I wasn't as naked as the day I was born. Not quite.

Over the summer, before Christmas, but after Thanksgiving (and yes it still seems odd to call this "Holiday" time of the year summer) a group of us decided we were to get initiated, immersed or baptized into the ways of Antarctica.

For some it's a rite of passage and others it's plain stupidity. The night we decided this was the time to become one with the waters of Antarctica it was two in the morning and the sun was above our head like it was noon.

One of our friends (names, even whether or not (yes) Penny went will be left to the imagination (of course she did)) had a truck and we drove out to a small hut away from the eyes of McMurdo. It has been said the upper management of McMurdo do not approve of their residents getting naked and jumping into a hole in the ice in Antarctica in the Ross Sea. Something about, frostbite, death and/or liability. This is why we had to consider our mission a top secret event. This is why I couldn't tell this story until the last plane left McMurdo.

In the summer time, punishment for disobedience could be the next plane off the entire continent. In the winter time, the punishment for rule breakers is: you lose your job and then (horror, of all horrors) you become the dishwasher for the winter.

Wait a minute, I am the dishwasher. It's like I have a get out of jail free card until August.

Back to the story:

Eight of us gathered in a small hut on top of the Ross Sea. This hut is used by scientists and scuba divers to study the environment of Antarctica. We used this hut as a staging ground to get undressed, run outside and jump in a 4ft diameter hole that a had been cut into the ice weeks earlier as a "safety hole" for scuba divers.

Normally, this hole would have iced over, but a large seal had been using this spot as his own private swimming pool, and had kept the hole open by biting through the ice and wedging his fat body repeatedly in and out of the ocean.

As proof of the seal being in the neighborhood, seal feces and the seal himself were only 15 feet away from where we were planning to undress.

Inside the hut, I solved the "Who's going first?" question by getting undressed before my brain could rationalize the stupidity of disrobing amongst eight friends and five degrees Fahrenheit.

The reason I wasn't as naked as the day I was born, was for safety. I had on a pair of borrowed flip-flops so my feet wouldn't get cut up on the sharp ice as I ran to and from the hut., and I had a rope tied around my wrist.

Oceans have currents and although it wouldn't have been difficult for Penny to explain in a letter to my parents where Phil was last seen and what he wasn't wearing we decided to do what we could to prevent an email (subject line: Sad News) being sent home. So, the rope tied around my wrist could be used to haul my lifeless frozen, pink body back to safety in case of disaster.

The genius-ness of the levels of preparation amazed and confounded me. We had planned everything, except, How do you jump in to an ice hole?

As soon as the door to the hut was flung open, and it was me, a seal, and my frigid member retracted into the wind, I bolted for the ice hole. Garbage cans are larger than the hole I had chosen to jump into, so a running leap was definitely not the way to tackle this situation. But, reason and logic seemed frozen, because, they were.

One giant leap for mankind and one huge hit for my manhood. The boys took it hard for the team.

My feet hit the water first and I could feel the salty H2O rush between all ten toes. As my ankles became submersed, my date of birth July 13, 1967 came into my mind. Using this day as a starting point the rest of my life quickly snapped into view. By the time my knees hit the water I was reliving high school trying to decide if I should hang out at the Burger King with Donna LaRuche or the Video Arcade with John Vittands.

It was my thighs that brought me back to the here and now, because when they became submersed all indications pointed to "failed trajectory" as being the core problem of this icy outing.

Leaping through the air, I had pitched my body to enter the water angled towards the sharp ice edge. My thighs slowed my entrance into the water by scraping pieces of flesh down the side of the hole. I could see the seal watching me enter his hole. Seals, it seem, don't smooth out the edges when they clear ice holes. Seals, it seemed, were biting.........! Son of a bitch.

By the time my stomach slid down, was chewed up and puréed against the jagged hole, I had nearly lost all thought, except: a part of my body, a very small part in this icy situation, but a vital part just the same, has just been removed from my life. Fully submersed, I started swimming down to Davy Jones' locker, the good times were ice ages away. Life was no longer worth living.

Sadly, I was connected by the wrist to a string that yanked my bloody body back to the surface. There wasn't cold, just pain. Salt watery-in freshly sliced flesh-pain. Pain in very sensitive pain sensitive areas.

I ran back into the hut and surveyed the damage.

Scars and scratches covered my body from knees to nipples and all places in between. Even though I was sliced and diced like a tomato in a Ginsu knife commercial and there was salt in my wounds--I knew the recovery would be painful, but possible.

However, to make matters worse, that night, as I lay in bed. Too sore to move, needing only the comforting words of a good friend, Penny threw a bottle of Vaseline and hit me in the head.

All I'd asked her was, "Would you lubricate my wounds?"

