Upon arrival at Palmer Station, we got a tour of the facilities and a peek into how life on Station works. The flagpole pictured below is the original flagpole from when the Station was established in 1965. Penguins and seals frequent the visitors of shores around Palmer Station, and seabirds like white sheathbills, brown skuas and giant petrels love to hang out around the Station too. 

After several days of being confined on the ship, we were all ready to get out and explore the "backyard" of Palmer Station. We were given some maps of hiking areas on the glacier behind the Station and given warnings to not venture beyond the snow stakes and flags which mark out dangerous crevasses. We pulled on our snow pants, heavy coats and work boots and headed to the recreation storage area. The Palmer staff graciously let us borrow some extra gear like microspikes for our boots, trekking poles and pee bottles (you can't leave ANY human-created waste in Antarctica!). 

We planned to hike up and over the glacier to Point 8, which was a known spot to view penguins and seals from a distance. The sun peeked out of the clouds a few times on our hike, and the temperature was about 30-35 degrees Fahrenheit, which felt appropriate for the amount of layers we had on. The wind and the uphill climb make the journey a challenge, but it felt great to finally exercise outdoors again. 

We observed the penguins and seals from far beyond the recommended 15-foot distance since there were so many of the former. We heard their silly little calls and watched them wobble about on the rocks through my binoculars. The wind suddenly changed directions and we were able to smell them as well (not as nice as looking at them). 

On the way back up the glacier, there was a moment that I will never forget in my entire life. No one planned it, but we all paused and stood silently to try and observe the sound of a calving glacier. We heard it a couple of times, but everyone stayed silent and just observed our surroundings for probably ten minutes or more. No one said a word, but we all had this shared, unspoken understanding that this was our moment to let the reality of our situation sink in. We were there, a team of ten people, standing in a place that so few people get to experience. In the shadow of dramatic mountain peaks, on the slope of a glacier, at the bottom of the world. Then, like magic, it started to snow. Light, fluffy flakes swirled around us and our silent reflection continued. Becky, our chief scientist, was the first to break the silence at what felt like the perfect moment, by saying "Thank you all for being here" in the most genuine way possible. It was truly one of the most memorable experiences of my entire life. 

After our afternoon of strenuous hiking, we got cleaned up and hung out with the "Palmer People" in their lounge area. The weather was nice enough to wear a jacket without a heavy coat, and we got to see the sun set into the skies over the Southern Ocean and be amazed that it was still light outside at 9:30 PM. I climbed up the ladder to the crow's nest and got some great views of the Station at sunset.

On our second day at Palmer Station, a smaller group of us went out for an impromptu hike to a different location in the "backyard". We decided to try and find Bonaparte Point, but were advised not to go all the way to the shoreline so as not to disturb nesting birds. The temperature was considerably colder on this day (8 degrees F, -4 degrees F wind chill), and the wind was relentless. Still, we donned our microspikes and even more layers and made our way back through the snow. 

We found the glacier edge and settled on a spot near the shoreline that was both safe and completely clear of nestine birds. Our resident artist was busy trying to lower her GoPro camera into the rippling water, while I and a couple others decided to plop down in the snow and just gaze on the beauty around us. 

After a few minutes, I decided to get up and go see how the underwater camera work was going. Even though I only moved a short distance, the dramatic mountain range in the distance came into view and I was stunned. Then, just as I stepped near the shore, I saw something jump out of the water -- a penguin! Suddenly, a group of four or five Gentoo penguins were diving up and down through the water in front of us, putting on quite the show. The clarity of the rippling water, the swimming penguins, the ice-blue glacier edge and the sun-dotted mountains in the distance were breathtaking. 

I mentioned to a couple of my teammates how the dramatic landscape in front of us was reminiscent of the subject matter of the Hudson River school of American painters in the 19th century -- only frozen.

I was exhausted after two glaciers hikes in less than 24 hours, but I wasn't about to miss out on Southern Ocean Polar Plunge! A few brave souls, including myself, wanted to submerge our bodies in sub-zero waters because... we might never get the chance to do so again! We planned to do the plunge, then make a mad dash for the sauna immediately after. 

The second I spent underwater gave me the worst (and saltiest) brainfreeze of my life, but it was totally worth it. Thankfully, Georgia captured our daring feat on video so we can always remember that time we willingly dunked ourselves in the Southern Ocean in single-digit air temperatures during a snow storm. 

I've been away from home for almost two weeks now, and what a full two weeks it's been. As we transit to our research stations along the 170 W transect in the days ahead, I hope for calm seas, fresh fruit and making more meaningful connections with my fellow SNOWBIRDS :)