Flying High

One week. One WHOLE week since my last post. I can't believe you, my faithful readers, have allowed such a thing to occur!

A busy week is to blame for my e-absence. In the past seven days, we did our last 48-hr sample, our last snow pit, another mist chamber calibration, shut down the instruments, and packed up the tomato and Bally building. That's right: packed up. We're done! Our last sample was taken Monday evening. It's a bit bittersweet, though, I will admit, more sweet than bitter. This has been an amazing experience and I've met some great people in my 3-week stint on two miles of ice but I'm ready to see a night sky, greenery, and some warmer temps. Oh and I suppose family and friends as well.

Tomorrow marks my last day on the ice sheet. Well, hopefully. There's always a high probability that the plane won't come due to bad weather, which, let's face it, is not uncommon up here in the Arctic. If the plane does come (finger tightly crossed!), myself and six others will be delivered back down to sea-level, to Kangerlussuaq. The flight to Kanger is only an hour and half which is great. What's not great is that our flight tomorrow is what they refer to as a cold deck. As we will be traveling with the snow samples my colleagues and I collected as well as all the ice cores (35 boxes of ~6 1 meter cores), they have to keep the flight deck cold. To do this, they use the outside air, which at altitude, will be a chilly minus twenty-something celsius (below zero fahrenheit). Layers will be key! I also plan to bring my sleeping bag with me.

Once again, my time in Kanger will be limited; my flight back to the states is the following morning likely at 8 or 9. I'm not terribly dissapointed to breeze through Kanger though it would be nice to have some time to buy some gifts and/or head to the ice edge. Perhaps one or the other will be possible once we get in. IF we get in. Always have to keep that in mind!

While I may be leaving science will continue. Just yesterday, we had a batch of 12 new people arrive to Summit ready to either start projects or to take over projects already in action. Two projects that will continue long after I leave Summit are the Unmanned Aerial Vehicle (UAV) project and Radiosonde launches. Unlike the other ground-based projects I've talked about here, these two are airborne.

The radiosonde (pronounced radio-sond) launches are actually associated with the project examining Arctic cloud structure that I mentioned briefly a while back. The sonde's purpose is to get vertical profiles of temperature and humidity, two variables that are very useful in determining how favorable the atmosphere is for storm, cloud, and fog formation (i.e., atmospheric stability). Radiosondes are launched at the same time, twice a day around the world yielding a synchronous and global look at the atmosphere above.

The radiosonde itself (shown being assembled by Brad below) is a very small box off of which hang temperature and humidity probes. A small water-activated battery powers the instrument.

This tiny box is attached to an extremely large balloon which carries the instrument tens of thousands of kilometers up into the stratosphere. At this point the balloon pops and falls to the surface, landing somewhere in the great white open. Brad was kind enough to allow me to take a video of the radiosonde launch:

If you listen closely (and the sound uploads!) you can here wish the sonde off. While the process wasn't terribly interesting the data that come out of it, are extremely useful.

Though the UAV project doesn't involve balloons, it does call up another type of toy: a model airplane. Ok, it's a REEEEEALLY big model airplane (4 meter-13 feet-wing span) but still, same principle. The planes are built and operated by a group out of Norway. These scientists are interested in surface albedo and what a better way to see how much solar radiation is reflecting off the surface than to measure it from above? On the plane are housed two spectrometers that do just that as shown in the picture below.


Unfortunately, I was too late to the UAV site to catch pictures of the plane in action hence the pictures of the disassembled aircraft. The launch is pretty rad though and takes place on this "catapult" shown below.


I don't know about you, but when I think catapult I think medieval warfare and giant wooden weapon that fling balls of burning hay (or whatever), not so much a sleek metal ramp. But, hey I'm not an engineer. Compressed air pushes the airplane into the air and away it goes; looking at the radiation being reflected on the snowy surface below.

I really hope tomorrow I will be looking at Summit from above. Ok, so it wouldn't be the worse thing to be stranded up here (did I mention the food is outrageously good?) but I'm more than ok with heading South. Here's hopin' for a good flying day!

