Geography Reference
In-Depth Information
215
Figure S.16. Fractures per-
meate the azure seasonal
ice that rims Lake Vanda
for ten months of the year.
lake. “how cool,” I thought, “Who would have left these? Which year were they
here?” I wondered whether I knew them personally or perhaps by reputation. I
thought of taking one as a souvenir.
Then, about a hundred yards down the shore we came upon another pile.
and then a couple hundred yards more, a third. By now I was disgusted. Images
came to mind of the heaps of oxygen bottles at Everest base camp, or the calling
cards of climbers under every rock on the path to the summit of the Matterhorn.
Lake Vanda was trashed.
So where is the dividing line? To an archeologist, the dump at the mouth of a
Paleolithic cave is a treasure trove of goodies, whether they be superbly crafted
artifacts or the scraps of last week's big meal. The litter along highway 61 has no
less meaning about our current culture, but we find it rude and repulsive.
Since my visit to Lake Vanda in the 1970s, the u.S. and New Zealand programs
have established a new policy: nothing is to be left in the Dry Valleys. Every ounce
of waste must be bagged and flown back to McMurdo Station or Scott Base by
helicopter. Furthermore, the two countries sent litter crews in to pick up the
trash of the preceding decades. Today there are encampments in the Dry Valleys
at various spots of scientific research, but when the research is completed, the
researchers fold up their tents and depart without a trace.
For me, the dividing line between trash and treasure is the line between
recent events and history. Tin cans in the Dry Valleys disgust me. But were I to
find a sardine can dropped by amundsen, a torn mitten worn by Scott, a broken
ice axe left by Blackburn, or some of the debris scuttled by Byrd as he flew
over The hump on his way to the pole, such finds I would behold with awe and
treasure as if a relic from the holy Land.
 
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