On the summit of Trapper Peak just after 6am on August 1, 2018.
In just a few hours, we’ll cross another state border, and I’ll savor the joy of seeing yet another rugged, beautiful place that I’ve never visited before. While I still have signal, I Google some quick facts about Montana.
Montana comes from the Spanish word Montaña which in turn comes from the Latin word Montanea, meaning "mountain", or more broadly, "mountainous country". Montaña del Norte was the name given by early Spanish explorers to the entire mountainous region of the west.
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Jon stares up at the crumbling rock of the Red Banks during white out conditions on Mt. Shasta
This is my favorite thing. This is my favorite thing.
As the midday sun beats down on us, and the muscles in my legs strain against the rocky incline, I repeat this phrase silently to myself, over and over again.
I'm climbing up a giant volcano. This is my favorite thing. This is my favorite thing!
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Cruising towards the eastern Sierra Nevada mountains in central California.
As the bartender places the beers on the counter, I tell her today is the first day of an epic road trip.
"No way!" she says. "That is so cool. Where are you guys headed?"
"Everywhere," Jon says.
We give her a quick overview of our itinerary—drive from here (San Diego) straight to northern California, then into southern Oregon, across Idaho into Montana and Canada, then down into Wyoming, Utah, and eventually end up in New Mexico.
She stares at us, with her mouth open. "I'm so jealous! That sounds amazing!"
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Chief Officer Jason Garwood watches the sunrise from the bridge of R/V Falkor.
When Chief Officer Jason Garwood hands me a mug of tea, I accept it gratefully and gently blow on the emanating steam. The force of my breath forms tiny ripples across the small circle of hot liquid. Outside, the early morning breeze generates the same effect, creating steady, rhythmic waves across the surface of the northeastern tropical Pacific. Right now we are roughly 215 miles off the coast of southern Mexico.
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As we lower down and splash into the rolling water, I feel a child-like sense of joy. This is fun! Especially today—the sunshine is righteous. When I went out in this boat three days ago, I wore my fleece and soft shell jacket. Now, after so many cool gray days, it finally feels like summer. We zoom away from the ship and I relish the sensation of hard wind in my face and the sight of sunlight twinkling on the water's surface.
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Nomad life: preparing to pack everything I'll need for three months of traveling this summer.
I’m exhausted. Hauling boxes and bags is fine, but the mental fortitude required to go through everything I’ve ever owned necessitates a different kind of strength.
Austin and I take in the epic view from my favorite spot on the Woody Ridge Trail.
"Today is Sibling Day!" I shake my head in disbelief. "We forgot again!"
Austin and I are closer than most siblings I know, but we almost always forget to mark "Sibling Day" on our calendars. More often than not, we happen to be together on April 10th, doing something awesome.
I didn't take a photo at that moment, but if I had, it would have captured the identical grins on our faces.
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Lounging in my happy place.
Throughout our time in Antarctica, I never felt homesick. I never wished I wasn’t there. But I did spend a few nights tossing and turning—either from the lurching of the ship or the turbulence of my own mind.
In those moments, as I squirmed around in the small bunk, I allowed my thoughts to drift to my "happy place"—not my bed, not my house in Chapel Hill—but my little orange tent, the Creamsicle.
Now, as I pull my sleeping bag up to my face and breathe in the cold, crisp mountain air, I can't believe I'm finally here.
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Soaking in the sunset after a rough weather day near Joinville Island | Photo by KC Bierlich
I stop by Zee's office, give her a huge hug, and tell her I'm working on some plans. I don't know exactly how or when, but I know— in my mind, in my heart, in my gut — I'm coming back here.
"Marley, it's been such a pleasure meeting you," Zee says warmly. "You know what you have to do now, right?"
She looks at me intently, taking in my boundless energy and eagerness.
"Keep it alive," she says. "I know you'll be back down here. Just keep it alive."
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Eric Hutt and Amy Westman smile from the Hadar boat near Palmer Station.
"This place works almost as a natural selection for people that have this intention to jump off the margin of the map, and we all meet here – where all the lines of the map converge.
I think a fair amount of the population here are full-time travelers and part time workers. They are the professional dreamers."
