling them about the worst parts of the job. If they still sound positive, she tells them the good parts.
As the season progresses, work varies a bit, but not always enough. Sometimes GAs end up doing the same thing for several days. Though from the beginning they were told that this would almost certainly happen, it is still sometimes difficult.
When the job does change every day, on the other hand, there’s different challenge. "You don’t see the big picture," said GA Lynn Keating. A day-long task for a GA may be part of a month’s worth of effort for everyone else; having a sense of closure about a project is rare.
Lyons tries to mix up the tasks among the group a bit, to keep them interested in what’s going on, and to keep them learning about how the station operates. "My goal is that they’re as excited to work on January 20 as October 20," Lyon said.
She reminds them to be aware of where they are and how amazing it is. "When you’re shoveling, don’t forget to look up," Lyon said.
In addition to becoming well-rounded in operations, being a GA is a good way to make a good impression on people who will be hiring for next season. "It’s a great springboard," Lyon said.
All of last year’s McMurdo GAs came back for another season, whether for winter at Palmer or in town this season. Many more ex-GAs work all over town and throughout the Antarctic program.
"Everywhere you go, there’s former GAs," said GA Heather Reider.
From those former GAs and the quality of work of each year’s crew, the word is spreading
that GA labor is valuable, Lyon said. "People are starting to recognize that there’s an incredible amount of talent in this group," Lyon said.
Lyon’s combination of practicality and motivation works out well for her and for the GAs. Most of them are active most days, and they are able to work without much supervision. "They exceed my expectations," Lyon said.
And even outside of work the GAs stick together as a team. "A roomful of strangers become the best of friends in four months," Lyon said. In the morning, they trade jokes and stories,
as well as tips and thoughts about previous work or that day’s upcoming projects. At lunch, they rally around each other, asking, "How’s your day going?" and exchanging reports of how life and work are in different departments.
The bottom line for most of the GAs is that they’re here on the Ice and experiencing a range of ways to work and live. "If you’re going to work your butt off for not very much money, why not do it here?" Lyon said.
It’s early morning. Most folks are struggling to get to work with coffee in hand. But several brighteyed, low-paid men and women are bouncing off the walls in the GA shack next to the carpenters’ shop at McMurdo.
Led by former general assistant Sally Lyon, this season’s operations GAs are ready to work. Lyon doles out the day’s tasks.
"Heather, you’ll go to waste. Lynn, you’ll go to the galley, but it’s just for the morning," Lyon says. She also sends two GAs in a Spryte to replenish the Penguin Ranch fuel supply. The remaining two head out to Williams Field to re-flag a route on the ice shelf.
These operations GAs are not the only ones in town. But the work of several other GA's assigned is with designated departments in town, such as facilities maintenance and fuels department, is bit more specialized.
The nine operation GAs are the ones out shoveling snow, moving boxes, entering data and generally helping out all around McMurdo Station.
It doesn’t take a lot of training to be a GA, though they do go to happy camper and sea ice schools early in the season. But it does take a certain type of person.
Lyon picks her crew carefully from a pool of applicants that by far outnumbers the number of positions available. They're all seeking a job with adventure. "The variety is what attracts most people," Lyon said.
Most of the people she picks, Lyon said, are flexible and have a sense of humor as well as
a broad range of life experiences. This year’s GAs include a former Peace Corps volunteer,
a former tour director with the Ringling Bros. and Barnum & Bailey Circus, and a person
who worked with delinquent youth.
But there is one characteristic that pervades all else in the application process, Lyon said: "Somehow they’ve made it clear that they will do anything to get here."
This means Lyons doesn't have to sell the job; she even tries to discourage applicants. She starts an interview by telling them about the worst parts of the job. If they still sound positive, she tells them the good parts.
As the season progresses, work varies a bit, but not always enough. Sometimes GAs end up doing the same thing for several days. Though from the beginning they were told that this would almost certainly happen, it is still sometimes difficult.
When the job does change every day, on the other hand, there’s different challenge. "You don’t see the big picture," said GA Lynn Keating. A day-long task for a GA may be part of a month’s worth of effort for everyone else; having a sense of closure about a project is rare.
