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My name is Anthony Powell.

I grew up on this dairy farm in Taranaki, New Zealand.

But I've actually spent most

of my adult life living and working in Antarctica.

The most common question I get asked is

"What's it like to live down there?"

It's so hard to answer that in words

and it's never really been captured on film before.

But there's something about time lapse photography

that brings to life the dynamic forces of nature

that you can feel and sense around you,

but you can't actually see.

So I've taught myself how to use a variety of cameras

and built some homemade equipment in my spare time

that can still function in the extreme cold.

It's taken me more than 10 years to make this film.

I've worn out thousands of dollars

worth of camera gear...

and spent countless hours standing in the freezing cold

in an effort to capture the true feeling of this vast

important place.

There really are only two seasons in Antarctica:

a busy summer when most of the science happens...

and a wild and lonely winter

that few people will ever experience.

To understand the place properly

you really need to spend one full year

down here on the ice.

I think that most people

think that we're all scientists.

There are real people down here.

It's not just the people you see

on the National Geographic channels

or it's not people who can afford

a $10.000 cruise.

It's people who are just like you and me

who are average citizens

who are working and doing a job.

That first breath...

it's like a sledgehammer to the face.

It's your wake up call.

It's okay, you're here now.

This is the real deal.

I couldn't believe I was actually doing it.

I was actually here.

I was in Antarctica...

the bottom of the planet.

And then my second thought was

"Oh crap, what have I just done?"

Why am I here?

I saw Erebus

and wanted to go hiking there

and snowboard down it

and I was quickly told "No"

and then I was off to work.

We had been thinking oh we're going to Antarctica

and when you get here it's like, oh yeah I've gotta work.

And you don't put that into your head your first time

you're so excited about coming down

that you forget that you're coming down here for a reason.

They hurried us off the plane

so we couldn't take a look around

and pretty much it was just here

and the next thing we knew we were in town.

So the first thing we really saw of Antarctica was McMurdo

and that's always kind of disappointing sometimes.

It's a pretty small, tight community.

People pull together and get things done.

Pretty amazing what gets done for what little we have.

I've seen a lot of different personalities come down here.

The ones that seem to do the most of it are

the die-hards or the more grounded people.

McMurdo Station sits beside the sea on Ross Island.

It's dwarfed by Mt. Erebus

the southernmost active volcano in the world.

Three kilometers away on the other side of the peninsula

is the small New Zealand outpost

Scott Base.

Scott Base is a lot more typical in size

of the other bases dotted around Antarctica.

And its proximity to McMurdo is unusual.

There are only 30 permanently manned bases

on the entire continent and most of these

have less than 20 people living in them in the winter.

At Scott Base you have to live and work in one building.

Our accommodation is a very small room.

It's like a cell, if you like,

or a cupboard.

A lot of things here can get to you pretty quickly

especially in winter.

And you cannot change them.

You cannot argue much about them either

because this person will be in front of your eyes,

you know, on the next Smoko.

So to be tolerant is very important.

When people ask me why

to come back because this is the second time

I've arrived in Antarctica.

For me it's those white mountains.

Those white mountains

and you look across and you know

just because humanity had trouble

getting here in the first place we're relatively new arrivals.

We have not had the opportunity to mess it up very much yet.

We have nations getting along better in Antarctica

than I think they're doing anywhere else in the world.

It's worth something to keep it this way

if we can do whatever we can to keep the co-operations

and just the pure pursuit of things

that make us better as humans.

That's happening right now

on this continent, and it's special.

I could live indefinitely here

if I could, on occasion,

get out.

Like I haven't...

I've literally gone nowhere

since August.

Most people that have been here that long

at least have gone to maybe

the Pole or something...

or at least gotten out of town.

You will get to see some fun stuff

but the main thing you're down here for is to work.

And I hate to sound cold

when it comes to that,

but I think a lot of people lose that focus

and when they come down here

and all they get to see is a dish room

or get to stare at a computer the whole time

I think they might be a little disillusioned.

