The second best plane ride ever (behind the Vomit Comet)
10/18/04
2:38 PM NZT
I just saw it for the first time. Unreal. A vast, uneven sea of white. You wouldn’t even see the hills and valleys, well I guess they’re not really hills and valleys, more like blocks of ice and mountains, if it wasn’t for the low sun. Just white, everywhere.
I’m sitting, calmly, in the belly of the biggest beast I’ve ever climbed into. We’re on the left side of the C-17, inside the cargo area. Four feet in front of me is a huge wooden crate, probably 6’x6’ with “TOP LOAD ONLY” stenciled in red spraypaint on one panel and “MADE IN CANADA” in black on the other. A series of shiny brass chains of varying gauge crisscross everywhere as if Houdini himself were locked inside. The cargo bay is probably 25 feet in diameter and the cargo doesn’t even come close to filling the space. All along the ceiling are exposed wires, cables, pulleys, ducts, pipes and other miscellaneous airplane guts attached to bare, white insulation. I’m sitting next to two guys, probably in their late 20’s or early 30’s in camo. This seems very routine to them. A job.
Just ten minutes ago, I got up to go to the bathroom. It was occupied so I found one of maybe 6 total windows in the cargo area and tried to find something distinguishable. At first it was just white and I figured we were still high in the clouds. But then, looking towards the front of the airplane, I saw some shadows. I kind of gasped. Then smiled. The flight engineer or “Globemaster” as it says on his shoulder caught me peering out of the 6” porthole and offered me an upgrade to the flight deck. After climbing up a flight of stairs I found myself in the company of at least 6 other guys that I hadn’t seen before. And out the windows, seemingly everywhere, was Antarctica. I stood there for a minute in awe and then awkwardly tried to take a few pictures under the scrutiny of the pilots and navigators. It didn’t seem real. But now everything is getting much more real. Things really started to sink in thismorning at the CDC when we had to put on our ECW (extreme cold weather) gear. This was it. All of the talk, all of the planning, all of the drunken, false-humility and attempts to hide my excitement when telling people about the trip was thousands of miles away. I was on my way to Antarctica. Actually boarding and taking off just amplified everything. Just before takeoff, one of the crew came back and adjusted the “ADS Lock” panel (above my head) for the cargo pallet directly in front of us. After some fidgeting, he got a thumbs up from the Globemaster and I guess they were both satisfied. It was a little bit disconcerting when during taxi, that particular pallet shifted about 2” forward and aft as if it were on wheels. I guess it actually is. I took a minute to look at the floor when I was stretching. It is pretty incredible. There are a few bright engineers in the military. So the shifting was apparently normal, because none of them took notice, but then as the engines were throttled up for takeoff, streams (literally streams) of water started pouring off of several of the large wooden crates in front of us. I guess that was normal too. Of course, we had all stowed our bags and parkas just behind the large, shifting crate, so they bore the brunt of the waterfall. My bag was at the bottom.
So we’ve been in the air now for about 4 hours or so. The total flight time is supposed to be around 5. So close. They say that as soon as that door opens and you feel the first blast of -20°C air, that you realize what you’re getting yourself into. I’m pretty hot right now, so a little cool air would be nice.
2:38 PM NZT
I just saw it for the first time. Unreal. A vast, uneven sea of white. You wouldn’t even see the hills and valleys, well I guess they’re not really hills and valleys, more like blocks of ice and mountains, if it wasn’t for the low sun. Just white, everywhere.
I’m sitting, calmly, in the belly of the biggest beast I’ve ever climbed into. We’re on the left side of the C-17, inside the cargo area. Four feet in front of me is a huge wooden crate, probably 6’x6’ with “TOP LOAD ONLY” stenciled in red spraypaint on one panel and “MADE IN CANADA” in black on the other. A series of shiny brass chains of varying gauge crisscross everywhere as if Houdini himself were locked inside. The cargo bay is probably 25 feet in diameter and the cargo doesn’t even come close to filling the space. All along the ceiling are exposed wires, cables, pulleys, ducts, pipes and other miscellaneous airplane guts attached to bare, white insulation. I’m sitting next to two guys, probably in their late 20’s or early 30’s in camo. This seems very routine to them. A job.
Just ten minutes ago, I got up to go to the bathroom. It was occupied so I found one of maybe 6 total windows in the cargo area and tried to find something distinguishable. At first it was just white and I figured we were still high in the clouds. But then, looking towards the front of the airplane, I saw some shadows. I kind of gasped. Then smiled. The flight engineer or “Globemaster” as it says on his shoulder caught me peering out of the 6” porthole and offered me an upgrade to the flight deck. After climbing up a flight of stairs I found myself in the company of at least 6 other guys that I hadn’t seen before. And out the windows, seemingly everywhere, was Antarctica. I stood there for a minute in awe and then awkwardly tried to take a few pictures under the scrutiny of the pilots and navigators. It didn’t seem real. But now everything is getting much more real. Things really started to sink in thismorning at the CDC when we had to put on our ECW (extreme cold weather) gear. This was it. All of the talk, all of the planning, all of the drunken, false-humility and attempts to hide my excitement when telling people about the trip was thousands of miles away. I was on my way to Antarctica. Actually boarding and taking off just amplified everything. Just before takeoff, one of the crew came back and adjusted the “ADS Lock” panel (above my head) for the cargo pallet directly in front of us. After some fidgeting, he got a thumbs up from the Globemaster and I guess they were both satisfied. It was a little bit disconcerting when during taxi, that particular pallet shifted about 2” forward and aft as if it were on wheels. I guess it actually is. I took a minute to look at the floor when I was stretching. It is pretty incredible. There are a few bright engineers in the military. So the shifting was apparently normal, because none of them took notice, but then as the engines were throttled up for takeoff, streams (literally streams) of water started pouring off of several of the large wooden crates in front of us. I guess that was normal too. Of course, we had all stowed our bags and parkas just behind the large, shifting crate, so they bore the brunt of the waterfall. My bag was at the bottom.
So we’ve been in the air now for about 4 hours or so. The total flight time is supposed to be around 5. So close. They say that as soon as that door opens and you feel the first blast of -20°C air, that you realize what you’re getting yourself into. I’m pretty hot right now, so a little cool air would be nice.
posted by LankyPoobah at 2:38 PM
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