Lyons tries to mix up the tasks among the group a bit, to keep them interested in what’s going on, and to keep them learning about how the station operates. "My goal is that they’re as excited to work on January 20 as October 20," Lyon said.
She reminds them to be aware of where they are and how amazing it is. "When you’re shoveling, don’t forget to look up," Lyon said.
In addition to becoming well-rounded in operations, being a GA is a good way to make a good impression on people who will be hiring for next season. "It’s a great springboard," Lyon said.
All of last year’s McMurdo GAs came back for another season, whether for winter at Palmer or in town this season. Many more ex-GAs work all over town and throughout the Antarctic program.
"Everywhere you go, there’s former GAs," said GA Heather Reider.
From those former GAs and the quality of work of each year’s crew, the word is spreading
that GA labor is valuable, Lyon said. "People are starting to recognize that there’s an incredible amount of talent in this group," Lyon said.
Lyon’s combination of practicality and motivation works out well for her and for the GAs. Most of them are active most days, and they are able to work without much supervision. "They exceed my expectations," Lyon said.
And even outside of work the GAs stick together as a team. "A roomful of strangers become the best of friends in four months," Lyon said. In the morning, they trade jokes and stories,
as well as tips and thoughts about previous work or that day’s upcoming projects. At lunch, they rally around each other, asking, "How’s your day going?" and exchanging reports of how life and work are in different departments.
The bottom line for most of the GAs is that they’re here on the Ice and experiencing a range of ways to work and live. "If you’re going to work your butt off for not very much money, why not do it here?" Lyon said.
Sunday, November 26, 2000
Pinpoint precision: Geographic locators are accurate to within tenths of an inch
Published in the Antarctic Sun
Several scientists in the U.S. Antarctic Program use specific measurements and locations on the surface of the Earth as key elements in their research. They watch many processes, including
the movement of glaciers, growth or shrink rates of ice sheets and rock layers and the melting of patches of snow in the Dry Valleys.
These researchers use the Global Positioning System, originally created for combat use by the U.S. Defense Department, to locate themselves and their study areas very specifically. At McMurdo Station each summer are GPS experts who provide equipment and training for about 20 science groups on the continent.
“We’re supporting grantees who are using GPS for their field research,” said project leader Bjorn Johns, of the University NAVSTAR Consortium (UNAVCO), a group of 100 academic institutions, including the National Science Foundation, promoting the use of high-accuracy GPS for scientific research.
Many people on the Ice and in the U.S. have their own handheld GPS units, which cost around $200. “It’s become a national utility,” Johns said.
Commercial handhelds provide accuracy to within about fifteen feet of an actual location, Johns said. By contrast, the equipment Johns and his colleague Chuck Kurnik issue are accurate to within tenths of an inch, cost around $15,000 and involve a plattersize antenna and laptop computer-size receiving box.
GPS is based on a group of satellites orbiting Earth and several ground stations monitoring them. The satellites broadcast their position in space and the exact time from an on-board atomic
clock. By receiving the signals from several satellites, a GPS unit on the ground can calculate its location.
But that can be difficult at high latitudes because the satellites don’t pass directly overhead, which would give the best possible readings. “They’re all low on the horizon in the polar regions,” Johns said.
All of the positions calculated are relative to other, fixed, known locations. To be precise, measurements need to be compared very carefully with the exact trajectories of the satellites at the time of the reading.
“That typically means collecting and post-processing data,” Johns said. That process can take a couple of days, he said. Some groups need Johns and Kurnik to do GPS portion of their work, while other researchers need technical assistance or data-processing help.
Johns and Kurnik also install both permanent and temporary stationary GPS stations to monitor ongoing geologic processes and to improve accuracy of nearby readings.
This season, they put a station on Mount Erebus to watch how underground activity changes the volcano’s surface. “If there’s any inflation or deflation of the volcano relative to McMurdo we’ll see that,” Johns said. If anything significant happened on Erebus, or anywhere else with a permanent GPS monitoring station, the data would be valuable for scientists.
“When an event occurs, you’ve captured it, with pre- and post-event data,” Johns said.