I came down with the Italians originally.

But having done it once

you know I sort of thought well that'll do.

But a couple of years later

I was back again.

Still here.

Rob has been flying in Antarctica for 20 years,

but he's never done a winter here.

Helicopters only fly in the summer.

It's probably safer flying here than in New Zealand

because you never have to contend with the weather.

At home there's various degrees of weather.

Here it's either good or it's not.

Whereas home, it might be okay

or just okay

or I think I can make it.

But there's none of that here.

So, what would be your favorite place to fly to?

Christchurch.

No, I like the Dry Valleys.

I like the Upper Wright and the Beacon Valley as well.

It's spectacular scenery, it really is.

Like Rob, I'm one of the lucky ones.

The work I do in Antarctica

allows me to get out and experience

some of the grandeur and vast emptiness

of this amazing continent.

Wherever there is research happening in the field

they need their communications support.

So I spend a lot of time

setting up radio equipment

in remote locations.

When I first came down here in 1998,

I was struck by how pure and untouched it was.

There's still places here

where no human has ever set foot.

I just love that there's still places

in the world you can go to experience absolute silence.

When you're out here and there's no wind

your ears are just straining to hear something...

anything.

You just don't realize

how much noise pollution there is

in your daily life back in the real world.

One very important thing when you're...

working in the deep field is...

to make sure never to confuse your pee bottle

with your water bottle.

Well...

the summit of Erebus

and an ice fumarole that's growing

from steam coming out of one of the cracks here.

Most days

I can't believe I get to work in this place.

But there are days when I think

they just can't pay me enough.

God, this is an awful place.

In theory there should be a flag right about there.

Ah yeah, there we go.

Gotta love GPSs.

It's the middle of summer

and if we check the time it's ah...

just after 12 o'clock.

That's 12 o'clock midnight though.

Merry Christmas!

Ah, Christmas dinner...

making food for lots and lots of people.

It's a big day.

We're spreading holiday cheer.

I think for a lot of younger folks that come down

it's a real good experience for them.

It's probably not a career for most people,

but for some... it is.

I think I found it

and kind of fell in love with it.

I have been coming to Antarctica

for about 13 years now.

And when I came down the first time

I thought, "Ah yeah this will be great to do once."

You know, just come to Antarctica.

And then I can say, "Wow, I went to Antarctica."

And then I signed on

for a contract the following year

and then... I don't know what happened.

I'm still here.

There's a saying among the women of Antarctica

"The odds are good.

But the goods, are odd."

Christine and I met down here

and I proposed to her in the winter of 2003.

6 weeks later we had an impromptu wedding

down here on the ice.

The flowers were all hand made with folded paper.

Christine's friend Lori

made up a dress from donated fabric.

And the plumbers cut us some rings

made of brass.

I borrowed the only dinner jacket on base

from Eric, the station manager

who then acted as our celebrant.

On this night here on Ross Island,

Christine Marie Gamble

and Anthony Brendan Powell

are celebrating their love

and commitment to each other.

And tonight they will join

as husband and wife

in heart, body and soul.

Hi, Dad!

Just fine. Go ahead.

I'm here.

Thank you.

I've wintered over here nine times now

and Christine has wintered eight times.

Living on the ice is just something

that's become so ingrained in both of us.

The TV version of penguins

doesn't prepare you for the reality

of seeing an actual penguin colony.

There are thousands

of frozen penguin corpses that litter the ground.

And in summer the sewer stench from 100.000 penguins

can be pretty unbearable.

Ten... nine... eight...

Seven... Six... Five... Four...

Three... Two... One...

Happy New Year, McMurdo!

I like this place for a lot of reasons.

Part of me feels like living at McMurdo

is like living in Never-Never Land.

There's a lot of people

who, if you met an aggregate

of people back in the United States my age,

they have gone in a very

different path in their lives.

And sometimes one of the things I like the best

is being able to live a life

with people who are willing to take

a slightly different path in life.

