Antarctica 2018: Chapter 2: The Auckland Bag Drag
This post really should be divided into two chapters: Chapter 2, Jetstar sucks, and Chapter 3, the NSF ASC people are actually awesome. But being as it’s very late and I’m already days behind on blogging, here’s Chapter 2: The Auckland Bag Drag.
I know it’s not the update most of you are looking for (the Antarctic chapter is coming, I promise!), but next year, LANDIT has a team of seven scientists, mostly ice newbies, headed out to continue this research at the South Pole, so I’m trying to document the “gotchas” as much as possible for them.
Summary of Takeaways for future Antarctic travelers:
Don’t fly Jetstar on any leg of your flight for the US Antarctic program. Just don’t do it. Save yourself the hassle. AA/Jetstar used to be the contract carrier for the US Antarctic Program (USAP). They aren’t anymore and let’s just say now I know why.
Don’t use the e-kiosks at Auckland immigration – you need a longer visa.
Baggage allowances on international and NZ domestic legs are drastically different, even though your bag may be checked all the way through. Research ahead of time what your domestic carrier will accept – prepare for bad news. Alternately, try to fly international from Sydney into Christchurch to get international allowances all the way to your final destination.
If at all possible, try to avoid hand carrying anything over the USAP approved “two bags of 50 lbs each”. If you must, expect to make use of Air NZ cargo services. Probably at your own expense.
Now, to the tale of a pack mule. A little background first:
I’m hand carrying about 250 pounds of equipment to the ice in four bags. This is not the way it’s normally done – as I mentioned in Chapter 1, most equipment is shipped before hand in cargo containers from Port Huaneme. I’m trying to minimize handling of my telescope, because if its alignment gets out of whack there is no way I can fix it with the equipment I’ll have available on the ice. To which, of course:
Oh, you thought hand-carrying onto an airline would minimize handling damage? LOL NAW
Here’s the equipment:
All the equipment. The red target bag is attached to the top of the Pelican case: wires pour out of two drilled holes, through pipe insulation, into the bag. Notice that the black bag has all four wheels when this journey began.
The largest is a dark black suitcase (the everything bag) that weighs 100 lbs, exactly the maximum weight that an air carrier will accept. This has most of the telescope thermal equipment, spares, tripod, scintillometers and some clothes.
Next, a fuzzy black roller padded case (the telescope bag) that weighs about 58 pounds. This is the telescope itself, lenses, and its mount. So we’re at what I weigh already in stuff to drag around.
Then comes the telescope control case (grey pelican case), provided to me courtesy of the ever-awesome Liz Hyde from NASA Ames. Inside this case is the electronic heart of the telescope — everything that controls it, and two computers that gather and store the data I’m going to Antarctica to collect. The case is to protect the sensitive components inside, and weighs about 10 lbs on its own. In total it weighs 38 lbs. Here’s a picture of the inside. Yes, it looks like a bomb. This figures in the story.
The inside of the telescope control case (grey Pelican case) in its undamaged and immaculately packed form. Holes for wires are drilled in the sides farthest from the viewer.
Finally, there’s my backpack. This is everything I need to live for two months in a place that’s not my home. Towel, toiletries, clothes, every warm thing I own, my laptop, DSLR camera, iPad and such. 47 lbs. USAP allows 85 lbs, so I’m doing pretty well.
Four bags. For those keeping score, this is 196 lbs of scientific equipment and 47 lbs of personal equipment, for a total of 243 lbs headed to the ice. I had to request excess baggage allowances from the NSF to hand carry all this weight onto the ice. It’s still a lot for one dude to haul his damn self. I’ve gotten real good at lifting with my knees, let’s just say that.
So four bags weighing about 250 lbs have to make it from Hawaii to Antarctica.
Maui to LA
Maui to LA isn’t bad. The American Airlines gate agent marks the telescope bag fragile, at my request. I repeatedly remind him, after that, that it’s very fragile. As he nods and says, cool man, he picks it up and hucks it — more like hurls it — onto the conveyor belt. Right in front of me. Three weeks of non-stop work on the telescope, nights and weekends, flashes in front of my eyes, and it’s a struggle not to jump across the counter and tackle him.