Another important element is fixing the exact antenna position to the ground. If a measurement is accurate within fractions of an inch, a human error in antenna placement for observation could
appear to be a large fluctuation in surface movement.
To provide a stable platform, Johns and Kurnik sink a metal rod into the rock or ice and affix a leveling platform to the rod. The antenna screws onto the platform.
Each reading, then, is taken from the same location relative to the rod. If a location change is measured, it means the rod has moved, and therefore the rock or ice surrounding the rod has moved.
This type of measurement is possible around the world using base stations and satellite readings anywhere on the surface of the Earth. But Johns said Antarctica is where GPS gets used most heavily. He and Kurnik may support five science projects during the rest of the year, and more than 20 during the summer field season on the Ice.
The GPS work helps influence future research, Johns said. This season at Icestream C, a group wanted to drill an ice core in an area where the glacier isn’t moving very quickly. Because of GPS
surveying last year, they knew where one was.
GPS is also used to map the atmosphere. Since GPS uses radio waves, which behave differently as atmospheric conditions change, GPS readings at known locations can show variations in
the ionosphere and troposphere through changes in radio waves along different paths.
Johns and Kurnik don’t directly interact with the atmospheric mapping projects, which are not based in Antarctica, but help people use GPS in all kinds of ways. “Everyone has something they want measured,” Johns said.
Several scientists in the U.S. Antarctic Program use specific measurements and locations on the surface of the Earth as key elements in their research. They watch many processes, including
the movement of glaciers, growth or shrink rates of ice sheets and rock layers and the melting of patches of snow in the Dry Valleys.
These researchers use the Global Positioning System, originally created for combat use by the U.S. Defense Department, to locate themselves and their study areas very specifically. At McMurdo Station each summer are GPS experts who provide equipment and training for about 20 science groups on the continent.
“We’re supporting grantees who are using GPS for their field research,” said project leader Bjorn Johns, of the University NAVSTAR Consortium (UNAVCO), a group of 100 academic institutions, including the National Science Foundation, promoting the use of high-accuracy GPS for scientific research.
Many people on the Ice and in the U.S. have their own handheld GPS units, which cost around $200. “It’s become a national utility,” Johns said.
Commercial handhelds provide accuracy to within about fifteen feet of an actual location, Johns said. By contrast, the equipment Johns and his colleague Chuck Kurnik issue are accurate to within tenths of an inch, cost around $15,000 and involve a plattersize antenna and laptop computer-size receiving box.
GPS is based on a group of satellites orbiting Earth and several ground stations monitoring them. The satellites broadcast their position in space and the exact time from an on-board atomic
clock. By receiving the signals from several satellites, a GPS unit on the ground can calculate its location.
But that can be difficult at high latitudes because the satellites don’t pass directly overhead, which would give the best possible readings. “They’re all low on the horizon in the polar regions,” Johns said.
All of the positions calculated are relative to other, fixed, known locations. To be precise, measurements need to be compared very carefully with the exact trajectories of the satellites at the time of the reading.
“That typically means collecting and post-processing data,” Johns said. That process can take a couple of days, he said. Some groups need Johns and Kurnik to do GPS portion of their work, while other researchers need technical assistance or data-processing help.
Johns and Kurnik also install both permanent and temporary stationary GPS stations to monitor ongoing geologic processes and to improve accuracy of nearby readings.
This season, they put a station on Mount Erebus to watch how underground activity changes the volcano’s surface. “If there’s any inflation or deflation of the volcano relative to McMurdo we’ll see that,” Johns said. If anything significant happened on Erebus, or anywhere else with a permanent GPS monitoring station, the data would be valuable for scientists.
“When an event occurs, you’ve captured it, with pre- and post-event data,” Johns said.
Another important element is fixing the exact antenna position to the ground. If a measurement is accurate within fractions of an inch, a human error in antenna placement for observation could
appear to be a large fluctuation in surface movement.
To provide a stable platform, Johns and Kurnik sink a metal rod into the rock or ice and affix a leveling platform to the rod. The antenna screws onto the platform.
Each reading, then, is taken from the same location relative to the rod. If a location change is measured, it means the rod has moved, and therefore the rock or ice surrounding the rod has moved.
