To get to today, I had to go through yesterday. Yesterday was chaotic. Today is officially "Winfly" or Winter Fly-in. Nobody calls it Winter Fly-in any more, this is just Winfly.

Winfly is the period in-between the end of Winter and the start of Summer. I figure that Winter officially ends when the first flight touched down at 11:56 a.m. one week ago, and then Winfly becomes official today. In my mind it becomes official today because, yesterday the last flight left McMurdo and has us locked in until October 4 (the start of Summer).

These periods may not be important to you, but to Antarcticans Winfly is one of three seasons. It's not really spring, because some of the worst weather we experience is usually during Winfly and Winfly definitely does not bring to mind images of blooming flowers and butterflies. So if Winter is Winter and Summer is only from October to February, then I suppose Winfly is kind of a cross between Winter and Spring--like Spinter or Wing.

As for yesterday. I don't know how many people are on station right now, but let's say there were 325. Of these 325 people there is one guy on station who has the official job of being the weatherman, and there are 324 of us who are armchair weather men. Yesterday 324 of us predicted the weather was so bad that there would be no way to land a plane in Antarctica, but the one guy ol'325, called Christchurch and said, "C-17! Come on down. You're the next contestant to have a runway named after you--once you crash and burn in whiteout conditions."

Since the plane was coming, we had to go greet it with fresh passengers to pick up and old friends to drop off. I was assigned to drive Delta Gale. There is also a film crew in McMurdo doing a documentary about life in McMurdo, Antarctica and the Science community, and they had the permission to ride up front with me in Delta Gale on the way to and from Pegasus.

The front seat of a Delta can hold three or four people pretty comfortably. I've also learned it can hold three people (with moderate comfort) and a gigantic movie camera sitting on a tripod, bungee corded to the dashboard and pointing at my face.

Before I climbed up front to drive this crew to the airport Rich, the sound guy, miked me up. What I learned from Rich, is that a sound guy is like a doctor. After he stuck a battery down my pants and ran a wire through my shirt--I felt like I should either have to fill out some insurance papers or buy him dinner. Keep in mind, Antarctica is a desert, we have to drink and drink and drink water in order to stay hydrated. This means every time I had to pee and pee and pee, Rich was wirelessly in my pants--listening to my entire bathroom process. He's keeping a blog about his Antarctic experience down here and I'm happy to see in the story he wrote about yesterday he didn't say, "The worst part of my day was learning how fresh fruit upsets the stomach of a Winterover."

The drive out to Pegasus is marked with red flags placed about 25 to 50 feet apart. It's kind of like driving a road marked by Hansel and Gretel. I followed flags, they followed bread crumbs. The witch wanted to eat them. The snow and wind seemed to want to devour us.

As we were leaving McMurdo I told Bruce (the driver of the other Delta) that I did not want to be the leader, because with a cameraman (Sylvester), a director (Anne), a humongous camera (nerve wracking) and me driving, I didn't want to think--just follow. The camera took up so much room upfront, that Rich had to ride in the back of the Delta with 13 passengers on their way out of town.

The point where we drive out of McMurdo and onto the sea ice to get to Pegasus Airfield (named after the first plane "Pegasus" that crashed out there--today I thought the airfield would get a name change to "C-17") is called "The Transition." We were about 27 flags past the Transition and I was very happy Bruce was leading the way because I couldn't see the ground, I couldn't see the sky and I could barely see Bruce. Luckily I saw him barely enough to see that he stopped his vehicle, opened up his door and gave the universal shoulder shrug for "I'm fucking lost."

He said this with his shoulders, because he didn't want this broadcast over the radio. I keyed up my walkie-talkie beep-beep "Do you want me to lead?" Through the blowing snow I saw that he just nodded his head.

Flag by flag I lead five or six vehicles with 77 people out to Pegasus. As we were getting close to the airfield, we were able to hear the pilot of the plane asking, "Can you turn up the lights on the runway?" I felt like saying, "Right now you have two options 1) Turnaround or 2) Become part of Antarctic lure. Our Weather Man is Crazy. I can't see the ground and I'm on it."

