Beat the Crowds. Antarctica Now. (Cont'd.)

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Outside Magazine November 2001

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Beat the Crowds. Antarctica Now. (Cont'd.)

OBVIOUSLY, NOT everyone sees things that way. When I later ask Beth Clark of The Antarctica Project about ANI, she tells me she objects to the whole idea of adventure tourism in Antarctica. "Sky-diving, ballooning—some of these activities just need to be stopped," she says.

Because? "Because I don't see that these people have a moral commitment to the place. You know, just because you can do something doesn't mean you should."

"I think science has to be the priority," adds Scott Altmann, Clark's lieutenant. "It's about the survival of the planet."

"Ah, yes, the purity of science!" says Damien Gildea. "I've heard that before." Gildea, an Australian climber, is the author of The Antarctic Mountaineering Chronology and last year was part of a four-man ANI expedition from Queen Maud Land to the pole. "How about the purity of the air at the South Pole with a Herc coming in every day?" he continues. "And I could see the exhaust plume coming out of that dome from about ten miles away when we skied in. The science down there costs a fucking fortune, so it would bloody well want to save the world. And then some."

Gildea catches a whiff of hypocrisy in all the high-minded talk about science. "Given the relatively low priority given to the environment everywhere else in the U.S., how can they justify spending $150 million on an environmental and scientific facility that most Americans will never even see, let alone visit?" he asks. "The answer is that it is not really 'justified' on environmental and scientific grounds, but on the grounds of politics and security, just like it always was."

Both Clark and Gildea have their points. When I think back to our visit to the DC-6 wreck, what struck me was the appalling vanity of Vaughan's project: He was nearly 90 years old when his friends dragged him up his namesake peak. What's the difference between that and hiking up Vinson? Or dropping 25 grand to run in this January's inaugural South Pole Marathon?

Still, Gildea may be right when he suggests that some of the national program administrators display a sense of entitlement. One day a BAS Twin Otter stops at Patriot Hills to refuel. It's on its way to the South Pole from the British base at Rothera, on the Peninsula. Pure disgust registers on Steve Pinfield's face as the plane's sole passenger steps off—the deputy director of BAS, en route to an inspection, a courtesy visit allowed by the Antarctica Treaty. "All the way to the pole with one guy on board," Pinfield mutters.

What lingers is an irritating double standard: We all have much to learn from the science being done in Antarctica, but the scientists themselves seem to think they have nothing to learn from adventurers. But they do. Like how to camp. No matter how I try, I can't shake the image of that giant bulb of shit drilled into the ice beneath the Scott-Amundsen Station. Scientists who've studied it—everything in Antarctica is a learning opportunity—say the bulb will reach the sea in about 100,000 years. The NSF says this waste handling is compliant with Antarctica's environmental protocol, but how hard would it be to fly the crap out, as ANI does?

"Certainly the consequences of tourism show, too," Reinhold Messner wrote in Antarctica: Both Heaven and Hell . "But most of the curious visitors understand the environment. It is not they, rather the burning rubbish heaps, helicopters, dynamite and bulldozers that have soiled the cleanest place in the world."

Not surprisingly, Anne Kershaw is diplomatic. She hopes both "sides"—tourists and scientists—can learn to share resources. In addition to running ANI, Kershaw will help a business partner, Mike McDowell, run Polar Logistics, a Cape Townbased air service that will fly mostly government types to Queen Maud Land. "It makes environmental and economic sense," Kershaw says. "But I know it will take a long time. It's a national pride issue. At ANI we were always offering cheaper transport, but it was looked at with disdain. Because scientists won't fly on tourist aircraft." Kershaw pauses for a moment, and adds, "Tourists have a high level of knowledge and tend to be environmentally concerned and responsible. I believe when they leave, they are ambassadors for Antarctica."

With the pragmatism of a politician on the stump, she concludes: "Hopefully, we can look forward to a lot more working together and cooperation."

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