November 17-18, 1999

After nearly 18 months of planning, the day had finally arrived: an auspicious day, too, my 43rd birthday. Steve Dunbar, who has signed on to work with me on the project, arrived last night from Boise. His plane was delayed several hours and he caught rush hour traffic out to Petaluma. So, it took him most of the day to get here. Mary packed Nick off to school and went to work while Steve and I headed to San Francisco Airport. We stopped in the city and picked up my friend, David Rothenberg, who would be borrowing my car while I was away: he would be dropping us off.

We arrived nearly 4 hours early, as I had to pick up a couple of hydrophones (underwater microphones) at the Fedex airport office before we registered all of our technical equipment with customs. For all the planning, there are always some last minute details and emergencies, in this case significant ones, that need tending to. The hydrophones required some adjustments before we left.

The itinerary was...San Francisco to Miami, with a short layover, then an overnight flight to Santiago, Chile (nearly 9 hours). In Santiago, we would be met by Jimmy, an agent for the Agencias Universales S. A. (Agunsa), who would help us with customs and our connecting flights to Puerto Montt and on to Punta Arenas. Agunsa is the Chilean contractor responsible for facilitating logistics for the United States Antarctic Program (USAP). They work closely with Antarctic Support Associates (ASA) who, in turn, is the National Science Foundation's designate for overall USAP planning and logistical support.

Jimmy ushered us through the formalities at immigration and customs and checked us in for Punta Arenas. Apart from fitful cat naps, we had been up for more than 24 hours. We also hooked up with Terry Hoolihan, a researcher from the University of Hawaii. He had left the day before us, with an overnight leg from Honolulu and was looking rather wide-eyed. Andrew Altieri, an intern on a Palmer Station-based project, had been up all night the day before, filling out applications for graduate school: he is not returning to the States until the middle of March. So, the four of us got acquainted and spent a few hours milling around the airport, slightly disoriented and tired--but happy to be underway.

The flight south took us along the coast and followed the Andes, whose snow covered peaks rose and fell through the clouds. In our descent into Punta Arenas we could make out the Straights of Magellan and Tierra del Fuego--places whose names conjure a mythic sense of adventure in my mind. The water and grass below rippled and windswept features of the land became clearer as we approached the runway.

The Condor de Plata Hotel in Punta Arenas.

Finally, after nearly 30 hours, we had arrived. We were met at the airport by more Agunsa agents who helped us get all of our gear, poured us into vans and deposited us us the Condor de Plata Hotel. The Condor is a Bauhaus style building just a few blocks from the main square in Punta Arenas (P.A.), on Av. Colon, a street whose tree-lined median reminded me of Park Avenue in New York--a modest Park Avenue. We all checked in: Steve and I shared a room for $55 a night. Not bad.

Terry, who has been coming down here for the last 7 years, had a few suggestions for places to eat and wanted to show us where the ship was moored. From P.A., the Laurence M. Gould would take us to Palmer Station on the Antarctic Peninsula. We were all keen to get out for some fresh air and stretch our legs.

Allegorical figure of Tierra del Fuego from the Magellan monument in the downtown plaza. Note the polished toe.

The plaza at the center of town is dominated by a monument dedicated to Magellan. The granite structure is surmounted by a bronze likeness of the navigator, gazing off in the direction of the port and the straights which bear his name. Personifications of the surrounding lands, including Patagonia and Tierra del Fuego, are arranged in a composition which recalls Bernini's river's fountain in the Piazza Navona in Rome. These bronzes are realized as indigenous people, wrought in an impressionistic manner similar to Rodin, with richly textured features and a dark patina. The figure of Tierra del Fuego reclines slightly with a bared leg and foot extended. The toes are worn to a lustrous yellow from people touching them. Terry told us that rubbing the big toe would ensure a safe passage to and from Antarctica, across treacherous seas.

For dinner, Terry suggested a seafood restaurant where we convened for a feast of conger eel and pisca sours--a Chilean cocktail with some sort of spirit mixed with lime juice and a floating head of whipped egg white. Sated and tired, Steve and I went back to the hotel, while Andrew and Terry went out on the town. It was good to be here...