By the time we got close enough to see Pegasus, the C-17 was on the ground. Not strewn. But actually on the ground, ready to load up our passengers. I suppose this is why we only have one weatherman and not 324.

And maybe one day you can see this ride out to the airport at a theater near you. Because if seeing me freak out and get lost is good film, then I think we just had an Oscar winning moment.

My friend Jon Siegel has been asking to have this video appear on my site for some time. There were a few problems with this request 1) It's not my video and 2) I play a very, very, very small roll in it. At philjacobsen.com you might notice that phil of philjacobsen.com likes to appear in most of his stories.

This is a video from the Midwinter's Dinner. This is what it looks like when we cue up to eat. And the big guy who keeps looking into the camera is Jon Siegel.

Sometimes I think my website should be called jonsiegel.com for the amount of people who do Google Searches of Jon Siegel in Ogunquit, Maine.

That being said, "Ayuh, welcome all you Maine folks. Here's the great food Jon cooks for us. And his face, too."

(to watch the video click on the blue words that say, "Midwinter's Dinner.)"

Tomorrow I'm doing something I have not done in over seven months. I'm sending a piece of mail. Actually three pieces of mail and each one is a reason why I am down here.

Over the Winter I was contacted by a guy named Dick. He's a school teacher at Darlington High School in Wisconsin. For reasons only the guy who started the "Biggest Ball of Rubberbands" can explain, Dick decided to start a Duct Tape collection. His students have collected rolls of Duct tape from all over the world. Tomorrow a roll that Wintered over in 2006 is on the way from McMurdo Station.

Perhaps this roll will inspire one kid or teacher to learn a little more about Antarctica. Or, maybe, this might be the roll of Duct Tape that some juvenile delinquent steals off the wall permanently ruining his or her permanent record. Either way, if you can't Duct it...

My little piece of mail is a postcard being sent to my cousin Taylor. Since my mother is the oldest daughter of six girls, I have some pretty young cousins. Taylor thinks I'm so old that I'm actually an Uncle. I suppose that only makes sense, because her mom is so young she seems like a cousin to me (you're welcome Sindy). Anyways, Taylor's class has a postcard project where they're trying to get as many postcards from as many different places to learn about the world where we live. Soon, they'll learn about Antarctica.

The final package is a golf score card. Once again I was contacted by someone I didn't know. This was a guy in Australia who collects golf score cards. He has over 200 score cards. I thought he was a nut, because if you didn't know it Antarctica is kind of white and, as the old saying goes, "It would take a lot of balls to play golf in Antarctica."

I told him I might be able to make a score card for Frisbee Golf, because in the Summer, we do have a nine hole Frisbee Golf course. This guy thought that would be great. He even said, "That's great mate." Because he's lives in Australia--even though he's Scottish. Wouldn't you know, two days later, my friend Jay Cairn's decided to have an indoor golf tournament. I asked him if I could make the score card and three weeks later, my mate Bob will be getting a Golf Card from Antarctica.

It just occured to me that perhaps I like to do these things because I collect snow globes. I have hundreds of them. If I didn't live here I'd send myself an email asking to be sent an Antarctica Snow Globe. And the letter I'd send back would be, "They don't sell those here."

The C-17 landed today. In fact it's already flying back to Christchurch.

This morning the very first sign things were going good was when the Internet, mathematics and wind speed calculated the plane was going to land at 11:54. Since I had written my Ode to 54, I was running around station saying, "Check out the Internet--not since it predicted that the rumors of Mark Twains death was greatly exaggerated has the Internet ever been wrong."

Then I reported for the prebrief to learn that I would be driving Delta Dawn out to pick up my passengers. Even though I had to wake up at 6:30 a.m., this was okay. Even though today was Sunday, the only day I should have off in a 14 day stretch, this was also okay, because today was the day the first flight was coming in and today was the day I was going to win six thousand dollars. Boy was I wrong.

Last night, the eve of the last day of Winter a friend of mine started a less expensive wheels down pool selling each minute for $20. Once that Wheels Down Pool filled up, he started another pool for $10 a minute. The people of McMurdo were Wheels down crazy. And, since I had just come in second place in a poker tournament, I had a couple extra dollars to spend, so I bought three more numbers.