This type of measurement is possible around the world using base stations and satellite readings anywhere on the surface of the Earth. But Johns said Antarctica is where GPS gets used most heavily. He and Kurnik may support five science projects during the rest of the year, and more than 20 during the summer field season on the Ice.
The GPS work helps influence future research, Johns said. This season at Icestream C, a group wanted to drill an ice core in an area where the glacier isn’t moving very quickly. Because of GPS
surveying last year, they knew where one was.
GPS is also used to map the atmosphere. Since GPS uses radio waves, which behave differently as atmospheric conditions change, GPS readings at known locations can show variations in
the ionosphere and troposphere through changes in radio waves along different paths.
Johns and Kurnik don’t directly interact with the atmospheric mapping projects, which are not based in Antarctica, but help people use GPS in all kinds of ways. “Everyone has something they want measured,” Johns said.
Swedish Polar Ambassador visits Ross Island
Published in the Antarctic Sun
The New Zealand Antarctic Program played host to the Swedish polar ambassador, Eva Kettis, last week.
She had been in Hobart, Tasmania, Australia, for a meeting of the Commission for the Conservation of Antarctic Marine Living Resources and was invited to be a guest at Scott Base.
After several days on weather hold in Christchurch, Kettis arrived on the Ice for her second visit. Her first visit was to a site on the Antarctic Peninsula where a hut was built by an early Swedish Antarctic explorer, Otto Nordenskjold, in 1901.
Sweden, which signed the Antarctic Treaty in 1984, maintains two small summer-only camps in Queen Maud Land and cooperates with Finland and Norway in areas of logistics and operations.
“We have subscribed totally to the Antarctic Treaty goals,” Kettis said.
While she is the ambassador for both polar regions, Kettis said she concentrates most of her
effort on the Arctic. “That’s perhaps nearer to our heart,” Kettis said.
She works with the Arctic Council, a group that includes the eight countries that border the Arctic and several groups of Arctic indigenous people. “That is quite unusual for intergovernmental cooperation,” Kettis said.
The political issues, she said, are very different in the north and south polar regions. For example, since the Arctic is largely ocean, no country can make territorial claims. Research,
on the other hand, is similar in the two areas.
“The science has a clear bipolar aspect,” Kettis said. “I think it has not only polar aspects but global aspects.”
On her trip to the Ice, she visited Ross Island’s historic huts, various field camp locations around the Ross Sea and in the Dry Valleys, and visited McMurdo, where she was particularly
impressed by the mawsonii in the old aquarium.
“I never thought I would see a big toothfish,” Kettis said.
As well, she toured Scott Base and liked what she saw. “They are very well equipped and it
works very well,” Kettis said.
She was unable to leave on schedule because of the weather, which frustrated her a bit, but Kettis said she was glad to be able to see this part of “this huge and beautiful continent.”
The New Zealand Antarctic Program played host to the Swedish polar ambassador, Eva Kettis, last week.
She had been in Hobart, Tasmania, Australia, for a meeting of the Commission for the Conservation of Antarctic Marine Living Resources and was invited to be a guest at Scott Base.
After several days on weather hold in Christchurch, Kettis arrived on the Ice for her second visit. Her first visit was to a site on the Antarctic Peninsula where a hut was built by an early Swedish Antarctic explorer, Otto Nordenskjold, in 1901.
Sweden, which signed the Antarctic Treaty in 1984, maintains two small summer-only camps in Queen Maud Land and cooperates with Finland and Norway in areas of logistics and operations.
“We have subscribed totally to the Antarctic Treaty goals,” Kettis said.
While she is the ambassador for both polar regions, Kettis said she concentrates most of her
effort on the Arctic. “That’s perhaps nearer to our heart,” Kettis said.
She works with the Arctic Council, a group that includes the eight countries that border the Arctic and several groups of Arctic indigenous people. “That is quite unusual for intergovernmental cooperation,” Kettis said.
The political issues, she said, are very different in the north and south polar regions. For example, since the Arctic is largely ocean, no country can make territorial claims. Research,
on the other hand, is similar in the two areas.
“The science has a clear bipolar aspect,” Kettis said. “I think it has not only polar aspects but global aspects.”
