Wire & Ice

An Antarctic year is one day long: three months each of dawn, day, dusk and night, and by the time my new roommate Jane arrived, I was clocking up seven weeks without relief from the light. I’d get up in the night sometimes and creep through the corridors of Scott Base to the drying room, which was warm and airless and black. I’d sit there until I felt my eyelids fall heavy, then walk back through the halls, the white midnight outside only slightly softer than broad day. This was the light the photographers preferred, when the sun was skimming the mountains on the horizon and warm­ing, barely, the iced sea outside.