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The sun sets over the bow of the Laurence M. Gould, as we make our way across the frozen Weddell Sea.
Widely regarded by scientists as one of the iciest places on the planet, the Weddell Sea is perhaps best known for trapping Ernest Shackleton’s ship, the Endurance, in 1914. When I read Alfred Lansing's book about that doomed expedition, and the incredible fight for survival that followed, I loved the gripping descriptions and vivid details.
But I have an entirely newfound appreciation for that epic story now. No wonder they got stuck here.
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A humpback whale surfaces in Andvord Bay | Antarctic Peninsula
After months and months of planning, and weeks of transit, it feels good to finally get to work. The eight people on our team, plus the marine technicians and the LMG crew, work together seamlessly, and I find it invigorating to document how all the pieces come together - the easy radio communications between the bridge and the back deck and the boats, the joy of the marine technicians when they see whales up close, and the tangible excitement of the PhD students on board.
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The team pauses while setting up camp to watch the clouds roll in over Joinville Island.
It's a classic question: if you were stranded on a deserted island, what would you bring with you?
For five people spending 12 days on a rocky, icy strip of land at the bottom of the world, the answer is this: over 2,000 pounds of stuff — food, water, tents, clothing, scientific equipment, tools, and other supplies.
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Our first view of Palmer Station from the deck of the Laurence M. Gould.
The freezing wind whips my face as I try to fully grasp where I am. Exactly one week ago, I was boarding a plane at Raleigh-Durham International Airport. Now I’m less than five miles from Palmer Station, Antarctica. It still doesn’t feel real.
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KC and Chris look for whales on the port side of the bridge as we enter the Antarctic Peninsula.
“I’m glad I'm not nauseous— but I’m exhausted. I’ve been fighting to stay awake all day.”
Dave nods knowingly, surveying the bags under my eyes.
“Sea sickness can present itself in different forms,” he says. “Sometimes it’s nausea. Sometimes it’s general fatigue.”
“You should rest up,” he says, patting me on the back.
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After a rainy morning, blue skies and abundant sunshine burst through the clouds during our second afternoon in Punta Arenas, Chile.
Three flights, four airports, 30 hours, and 6,170 miles down. Another 637 miles (and a couple long days at sea) to go before we reach Antarctica. But first we have 48 hours in Chile's most southern city, Punta Arenas.
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A wonderful Christmas present from my mom. In the past year, I've read seven books about Antarctica.
No matter how much planning and preparation goes into it, there are no guarantees on an expedition. Despite all the reading and research I've done, the only thing that can truly prepare me for Antarctica is Antarctica.
Still, for posterity's sake, I'm going to make a few predictions about what might happen during the next six weeks. If nothing else, it will be fun to read this post at the end of the trip (or years from now.)
Okay here we go.
I, Mary Lide Parker, believe the following will occur during my first expedition to Antarctica:
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After a decade — four years as a student and over six years as a staff member — today is my last day at UNC-Chapel Hill.
From student to alumnus to staff member — I have a resume that might as well be printed in Carolina blue ink. This university connected me to inspiring people, sent me to exotic far-away places, and introduced me to experiences that forced me to become a more intrepid, independent and resilient person.
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On the last day of 2017, at a trailhead deep in the Black Mountains, the temperature hovers right around 20 degrees. We have a big crew - 10 people bundled up in all the warm clothing they own. Armed with snacks, hand warmers, a thermos of tea, and a flask of bourbon, we're preparing to do a nine mile hike with over 6,000 feet of elevation change in temperatures that will only decrease as we climb higher.
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Thanks to collaborative conservation efforts, fish and coral populations at Laughing Bird Caye remain abundant.
We're heading to Laughing Bird Caye, the only marine area in Belize designated as a national park. When it comes to coral reef conservation, death and despair tend to dominate the headlines. But Laughing Bird is a success story, thanks in part to the hard-working folks at Fragments of Hope and other local people who care deeply about preserving the Belize Barrier Reef. In the 10 days we've spent here, one thing has been made abundantly clear - the locals have great pride (and concern) for the natural environment.
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