actually zipped it up; she had used it instead as a wrap.
“You are about to have the honor of meeting the master blaster.”
“Master … what?”
“Blaster. Didn’t you—oh, right, you just got here, so you don’t know. They’re blasting the road that leads towards Castle Rock, trying to straighten it, for some goddamned reason. He’ll be out at the hut today. He goes out there every time they open it up and let us wackos in. I think he likes to photograph ghosts or something. Anyways, you can corner him there and ask your questions.”
“And I want to ask him questions because…?”
“He was out in your dude’s field camp last year.”
“I see.”
“Gotta go right to the source around here. Otherwise, all you hear is rumors. That, and suppositions. It’s like this place is a halfway house for paranoiacs.”
Valena asked, “What’s this hut he’s photographing?”
“Discovery Hut. Actually, it was a warehouse. I guess they lived aboard the ship, which of course got stuck in the ice. Those boys were good at getting things stuck. You’re lucky; they don’t open it to visitation very often.”
“They
lived aboard the ship? Who built it? When?”
“Scott, 1902. His first expedition. Got his butt to eighty-two south, had to turn back. Not the 1911 expedition where he froze to death.”
Sir Robert Falcon Scott!
Valena drew in her breath with surprise. Scott’s first attempt to reach the South Pole wasmounted just two years into the twentieth century. He had arrived aboard a ship named
Discovery. And this is the hut named for that expedition! She thought. I am walking on ground on which he walked!
As she continued down the trail, her heart now racing with excitement, they came out from the lee of the hills that surrounded McMurdo and were caught by an exhalation of frozen air off the ice sheet. Valena was instantly cold, so cold that her muscles began to contract. She hurriedly put her hat back on, pulled up the hood, and tried to get the slide of her big red parka’s zipper engaged. As she fumbled with chilling fingers, the wind found its way down her neck. The zipper was jammed. She tried it again and again, reseating it, pulling at it, cursing it.
Twenty strides down the trail, Cupcake turned around to see why Valena had dropped behind her. “Oh, hell, hasn’t anyone given you the short course on how to work the zipper on your big red yet?” She strode back toward Valena and grabbed the two sides of the track, yanked the one on Valena’s left down sharply, slapped the slide from the other side onto it, and whipped it up to her chin, all in the space of three seconds. “You gotta let it know who’s boss,” she said. She opened it again. Showed Valena how to hold the pieces properly, tugging the left side down sharply and holding it taut while she worked the right. “Now you try it. Yeah, that’s it. You’d think they’d make it idiot proof, considering that your life depends on it, but there it is.” As she turned around to resume her march, she said, “It’s like just about everything else down here: it’s essential, you need a short course to know how to do it, and that course doesn’t exist.”
“I’ve got survival training tomorrow.”
“Happy Camp. Have a party. They’ll put a five-gallon plastic bucket on your head to simulate a whiteout, like that’s going to really learn you.” She shook her head. “It’s not their fault. There’s just entirely too much to absorb. I’ve been down here seven seasons, and some days I feel like I’m only just getting the hang of it.”
Five minutes’ additional brisk hike brought them to theend of the point. There, the ground dropped off precipitously on three sides, plunging fifty feet to the frozen sea below. The ice met the land in a jumble of heaved-up slabs where the winds and tides had worked it, like puckered waves stilled by a snapshot in the act of slapping the shore.
Someone had erected a cross at the summit of
“You are about to have the honor of meeting the master blaster.”
“Master … what?”
“Blaster. Didn’t you—oh, right, you just got here, so you don’t know. They’re blasting the road that leads towards Castle Rock, trying to straighten it, for some goddamned reason. He’ll be out at the hut today. He goes out there every time they open it up and let us wackos in. I think he likes to photograph ghosts or something. Anyways, you can corner him there and ask your questions.”
“And I want to ask him questions because…?”
“He was out in your dude’s field camp last year.”
“I see.”
“Gotta go right to the source around here. Otherwise, all you hear is rumors. That, and suppositions. It’s like this place is a halfway house for paranoiacs.”
Valena asked, “What’s this hut he’s photographing?”
“Discovery Hut. Actually, it was a warehouse. I guess they lived aboard the ship, which of course got stuck in the ice. Those boys were good at getting things stuck. You’re lucky; they don’t open it to visitation very often.”
“They
lived aboard the ship? Who built it? When?”
“Scott, 1902. His first expedition. Got his butt to eighty-two south, had to turn back. Not the 1911 expedition where he froze to death.”
Sir Robert Falcon Scott!
Valena drew in her breath with surprise. Scott’s first attempt to reach the South Pole wasmounted just two years into the twentieth century. He had arrived aboard a ship named
Discovery. And this is the hut named for that expedition! She thought. I am walking on ground on which he walked!
As she continued down the trail, her heart now racing with excitement, they came out from the lee of the hills that surrounded McMurdo and were caught by an exhalation of frozen air off the ice sheet. Valena was instantly cold, so cold that her muscles began to contract. She hurriedly put her hat back on, pulled up the hood, and tried to get the slide of her big red parka’s zipper engaged. As she fumbled with chilling fingers, the wind found its way down her neck. The zipper was jammed. She tried it again and again, reseating it, pulling at it, cursing it.
Twenty strides down the trail, Cupcake turned around to see why Valena had dropped behind her. “Oh, hell, hasn’t anyone given you the short course on how to work the zipper on your big red yet?” She strode back toward Valena and grabbed the two sides of the track, yanked the one on Valena’s left down sharply, slapped the slide from the other side onto it, and whipped it up to her chin, all in the space of three seconds. “You gotta let it know who’s boss,” she said. She opened it again. Showed Valena how to hold the pieces properly, tugging the left side down sharply and holding it taut while she worked the right. “Now you try it. Yeah, that’s it. You’d think they’d make it idiot proof, considering that your life depends on it, but there it is.” As she turned around to resume her march, she said, “It’s like just about everything else down here: it’s essential, you need a short course to know how to do it, and that course doesn’t exist.”
“I’ve got survival training tomorrow.”
“Happy Camp. Have a party. They’ll put a five-gallon plastic bucket on your head to simulate a whiteout, like that’s going to really learn you.” She shook her head. “It’s not their fault. There’s just entirely too much to absorb. I’ve been down here seven seasons, and some days I feel like I’m only just getting the hang of it.”
Five minutes’ additional brisk hike brought them to theend of the point. There, the ground dropped off precipitously on three sides, plunging fifty feet to the frozen sea below. The ice met the land in a jumble of heaved-up slabs where the winds and tides had worked it, like puckered waves stilled by a snapshot in the act of slapping the shore.
Someone had erected a cross at the summit of
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