McMurdo, Antarctica, set apart from the eyes of the world, far from any major city, is an oasis of peace unlike any other. Nestled on the frozen shoreline of the Ross Sea, it serves as the last refuge of society. There are no lush gardens teaming with life, no waves crashing along sandy beaches, and no colorful mountain overlooks. In the shadow of Hut Point stands a rustic town filled with eclectic buildings of all colors set against a backdrop of sterile white. This town serves as a gateway to one of the most uniquely serene environments on earth.
In October, Antarctica begins to awaken from a long harsh winter slumber. The sun emerges from the darkness like a butterfly from a cocoon bathing the land in constant sunlight. Life slowly begins to return from afar to the frozen, lifeless tundra to frolic in, on, and under the ice clogged waterways of McMurdo Sound. The most remote city in the world again stirs with signs of life in preparation for another summer.
Low on supplies from the winter, the residents here eagerly await the return of the supply ships. Twenty miles of granite hard ice, up to thirteen feet thick in some areas lies between those ships and McMurdo. A normal ship would be crushed under the viselike pressure of the shifting ice, or have its hull ripped open by the razor sharp ice edge; however, a specially designed ship that is capable of breaking the ice apart and crushing it to fine slushlike material arrives to clear a path.
The ships fire engine red hull emblazoned with the words United States Coast Guard in bold, white block letters stands at odds with the desolate bleak surroundings. The world’s largest iceberg, equaling the size of Rhode Island and standing eight stories high, looms in the background as the powerful, hardy ship sets to work. The engines begin to wind up and get louder, coal black smoke billows from the exhaust stacks. With a thunderous crack that reverberates over the land, the ship crashes into the ice edge and begins the daunting task of reaching McMurdo
Using three locomotive size engines connected to three mirror polished propellers as large as a compact car, the crystal blue water and ice begin to churn in a violent, methodical dance. The ship crawls forward at a snail’s pace slipping, from the water on to the top of the ice. The weight of the ship causes the ice to creak and groan eerily as if protesting the impending results. Ultimately, in the battle between these two titans, the ship wins and cracks through the ice like a lumberjack splitting a log.
The journey progresses to McMurdo with each forward strike of the vessels. Ice slowly begins to be chipped away, bringing relief that much closer. Looking out over the frozen windswept ground, the snow is a brilliant blinding white, with ripples like waves carved into the top layer. Off in the distance lies many jagged, curiously shaped rock and ice formations, each one carved by the unrelenting winter, wind and time. They now serve as dazzling sculptures, glistening in the radiant sun, each one as unique and individual as a snowflake. There is a beauty to behold in the ever-changing ice field.
Emerald blue streams of water snake their way over the tops of glaciers in a chaotic pattern. They cascade over the edge of the glaciers like falling snow, attempting to return to the sea below. Icebergs lazily drift by in the background as the light from the sun dances over their surface, slowly eroding and changing their shape. Without warning, one suddenly rolls over due to its ever-shifting weight, only to reveal a jagged sharp underside yet to be touched by the sun.
Halfway to McMurdo stands Mount Erebus, named for the Greek God of darkness and the son of chaos. With a plume of smoke emanating from the top creating an ominous ring, it stands as one of several active volcanoes in Antarctica. Located in the bowl-shaped top is a fiery lake of liquid hot magma. Mount Erebus is truly a place of chaos, a place where fire and ice coexist in brilliant harmony.
As the ship plunges ever closer to McMurdo, large chunks of ice continue to work their way through the ships propellers causing it to shutter and shake violently. The ship seems to skip across the massive boulder like ice pieces, and every loose item rattles savagely as if struck by an earthquake. The rattling subsides as the ice is whittled down to small slush-like pieces, and pass over the hull like sandpaper on wood.
With the channel finally cleared, the ship docks at the ice pier below Hut Point, which overlooks McMurdo station. Standing atop the brown rocky cliff is a hulking wooden cross, dedicated to the first explorer to lose his life exploring this unforgiving continent. It serves as reminder to visitors that while there is beauty in this place, one must always be cautious.
Looking out from this vantage point is an expansive ice desert with a large cut through the center. On either side lie many deep crevasses that could swallow men and machines whole. Somehow the stillness and peacefulness of landscape seems at odds with the reality of the environment. Midnight-black and pearl-white orca whales dance in the channel, shooting mist of frigid water into the air when they surface. Penguins perch precariously on floating icebergs and either side of the waterway, waiting their turn to shoot like a torpedo to the other side without getting caught by the whales. Seals lie lazily about, soaking up the summer sun on the ice before plunging back into the merciless cold water. The sun no longer rises or sets it encircles the sky, illuminating every nook and cranny with its radiant light. The brilliant blue sky is set ablaze with an explosion of fiery red, blazing orange, velvety royal purple and warm coral, pink colors. Here, earth and sky stretch for an eternity and appear as one. 
The town of McMurdo harkens back to a simpler time. With its rustic and eclectic collection of buildings from dorms to bars, recreations centers, workstations, and the cafeteria, each looks aged and worn. Covered by dry wood, corrugated metal, and painted an array of colors every one works in concordance with another allowing the town to function efficiently. While they appear to be old, worn down, out-of-date buildings they are infused with the latest technology to allow workers to connect and work in harmony with the outside world.
On the outer edge of town stand two large mounds of ice like watch towers. A road is carved between them that serves as a gateway to the wilds of Antarctica. Birds do not chirp here, there are no flowering plants or green trees and no butterflies flutter around on the gentle breeze. There are no city lights to drown out the night sky, no traffic to disturb the calmness, and no hassles of everyday life. The clean, still air, the soft sound of snow crunching underfoot, and the natural beauty of the surroundings are all that exist. Here, one can be at peace with one’s surroundings and think without distraction.
With the fading of summer and the return of darkness, the once clear channel teaming with life again falls silent under a frozen blanket. The newly constructed environment will again be changed by the unrelenting winter weather, until it is awoken next summer. The unique location of McMurdo, Antarctica on the bottom of the world provides for a unity with nature, and peace like nowhere else. It gives all those who visit a chance each year to paint a new picture of unparalleled frozen serenity.
Quicksilversailor 