The TSA guys squint at the Pelican case a little, raise some eyebrows. But they’re Hawaiian and they know my face. It’s a small island. They wave it through. American Airlines for the win: they let both Pelican case and backpack go with me onto the plane, 85 lbs in total.
I carry the pelican case very carefully. The wires coming out of it (many wires) will be very hard to reposition if they come loose. They are exquisitely packed, thanks to the ever enterprising Dr Ryan Swindle, my co-PI and organizational genius. Seriously, this guy should be on an HGTV show for helping pack rats who have run out of space. He squeezed 40 lbs of shit into a 20 lbs box, and that’s not an expression. Point is: I don’t want anyone to manhandle this case. Pull the wires loose, try to separate the literal “bag o wires” from their source, and I’m wasting two days on the ice putting Humpty Dumpty back together again.
Five and a half hours later, I’m at LAX. Pelican case is okay. The telescope case looks a little worse for wear when it comes out on the conveyor belt, but not damaged. I can breathe again.
LA to Auckland:
In LA, I wait for final parts to arrive by mail. I repack the black case with these parts. It’s now bulging at the seams, but spares are crucial to an Antarctic expedition. If something fails you need to be able to replace it, or it’s game over. I’m carrying two of a lot. It weighs a lot.
At LAX, the black bag now weighs 104 lbs. It won’t go. I unzip this massive bag, packed to the seams, and bubble wrap squirts everywhere. What can come out? Snap decision time. Two month supply of bath gel? Goodbye forever. Personal hygiene for the rest of my calendar year is in question and I’m only down to 103 lbs. Telephoto lens for DSLR camera loses another half a pound. Then Grace points at my DVD collection of Game of Thrones. Every episode, season 1-6, to pass the time. She says it’ll be at least 2.5 pounds.
I don’t believe her. Also, I don’t want to believe her. That’s, like, the ONLY non work related thing I’m bringing to the South Pole. Without that, I’m left with literally nothing to do but pop the bubble wrap protecting all my stuff. Ronny, if you’re reading this, I had a horrified moment when I remembered your Facebook comment about ripping the DVDs to SD cards, and I think they call that irony.
So out comes GoT. And sure enough, the bag is at 100.0 lbs. First the Koloa rum had to go, now the HBO show. I’m gonna shatter the Guinness world record for largest snowman out of sheer boredom down there at this rate.
Next up, TSA at LAX. You already know how this story ends. Brown guy rolls up with a case that has holes drilled in the sides and wires pouring out of it. The supervisor comes over, asks me to pull everything out. I tell him it won’t come out, and he can do his explosives swab. He stands around shaking his head, and I now know what an interrogation room at LAX looks like.
By the time TSA has pored over what feels like every inch of the interior of the Pelican case (but they do not pull everything out), it’s time to board. Just squeaked on in time. I sit down, relieved, ready to get on my way. Then American Airlines says we’ll be sitting at the gate for the next hour. I’m starting to feel like somebody is scripting me into a comedy show, and secretly filming my misadventures.
Note for future New Zealand travelers: Auckland airport has one runway. They stack up arrivals, so you cannot arrive more than 15 minutes early, or 15 minutes late. We have favorable tail winds south of the equator that will get us there an hour early, so we sit at the gate for an hour with the airplane door closed so that American can count this as an on-time departure. Better yet, the lady in my row is freaking out at sitting in the window seat (I’m in the aisle). She feels trapped (it’s two seats, lady). She can’t breathe (she can). Her boyfriend, between us, actively hates her. Then he actively hates me, because no, I won’t give up my aisle seat and have to climb over crazy lady for the next 14 hours to go to the bathroom. Crazy lady ends up sitting between us, and craning over me to see the aisle (she says this makes her feel better, but I’m pretty sure it’s to show me how much better it would be if I would switch with her). It’s going to be a long flight.