All of my numbers were spaced pretty equally around the Golden #54. I was pretty happy with this, because it meant I kind of had a piece of the clock from 11:45 to 11:59. Since I was taking a group of passengers out to the runway, my friend who ran the $600 (10$ a minute pool) and the $1200 pool gave me the $1800 to give to one of the lucky people leaving for Christchurch just in case their number was the exact minute when the Wheels Hit the Ice.

After the prebriefing, when I found out I would be assisting with the manual labor in a Cargo Delta, instead of driving Delta Dawn, I was kind of disappointed. This meant the people, Kevin and Katie, who I'd promised could ride up front with me in the Delta would have to be jam packed inside a bus with everyone else. Oh well, this is kind of how things go--things change, we adapt.

Out at the runway, with $1800 in my pocket, seeing new friends off for greener pastures and sunshine and an approaching C-17 the excitement was piqued even though the temperature had dropped to -38F with the wind chill.

When we saw the plane approach I was reminded of that picture taken when Shackleton's men were rescued from Elephant Island. However, instead of everyone waving at a ship saving them from years a drift on ice floes and unsavory conditions, we were just getting ready to be invaded by new people, their new germs and an airplane.

The plane was also running early. As it flew towards the runway, it was 11:49. Then, instead of landing, it flew past the runway. The wind was blowing in such a way that it was A) cold and B) meant landing from the backside was the best way to enter Antarctica. Hey, I was born breach so I'm all about landing from the backside. Plus, if the plane could take five minutes to flip this U-turn, I'd be able to flip my $100 entrance fee in to six thousand dollars.

Like a sixteen wheeled truck that needs forty acres in order to turn this rig around, it took the C-17, seven minutes to hit this cold Earth, feet first and officially ending our Winter season.

We'd heard that when the official time was announced by the control tower, the person in charge of the six grand, would make the grand statement of "(winner's name) do you got a copy?" It's important in times like this to keep all things very official.

The control tower said, "Wheels down at 11:56 a.m."

I said, "Shit, missed six thousand dollars by two minutes." Then I listened to the radio to hear who the winner was.

The mike on my walkie-talkie keyed up with a BEEP BEEP, meaning an announcement was about to be made.

And the guy in charge, who was sitting in a truck behind me, said, "Phil Jacobsen, do you got a copy?"

I turned around, pointed at him and said, "Don't trick me." (I might have said this in so many other words).

Walking towards me was the largest bag of cash I have seen this side of Miami Vice.

Do you remember how I've said that during the Winter our brains kind of freeze and go into hibernation mode? It's like we don't know if we're supposed to raise or lower a garage door or simply go get a cup of coffee.

Well, I forgot. My number was really 56. Things change. I adapt.

I won.

People were running up to me from all directions, giving me hugs, saying congratulations and asking to borrow money.

Then, one of the passengers, who was getting ready to leave on the six thousand dollar dream maker C-17, said, "Who won the other pools?"

I reached into my pocket, and the guy who won the $1200 was back in town. Then I opened up the other sheet of paper surrounding the $600 and scanning past number 54 (sorry Shanna the She-Devil), to 55 (sorry Brooklyn Dodgers) and written on line 56 was "Phil Jacobsen."

It looks like the hotels on my vacation just improved a star or two. Bettina and Shelly, I can't wait to see you.

Now I'm off to meet the new people.

(Nacreous Clouds are very difficult to photograph. Of all of the photos I've seen, I think this one is 54 times more realistic than any of the other photos I've posted.)

I've always been fond of the saying, "Teach a man to fish and he'll eat whenever he's shooting fish in a barrel, but give a man six thousand dollars and he'll be able to eat fish in a really nice restaurant."

It's possible I'm mixing/adding and subtracting metaphors, when all that really matters is the number "54."

The number "54" is my number this year in "Wheels Down." Shhhh. Don't tell anyone what I'm about to tell you, because this is tradition. And, even if it's done every year and even if everybody knows about it, traditionally we're not supposed to gamble--it's a company rule. Like coming to Antarctica isn't a gamble enough?