And so for the first time in my life

I'm part of a majority because a lot of us feel that way.

And I've never been part of the majority before.

We're in this... we're in a box.

And there's no escape from each other.

You can't get away.

You're forced to interact day in and day out.

And you get to know people

very, very quickly.

Whether those relationships be good or bad

they're going to be very, very intense.

That was awesome!

Okay, stand by for contact again.

McMurdo Sound is as far south

as it is possible to bring a ship in the world.

And the arrival of the supply ship

marks the last gasp of summer here.

Once the ship has been offloaded it's immediately reloaded

with all the rubbish, recycling, human waste,

and science-related cargo from the last year.

Nothing is left behind.

At the end of February, the sun starts to briefly

dip back below the horizon.

And those of us who will be wintering over

begin to seek each other out.

But most people are thinking about heading home.

Have you ever been tempted

to hang around for the winter?

No.

When the last plane leaves that's it.

You're stuck here for the next 6 months.

No way out.

I remember thinking what the hell did I do?

I should be on that plane.

No!

God help us!

Once it's gone,

and the last sound of it has disappeared,

it's like the whole town just breathes a huge sigh.

Okay, here we are.

You look around at the people

and you say, "Okay, you're my friends...

you're my family for the next 6 months."

My first season was in the winter

and I do recall watching

that last plane leaving and thinking

boy I hope this is what I want to do.

Attention all stations.

Stand by for a severe weather condition announcement.

McMurdo weather has set severe weather condition 2

for the following locations

McMurdo Station, T-Site, Arrival Heights,

The Road to Scott Base,

Pegasus Field and road to Pegasus Field.

All other locations remain Condition 3.

If there's any questions

please contact McMurdo Weather

at extension 2523-2524.

Some people take the winters here very well

and there's others that come down

that just don't do well with winter.

You know there's not enough going on for them.

There's not enough social life for them.

It's actually, I think a pretty definite line

between winter people and non-winter people.

I mean, it's usually fairly obvious.

One of my main jobs during the winter

is to maintain communications with the outside world.

This means regular trips out across the ice shelf

to the satellite station on Black Island.

During the summer,

it's only a 10-minute helicopter flight away.

But during the winter it means getting in a vehicle,

like a Pisten Bully and driving there.

When conditions are good it's about a six-hour drive.

But in recent years the ice shelf has been having

a lot of trouble with surface melt.

So sometimes we've been literally

crawling in and out of holes taller than the vehicles

trying to find a way to get there.

Hmm, now what?

Get around that.

Hey Bill, can you see any way through?

Yeah, should be all right.

Black Island is one of the windiest places

on the planet.

It's so windy that peak winds

have never been accurately measured

because of the wind gauges getting blown away.

Current wind speed is 114 miles per hour

or 99 knots...

Make that 123 miles an hour.

Although the camera is on the tripod,

you can see the picture is actually quite shaky.

That's because the whole building

is being shaken by the 100-knot winds

we've got at the moment.

Just go for a walk out into the main satellite dome here

and show you what it looks like.

As you can see, it's a wee bit windy.

I'll just show you what it's like

in the bunkhouse here after the last storm.

All the snow you can see in the corner of the room here

basically worked its way in

through the tiny gaps in the window seals.

The wind speeds got up to 222 miles an hour

so this filled up in just a matter of a few hours.

And there's a complete lounge suite

in the corner over there.

This is the fireplace

that's normally used for keeping the room warm.

In the middle of March,

there's that magical brief couple of weeks

when the sun is rising and setting

like normal days

and you can actually leave the curtains open

on your window at night

to be woken up by the sunrise in the morning.

We were out and the wind came up

and there was just moments that it was so cold

I could really

actually feel the danger in it

and feel the... this crazy like mind thing

that happened that was like...

it was hard to focus on anything

except just getting out of the conditions we were in

and trying to just be warm again.

It was really hard to still focus on

gathering all of the gear and trying

to do what needed to be done

rather that just run

for whatever vehicle

or, you know, it was...

it was amazing how

your instinct... it just...

it just snaps.

