Rob Coker, Larkman Nunatak, December 25, 2012<\/p>\n
The public tale of the 2012-2013 ANSMET Expedition, funded by various Institutions interested\u00a0in acquiring Knowledge for its own sake, has been told elsewhere, most prominently in our\u00a0public wireless reports. \u00a0Here, today, with the last vestiges of my humanity and\u00a0sanity in tatters, I feel compelled to tell the real story about the events that have\u00a0taken place here on the aeons-old windswept Antarctic plateau, before it is too late. \u00a0I am\u00a0reluctant to tell my tale, since I know my story will likely not be believed, but\u00a0I must rely upon the judgement of the dear reader.
\nAs previously reported, we camped here in the Larkman region to find pieces of the heavens themselves\u00a0that have fallen from the sky and been buried for untold ages in the dead ice beneath us, only\u00a0filled area. \u00a0Surrounding us, and\u00a0exuding waves of menace, are the tops of various monstrous mountains of antiquity. \u00a0It is a land of stark and deep, almost mind-numbing, emensity,\u00a0which, from the start, also invoked in me, for no evident reason, feelings of dread and emptiness.\u00a0If only I had listened to those vague feelings and fears! \u00a0When I arrived here, I was reading The\u00a0Worst Journey in the World, in an attempt to learn more of this merciless land that I was planning\u00a0on spending months getting to know. \u00a0As the days went by, I instead used the tale to feel better\u00a0about our harsh conditions, which, though harsh, are far better and easier to endure than those\u00a0which the early explorers experienced. \u00a0Or so I thought. \u00a0For example, I have been haunted by the howling winds
\nthat never stop, streaming North from the Pole, filling our tent with what sounds like the eerie cries\u00a0of the long damned, while drawing the life from our skins and producing the dead flesh of frost nip in mere\u00a0minutes. \u00a0This cold wind also drives hard crystals of snow against all of our\u00a0sledges and tents and transport, leaving long deep drifts that we easily stumble into when the\u00a0light gets cold and flat, as it often does, when clouds blot out the sun.\u00a0Wraithlike streamers of such flowing crystals move across the\u00a0blue ice in formations that defy description, etching and cutting all they touch; they are\u00a0like ghost fingers searching for and draining any spark of life and heat they can find. \u00a0We\u00a0try hard to lessen our impact on this dreadfully dry and crushingly cold environment, but\u00a0the heat of our stoves and of our very bodies cannot be hidden from the denizens that lurk here. \u00a0And they\u00a0are jealous of such warmth. \u00a0And they do not wish to be disturbed. \u00a0But, unwittingly, disturb them we have.<\/p>\n
In the 100 years since Scott’s fateful jorney to the Pole, some things\u00a0have changed considerably, such as this wireless means of communication, while other things,\u00a0such as our sledges and tents, are virtually identical to those used by that doomed Expedition.\u00a0Upon finishing that tale of noble and desparate deeds, I felt a compulsion to read next a\u00a0story by H.P. Lovecraft, set here in the desolate and deserted Antarctic continent. While\u00a0reading it, feelings of deja vu overwhelmed me. \u00a0Suddenly, my very rational tentmate, who has\u00a0been further than all but a mere handful of other human beings and seen much, quietly stated, “You know\u00a0what is better than reading Lovecraft’s ‘At the Mountains of Madness’ while being in Antarctica?\u00a0Reading Lovecraft’s ‘At the Mountains of Madness’ while being in Antarctica with blood dripping\u00a0from the ceiling.” \u00a0And indeed that was happening! \u00a0It suddently all fell into place as the steak blood\u00a0dripped onto our clothing, our utensils, our flesh. \u00a0Surely we were in the\u00a0fabled plateau of Leng, as described in the Necronomicon, written by the mad Arab Abdul Alhazred,\u00a0where the eldritch Deep Ones slumber the long cold slow sleep of death. \u00a0The blasphemous descriptions\u00a0of the Mountains of Madness matched our surroundings perfectly. \u00a0I trembled, eager to inform my\u00a0companions at our next get-together in the Science tent, for we should abandon our quest for\u00a0the Star Stones, for they are the sporous offspring of the Old Ones. \u00a0My colleagues laughed\u00a0and jested at me, singing and carrolling until the late hours. \u00a0They know not what they have\u00a0summoned with their crazed verses!<\/p>\n
This Christmas day, our stockings are empty — not even coal to heat ourselves! — and\u00a0no presents are to be found. \u00a0Santa could not find us in this aeons-cursed land. \u00a0Did this convince\u00a0my companions? \u00a0Of course not. \u00a0Finally, it dawned on me in growing horror: \u00a0The\u00a0very water we have been drinking, melted from the ice beneath\u00a0us, contains tiny fragments of star stones, the spores of the Deep Ones, and we have been inbibing\u00a0them for weeks! \u00a0Nurtured in our bodies, they have filled us with the urge to find more and greater examples of their\u00a0spawn and return them to our so-called Civilization. \u00a0I can only shudder at what\u00a0Horrors and Truths will hatch from them.<\/p>\n
Humanity will always explore and seek Knowledge, so I know others will come here and fall under\u00a0the same curse that we have, no matter what I write here today. \u00a0I shiver at what the final result may be.\u00a0But the Truth had to be told.<\/p>\n
Happy Holidays to All!<\/p>\n
*B*: \u00a0The cat is in the kitchen. Repeat: \u00a0the cat is in the kitchen. 0800NZT.\u00a0ES22: \u00a0thermal HW problem: \u00a0Scott tent with Coleman stove. \u00a0Find time-dependent solution with 0F floor.\u00a0(and I’m not afraid of purple monkeys…blueballed ones on the other hand…)
\nOther texting homies (of which I have more than everyone else combined!): \u00a0I can feel the luv!<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
Rob Coker, Larkman Nunatak, December 25, 2012<\/p>\n
The public tale of the 2012-2013 ANSMET Expedition, funded by various Institutions interested\u00a0in acquiring Knowledge for its own sake, has been told elsewhere, most prominently in our\u00a0public wireless reports. \u00a0Here, today, with the last vestiges of my humanity and\u00a0sanity in tatters, I feel compelled to tell the real story about the events that have\u00a0taken place here on the aeons-old windswept Antarctic plateau, before it is too late. \u00a0I am\u00a0reluctant to tell my tale, since I know my story will likely not be believed, but\u00a0I must rely upon the judgement of the dear reader.<\/p>\n