Anyways, Wheels Down means when the first plane arrives on Sunday (weather permitting) when its black wheels hit the white snow of Pegasus Runway, which ever minute on the clock the plane lands this is the Wheels Down Minute. Meaning if it lands at 12:54, 1:54 or 2:54--it's the number 54 that makes all the difference.

The tradition this year cost $100 per minute. When the announcement was spread around town about the time and place where the minutes were going to be sold, I bundled up, took my name badge off of my jacket and headed to this undisclosed, disclosed location. I had to stand in line eight people deep to give the person who was handling the Wheels Down cash flow my $100. With sixty minutes in an hour this means there is six thousand dollars on the line. This also meant all sixty minutes were sold out in 15 minutes.

Winner takes all. Winner leaves Antarctica with a wad of cash nearly at the "Yikes--Now I have to disclose this information and the fact I drink water to the Custom's Official."

The numbers are drawn at random, and, as I said, the number I drew was "54." Some people say it's best to have a number in the :30s, but I say, once you get to know the number 54, you'll know it's the one with Wheels Down written all over it.

If the plane leaves Christchurch on time (highly unlikely to very likely since it's run by the Military--Kind of a precise group of people--Hence: Military Precision) it (the plane) should arrive in McMurdo from the :30's to the :00's. Clearly :54 is now in the running.

Plus, I figure if you're reading this, and you begin to think "54" for the next few days, then I'll have the power of positive cash flow and thinking working to my advantage.

As far as something to think about, did you know the number 54 is the atomic number of xenon. There are also 54 squares in a Rubic's Cube. If you were to write 54 in Roman Numerals it would be LIV. Pretty close to the word "LIVE" and that's what I'll be doing High On the Hog, if the plane lands at a 54.

An interesting thing about 54 is it can be written as the sum of three squares in three different ways. It is the smallest number with this property. It is also the only number that follows 53 or 55 (if you're counting backwards).

There are 26 letters in the alphabet, but if there were 54 we probably wouldn't spell "knife" with a "K."

For those of you from Argentina, you'll know that 54 is your dialing code. Movie buffs know that Salma Hayek and Ryan Phillippe starred in the movie "54" about Studio 54.

The 54th amino acid in the 153-residue sequence of a Sperm Whale Myoglobin is Glutamic Acid. And, if there is anyone I'd like on my side, it's a Sperm Whale.

The Internet is probably my 54th most favorite thing in life.

According to mystics 54 represents eloquence and long life. But, according to Cary Grant, he said, "I have just been born again," after he took LSD for the first time at age 54.

There are 100 Marvel Value Stamps issued from 1974-1976 in Marvel Comic Books and stamp #54 is Shanna the She-Devil. Okay, that's awesome.

Finally, the 54th saying of the Gospel of Thomas, Jesus said, "Blessed are the poor, for yours is the Kingdom of Heaven."

Well, if heaven means that I'm hanging out with a bunch of poor beggars or bums holding cardboard signs that read, "Will shine your Halo for food" then give me that six grand and I'll buy my own god damn piece of heaven on Earth underneath a coconut tree, on the white sands in the Cook Islands with my best friend Shelly.

Think Positive. Think 54.

Today I felt for the road workers and the highway men in the United States or around the world. The people who lay down the hot asphalt in the 100 degree heat wave sweeping the nation or the microwaved global warmed earth. The men and women who can't take off enough clothes to stay cool all to support the transportation drivers, the vacationing families and anyone who owns a vehicle.

Today I did their job. Except it was a completely opposite experience.

The road out to the runway is snow. Layers upon layers of snow and ice and fluff and slippery hardened water. It's like a frozen quicksand to normal passenger vehicles unless the road crew gets out there with their steamrollers and flattens and packs and hardens up the slick surface.