The first time where I was just ridiculously cold

was actually with you just a few days ago

taking the shift photo up on the hill.

Oh yeah.

The wind was whipping through there.

I'd probably say it was negative 80 with wind chill.

And I remember looking over at Chris Cavanaugh

and tears were streaming down his face.

He didn't even know it because it was so cold

and the thing that surprised me

is when he looked at me a second time

those tears had frozen to his face.

So that's...

that made an impression on me.

Maybe it's time to get inside.

We're about 30 K's away

from the nearest seawater here and it's still quite common

to find guys like this.

It's a mummified seal

that's lost its way

and wandered inland.

It's an amazingly common occurrence.

It's heartbreaking when you see

animals in distress like this

because we're not allowed to interfere.

We just have to let nature take its course.

It can be really hard

just being away from home and hearing stories.

My sister just had a baby boy a week ago.

And that day was...

really bittersweet.

It was really cool,

but man I wanted nothing more than

to get the hell out of here

just for a day.

Go home and enjoy that moment

with my family because they were all together

and then I was down here,

you know, shooting emails out all day

and then on the phone a couple times

and that was really really hard.

So for me,

what sucks is definitely

missing family, but more importantly

missing these big moments with them,

you know,

my family's lives back home.

Well, I mean, first of all,

I had my concerns.

And this is what I do always in my life

that if I'm ever feeling low

I have things around just in case.

One of the things is I brought a lot of photos of my family

so I have them taped to my fridge.

And then I just know

that there's always people on my side

even if it seems like the walls are closing in down here.

It was just like any other day

and the phone rang.

It was my grandmother

and immediately my heart sunk because

I knew something was wrong.

And she told me that my father had passed away

and...

it was quite a shock.

I never expected that

it was... it was really difficult.

I mean, when you lose a parent

it's a big thing. And to not be able to

be with your family during that time

and not be able to go to the funeral.

I just... it leaves things unfinished.

I wanted to be there for my family.

I needed to be there

and I couldn't.

It's probably the most isolated place on the planet

and that's really hard to adjust to.

I can see people who...

one winter would be enough for them.

It's really hard for a lot of people.

I found that there was this curve

where I just really started missing like

eating sushi and Indian food

and going to movies and just like...

the life.

And then it became like so much

that I just really missed it a lot

and then it just dropped off and...

I don't miss...

I don't know if it's like

a post-traumatic stress disorder response

or I don't want to think about what I miss

or I'll get really distressed or what it is,

but there's not a lot that I miss.

I've been thinking about avocados lately.

An avocado would be nice.

You may want to have

a toast with avocado

and then you can only dream about it.

But simple as...

black tea with fresh milk

or perhaps even better

with fresh cream.

Dark bread.

Cauliflower.

It's brilliant.

Just to have a fresh head of cauliflower

would be very nice now.

Noooooo!

It's no good we can't do anything for him now.

In the winter of 2008,

I started a 48-hour

Antarctic film festival.

And invited all the bases on the continent to participate.

One of the greatest pleasures

of watching these films each year

is just getting to see what the other bases look like...

and who else is out there

wintering over on the ice.

Carolina,

great to hear your voice.

Yes how are you?

I'm good. Yeah, yeah, I'm fine.

Everything's good here.

Just um...

having...

having my breakfast and some coffee.

How are your parents?

- Another hour? - Ummm.

Are we ever going to see the sun again?

One day.

Guess you start to get used

to living in a world without light.

The days get short and the nights get long

'till the nights get real long.

Towards the end of the month there...

there's no more sun

and... that's all she wrote.

I was scared of the coming darkness

the coming darkness

for so many months and I thought

is that going to get to me?

Is that going to make me...

well, how will that affect me?

I was pretty scared of that and how that might...

just change me.

I would correspond with winter-overs

when I was off the ice

and you could just see it in their emails.

They would change.

And I'm like wow is that going to change me?

I don't know.