Core Values

As you probably have realized by now, Summit Camp, despite it's remoteness, is the site of many different types of scientific research. Atmospheric chemistry, surface albedo (reflectance), clouds... all topics that need much work. However, Summit wasn't always home to such diverse research. In it's early years, Summit station was used solely for ice core research.

Every morning, afternoon, and evening, when I'm on my to and from Sat Camp, I pass a standing reminder of Summit's core past: the drill site for the Greenland Ice Sheet Project 2 (GISP2).


Ok. So maybe it just looks like an unimpressive rusty pipe covered in tarps. But to a science geek such as myself, it. Is. AWESOME!

Drilling of the GISP2 core took place over a period of 3-4 years, ending in 1993. The end product was a 3,053m long tube of ice who's bottom was over 100,000 years old. In each layer was preserved isotopes and ions that held information about past conditions (for example, core variations in oxygen isotopes can tell us about past variation in temperature) as well as bubbles containing air of the ancient atmosphere. This air allowed for the creation a timeline of the concentration of several atmospheric gases, included greenhouse gases such as CO2, that extended millenia into the past. And to think all this extremely valuable and cool information came from a hole I walk by several times a day. Amazing! FYI: The pipe that's sticking up is actually the "ciba", a fiberglass casing that extends ~90m into the fern (not quite packed (dense) enough to be ice but not loose enough to be snow) that's in place to keep the drilling fluid from leaching out in the looser upper layers of the snow.

Drilling still goes on today and is in fact occurring at Summit while I'm up here. Today I caught some shots of one of the core projects going on. The site is located just 300 ft Southeast of the tomato:

This core will only extend about 90m below surface so it won't include glacial ice. The core is for a scientist at the Desert Research Institute who will be examining the core for all sorts of chemistry: trace metals, black carbon, ions; the gamut of species.

The core is brought up in 1m chunks, measured and bagged. A very simple process if everything is working smoothly and it's not terribly cold out. Today both failed for the drillers today; on top of it being ~-15degC (10degF) with 18kn (~17mph) winds, the drill cable fell off the wheel calling for some quick action so as to not lose the drill. Fortunately by the time I got out there, the drill was fixed, though it was still chilly and windy.

Here's some shots I snagged of the process:

Terry waiting for the drill


Marie grabbing the core

The team pushing out the core

Zach measuring the core in a clean suit.


Zach looking cool with the packed core

And then they repeat that, 89 times. It may not sound or look like a lot but this core will end up taking them 3-4 days to get. That's a lot of time outside in the cold!

Speaking of cold, it's a balmy 13degF, with 22kn (~20mph) and thus a -7degF windchill right now. It's going to be a noisy and chilly night for sleeping that's for sure!

The Instrument

I can't believe it's been three days since my last post! Time is certainly flying up here; we only have 8ish days left of sampling and I only have 10 1/2 more days at Summit. That means that I have been at Summit for just about 11 days.

I'm not quite sure how I avoided talking about the instrument we're running up for those 11 days but I managed to do so somehow. Let's remedy that tonight. I have mentioned the mist chamber ion chromatograph (MC-IC) in passing but haven't really gone over how it works.

The MC-IC is housed in the Bally building along with a few instruments from Georgia Tech. Here's a view outside and inside. Our MC-IC is the grey box in the bottom left of the inside picture. This grey casing is responsible for the MC-IC (uncreative) nickname: grey box.




The MC-IC is responsible for the collection and analysis of atmospheric samples, more specifically, atmospheric soluble (dissolves easily in water) acidic gases. For this particular project, we're interested in measurement of nitric acid (HNO3) and nitrous acid (HONO) as these species are more closely related to the snow photochemistry we're trying to understand. We're also interested in measuring the halogen, bromine (Br), as we hypothesize it may be a large player in the mismatch between modeled processes (those we determine using equations and formulas we know from theory) in the snow and processes that are measured. Fortunately, the MC-IC measures all three species (as well as a couple of others) simultaneously making it a very useful instrument.

Air is drawn in through the inlet shown below by a vacuum pump housed in the Bally building.



The inlet is capped with a filter (contained in the yellow-ish filter holder at the end of the tube) to keep particles and snow from contaminating our measurements of the gases. The long tub leads into the Bally building where it connects to the instrument. This part of the inlet is heated so that 1) the sample stays warm and 2) substances like HNO3 that like to stick to surfaces, do not.

