More mundane moments on the ice

On a run out on the ice runway road last week, I came across a smooth trail crossing the road and heading south. It looked a gigantic python had slithered past, but there were sharp indentations on the edges and yellow circles in the snow every five feet or so. Curious, I followed it for about twenty yards and then with my eye for about fifty yards further, and of course, I see a big lazy seal sunning itself on the ice shelf. It’s funny that they don’t just pop out of holes and stay there – instead they move some distance before they find the perfect sunbathing spot. And apparently they pee on the move.

Another time last week on my favorite walk around Ob Hill, I was listening to Michael Jackson’s “Billy Jean” on my headphones and I happen to look down and see a seal making its way back to a hole in the ice a ways away. It had a distinct rhythm:

Squiggle, squiggle, squiggle, squiggle, Look up and search for hole
Squiggle, squiggle, squiggle, squiggle, Look up and search for hole

The seal’s head thrusts and fluid body movements perfectly matched Michael Jackson’s song – it looked like a super fast slug doing funky dance moves. It would have made a great Youtube video. When the seal arrived at the hole in the ice, it poured itself in like raw liver sliding into a Dixie cup.

I took CPR and first aid classes over the course of several days this past week. With the crud going around, precautions were taken with the dummies we worked on. The lungs were removed and everyone was given their own detachable mouth to blow into. So the dummies are all lying on the ground looking like “The Scream” painting, with giant maws where the mouth and nose should be – creepy! So after we blow into the mouths twice, and give the 30 compressions, then repeated that about 30 times, we take our detachable mouths off the dummies, and ugh, there is a large puddle of respiration in those maws. The next person has to attach their mouthpiece on top of that. Did I mention that half the class had juicy hacking coughs? YECHH.
The good thing is that I learned that the Heimlich maneuver should now be performed right above the navel instead of under the rib cage and it can be performed on any size person if you modify your technique (Mom, I thought of Ruth). I also learned a really nifty technique for treating a sucking chest wound that involves taping, oh, say, the plastic from a cigarette package over the wound on three sides, creating a makeshift valve over the hole. Rhebs, are you still teaching CPR classes? I’m always surprised at how the methods keep changing. A lot of great information in those classes!

So, I gave this plumber dude a ride out to the Ice Runway last week. His name is Andrew Jackson, and come to find out I worked with him at Denali National Park 23 years ago! He tells me that there are also 3 others here from that same season, yet I have absolutely no recollection of any of them. That seems like 6 lifetimes ago. Andrew does know my old friend Elizabeth Sollie though, the one I named Elizabeth after, so that was pretty cool. Things like this happen fairly often down here. My roommate bumped into someone she knew 30 years ago from her college traveling days in New Zealand!

Another strange moment this week…I was given the job of corralling 14 Italians and showing them where to get dinner down at Building 155 before they flew on to their base later in the evening. As I am leading them across the muddy street, a tall, bald electrician dude named Mark thought he would be cute and jump in a huge mud puddle in front of us. The Italians are of course wearing very stylish red one piece jumpsuits and brand spanking new white cloth boots. He totally splatters me and several of the Italians with mud, hitting one woman with a big mud splash right below her eye. He apparently didn’t account for the fact that the mud puddles are extremely deep and he didn’t think the mud would travel so far. The Italians were mortified and neither my Spanish nor my English could explain the man’s behavior. I don't think knowing Italian would have helped either. There are a few very odd folks down here.

Finally, I have to chuckle every Saturday evening when everyone says to each other: “Have a nice weekend!” I suppose it brings a sense of normality to this funny place, but you end up seeing that very same person 10 minutes later at dinner, then again at breakfast, and so on. And it isn’t a weekend, it’s just Sunday. The “weekend” is so very short – there is never enough time to get all the things done you wanted to, and even less time to just rest and relax. Time enough for that back in Montana though :)

I got a call from Scott several days ago. He is feeling much better and things are running very well there. His boss, Cara, tells me that they are down to just 8 staff for the next week or so, which means Scott might actually have time to play his little travel guitar that I just sent out to him. I can’t wait to hear some of his stories.