As it is the light changes enough in the sky

that it's still seems to me

that the sun is just around the corner.

And I think that's had a great effect on me because

it just reminds me that no,

it's not just dark.

Attention all stations

standby for a severe weather condition announcement.

McMurdo weather has set Severe Weather Condition One

for the following locations:

McMurdo Station, T-site, Arrival Heights,

Pegasus Field,

Williams Field, road to Williams Field...

Check this out.

This is the entryway to our dorm.

Normally this has carpet on the ground

and the walls are just normally walls, you know,

But...

We're going to open the door right now

and it's a little bit like opening up

the door to another world.

Are you ready?

It's a little bit blowy out there right now.

You know, when you watch television here

and you see all the things

that are going wrong in the world

you know that's...

it's like thank goodness I'm here.

But then you also then watch shows where

you see swaying palm trees

and people laughing

and bucolic scenes

and you're not there.

You're here where it's dark and cold and windy.

I was out on the sea ice,

and suddenly off of Observation Hill

comes rolling these just waves...

waves of green...

like fairy dust.

Like a giant curtain of fairy dust

just kind of undulating over me

that filled the whole sky and just moved in waves across.

And I thought this is either what it looks like

if aliens are about to abduct you.

And almost like you feel like you could reach up and touch it.

Or if you're a person who believes in Heaven...

maybe this is what you see when you go to Heaven.

I'm not sure,

but it was really an emotional life-changing experience for me.

I mean I really found myself not realizing I'd done it.

When I figured out where my body position was

I was actually on my knees and I was crying.

Like that's how beautiful it was to me.

It's the month of June

and right now it's the middle of the day.

I grew up in a very rural area

so I could see the stars very well.

...In rural Minnesota.

And I've been in the mountains

and, you know, Colorado.

And I thought wow the sky looks beautiful.

But I never knew a star could flash like...

fluorescent pink... fluorescent green...

fluorescent blue... white...

just in that rotation.

Just blink-blink- blink-blink-blink.

One star like...

it looks like a strobe light to me.

There's a lot of them that look

like a strobe light up there.

And you would never know...

you'd never know...

what the sky looks like.

It's wonderful.

I loved the 24 hours of darkness.

Maybe on full moon nights, and other nights,

I would see the mountains.

But sometimes I'd forget the mountains were even there.

And so my entire world was just in the little spaces

and walking around.

It really does change your perception.

Towards the end of summer,

the thing I was most looking forward to was

seeing darkness again.

Like I just wanted to see some nighttime.

And now that it's night time.

I don't really miss the day that much right now.

We have three dinners here each year.

Of course our sunset now at the midwinter,

and as we all know that sun rise isn't far away.

So I'd like you to charge your glasses

and to friendships and long-lasting friendships.

Thank you.

Cheers!

Cheers!

It's very cool that there is

a unique holiday in Antarctica

that people from all over the world celebrate

and we send greetings to each other,

and good will to each other,

and remember the history that brought us here

in the first place

and the goals of what we're up to

here in the first place.

And it's just...

it's wonderful.

I really liked the mid-winter time.

Oh God.

Well, that woke me up.

Come on, Brody.

Do it. Do it. Do it.

How is it?

Cold.

The other day I came in from outside

and Christine asked me is it cold outside today?

And I said "Oh no.

It's not too bad."

And then it struck me...

the absurdity of the conversation

because we're in Antarctica,

It's the middle of winter,

and she's asking me if it's cold outside.

And secondly it was 40 below.

We haven't seen the sun for months

and I thought it was a nice day.

So it's fascinating the way our perceptions

of what we consider normal have shifted.

Nine, zero, six. Firehouse.

Go for nine, zero, six.

Hey just checking on the progress

is Scott Base road open again?

That is a negative. We need 10 more minutes.

Being in this office-type setting under fluorescents

for the six-day work week,

I think that ended up being much more...

of a challenge because I wasn't outside

and doing anything.

Firehouse, Genevieve.

Sure, one sec.