Once inside both the building and the instrument, the air is sucked into two glass chambers filled with water ultimately creating a mist. Below is a shot of the mist chambers in action.


Capping the mist chambers are two head filters held in place by white filter holders (see photo below). These prevent the mist from entering the vacuum lines (the two black tubes connected to the filter holders) and the pump. These have to be changed daily to avoid leaks in the filters.

Samples are misted for 27 minutes--a much longer sampling time than for a dirty site, such as Houston, TX (where I was with the mist chamber, there, misting was only for 5 minutes). Why? Concentrations of our species of interest are much lower at a clean place like Summit so we have to sample for a longer period of time to get concentrations in a range that is measurable by IC.

Once the 27 minutes is up, samples are drawn from the mist chambers into the syringes in the picture above (glass tubes towards the bottom). From there, the two samples take different paths. Samples on the left take the "traditional" MC-IC route and are injected into the IC. With the help of a carrier solution (called "eluent"), ions are separated by charge and detected in the IC. The product is a curve of signal, shaped like a bell, who's area underneath gives information about concentration of our favorite acidic gases. The other syringe associated with the right mist chamber does not inject sample into the IC but rather into a brown bottle houses at the bottom of the instrument. These are samples that will be examined for the isotopes of oxygen and nitrogen. What is an isotope you may wonder? Think of oxygen (or nitrogen) like ice cream. Just like chocolate and vanilla are different flavors of ice cream, isotopes are different "flavors" of an element. Isotopes can tell us a whole lot about the source of the soluble gases we're interested in and thus are very useful. These samples have yet to be analyzed and won't be until after we get back. This is Dorothy's project. I'm curious to see the results!

And that's pretty much it. When it's behaving, which fortunately it has been (knock on wood!), it's a very easy instrument to run. The biggest production with it is a recalibration every time new eluent is made (~every 5 days) and even that isn't terribly complex. Tedious maybe, but not hard. My kind of instrument!

On a completely different note, Happy Flag Day! I must admit I would have had absolutely no idea that today is flag day were it not for Ken, the Camp Manager, announcing the holiday at the 8am daily meeting. What a horrible American I am. In honor of the day, the camp flags were flyin' high in the front of the big house.


On the left is the Danish flag, on the right, the Greenlandic flag, and the middle, well if you don't know it, you're a worse American than me!

A Day of Firsts

Today was a big day; not so much for science but definitely for me. I took my first shower, did my first round of laundry (both of which were very much needed and felt amazing), and tried something new; for the first time in my life, I cross-country skied. Being a newbie at it and all, I don't have my own pair of skis but I decided to borrow some from a friend in my research group to bring up here. Turns out it was a good move.

When it comes to skis, I'm used to having both my feet firmly locked to the two boards, so, as you can probably imagine, the whole loose-heel design of the cross-country skis was a bit awkward for me. Zoe, who was on the University of Denver's ski team and who coaches kids in NH how to cross-country ski, watched me as I made my first steps (glides?) on the skis. She said I was a natural, though I think she was just being nice; I'm pretty sure those who regularly hit the XC skis don't wobble as much as I did. The wobbles definitely resulted in a handful of solid falls which was frustrating and usually fairly painful. But I did not give up! I was determined to both get some exercise today and to really give a solid try to cross-country skiing so I kept on. Fortunately, after a bit, the falls became less and less frequent and were thus separated by longer periods of actual skiing. I really enjoy that part, the actual skiing. I didn't find it all that hard which was encouraging though my arms were sore. I find this odd; I would expect such an activity would work the lower limbs more rather than the upper but I was mistaken. Taking off the skis revealed some sore quads but nothing outrageous. It's very possible I'm not skiing correctly and am using the poles a bit too vigorously too much but I was definitely surprised to be held back by sore biceps; several stops were made, not to rest my legs or lungs, but to rest my arms. I was also a bit surprised I wasn't having more difficulty breathing. Being moderately out of shape and at 11000ft, I was definitely prepared to be sucking wind. But no. Not that I'm disappointed, but I am surprised. This ease of breathing may have been because I wasn't going so fast or maybe it's that I'm actually wicked good shape. I'm going with the latter.