(My friend Mary sent me this email today. She seemed to sum up why I'm here, how I feel and everything else better than I could--thanks mary. The picture is Mt. Erebus, the southern most active Volcano. Most of the clouds you see are plumes of steam rising from Erebus on a particularly gaseous day.)

PHil! Ba-daadadadadaaaaaaabbbbaaa baab bboopiedooooo.

I'll bet your world is getting darker all the time,
isn't Phil? Doesn't it feel like the world is closing
in on you Phil? Or maybe, it's feeling bigger, like
the vacuous, emptiness of space, huh Phil? Man, I'm
scaring myself, talking like that. Have you seen the
aurora borealis yet? Sundogs? Moondogs? I like that
they are called 'dogs'.

I found this Time/Life book at The Bins (the huge
really gross thriftmartsuperstore-flocks of russian
women in facemasks and gloves, digging for treasure).
Anyway, it's a Time/Life book called "The Poles" and
contrary to what you're thinking, it's not about
Polish people. It's about the North and South Poles.
It's been really fascinating to read through.
Granted, it's from 1971, but I can't imagine that a
lot has changed there (but please please please tell
me that McMurdo no longer houses a 1,500-kilowatt
nuclear reactor ...because I'm reading in here that it
does. Phreaky. (THE NAVY REMOVED THE REACTOR SHORTLY AFTER THIS BOOK WAS PRINTED. AND "CLEANED UP THE SITE") I'm also reading a good lot of other
things about Shackleton, Scott (the same places you've
been to are in this book! I guess because it's the
same place! Sorry, it's weird when history hits, you
know? Kind of like when I realized that alligators
exist in metropolitan areas), Ross, Amundsen, Mawson,
Wilkes and a fancy gentleman named Fabian Von
Bellinghausen (he circumnavigated the antarctic
continent in 1820). I'm also finding out a lot of
facsinating things about the north pole, but I don't
think any of them really pertain to you except maybe
the sundogs and the moondogs and maybe huskies.

Did you know that in Colombus's time, map makers
labeled antarctica as 'terra australis incognita'
because it was the unknown mysterious land south of
australia? Wow. You are in the place that Magellan
couldn't find. Wow, Phil, wow.
So in conclusion, I found this chapter entitled "Polar
Do's and Don't's" an excerpt from the Navy's own
"Polar Manual". Time/Life calls it a 'sobering
summary of what can befall the careless visitor in the
far north or south' I'm reminded of your tough guy
stories getting led home by the fire department
without your gloves, breaking zippers, almost
dying...so I send these as an encouragment Phil, to
return safely and use your noggin. I'll send you five
at a time.

1. Dares are neither offered or taken. Necessary
risks are bad enough. (Mr."Let's-stick-my-tongue-to
-the-pole" Jacobsen.)

2. When leaving camp or ship, regardless of means of
transportation, be sure you are adequately dressed,
properly equipped, have a sleeping bag and sufficient
rations to last out in the open 3 to 10 days. If
flying, make sure your personal survival gear is
aboard the plane. You may be stranded or have to walk
home. (Mr. "I-don't-need-my-gloves" Jacobsen.)

3. NEVER leave camp alone-- at least TWO men per
party on sea ice or hiking on land. The buddy system
not only helps in prevention and early treatment of
frostbite, but if you fall into the water, your
buddy's efforts will probably save you. If you break
a leg you have assistance and someone who knows where
you are to go for help. (Peeny!)

4. On shelf ice or glacier ice, parties must consist
of three or more, and they must rope together if in
questionable crevasse country. In crevasse country
trail breakers on skis must CONTINUALLY probe for
crevasses with ice axes. In probing for tractor
trail, longer, heavier probes (crowbars) must be used.
Select camps on glacial ice with great care, and
don't unrope except on thoroughly tested and marked
areas.

5.If you feel cold, remember that exercise produces
heat. A particularly good exercise is to tense both
the extensors and flexors of the arms and legs of the
same time. This produces heat without motion.
However, don't overdo it. There is a limit to work
that can be done safely, and some rest is required to
avoid exhaustion and danger of freezing.

I know you are a big boy Phil, and the stories you
tell of your near death experiences are usually
embellished anyway, RIGHT? All this reading and
writing about Antarctica has made me cold so I'm going
to go finish my book in the bath.

I love you Phil, and miss you something awful.
Mary

P.S. Lucifer is getting fat. He gained 8 pounds in 9
months. Tubby Mc-tubb. He says hi. So does Gail,
but she's not fat

"...gums swollen and turning black; joints of legs also swollen and turning black; feet can hardly bear any pressure on them; elbow stiff and sore, pupils of eyes enlarged...we shall have to climb the hills by Castle Rock, which would delay us another couple of days." Joyce describes Vic Hayward in the book Shackleton's Forgotten Men by Lennard Bickel

"Hey Phil," Penny says. "Do you want to hike to Castle Rock?"