Trying to break out of that rut of just...

waking... going to work...

eating... sleeping...

and doing it all over again.

Firehouse, Genevieve.

A lot of people work the same thing

every day

and they're not used to repetitive motions

in their actions.

It can be kind of tiring

just to do the same thing every day.

You have to bring some spice into it.

Thank you.

Francis, your chef at McMurdo,

we exchange a few.

He brought his mead

and I gave him a bottle,

this mixed nine bottle.

And he says it's a very good drink.

So well, tell me what you think?

- Cheers. - L'chaim.

The winter season sets up and offers more

of an introspective outlook...

where you can take the time to read

or work on a craft.

There's still times.

But I think it really helps

if you can spend that time alone.

There's no substitute for just having a good book in your hand.

Andrew Weil.

Now it's a very small small print here.

Biblical Hebrew.

Grammar of biblical Hebrew.

I knit.

It keeps away the feeling of stir craziness in the winter

when I just feel like I might like to tear my hair out

and run outside screaming.

Towards the end of winter

the extreme cold, the fatigue,

and constant lack of sunlight or any new stimulus

creates a condition called T3 Syndrome.

Attention all stations,

standby for a severe weather condition announcement.

The N-S-S...

N-S-F station manager,

has set severe weather condition one for...

the following locations.

So I work at the store,

and we open every day at 11:30,

and almost every day

this person comes in

and buys something at like 11:35 or 11:40.

We have the same conversation.

I usually give him a pack of cigarettes.

And the other day at about the same time

he comes in and he goes "Wow!

I didn't know you guys opened at this time.

Have you always been open at this time?"

And I was like,

"So and so, you come in every single day.

You buy the same thing every single day."

And he was just like,

"Wow, I never thought you guys were open at this time."

and he just kind of wandered off.

Firehouse, Genevieve.

A couple of days ago Talie called and I said.

"Oh, Talie, I'm so glad you called.

I was just thinking about... I was thinking about you.

I was just about to page you."

And she said, "Well you did page me."

So I had completely forgotten that I had paged her.

And that seems to happen more times than not.

There was a time where... I was... had to go outside

and the chief... eh... she tossed down a pair of boots.

I go ahead and I put them on

and I'm walking around in them

they feel really weird.

I don't know why.

I get to the door of the bay

where I'm leaving and...

and I look down and...

they're on the wrong feet.

So I walk back, I pull them off.

I take the right boot off and set it down.

And take the left boot off and set it down.

I pick up the first one

and put it on the same foot I just had it on

and put on the...

So I had basically taken them off

and put them back on the wrong feet

and walked outside again.

I've been coming down here since '99

so it's kind of...

it's all the same to me pretty much.

It's gone. My memory is gone.

I remember trying to call my Dad

at the same phone number I grew up with.

I couldn't remember it.

I caught myself trying to...

It took me over 10 seconds

to remember if S came before or after T in the alphabet.

And that was like a sign.

I need to get up and away from my desk

and get a grip.

Ahhhhh.

Ahhhhh.

I've started saying "Ahhh" a lot more

than I ever used to and it's not something

I mean to do.

It's just something that I use to fill the time

where I never did that before I came down here.

I never, I mean, I would say "Ah",

but I would never say "Ahhhhhhhhhhh."

You ahhhh...

I just had a T3 moment.

I totally forgot my line of thinking.

Sorry, what was the original question?

If there's any way to bottle or bring in

just the smell of summer...

the scent of flowers...

and of rain and of green grass

and of rivers.

The smell of crops and corn

and just the smell of dirt.

There's no smell of dirt here.

It's all volcanic.

Oh man.

I miss the rain

and trees and water and...

family and my knuckle-head nephews.

You do miss out on quite a bit.

You do make some sacrifices coming down here.

I probably would never repeat winter.

The problem is...

you never know

who you'll end up with.

You almost feel like you're stuck...

stuck in a really small town

and there's nothing else out there...

until the sun starts coming out.

And then you realize where you are again.