I skied out on the skiway, where the C-130 lands, while Zach (fellow SAT camper) ran. The skiway's the prime location for these types of activities as its a 3-mile strip of groomed snow. I forgot my watch so I didn't have a real feel for how long we were out there. Turns out it was a lot longer than I thought; Zach had just over 45 minutes on his watch! He did take off about 5 minutes before I got moving but still, that means that I was skiing for ~40 minutes. Not too bad for my first day back to exercise in a week and a half. Sunday I may try running but watching Zach, who's run a marathon and is training for an Ironman at the end of August, struggle with both breathing and the occasional deep drift, I'm thinking it may not be as "effortless" as skiing.

Unfortunately, I didn't snap any pictures of me on the skis, which I feel badly about; what a post without a visual?! To compensate for the lack of action shots, I'll leave you all with some scenic ones:

Pretty clouds. Looking Southwest.

A fog bow. Its similar in principle to a rainbow (light striking water droplets in the the atmosphere and getting refracted) except without the color. I'm not 100% sure why this bow is colorless, though I'm guessing it has to do with the angle of the sun not being ideal.

Foggy night. I took this a little after 3AM when I was on my way back from the 3AM sample last week. This is close to the lowest the sun gets up here.

While today was a big day for me, tomorrow's a HUGE day for science; we're starting another 48-hr surface snow sample, have to recalibration the mist chamber (~4 hours), and are running tests for leaks on the mist chamber (~2 hours). Definitely a busy busy busy Saturday. Hopefully I'll have a moment to talk about it!

A Shoutout From A Tired Mouse

I just wanted to give a quick shoutout to Ms. Gioia's 6th grade scientists. I've love reading your comments! Today I wore my EMS tshirt and was thinking of all of you. Here's a pic.


The tshirt was essential today as I was assigned "house mouse" duties for the big house, the building shown below.


The big house is where the action is. It houses the kitchen, shower (which I still have yet to use... one week since my last shower tomorrow!), laundry, and things for entertainment such as movies and boardgames. As the hot spot where the 23 current camp residents (we had a mass exodus the past couple of days, 20 people left incuding my advisor) gather multiple times a day, you can imagine the big house gets pretty messy. This is where the mouse comes in. Each day, the mouse is responsible for the upkeep of the big house including doing all the dishes for the three meals, vacuuming, cleaning the bathroom and shower, wiping down the tables, and restocking items such as bagels and cereal. Fortunately, house mouse assignments are rotated among camp members so personal mouse duties are limited to one day every 3ish week. My one (and only!) day was today. It was a non-stop! Every time I'd finish the dishes, Rosemary (the mighty good cook) would bring out the dishes she was using to prep the next meal. In between dishes, I was bustlin' to do all the other tasks as well as the special task assigned to the Wednesday mouse, wash out the refridgerator. Needless to say, I am one tired girl. Fortunately, it's back to science tomorrow, starting with a 7am surface snow sample. I better get some rest!

Snow Pits and Snow Angels

The project I, along with my advisor Jack and a crew from Brown U. (represented by a graduate student named Dorothy), are working on calls for snow samples to be taken on all sorts of time resolutions. Most days, we take surface snow samples every twelve hours. This gets bumped up to every four hours for a 48-hour period once a week which is less than awesome as it means someone has to grab a sample at 3am. We're actually in the middle of one of these 48-hr samples right now and I have the lovely task of grabbing that 3am sample. This post is the only thing keeping me awake for it!

Sampling from shallow snow-pits is also slatted for the project though much less frequently than the surface samples; only two pits will be dug this campaign, one in the middle and one at the end. We take snow samples every 3cm down until the pit depth (21cm). These samples will give us an idea of how nitrate, our pollutant of interest, changes with depth. The idea that as you get further down, you get further from light and thus the nitrate is less likely to participate in the sunlight-driven cycling mechanisms we observe near the surface.