It's our day off. I've washed pots with pasta, pans with nacho cheese and spaghetti stained plates for the last six days and sixty hours of my work week. On my day off, I planned to get sixty winks of nap time. But I recognize the tone in the "Hey Phil" question. This tone says, "we've come to Antarctica, not to sleep, but to experience life." The only correct answer to this question, the only word I could find in a Webster's Dictionary to reply to Penny is "yes."

Winter is settling around McMurdo. The sun has started to set, the wind blows and the temperature has dropped. Since our day off isn't dependent on the weather, we have to strike out on adventure while the iron is hot or, in this case, while it's -10 and a windchill of -40.

There are two ways to hike to Castle Rock and they both, weather dependent, suck. Today is the kind of day where people should only be outside if they are on their way to another building to get inside. The wind seems armed with razor blades and the cold has made a deal with the devil, "We get Antarctica. You can have Hell."

I wear Carhart pants over a thin layer of capilene. I put my windpants on over my Carharts. I have thin socks which keep my feet from getting blisters on long hikes. The wool socks go over these and my shoes have a new layer of mink oil to keep out the moisture. My capilene shirt is all I need under my National Science issued red parka, "Ol'Big Red."

This parka is the lifesaver of the outfit. The zipper keeps the jacket securely fastened all the way up to my eyeballs. The outer layer of Velcro keeps the wind out of the jacket. Penny suggests I wear more than a thin capilene under Ol'Big Red, I suggest I can dress myself.

Normally I'd wear goggles on a day like this, but my goggles have been very fragile and seem to get broken by simply touching them. Early in the summer, the lenses cracked when I dropped a scuba tank on them. And, at the South Pole, my replacement lenses were broken when I was getting loaded into the medevac flight and the doctor set a large oxygen tank on the goggles. So, instead of goggles, I just bring my sunglasses. Sun reflected off the snow really makes your eyes start to feel like sandpaper if you accidentally forget your sunglasses. Scratchy eyes makes you realize how often you have to use your eyes to see. Plus, when cursed with sun blindness it's very hard to sleep as your eyelids irrate your eyeballs.

How do I know? That's another story.

Leaving McMurdo to go to Castle Rock, we're required to check out at the fire department. There, the dispatcher calls the weather center, the weatherman, who may have the easiest job in Antarctica, "The extended forecast is cold, with a good chance of cold and it will be cold later this week," tells us it's safe to hike to Castle Rock, but to be careful because it's "very cold."

We leave the fire department and Penny puts the two pound issued emergency walkie talkie in her backpack (it's her turn to carry the radio) and we start walking up the hill that leads to the trail that goes to Castle Rock.

Penny says, "When I get outside and start hiking on days like this, I think about the explorers that did this in the early 1900's. They pulled hundreds of pounds on sleds, fell through crevaces and explored an unchartered area."

I say, "Do you think about the ones that lived? Because I just remember the people who died out here."

We reach the trail head to Castle Rock. It doesn't seem to matter if I face into the wind or walk backwards, it's cold. Hiking to the beginning of the trail is physically the hardest part of the hike. It's on a steep hill and the wind is channeled between two other hills. The hills work in conjuction with the wind to try and blow us back to McMurdo.

Just because we're at the beginning of the trail, doesn't mean the hard part is over, it's just beginning. The three miles to Castle Rock is up a more gradual hill, through two inches of snow with the consistency of sand on the beach and it's wide open territory no rocks, boulders or structures to block the wind. Instead of knowing the direction the wind is going to hit you, it's more of a guessing game.

As we begin to hike, I institute the final defense in the war against cold, I go to Condition Ol'Big Red. Grabbing hold of the zipper I try and zip the teeth closed on my jacket all the way up to my eyeballs with a quick yank. Instead, my fist hits my nose as the zipper breaks in my hand. Nose swollen and turning red my jacket loses all ability to keep the warm in and cold out.

We don't turn around. We hike to Castle Rock because we're here for adventure not for comfort.

Even though we hiked the short, five mile route, by the time we return to the trail head, headed back to McMurdo, my body doesn't belong to me anymore. Parts of it feel like they have been left on a trail in Antarctica.

Since my jacket didn't have a zipper, I had to walk with one hand up to my face holding the parka closed where the Velcro couldn't offer any gripping power. With my hand in my face for so long, my gate was more of a hobble than a stride and my hips feel like they are swollen, my joints should be candidates for a rest home. I think the pain is making it so I can't see straight, but I recalled taking off my sunglasses a few miles back. The "hand in face, trying to keep the parka closed, to keep the cold out and warmth in" routine made the air circulate around my glasses and form an ice layer on my dark glasses. It was either hike and not see were I was walking or take off my glasses. My eyes feel like a fine grade of sandpaper are scratching the blue, white and black areas. The last time my eyes became burnt they felt like lava rocks were scratching my retnas. This pain seems less painful than the last time. Which is good.