There's a great feeling of anticipation

when twilight begins

to creep back into the sky in August.

It's a bit like being a child again

waiting for Christmas.

August is also the coldest time of the year.

And nacreous clouds will start to form a lot more.

Although this is part of the process

that is destroying the ozone layer,

when the sun finally does hit them

it can look incredible.

Like the entire sky in on fire.

Seeing the sun is always still

the most amazing experience.

I wait for it. I wait for it to come back.

And then there'll be that moment where I see it.

And I never know when that moment is going to be.

But when it happens,

I just have to stop wherever I am.

Stop in my tracks and I just look at it.

I just want it to fill the inside of my head,

just let that sun come right through my eyes.

It's the life-giving thing.

Okay, away you go.

In this cup is boiling water.

It's 40 below zero outside.

This is what happens when you throw

boiling hot water into 40 below zero air.

Here we go.

The Population on base suddenly doubles at Winfly

and for those of us who have wintered over

the arrival of a whole new crowd of faces

can be a bit bewildering.

It's kind of crazy.

I think people either are energized by it

or just the opposite.

They have energy drawn from them

and I would tend to be one of those people

who have energy drawn from me.

I'm not a big fan of when all the folks come in.

For six months you've seen only the same people every day.

There hasn't been anyone new.

All of a sudden you've got all these new people coming through.

Kind of this feeling of glee and happiness

mixed with revulsion like, "Aggghhh, stay away!"

And I've even seen winter-overs kind of hide

behind corners and kind of look out.

We've had a closed community over the winter

and there's been no germs, no one gets sick.

But new people come in... new germs.

They all have all this energy and they're orange.

I mean we always talk about the orange people

because they're tanned.

You don't really realize how pale we all are

from lack of sunshine.

Just walking through the galley,

I felt like I was moving at this little pace

and everyone else was rushing around...

around me.

I was surprised at how territorial we all were.

I remember getting back from the flight line

and coming straight to dinner.

And I got my tray and my plate

and I looked up and I saw a line.

And I was so livid

that I had to wait in line.

These new people they

weren't with the program yet.

They didn't know what they were doing

the whole routine was messed up.

And I was so livid.

I felt like I could have stabbed somebody with a fork.

And I didn't understand it.

I'm like, "Why am I so angry?"

I couldn't eat in the galley.

I went up to my room.

And... I'm sitting in my room

for about 5 minutes contemplating about

why I was so angry.

And then I get knocks on my door

and it's the rest of the Firehouse.

"Can we eat in here with you?"

Yeah.

So we sat down and for half an hour

we ate our meals watching TV.

Didn't say a word to each other and it was beautiful.

The first few days,

or maybe the first week,

is kind of a culture shock.

You know, the dynamics change.

The noise level rises.

But after that the new people that come here

they have so much energy

and I find that it brings me up.

And I actually get more excited about getting stuff done

and moving around.

It kind of wakes me up.

Keri, how does it feel to have a fresh apple after 6 months?

Orange, apple?

Why don't you take that behind doors?

I'm sure I'll get one very soon.

Be gentle with the banana.

I would love to be able

to show the people who I love the most

what it looks like down here...

what the sky looks like down here in winter.

Because they're never going to see it.

It's funny.

Right before winter started we'd tell these stories

about how you'd get T3 and you get pale

and you're just emotional sometimes.

And these people who have never wintered

are looking at us like we're freaks.

Like why would you ever

put yourself through something like that?

And then, at the end,

we'd look at each other and say,

"Winter's the best.

It's the greatest."

I try and explain the experience,

the Antarctic experience, to people back home,

and they love hearing about it.

The stories and what it's like.

But, you know that...

they just... they will never get it.

They'll never fully comprehend what it's like down here.

So if you were to spend another year down here

what would you do differently?

Not bring as much stuff.

I've met some of the best people in the world here.

And I think a lot of that is because of the fact

that those of us that come here

always have a kind of a spirit of adventure.

And that's something that kind of binds us together.