Last Friday, less than 48 hours after my arrival to the camp, was the chosen day for the first of the two snow pits. While I wasn't feeling particularly stellar (the altitude was still getting to me), it was a good day to get to work on the pit as the weather was nice and Jack was still in town (he leaves us this Tuesday) to show Dorothy and I the ropes of pit digging. It's pretty simple; dig a hole a bit over 21 cm deep, flatten the sampling wall (which lies upwind of you so as to avoid contamination), and get to work. Since we're dealing with very sensitive chemistry, extra caution must be taken to avoid contamination. The solution? Plastic gloves and a plastic full body suit. Baby blue and cut from a shiny nylon material, these onesies are pretty stylish. I was so psyched about them, I asked Jack to pose in them for a picture with me.


Clearly we're both thrilled about the suits. I mean, how can you not smile if you look like a telly tubby?

Jack, Dorothy, and I each took a stab at sampling from the pit. The whole process didn't take very long (definitely under an hour) but was long enough to make some cold fingers, toes, and rears. Yes. Rears. To sample, we were seated on a ledge opposite the sampling wall as seen in this action shot of me.


Unfortunately, I didn't wear my snowpants to do this so all that separated my behind from the snow was the thin clean suit, a pair of Carharts, and a pair of long underwear. I will certainly not make that mistake next time!

While I was literally freezing my bum off, Jack was playing in the snow. Here's a picture of him trying to make Summit's first snow angel.


Unfortunately, he planted himself in a hard, packed patch of snow so the final imprint wasn't all that impressive.


In the world of snow pits, ours is definitely lame. Typically, pits are on the order of meters deep as they are most often used to look changes in snow chemistry and/or structure over longer periods of time. To quote Zoe, a researcher here drilling a 100m ice core, our snow pit is anything but a pit; rather it is more of a snow "pothole".

Jack showed us a real snow pit after we finished up work on our pothole. This hole was mostly dug for a display for the Ambassador but, true to her scientist self, the digger, Zoe, took some samples out of curiosity. This pit definitely put ours to shame. Both Dorothy and I could fit in the hole (albeit not comfortably) and when standing in it, the surface was at my chest. One of the main reasons we hopped in the pit was to get a good peek at the layers in the snow. The best way to see the layer is set up a situation in which the sun back lights one of the pit walls. To do this, Dorothy and I had to duck into the pit as Jack covered us with a piece of plywood. Once covered we were facing this gorgeous wall of blue stripes.


The picture above is of a corner in the pit. As you might suspect, the different shades of blue represent different layers of snow, but did you know that they also represent the different seasons at Summit? During the Winter months when the winds are raging, more dust is transported to Summit and is deposited in the snow giving winter layers a darker color than summer. This pattern persists all the way until snow becomes glacial ice. In fact, if I'm not mistaken, these seasonal layers, along with snow deposition rates, are how scientists determine the age of ice cores, such as those used to examine the climate over hundreds of thousands of years.

Perhaps it was the "heavenly" scene the back lit snow pit provided but after crawling out of the pit, I decided to make a snow angel myself. Learning from Jack's mistakes, I searched for a softer spot to flail around on. Here was the final product.
Ok so it's not that impressive either. It was still fun to make though and fortunately, there's plenty of snow around to try again.

Walkin' On The Moon

The flight (my second on the C-130) to Summit yesterday went off without a hitch. This ride there were fewer scientists (only 13) which in theory should've made for a more comfortable ride with respect to leg room. However, to our surprise, many of the spare seats turned out to be occupied; joining us on the journey to ice sheet were some non-science distinguished guests. Just who, you ask? Oh just the U.S. Ambassador to Denmark. No big deal. Unfortunately, I didn't get a chance to shake her hand. She got a special seat up by the cockpit, was wisked away for a camp tour upon our arrival, and was gone within an hour and a half. Still, pretty rad; I felt peaceful just being in her diplomatic presence.

A two-hour flight brought us from the damp, cool coast, to the dry, cold Arctic. Words cannot even begin to describe what I felt stepping off the plane and feel every time I step outside up here. Sure, I've seen pictures of the Arctic and know a bit about it's characteristics, but experiencing it is a whole different story. It's more beautiful than I could ever imagine. It's sparkles with a cleanliness that can only be found in a place that has been virtually unaffected (directly) by humans. I imagine this is what those who've had the luxury to visit the moon felt when they stepped off the shuttle for the first time; to find places so unadulterated and undeveloped by humankind is truly special these days. The only difference between me and the astronauts is that instead of black space and grey moon-rock, I see blue sky and brilliant white snow spanning into forever.


