I work at the Mobile Science Facility--the MSF. It's a tan building, which sits about 400 meters to the east of station. It's full of science equipment, which makes it loud with fans, and it's warm inside. There is a wooden roof deck, accessed by a fixed ladder, with even more science equipment on top: mostly antennas and optics up there. The whole building rests on skis, so that it can be pulled like a sled: the D-6 bulldozer hooks on and drags the building back onto the surface as it starts to get buried.
Each morning for the last five months, I've walked out to the MSF along a one-kilometer route, following my own boot-packed tracks on the ice sheet. I carry a bag around my neck with a soft brush and alcohol, and I visit a number of instruments, inspecting each and cleaning off any rime. When the weather is bad, this requires suiting up in heavy gear, carrying safety equipment and checking in over the radio. But when the weather is good, it's a real treat--out strolling in the midst of a visually amazing landscape. Many of the most memorable natural phenomena show up when you're away from the local station environment--the fata morgana mirages, the yukimarimo spheres, and the best bird sightings. It's also a chance to check out the ever-changing texture of the snow, away from the influence of the heavy equipment tracks and building drifts.
Setting out, I first travel along a route marked by bamboo flags. I head towards TAWO, the clean-air facility, where the other two techs work, and at a particular flag, I veer off. I head for a pair of radiometer racks, each of which holds a number of domes containing instruments which measure radiant flux in different portions of the electromagnetic spectrum.
My route continues to the Swiss Tower--a 50-meter lattice that is easily the tallest thing around--probably the high point of the entire Greenland Ice Sheet. It supports temperature, humidity and wind sensors at various heights. It can accumulate quite a bit of rime, and produces some spectacular shadows. In a storm, with wind tearing through the structure and over the guy lines, the whole structure whistles and hums. When the cables are rimed up, the lightest touch releases a big puff of ice.
The morning loop concludes with the inspection of several outdoor instruments that sit out on the snow about 20 meters from the MSF. These are focused on precipitation: there is a hotplate sensor that measures the energy required to vaporize any snow particles that fall on it, a precipitation radar which looks for scattering from falling particles, and a camera system for imaging ice crystals. Then I head inside the building to check on computer displays of current data, climb up to the roof deck to clean rime ice off instruments, monitor the flight of the morning radiosonde balloon, and trade emails with the various scientists involved in the project.
This morning routine is fairly constant. The rest of the day could be spent in a hundred different tasks--fixing instruments and equipment, performing calibrations, performing GPS surveys of the ice surface, moving cargo around station, inventorying supplies, lending a hand in the mechanic shop, hauling food from the deeply buried freezer trench, cleaning up the kitchen and common spaces, maintaing endless quiet kilometers of bamboo flaglines, and without fail, the constant shoveling needed to keep station in good shape.