Auckland Airport: international terminal
The flight itself is very nicely timed. New Zealand is 20 hours ahead of California, so we push from the gate at about midnight, which is 8 pm in NZ the next day. I stay awake for two hours and watch Marvel characters try to be funny while stuff is blowing up around them. At 10 pmNZ, 2 am California, I fall asleep for nine hours – not nine hours straight, because crazy lady needs to pee a lot– but when I wake up, we’re two hours away from landing, it’s 7 am local time, and that feels just right. Zero jet lag so far.
At immigration, there are e-kiosks for US (and other western nations) passports. You scan your passport in the machine, and it will give US citizens a 3-month visa automatically. If you are traveling with USAP, you need a 12-month visa, in case of weather delays, or if you’re staying the full summer season. Don’t use the kiosk.
It’s early in the Antarctic season (still -84 degrees F at Pole), so as it turns out, I’m the first Antarctic visitor the immigration officer has seen so far this year! She dimly remembers the process from last year, but it’s slipped her mind. There’s a special statute in NZ immigration law that allows you to get a 12-month visa – on arrival, with no advance paperwork – as long as you have a sponsor letter from the NSF. She just needs to make sure it’s the right letter, and is very nice and apologetic. She asks me if it’s my first time on the ice – actually uses those words, so I think this is what everyone calls Antarctica. I tell her yes. She says congratulations on a very unique opportunity, and stamps my passport. I’m starting to get excited.
That feeling quickly damps as I see my 100 lb. black suitcase come out, and it’s missing a wheel. The heaviest bag now cannot be rolled, but must be dragged. Thanks, American. It makes a great sound as I heave it down the marble hall. I haven't been to the gym in a while, but I’m fairly certain I can start my bench press at 100 lbs right out of the gate.
Next is biosecurity. I’m used to this from Hawaii: small islands scan incoming luggage for pests, fruits and food, to prevent foreign ecosystems from destroying the protected native biosphere. Hawaii’s agriculture protection seems like a jobs program. Your bag goes through the scanner, but you’re not sure anybody’s really looking.
Not here. They take it very seriously. There are signs everywhere… and sure enough, the couple in front of me got busted for having a sandwich from the airplane in a jacket pocket. It was an instant $400 NZD fine, and the biosecurity officer was firmly unsympathetic. There are signs everywhere, after all. So take the time to double-check there’s no leftover jerky in your backpack from your last camping trip (an actual thing the biosecurity officer asked me before I went through the scanner).
Finally, customs. Again, I was the first one of the season, so the customs officers all clustered together to make sure they were doing it right. They were very nice and apologetic for keeping me waiting. I’m importing about $50,000 in equipment, but the NSF/ASC has already provided me with the right forms. I have them filled out, my manifests are up to date, and it’s all fairly painless. Basically, ASC Travel prepares you for everything you need. I imagine ice people coming through in November/December will breeze through – however, don’t lose the form that they stamp! You’ll need it to exit the country.
Excitement for the unique experience I’m about to embark on hits me again, as I chat with the head officer at Customs while I wait. She tells me about her very special connection to Antarctica. In the 1970s, her dad was the Station Lead for Scott Base! He was there for a whole year. She said she remembered being a child, and every Thursday, her dad would call from Antarctica for three minutes. Her mom got one minute, she got one minute, her sister got one minute, and that was all of Dad until next week. When he died, he asked to be returned to Antarctica. The Station Lead for Scott Base at the time took his ashes up in a plane, and scattered them around the area of the base. She shakes my hand and smiles at me with a bit of a sad look and says, “Say hi to my dad while you’re out there”. I’m not going to lie, I feel a little hiccup in the back of my throat.
His name was Brian Porter.
Kiwis share a lot of connections, and affection, for the Antarctic Program. An example: the head Customs officer at Auckland International was daughter to Mr. Brian Porter, former head of Scott Base, just down the road (literally, less than 10 km) from McMurdo Station.
Auckland Airport: domestic terminal
I load up all my gear onto a trolley and trudge it along a 10 min walk to the domestic terminal. It’s kind of sunny, a nice day in Auckland, but the trolley tips over every time I negotiate a sharp curve and I’m having a minor heart attack every time I have to catch the pelican case.
