Didn’t make it again today. It was even looking likely at times. Despite the lousy weather, and despite the transport time marching steadily later through the day. When they finally loaded us on Ivan for the ride down to the runway at 1800 it really seemed plausible that we’d go – Pole 1 had even launched (yeah, 6 hours late, but they launched). When ANG informed us “Uhhhh, it’s gonna be a while”, we cheerfully passed the hours away in the field galley like a makeshift passenger terminal. We ooohed and aahhhed through the windows as the Herc fired up its engines in great noisy billows of snow and taxied to the fuel dump. And we waited in breathless anticipation when, around 2030, Erik came in through the double-walk-in-freezer doors and asked “So, do you want the good news, or the bad news?” The good news was that we could get back onto Ivan. The bad news was, of course, that he was taking us back to 155. As the Pretenders song goes, maybe tomorrow, maybe someday…

But it was a wonderful day, nonetheless. I did some volunteer work pulling down old notices for the facilities folks. I was taken aside by one of the OAEs and – in hushed tones – asked if I wanted to go check out a new ob tube that had just been sunk in the sea ice near Hut Point (immediate response: “Hell yes! Thanks!” Follow-up response: “Uh, by the way, what’s an ‘ob tube’?). And through a minor administrative fumble, I have escaped Man Camp for the night, and have a real bed, a door that closes, and a semi-private bathroom on the 3rd floor of 209. Life is good. And one more thing: we’re supposed to report for transport tomorrow morning at 0700.