The Traveling Imposter

As an Einstein Fellow placed at the National Science Foundation’s Polar Programs, I have the  extraordinary opportunity to travel to places that few people will ever have the chance to visit. This week, I will board a plane at Dulles Airport. Three layovers, 79 hours, 13,476 miles later, I will be walking on the world’s southern most continent.

Antarctica. That long skinny blob of white etched across the bottom of most maps (although sometimes overlooked by the cartographer completely). The coldest, windiest, driest, arguably most remote location on our planet. Home to those dogged Emperor penguins that stole our hearts in March of the Penguins, but also krill and plankton, 100 fish species, 6 types of seals, 5 additional penguins species, snow petrel, albatross, midges & mites, ticks & lice, mosses, liverworts, over 1000 species of fungi. Upwards to 5,000 temporary human residents support and conduct scientific research across the continent at the various stations.  And tens of thousands of paying tourists cross Antarctica off their bucket list each year. Despite the larger numbers than I had expected, Antarctica will remain uncharted territory for most people. Without even a passport stamp to prove my passage, I will become a member of an extreme and considerably small club.

When talking to friends and family about my upcoming adventure, two distinct groups emerged - those that never in their wildest dreams even consider visiting and those that envy the opportunity. The first group feigned excitement while quietly questioning my sanity. Too cold, too remote, too extreme, did I mention too cold? They have no desire to experience the extremes in person and are content to tracking my experiences through social media from the warmth and comfort of their living rooms. What surprised me about the second group was how many of them harbored an extreme passion for the polar regions and specifically Antarctica. A colleague shared with me his extensive library of books on the subject. A friend showed me her shockingly large collection of penguin paraphernalia. One person wrote me an email after learning I might travel to the South Pole that said “I think I would weep if I were ever to stand at that spot, thinking about Amundsen 100 years ago and then more tragically as I thought about that photo that captured the sadness, fatigue and the dejection of the Scott expedition when they realized that they were a month too late to claim the pole...saddest photo I have ever seen.”

Am I a poser traveling to the Antarctic? Before this year, I had never picked up a book about Antarctica, never contemplated the early explorers, never considered the possibility of traveling to the continent, and most definitely never examined the photo of Scott's doomed team. Despite my only recent interest in the polar regions, I refuse to consider myself an imposter, rather I am delayed in my discovery. Since starting with the Polar Programs, I too have become enchanted by the power and beauty of glaciers, fascinated by the necessary logistics in operating these stations, excited by my upcoming visit. And after looking at the fateful Scott photo, I am not only moved by the tragedy of their situation, but in awe at their perseverance and stamina in the face of so many spirit breaking obstacles.

And so I leave the comfort and stability of the mid latitudes, excited by this new adventure and ready to learn about the science that is taking place in this obscure region of our planet. I see this experience as an opportunity for me to develop ways of sharing the value for living and studying our coldest, windiest, driest most remote continent to share with my students. Hopefully, I can infect them with a lifelong interest for this region that I only have only recently aquired as an adult.