The one problem I do have with Summit is the altitude. Yesterday I was a hurtin' unit, suffering from some mild altitude sickness. It's gotten better today but I'm still battling some lethargy and a small headache. Three cheers for ibuprofen! Because the sudden jump up in altitude can be hard on the body, the new arrivals were allowed, and even strongly encouraged, to take it easy yesterday and to not jump right into work. Instead, us Summit newbies munched on warm, fresh-baked cinnamon raisin cookies and slugged down water. These cookies were unbelievable! I had been told the legend of the Summit food but never could I have imagined such delicious eats were possible in the middle of nowhere. Amazing cookies were followed by amazing dinner (pesto pasta with fresh mozzarella and tomato, spicy italian sausage, green beans, salad, and fresh bread) and subsequent meals have been equally impressive. What's even more awesome is that binging is encouraged up here; the altitude plus the temperature increases your daily required calorie intake which means eating a ton is essential. My kind of place!

Dinner was followed by a brief meeting and some internet-ing/skyping. I sauntered out to my tent around 11:00pm absolutely exhausted but prepared not to sleep much partially because of the cold but mostly because of the altitude. I had already set up my Arctic oven, which was impressively warm earlier in the day, so all I had to do was crawl into bed. I slept like a baby. Ok, so not really, but definitely MUCH better than I anticipated. I was nice n' toasty the whole night. I know right?! I didn't think this was possible in a tent in the Arctic but it was and much better than the humid, hot nights I left behind a couple weeks ago. Here's a picture of my humble abode for the next few weeks.


Perhaps I will name it or decorate it, ya know, to make it feel more like home.

I woke up this morning just before 8:30am and, after breakfast, went to right work. It was a busy day. First up was a walk out to Sat Camp, where we're (me and my advisor, Jack along with a few good folks from Georgia Tech-Zach and Dave-and a woman from Brown who we're collaborating with, Dorothy) are located. It's a touch over a half mile one-way out there so I'm sure to get some good exercise while up here. Our instrument is housed in the Balle building which is essentially a freezer, but instead of freezing items we take advantage of it's insulating powers and heat it up. The MC-IC is sampling soluble gases in the atmosphere. Since the MC-IC is automated and can run by itself, we spend much of our time doing work in an adjacent, and roomier, building we have affectionately named the tomato, an appropriate name if you consider the picture below.

While there was no Summit science planned for the morning, I had set out to get some work on another project I've been chipping away at for a while. These productive plans were quickly sidelined when Zach informed me of snowmobile training back at main camp. I had never ridden on let alone driven a snowmobile and thought that, since they represent the main way equipment is moved around the camp, it'd probably be a good idea that I learn how to. After a 15-minute run through on their operation, I hopped on one of the Ski-Doos for a quick test run. It was fun! I would consider purchasing one if they weren't a lot of money and an unnecessary source of pollution. The later may be remedied soon though; a recent graduate from Clarkson who is up here was part of a team of students that designed an electric snowmobile. The ride is up here with him and, though it has yet to make an appearance, I'm hoping to hop on at some point.

Snowmobiling was followed lunch then by a tour of the camp led by Jack. I learned a bit about the other science happening here at Summit. One group is looking at snow grain size and shape and how the affects how reflective the snow is, that is, how those properties of snow affect it's albedo. Another group is interested in the clouds up here in the Arctic and is using radar as well as a few other instruments to learn about the droplets of clouds and their phases (ice versus water). A third group I met with today is measuring various CFC's in the atmosphere. They've actually been monitoring this ozone-destroying species (think ozone hole) since the 1970's. Very cool and very important work and a very unique place to do it!

We did some cool work ourselves later this afternoon but unfortunately a post on it must wait; it's 11:30pm and thus bed time. Normally this wouldn't be a huge deal but tomorrow I'm slated to do a 7am sample. Hopefully this night's rest will be as good as last since it won't be very long!

