Many years ago, when I was working as a river guide, a little boy accidentally knocked a girl’s front teeth out with his paddle. The girl was in pain, and understandably distraught about losing her permanent teeth, which had only just grown in. But there were still several miles of river left, and we needed her to calm down and get back in the raft, so we could paddle downstream and get her to a dentist as quickly as possible.
My friend, a river guide named Colleen Hardiman, crouched down in front of the bloody-mouthed girl and told her: You look beautiful. The girl stopped crying and agreed to go downriver.
To no one’s surprise, Colleen went on to all kinds of badassery and is now in charge of field equipment and logistics for a company called Polar Field Services, which provides gear and training for researchers in the National Science Foundation’s Arctic Research Program and other scientific programs in Antarctica. She organizes the warehouse, repairs equipment, and outfits scientific groups before they go out into the field, often teaching them how to use their gear. She helps to review the field plans that scientific groups submit, and when appropriate, say: “Ooh, that’s really dangerous. Let’s talk about how you’re going to do that.”
Colleen spends a lot of time in the field, including a 7 and 9-month stint at the McMurdo Research station in Antarctica. She was getting ready to go back to Greenland when the pandemic hit, and is working from home until she can go back to the field. As someone who spends extended periods in one of Earth’s most isolated and extreme environments, it struck me that Colleen might have some good ideas about how to cope with sheltering-in-place. I also really just wanted to talk to her – it had been too long since we last caught up.
Emily: Colleen, how are you? It’s so nice to hear your voice!
Colleen: I’m really good! I’ve just moved in with my boyfriend. I should be in Greenland, but I’m a full-time employee and working from home right now, so I am very lucky.
Emily: I have been thinking about you, because the other day I was staring into the middle distance, looking at nothing, and it reminded me of something I heard of a few years back, called the Antarctic stare. As I understand it, this is a kind of mild fugue state that people sometimes experience during long periods in an isolated and extreme environment like the research station where you work in Antarctica.
Colleen: I know exactly what you’re talking about. It has to do with a thyroid hormone, and the dark, but also isolation. People have all kinds of funny nicknames for it. You are kind of in a state like we are now, this perpetual Groundhog Day. You wake up, you go to work at the exact same time every day. I knew who I was going to pass in the hall. I knew the cadence of their footsteps. I knew their smell. Our jobs were challenging, but they were also repetitive. It made you feel numb, like you just didn’t care about much.
Emily: My concentration has been shot lately. When Pete is talking, I often can’t remember the beginning of his sentences by the time he finishes them. Does this sound familiar?
Colleen: Yep. At the station, sometimes you’ll catch a whole table full of people just staring outside at nothing. The two winters I did were dramatically different from each other, and in retrospect, it was all about coping strategies.
Emily: Please share.
Colleen: Unbeknownst to me, I had way better coping strategies the first winter. My mental health is intrinsically connected to exercise. That first winter I was really diligent. About six days a week, I did an hour of exercise a day with a small group, and it was intense cardio. We were sweaty and shaky by the time we were done.
Emily: Other than exercise, what helped?
Colleen: It was all about the things I could control – like, I made myself get up at the same exact time every day. It was also about surrounding myself with a support system. Friendships happen quickly and fast because of the place and the situation. Also making plans for the future, like a New Zealand trip when I was done; I took up a lot of mental space with that. That was a good thing, to remember that the Groundhog Day was going to be over at some point.
Emily: What kinds of lessons do you think carry over now?
Colleen: Exercise I have fully rediscovered. I mean, I’ve always enjoyed exercise, but I’ve just realized that if it’s not every single day my mental and emotional capacity will reflect that. The other thing is remembering that it’s going to be over — but that’s the hard part with this. I mean, there’s going to be vaccine, right, but when? Even afterwards, I feel like our society has changed so much that it will never look like it did before. So that’s a hard one.
Creating some reason to celebrate, even if it’s just with my boyfriend. We try to get takeout every Friday night. Once a week, we’ll patronize a restaurant and look forward to it and treat it like a date — something that makes it not Groundhog Day. That puts time in the perspective of one week at a time, instead of one day at a time. One day at a time may work for some people’s psyche and emotion, but, oh God, I feel like I need more perspective than that.
Emily: The other day Pete and I passed over a strange threshold. You know that feeling when you say the same word over and over and over again, and at first the word loses its meaning, and then it becomes hysterically funny? It’s absurdity — we’ve crossed into a realm of absurdity that you can’t actually easily access under normal conditions.
Colleen: I know what you mean. At the station, you’d see a table of people throwing inside jokes back and forth, and everyone is laughing in a way that is so true, that you think, wow, these people are connected. But if you were a passerby, and you heard what they were talking about, you would have no idea what they were laughing about.
Emily: What are some upsides to spending long stints in a dark, confined environment?
Colleen: I thought about this lately, and one of the silver linings of this odd career or life I’ve chosen is that I put myself in these places were there are fewer resources, fewer vices and fun things, things that, when you come back, you can really appreciate. Smells are intense, feelings are intense – not putting on layers of clothes – all of those things are so much sweeter. Also: food, food, food. When I leave Antarctica I like to go to a grocery store and get whatever I want – you want those strawberries? Get two boxes.
Emily: How long do you find the stare lasts?
Colleen: So, something kind of crazy and cool, and also I think very common, is that when you leave Antarctica, the feeling [of numbness] goes away, like, overnight. You land in New Zealand, where it’s springtime, and everything is blooming and green and alive. You exit one world into another world, and you leave the stare behind.
What a wonderful time to reconnect with Colleen. She has always possessed a deep stillness about her that makes her an exceptional guide to others, whether in the Arctic or on the river. She is on my short list for any epic adventure. Thanks for sharing!