These might be...

the golden years of Antarctica.

Right now, what is being done is science.

Right now there's a treaty that says

you get to be here to cooperate,

look for peace,

and look for knowledge for mankind.

And I just can't think of another place

where that's really going on so I feel really privileged

to be a citizen of Antarctica right now.

I really really do.

And some day, somebody is going to find a way

to get oil commercially.

And some day, the treaty is going to end.

And some day, you know...

I don't know that we'll always be able to play as nice

as we can right now.

You come down here out of a sense of adventure.

But then it gets its hooks in you.

And you realize

how magic and fragile it all is.

And if we're not careful,

if we're not conscientious,

It could all get ruined.

Imagine you live in a house.

And this is just one room in your house...

a cold room where nobody lives.

But it's still a room in your house

and as such you have to care about this room.

And you have to know about what's going on there.

There is a good expression in the English language:

peace of mind.

I really like it.

Peace of mind is a very nice thing to have.

The friends you make and the memories

that you take from here last a lifetime.

I've met guys who were down here 50 years ago

who would like nothing more in the world

than the chance to come back again...

just one more time.

You know you can never really call this place home.

But at the same time there's a familiarity

that just builds up.

I definitely long for it when I'm away.

I fully expect that my time here

is not going to end on my terms.

The program could change

or I might not pass the physical...

or there might not be a job.

No one gets to stay here indefinitely.

And then the time comes when it's your turn to leave

and you never really do know for sure

if you'll ever be back again.

One of the things I recall

in the process of reacclimating to society

was a Monday morning.

It's probably 8:30 in the morning

and I am stuck in traffic.

I remember looking at all the cars around me.

Everybody's... they're in their own little...

They're in the grind of the world.

And I can't help but look at everybody else

and think...

they're cattle.

It's just one big herd moving from point A to point B.

And eh... I just... at that point

I wanted to be back on the Ice again.

It's not until you get off the Ice

that you realize the absence of smell that we have here...

the absence of odors.

So yeah... that eh...

you can go to the Botanical Gardens

for an olfactory overload.

I'm gonna go to the New World Supermarket

and I'm going to stand in the produce section

and just smell the air

for about 15 minutes.

And then I'm going to buy the following things:

some really good chewy crusty bread,

a hunk of really good blue cheese,

an avocado and some red grapes with no seeds.

And that's what I'm going to eat for like three meals.

There comes a point in the winter

when...

at least us, the guys,

us in the Firehouse,

we stop talking about women.

And we start talking about food

because it's a much more realistic prospect.

So...

I've narrowed it down. I'm going to go

and I'm going to have steak and lobster.

I'm going to splurge.

Fresh vegetables with flavor.

A bean burrito from Taco Bell.

Dark bread.

Avocado.

Cauliflower.

A bowl of cornflakes with real milk

and sliced bananas.

Eggs Benedict at the Boulevard in New Zealand.

Anything in Christchurch is always good. It's eh...

anything non-institutional.

When I get back to New Zealand the first thing I long to do

well first, first thing is go through the Botanic Gardens

and just touch the grass and smell the flowers.

But then I try to get to the ocean

to see that motion I guess.

You're standing on the ocean now.

Exactly.

That's what's so funny. And I'm a mountain girl,

so it's never been a draw before.

Walk barefoot in grass.

I'm going to fly straight home to Washington State.

And I'm going to fly-fish my brains out for about 3 weeks

going for salmon and steel head.

And when I puke, I think that's when I'll stop.

I really like going to sleep in my own bed.

I really like... Oh rain.

Just hearing the rain and seeing it

feeling it again. Wonderful.

I plan on doing nothing.

I hope it rains at least one day while I'm in Christchurch,

just so I can wander around in the rain.

I'd love that.

I hope it's... I want some rain.

Have a decent sleep.

Have a decent sleep for a few days.

I don't know.

Check into a hotel room and take a bath.

My brain is freezing.

Let me think.

I think my brain is freezing now and I can't think.

Skip that question.