Please don't take this as complaining, it's just the facts, the details of a journey we took in Antarctica. Back in my room my feet are starting to dethaw. The two layers of socks were no match for walking on many more layers of snow and ice. My shoes were frozen by the end of the hike and did not have any give, bend or resemblence of comfort when I entered my dorm. I have taken them off and placed them by the heater. The toenail that used to be on my little toe is in a ziplock bag. I'll throw that away in the container labeled "Bio Waste" at the end of my hallway.

"Hey Phil," Penny says from her room. She's still feeling adventurous. I have no idea what she has planned next.

"Yes?"

Much has been written about the early exploration of Antarctica. Ships like the Discovery, the Aurora, Erebus and Polaris have been captained in these waters by men, great-great men. Robert Scott, Earnest Shackleton, Ross and even a guy named McMurdo. To sail in these parts is to achieve ship stardom. Medals are given to sailors in Antarctica, because lives are easily lost in these harsh environments.

Ships entering McMurdo are required to either have a captain at the helm with several years of ice experience under his/her anchor's aweigh belt or the ship is required to hire an Ice Captain. The likelihood of error is high. The ice is not based in any christian faith. The ice does not forgive.

The thickness of the Ross Sea can send any ship to the icy depths of Davy's frozen locker.

A keen eye, horse sense, cat like reflexes. Few people posses these qualities. You can either go to the Naval Academy for several years or become a dishwasher or Janitor in Antarctica. Either way, you'll have what it takes.

Hibernation: ever heard of it?

Every day we are slowly starting to lose 18 minutes of sunlight. Although the sun has been setting since February 20, I hadn't seen a sunset until last night.

For a while the sun paralled the horizon like it was drawing a line between two points, knowing the shortest distance around McMurdo was a straight circular pattern around our town. Then, around 11 p.m., the sun ducked behind the Royal Society Mountain range. Dipping below the horizon the sun set the sky on fire with flourescent tubes and neon lights.

A picture can't describe how it felt to be surrounded by a sky whose color would never be found in a box of Crayola Crayons. Was the color pink? flesh?

There was a time Crayola had a color called "Indian Red." The sky was definitely not this color, but trying to describe what was seen last night in a photo or in words is as blasphemous as naming a crayon the color of a Native American. That being said, with apologise to Mother Nature, here's how McMurdo looked last night to a camera.

Today Penny and I had a two day weekend. This was the first time I've had two days off in a row since I arriving in Antarctica in August (unless you count the week I had off traveling on the Polar Sea, the 4 days I had off going to the South Pole or the 6 days I spent on bed rest recuperating from the South Pole) and it was great.

Yesterday we moved out of our old dorm room and into the luxury new digs of our "winter over" rooms. We have been living in a walk-in closet sized room for the last six months. Sharing limited space while trying not to get on each other's nerves. Now we have our own rooms, a shared bathroom and luxury view of another dorm. But, it's another dorm in Antarctica so we're pretty excited.

The room I moved into had two beds, two desks and two closets. With my Leatherman, I was able to take apart the whole she-bang and make one bed, a walk-in closet and a giant desk. I guarantee in six months I'll have lost all the screws and won't be able to remember how to put this place back together.

Then we climbed Observation Hill. The weather was beautiful and we only had to wear our light jackets. Yes it still strikes me as odd to think six degrees is a warm day. At the top of Ob Hill without pollution, trees or buildings it feels like you can see forever. Two ships are still near town. One is the fuel ship. It's four miles away with a hose unloading fuel into town.

The ship was supposed to come to McMurdo but the ice was too thick. And the other ship is the Polar Sea, the one Penny and I cruised on. The last day of fueling was yesterday, so after our climb up Ob Hill we took a tour out to the fuel ship in a Delta. A Delta is a vehicle made to travel over ice with no amenities for luxury or comfort. The wheels are marshmallow like and spongy. They displace the weight of the vehicles tremendously so you don't crash through the ice, but bounce around like a bumper car on springs. You have to seat belt yourself in, not for fear of hitting anything, but to keep your rear from bouncing off the chair and your head hitting the metal ceiling. As an added feature, there isn't heat.

After driving across eight feet of ice, four miles, we were able to go aboard the fuel ship, the Richard G. Mathieson. We got to see the Polar Sea break ice and a school, gaggle or flock? of Emperor Penguins swim. The Emperors are very rare in this area. Twenty Emperors, even at a distance requiring binoculars, was very cold. Sometimes I wish I was watching pelicans instead of penguins.

The best part of my second day off, was the galley served Mexican food. Chicken, pork and cheese Enchiladas. Do you have any idea how difficult it is to wash off burnt cheese on 27 industrial sized pots and pans?