Neither snow nor rain nor heat nor gloom of night
The US Postal Service has an office here at McMurdo. I bought a few presents for myself that I wouldn’t want to carry all the way to South Pole and back, so I went up to mail them. This week, they are open Wednesday, 12:00-14:00. While for time we are in New Zealand, and for phones we are in Denver, I think that for the US Post we get charged parcel rates from SF. There were Customs forms to fill out, so I went over out of the way and saw .. ut-oh.
Why is my bag sitting out here? Why isn’t it on a pallet waiting — as are we all — for P002 to finally finally take off? Oh. At Bag Drag I forgot to put a tag on it that would have let anyone know that it was a P002 bag. This is bad. Or rather, could have been bad. Or rather, still might be bad. The nice people who handle the cargo told me to tag it and leave it where they will trip over it, and since they are likely to be re-palletizing the P002 cargo, it will be fine.
I asked someone later if “re-palletizing the P002 cargo,” perhaps means that they are preparing it to fly on a Basler or Twin Otter — the slower, smaller planes that can make it to the Pole in a pinch. The mystery deepens: if they send us on either of those, there is only human cargo. I would rather be living out of my carry-on bag at South Pole than McMurdo.
And so the the waiting continues.
I’m starting to wonder if there really is a South Pole.