Love On The Ice

by Glenn Grant

The USAP Participant Guide is the handbook given out to all personnel before departing for Antarctica. It lists the basic information needed to function successfully within the program, including such useful tidbits as your Antarctic mailing address, what to pack, and what to leave at home. Notably absent, however, is a large bold warning label about Love on the Ice. Under the glossy pictures of penguins and icebergs, just after the section on medical concerns there should be a bright red title, preferably with flashing lights and sirens, saying Love: caveat emptor.

Relationships in an isolated environment become intensified, and love at an Antarctic research station can be an emotional crevasse field. This is not to suggest that people should avoid romantic entanglements; quite the contrary. Long-term relationships spanning multiple seasons on the Ice are common, and many people have met their future spouses in Antarctica. For those who do find a partner, the shared experience can be a time of warmth and happiness. Even one short season with a compatible lover may make a lifetime of memories.

But the happiest lovers tend to be those who approach the situation with the fewest expectations. The failed romances -- and there are many -- make good cautionary tales. When an Antarctic relationship goes wrong, it becomes clear why Dante described the deepest level of hell as a cold, icy place.

I met Jane (not her real name) at Palmer Station during my first year on the Ice. She was witty, intellectual, and beautiful by any standard. We spent a lot of time talking about sex, politics and religion. No subject was taboo, and Jane delighted in making conversational hamburger out of sacred cows. We were instant friends. I suspected she was a lesbian, so I never suggested having a physical relationship. She never hinted at having one either, so when she left the station after less than two months I figured it was probably just as well.

There was the usual sadness that comes with seeing a friend depart, but work went on and the winter started. I didn't hear from her, and that wasn't a surprise. But a few months later the following email message arrived:

It took me three days to digest this. If you deliberately wanted to mess with a guy's mind in the middle of an Antarctic winter, this was a very effective way to do it.

The comment about smoking refers to an incident where Jane walked into the television lounge while I was smoking a rather nasty cigar. It was an especially putrid Cuban brand, given to me by the station doctor (why do the doctors always seem to be a corrupting influence?) and I decided to smoke it in the lounge as a bit of revenge against all the cigarette smokers who would light-up during movies. The TV lounge has since been made non-smoking.

The whole message was obviously playful teasing, but -- knowing Jane-- there was also an element of truth to it. An equally taunting response was required:

And from there, things became much more intriguing. We continued to exchange email for the rest of the year, each message becoming progressively more intimate. By the end of the winter I could tell when a new message from Jane had arrived by the small curls of steam rising from my PC. But I could not tell the serious talk from the flirting. When I left the station at the end of the winter I traveled for a couple months, and then called her as promised. We met, we talked, and we dated. And all of it was serious, except for the part about getting married. As it turned out, even that might have been negotiable.

Jane couldn't understand why anybody would want to get married. I suggested that, just maybe, wanting kids might be a good reason, or simply wanting to make a commitment to one person. This brought up the subject of monogamy, and I found myself arguing in favor of it while she was strongly against it. Aren't guys the ones who are always asking, Why don't we date other people? The debate reached a climax just before she left to visit an old friend. On her return she announced that she was engaged, and within a couple of months she had quit her job, sold her house and moved in with him. They are now married.

I think we both saw it coming, so the argument about monogamy was actually just an indirect way of saying goodbye.

But during our short relationship Jane told me something unpleasant about her experiences on the Ice. The previous year she had been stationed at McMurdo and living with a boyfriend. They had known each other for a long time, and the relationship was built on trust and mutual respect. But something happened. The intensity of the social dynamics at Mactown caused her boyfriend to change in disturbing ways; he became abusive and jealous, and displeased if she socialized with any other men. By the end of the season she was spending most of her free time in their dorm room, knitting and alone.

In retrospect, she said, had she gone to Antarctica by herself she felt she would have had a wonderful time. Given her flirtatious attitude and love of life, I could only agree. Having a jealous, angry lover hovering around would only ruin the experience. Although Jane had an aggressive attitude about pursuing men and had known she was attracted to me while she was still at Palmer, she could not bring herself to start another Ice relationship, especially in the social fishbowl of life at Palmer Station.

Very little goes on, relationship-wise, that is not noticed by others at Antarctic stations. Under the microscope of station life everybody knows who is going out with whom and which couples have recently broken up. Emotional and physical relationships are generally stable during the winter months, but evaporate like a delicate frost when the sun rises again. If a relationship collapses just after the winter has begun, both persons may be in for a very long, cold night. When there is no place else to go and you are forced to live and work with someone whom you love but cannot have (or despise but cannot escape) life becomes difficult, to say the least.

A typical story, repeated often and tragically, is that of lovers deciding to go work together on the Ice, only to have their relationship dissolve within days or even minutes after they arrive. Given the skewed ratio of men to women, it is not too surprising that it is almost always the woman who dumps the man. In one extreme example, a newly married couple returned for a second winter at McMurdo. She broke up with him immediately after the winter began and moved into the fire station to be with her new lover. Her estranged husband spent most of the winter in the medical facility next door, heavily sedated.

The station doctors are naturally reluctant to discuss such medical matters, but they are not immune from being human as well. One doctor at Palmer Station, longing for female companionship, decided that he might be better-off being single. To remind himself of this, he made a special request of the carpenter: The carpenter's girlfriend was one of the most beautiful women on station, and doctor wanted "borrow" her for a couple minutes of service. After the doctor explained what he wanted, the carpenter smiled and said he would talk his girlfriend about it. She was happy to oblige. During dinner a few days later she confronted the doctor in the galley with a withering verbal volley: "You never take me anywhere. Why don't you ever buy me anything? You never tell me you love me anymore. Your friends stink. Why don't you shave more often? I need help taking care of this place, where have you been? When are we going to get some new furniture? I'm tired of doing the same thing every night. You need some new clothes, those are awful..." There was much, much more. Almost the entire station had witnessed the nagging attack, and there was a long moment of astonished silence until the doctor erupted in laughter. He thanked her, sat down with his dinner, and the smile on his face lasted for weeks.

Generally speaking, men should not go to Ice looking for love, but some find it anyway. The same could be said for women as well, even with the abundance of men. Friends become lovers, Kiwis marry Yanks, researchers fall in love with contract employees, and the rest commiserate with each other over coffee and beer.

Tales of failed love affairs in Antarctica are rampant, but at the other end of the spectrum are the couples who not only survive the pressures and isolation, but thrive together and emerge with stronger relationships. The remote location reinforces their love, and the harsh environment is often viewed as romantic. Some tie the knot in New Zealand on their way home, and the research vessel captains have performed many ceremonial marriages at sea, surrounded by icebergs, penguins and pack ice.

Falling in love on the Ice may be very dangerous, but it may also be well worth the risk.

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