The wheels of a Delta lay a foot print of (rough guess here--I'm just a driver, I don't need to have the brains) three to four feet. With six wheels (three on each side) and a total weight of something larger than you'd like to run over your toe, but smaller than the Statue of Liberty (maybe she has ice skates under that robe? Hint: "With Liberty and Justice (or "Just Ice") for all." The Delta is the steam roller (minus the steam, but add the ice) of Antarctica (and I appear to be Antarctica's Parenthetical King--I'm sorry). At least I still hate exclamation marks!!!!

Since our first flight lands in less than a week, the road out to the runway has to be smooth and ready for the cargo and passengers that will soon be shuttled to their new home called McMurdo.

Every day might be the most beautiful day I have ever seen in Antarctica, which would mean today was the most beautiful. But even if I didn't think every day was better than the next, I know for certain today was the best.

Well, at least this is what I saw today in, during and while commuting for work. I know it's not hot tar, orange vested construction workers with tanned leather skin smoking their cigarettes or butt cracks or even traffic jams.

All I saw out my window was the best day ever!!!!

Today my friend Kevin sent these photos to me, he said "These picture seem like yesterday....and I am on my way back already!!!"

As I said it does seem like one really long night where the yesterday was in the daylight and the today is right now. I don't know if that makes sense? But, in one week I will see Kevin and nearly 300 other people who will be arriving to Antarcitca. Some of these people for the first time, and many others will be returning.

The first time I arrived in McMurdo, I remember when the plane landed someone sitting next to me turned to one of their friends and said, "Welcome Home." I couldn't imagine what it must be like to be able to say "home" was Antarctica. This was going to be my first and only time in Antarctica. Since then, I've landed at the runway in McMurdo or out at the Pegasus runway three different times. Four if you count the time I landed in a helicopter.

I count the time I landed in a helicopter. This means I've been able to say, "Welcome home" meaning "Antarctica" four times.

One thing I've learned about Antarctica is never say, "I'll never come back" and, the most memorable thing, like a lot of events in life is always the first time.

The first time I came here to wash dishes I met this guy named Dan, he was playing cards with his wife. This was my first night in town, I told him I was a dishwasher in the way some people might say, "I won the lottery." For this reason, I can only imagine, he gave me his pager number and said, "The next day you have a day off let me know and I'll take you around."

The next day I had off, Wednesday, I gave him a page and he said to meet me at the back of my dorm, Dorm 201. I have to keep in mind that the first week I lived in McMurdo there was a storm. The only distinguishing feature of town I had seen was a large pot room, a mammoth dishwasher and 400 people who needed coffee, clean plates and a mopped floor. This wasn't Antarctica, this was a Siberian work camp.

Coincidentally this Wednesday was the first clear day since I'd arrived, and when I stepped out the back door of my dorm I was able to see a mountain range whose name I didn't know (the Royal Societies), a wooden building that I couldn't believe was built by some guy who went to the South Pole (Robert Scott) and a sky that could only exist in a Hanna Barbara Banana Bunch hallucinogenic Saturday morning cartoon.

Dan drove me around to places called "Radar Sat," "The Golf Ball," and "Cosray." At one point he said, "You don't know it now, but you won't see these places ever again or very often." I didn't know it then and if I had come to Antarctica and this was just the first week I was in McMurdo then I would see all of this and so much more before I left.

In reality, Dan was right. As a dishwasher, you're lucky to see past the kitchen. You might see a penguin. You'll definitely see hard work. And you'll be lucky to even ride in a vehicle.

That one ride gave me enough excitement to wash 21,000 pieces of cutlery, until the next time when I went fishing. Until the next time I went to the South Pole, until the next time when I rode on a Coast Guard Ice Breaker, until this week when I'll be driving Delta Dawn, an orange behemoth of a vehicle with tires as large as a VW bug, to pick up the next group of Antarcticans who will one day say, "Welcome Home."

The plane is coming. This much is true. Soon, even by next Sunday, the first airplane will put its wheels down on this continent in six months.

This is what it looks like trying to build an airport in Antarctica.

Not only isn't it this bright outside, yet.

I'm not that bright either, yet.

Matt just pulled up to the garage door that leads to the loading bay where I work. After I helped him unload a box from the back of the pick up I said, "I'll close the garage door for you."