On her trip to the Ice, she visited Ross Island’s historic huts, various field camp locations around the Ross Sea and in the Dry Valleys, and visited McMurdo, where she was particularly
impressed by the mawsonii in the old aquarium.
“I never thought I would see a big toothfish,” Kettis said.
As well, she toured Scott Base and liked what she saw. “They are very well equipped and it
works very well,” Kettis said.
She was unable to leave on schedule because of the weather, which frustrated her a bit, but Kettis said she was glad to be able to see this part of “this huge and beautiful continent.”
Sunday, November 19, 2000
Mind is in Maine
Published in the Antarctic Sun
On the windowsill above Ted Dettmar’s desk sits a picture of him taken five years ago. He looks every bit an old-time Down-East farmer of Maine. His ballcap is pulled down over unruly hair, his long red beard hanging over a canvas jacket. His feet are sunk deep into a pair of rubber Wellington gumboots, and he sits atop a piece of farm machinery that has seen better days.
In the picture, Dettmar has one horse reined in very tightly and the other let all the way loose. That’s how he handles his world, letting things go along their own way and then taking charge at specific moments that make all the difference.
Dettmar, 36, grew up in suburban Arlington, Virginia, the youngest of six children in a military family. His family lived all over the world while they were growing up and have all settled near the home their parents retired to, the one in which Dettmar grew up.
It’s Ted who is now wandering the globe, with this picture and a very specific goal.
“I want to live as close to the land as possible,” Dettmar said, “to get to know every tree, every bush, the soil types, the rock types.”
Here in Antarctica, that may seem a very easy dream: No trees, no bushes, no soil. And there’s not all that much rock, either. But he’s talking about New England, and a vividly simple life on a
farm.
Dettmar knows it’s a long way from the Ice, where everything is imported by cargo plane or container ship from the rest of the world, where the landscape can and will kill.
“The irony is not lost on me,” he said.
Now known as one of McMurdo’s eminent historians of the Heroic Age of Antarctic exploration, Dettmar didn’t know much about Antarctica until just a few years ago.
The first thing he read about the Ice was Apsley Cherry-Garrard’s book, The Worst Journey in the World.
“That’s the typical first book,” Dettmar said. Just as he finished that, he came across another book.
“Somebody handed me a copy of Endurance and it had the crew list,” he said. One of the names on that list was Thomas Crean, a name he recognized as having been part of Scott’s Terra Nova
expedition from 1910 to 1913.
“I found out there were these guys who were just indestructible, just made of stone,” Dettmar said. They just kept coming back to Antarctica on expeditions.
When he got to McMurdo as a GA in 1994, he took a tour of the Discovery hut, given by someone who didn’t know what he was talking about.
“The tour guide was abysmal. The guy knew nothing,” Dettmar said. A history major in college, Dettmar bristled.
“People deserve to know more. These are interesting stories,” Dettmar said. “I thought, ‘We need people who can bring these places alive.’ I said, ‘That’s going to be me.’”
After working in waste management and now for the Field Safety Training Program, Dettmar now shares with people not only the history but also the practical lessons learned by polar explorers.
Even so, he doesn’t claim to be following in the footsteps of early explorers like Scott and Amundsen.
“There’s no comparison,” Dettmar said. "Amundsen’s story is the story of what people can accomplish," he said, likening it to the construction of the George Washington Bridge over the
Hudson River.
“Scott’s and Shackleton’s stories are the story of what humans can endure,” he said. “Everything they did was a close call.”
That’s not how Dettmar likes to do things, though some might disagree.
“I do not consider myself to be adventurous in the least,” he said.
He has been doing search-and-rescue since his junior year in college, recovering light aircraft crashed in the Shenandoah Mountains of Virginia, and lived for five winters in the Harvard Cabin in Huntington Ravine on New Hampshire’s Mount Washington.
With that experience, Dettmar got out into the deep field quite a bit as a GA, and was a rare first-year selection for the secondary SAR team. He’s been on the primary SAR team since his second year.
Now he’s the lead field safety instructor, in training his coworkers to do their jobs as best they can. He still takes the lead in sea ice training, which is his specialty, and keeps watch while
the rest of the instructors teach and learn and do.