Chillin' On the Coast

And so my Greenland adventure begins, though it almost was delayed a day. My parents dropped me off at the Stratton Air Force Base at the unsightly hour of 5:15 yesterday. We weren't scheduled to fly out until 8:00 so that early of a "check-in" time seemed a bit unnecessary but that's the military; they operate on a much earlier schedule than I :). Things seemed to be going smoothly when one of the commanders came in and told us to be ready to board the shuttle for plane in 5-10 minutes at about 8:10. But five to ten minutes came and went and not another word. Minutes turned to hours without a word and it quickly became evident that something was wrong. We speculated mechanical problems and turned out to be right. Finally, around 11:00, we were allowed to board.

Our chariot for the day was a massive C-130.



I was forewarned that the plane is incredibly noisy so I invested in a pair of those shooting range earmuffs. I felt a bit ridiculous making the purchase at the time but was very grateful for them once on the plane. Seating was tight (as you can see below) but surprisingly fairly comfortable. Who knew mesh backing could be cozy?


We were all settled in with our seatbelts fastened, ears plugged, and entertainment (books, cameras, laptops, etc.) out when we got the news: we had to get off the plane due to another issue. This one, we were told, would only take 5-10 minutes so we wouldn't be heading back to the base, just to the ac'ed shuttle. My new rule of thumb: when told 5-10 minutes, assume 50-100. This repair was apparently much more extensive than expected and we were held up until a bit after 1:00pm. This was a major bummer as now we wouldn't be getting to our first destination, the coastal town of Kangerlussuaq, Greenland, until much later than I originally though. To satisfied hungry tummies (mine very much included, not surprisingly), we ordered some pizzas while we waited. This was one good thing about the delay; instead of chowing on my smushed pb&j on the plane, I got to munch on some delicious 'za.

We finally took off just after 1:00pm. With everyone plugged up, people kept to themselves, quietly reading or sleeping. Myself, I started book 1 of the Twlight series. I've been curious about the hype surrounding the books so I figured why not read them at Summit? Thus far, I'm not quiet sure what makes everyone so crazy about Bella and Edward but I'm willing to keep pressing forward. At the very least, they're a cute and easy read and definitely help pass the time.

We stopped briefly in Goose Bay, Canada (about halfway to Kangerlussuaq) for fuel, free (!) ice cream, hot cocoa, and what would be my last time on North American soil until the end of June. Within thirty minutes we were back in the air and Greenland bound. This second part of the flight went by much slower than the first, probably because I was so excited to get to Greenland. The last 45 minutes of the flight offered impressive views of the Greenlandic landscape from aloft, including its gorgeous glaciers (which unfortunately is shaded by the mountains in the picture below) and mountains.


I finally arrived in the coastal town of Kangerlussuaq, Greenland along with the ~20 other scientists and a handful of military personnel I'd been with for the past 14 hours around 11pm local time to a still very bright landscape. The sun, as expected, had not even come close to setting yet, which, even though I knew this would happen, was still weird. Kangerlussuag (or, colloquially, "Kanger"), which roughly translates to "big fjord", is essentially a hub for scientists doing research in Greenland. From here, only a few of us headed up to Summit (~8), but all of us are doing awesome work. There are a couple groups headed south, one which is looking to examine the hydrology of the glacial rivers to relate sediment in the waters to ice sheet melt/retreat. The other southbound crew, of which my roommate here at the science facility in Kanger is taken a bit of a different scientific route but equally as cool; they will be spending three months doing archeological work investigating the appearance and disappearance of Norse Greenland. So. Awesome! If I wasn't doing Earth Science, I'm pretty sure I'd go into archeology/anthropology.

Kanger is a bit desolate, but absolutely gorgeous.


I wish we had a bit more time to explore the surroundings but alas, we are on to Summit this afternoon. I'm very excited to see Summit and to really truly experience the Arctic. The cold makes me nervous though; here on the coast today it's probably in 40s (tropical compared to Summit) and I'm definitely chilly. I'm hoping it's just the dampness that comes with being close to the coast and that the dry cold that Summit offers won't be so bad. Either way, the long underwear is definitely going on before we depart!

That's all for now. I'm going to try to catch some shut eye before we are northbound. Between the early rise yesterday and the constant sunlight last night, I'm hurtin' for some sleep. Its a bit crazy to think the next time I write will be from the middle of an ice sheet. I hope you're as excited as I am!