By closing the garage door for Matt, this meant I would pull on the pulley system of chains and sprockets thereby lowering this ice encased, heavy door. By lowering the door for Matt, this also meant he could hop into the truck, park it and plug it in to an electrical post so the oil wouldn't freeze overnight. By lowering the door for Matt, it would save him about 30 seconds and walking through freezer-like doors that lead to the outdoor freezer called Antarctica.

Matt said, "That would be great, but first I need to bring in these cargo straps."

I grabbed the chains, ready to lower the garage door and then I remembered my coffee was getting cold on my desk.

About five minutes later, reality seemed to come into focus when the coffee hit my blood stream and I realized I'd walked off the job. One minute I was holding the chain, the next I was sitting at my desk, drinking coffee and remembering that I was forgetting that I had something to do.

That's how the Winter is ending. It's like it's a dream. It's like walking or swimming through a dream. A great dream. One that is easily duplicated simply by coming back to Antarctica and spending five to seven months of living in the dark.

For my birthday my brother listed the Top 10 Ways to Bother Phil. Sure I'm easy going, but I can be easily bothered and my brother knows me the best, therefore he knows how to bother me. That being said, if his Top 10 list was really a Top 11 List, the 11th way to bother me would be by telling me about the dream you had last night.

I hate listening to other people's dreams (unless they're about me--of course). Sitting and listening to a dream in which pertains to nothing except that it's "wacky" or about a barbecue which shape shifts into showing up to school without pen, pencil or underpants is only amusing to the person who had the dream. Keep your dreams to yourself, because those kind of dreams bother me to the tune of an amplifier turned up to 11.

That being said.

On February 28 I was one of the drivers who took the last group of people off of this Ross Island. I learned how to drive a large vehicle called a Delta. Then I returned to McMurdo and had a champagne toast to be isolated in Antarctica. That night I dreamt I was back in my Delta, picking up the first people who were returning to Antarctica. In my dream my friend Kevin asked, "How was your Winter?" and I said, "Is it over already--it was like a dream. It went by so quickly."

Today I walked up to a Delta, kicked the tires and inspected the engine. It's, once again, the dawning of Delta driving. On Sunday, August 20th, I will pick up my friend Kevin from the first flight that lands on Antarctica. There will be five Deltas that are driving out to pick up the first fresh faces and fresh cargo that we will have seen since the 28th of February. Delta Gale is driven by Kaci and Bruce. Delta Flipper will be driven by Kristan and Jason. Delta Newt is commandeered by Pauli and Todd while Mike and Nathan will be riding high on Delta Brenda.

And in this weird dreamlike state that begins to shape shift into reality, through happenstance or circumstance I will be the only Delta Driver piloting my vehicle solo. On this day as I'm literally living my dream, if you ask me why I have that smile on, I'll say it's because I'm driving Delta Dawn.

As for the garage door...I don't know, I guess Matt closed it. My coffee was hot. I drive heavy machinery.

There was a film festival this week and I have a small roll in this film calld Grumpea

This guy, Brad, his Winter Project was to never shave or cut his hair. You also get a good view at what our galley looks like. Keep in mind I spent 14 months (that's a record) cleaning every inch of this place

There are a couple of other films about Antarctica on this link as well. I like the one about ship offload. Ship Offload is pretty much what my job revolves around in the Supply Department. My job is to organize a portion of all of the stuff coming off this ship for Ship Offload.

Also, I saw this story at Yahoo today. It's titled "Rare Cloud Formation Seen in Antarctica." While we don't see these clouds everyday, they are hardly rare. The rarest thing about this formation is that you have to be in a climate like Antarctica to see them.

Enjoy the movies and I'll think you realize I missed my call in ACTING!

Here are a couple of photos and links that help answer the question: Why do you live in Antarctica?

And this link is a video that one of our residents, Anthony Powell, shot. It's a beautiful timelapse piece that shows one year in Antarctica

Finally, I put up this link earlier, but in the dark all you saw was black, now this real time camera can show you what it looks like where I live. The best time to look would probably be between 7 p.m. to 1 a.m. (EST). But, every day this window to my world should open a half an hour on either side of these times. Scott Base.