“I think I can do it as long as I’ve got people underneath me who are more qualified than I am,” Dettmar said.
As much as the job, he really likes being here and being part of history.
When he leaves for the last time, he said, he expects he’ll be bawling. “I’m always ready to come back down here.”
On the windowsill above Ted Dettmar’s desk sits a picture of him taken five years ago. He looks every bit an old-time Down-East farmer of Maine. His ballcap is pulled down over unruly hair, his long red beard hanging over a canvas jacket. His feet are sunk deep into a pair of rubber Wellington gumboots, and he sits atop a piece of farm machinery that has seen better days.
In the picture, Dettmar has one horse reined in very tightly and the other let all the way loose. That’s how he handles his world, letting things go along their own way and then taking charge at specific moments that make all the difference.
Dettmar, 36, grew up in suburban Arlington, Virginia, the youngest of six children in a military family. His family lived all over the world while they were growing up and have all settled near the home their parents retired to, the one in which Dettmar grew up.
It’s Ted who is now wandering the globe, with this picture and a very specific goal.
“I want to live as close to the land as possible,” Dettmar said, “to get to know every tree, every bush, the soil types, the rock types.”
Here in Antarctica, that may seem a very easy dream: No trees, no bushes, no soil. And there’s not all that much rock, either. But he’s talking about New England, and a vividly simple life on a
farm.
Dettmar knows it’s a long way from the Ice, where everything is imported by cargo plane or container ship from the rest of the world, where the landscape can and will kill.
“The irony is not lost on me,” he said.
Now known as one of McMurdo’s eminent historians of the Heroic Age of Antarctic exploration, Dettmar didn’t know much about Antarctica until just a few years ago.
The first thing he read about the Ice was Apsley Cherry-Garrard’s book, The Worst Journey in the World.
“That’s the typical first book,” Dettmar said. Just as he finished that, he came across another book.
“Somebody handed me a copy of Endurance and it had the crew list,” he said. One of the names on that list was Thomas Crean, a name he recognized as having been part of Scott’s Terra Nova
expedition from 1910 to 1913.
“I found out there were these guys who were just indestructible, just made of stone,” Dettmar said. They just kept coming back to Antarctica on expeditions.
When he got to McMurdo as a GA in 1994, he took a tour of the Discovery hut, given by someone who didn’t know what he was talking about.
“The tour guide was abysmal. The guy knew nothing,” Dettmar said. A history major in college, Dettmar bristled.
“People deserve to know more. These are interesting stories,” Dettmar said. “I thought, ‘We need people who can bring these places alive.’ I said, ‘That’s going to be me.’”
After working in waste management and now for the Field Safety Training Program, Dettmar now shares with people not only the history but also the practical lessons learned by polar explorers.
Even so, he doesn’t claim to be following in the footsteps of early explorers like Scott and Amundsen.
“There’s no comparison,” Dettmar said. "Amundsen’s story is the story of what people can accomplish," he said, likening it to the construction of the George Washington Bridge over the
Hudson River.
“Scott’s and Shackleton’s stories are the story of what humans can endure,” he said. “Everything they did was a close call.”
That’s not how Dettmar likes to do things, though some might disagree.
“I do not consider myself to be adventurous in the least,” he said.
He has been doing search-and-rescue since his junior year in college, recovering light aircraft crashed in the Shenandoah Mountains of Virginia, and lived for five winters in the Harvard Cabin in Huntington Ravine on New Hampshire’s Mount Washington.
With that experience, Dettmar got out into the deep field quite a bit as a GA, and was a rare first-year selection for the secondary SAR team. He’s been on the primary SAR team since his second year.
Now he’s the lead field safety instructor, in training his coworkers to do their jobs as best they can. He still takes the lead in sea ice training, which is his specialty, and keeps watch while
the rest of the instructors teach and learn and do.
“I think I can do it as long as I’ve got people underneath me who are more qualified than I am,” Dettmar said.
As much as the job, he really likes being here and being part of history.
When he leaves for the last time, he said, he expects he’ll be bawling. “I’m always ready to come back down here.”
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