It’s a long 630 meters when you’re lugging 250 pounds.
Make it over to domestic, to Jetstar, and spoiler alert, they suck.
The bags are checked all the way through to Christchurch, but they won’t take any bag that weighs over 23 kg (50.6 lbs). Get this: they’ll take two bags that are 46 kg, 23 kg each. But they won’t take one bag that is 46 kg and let me pay excess baggage fees on the others. For those of you that are pilots, you know that for airplane weight and balance reasons, there’s zero freaking difference between 46 kg in one bag or 46 kg in two, as long as they are stacked in the same place with respect to airplane center of gravity. It is, of course, no use to try to explain this to the Jetstar counter people.
So what do I do, I ask. Well, you have to figure it out, the supervisor tells me with a bored look. She’s on her phone while she’s talking to me. Here’s where I get a little annoyed. I tell her, through gritted teeth, that either she takes the bag on the plane, or she tells me what to do with the bag, I’m not going to “figure it out” while I’m under the gun for the flight taking off in 90 minutes. The phrase “I need you to wake up and do your job” figures in there somewhere. She scurries away. Five minutes pass. Ten. Hey where’d the supervisor go? I ask. Oh, she took her break. She’ll be back in an hour.
Wow. She literally ran away from her job.
Before you leave, the NSF gives you a little cheat sheet to put in your wallet - numbers to call if you get into trouble. Including toll free numbers to call in Australia, New Zealand and the US. I’m pretty sure being unable to get my scientific equipment to Christchurch counts as trouble, so I ask the Jetstar person if there’s a phone nearby where I can make a toll free call.
She shrugs. I don’t know.
You work here. You’ve never seen a phone?
Maybe in the international terminal?
It was probably the expression that crossed my face - like I was getting ready to tackle somebody again - and the fact that her supervisor had literally abandoned ship - the Jetstar counter agent offers me her cell phone. I’m thankful for even little favors at this point. I call the NSF’s toll free New Zealand number. Someone picks up immediately.
I explain the situation. Halfway through, the lady interrupts me. How much time before your flight takes off?
Uh... seventy minutes.
Got it, she says. Let me get you to a supervisor.
Whoa. Competence.
The supervisor comes on. I explain the situation. He says, yup, Air New Zealand will honor the international baggage limits all the way through for us, Jetstar won’t. Here’s what you need to do: ship it by air cargo. Ask Jetstar about their air cargo service. Put it on there. We’ll go get it when it arrives here in Christchurch.
Can you hold on, I say. I think this’ll be a short conversation.
Sure.
While he’s holding, I ask the counter agent about Jetstar air cargo. Predictably, she has no idea. If she didn’t know about a telephone at her workplace she probably doesn’t know about air cargo. She points me at the customer service desk. I walk over there, phone in hand. The service agent says, oh, sure, just ask the counter agents.
The guy on the phone has heard all of this and says, well clearly Jetstar is about as useful as (colorful NZ expression here). Forget them, you don’t have the time. (I’m really starting to like that he gets my situation). Walk down to Air New Zealand. Find their cargo people. I know for a fact that they do it, and their Auckland people know how. Give me a call if you run into problems.
I take my cart of 250 lbs, which is starting to feel like my Sisyphus burden, and walk across the domestic terminal. It’s like sunshine to darkness. Sure, the counter agent says. She draws me a map. Just walk around to here and drop it off.
Sadly, it’s back in the direction of the international terminal, but I’m counting my blessings because I’ve got sixty minutes to takeoff. I head back out into the sunshine. Cart tips over twice on my way there. It’s been a great day. The Air NZ cargo is on the way between the terminals, but you have to walk around the building to the front gate. Tell the guard you’re shipping cargo and they buzz you in.
I head into the office and the Air NZ lady weighs the big black bag, says it’ll be 200 NZD. Hell, weigh the telescope case too. 300 NZD for both. To not deal with Jetstar again? Worth it. I pay it.
As she’s checking the bag in, she looks at the baggage tag that says checked all the way to Christchurch. This should’ve gone on the plane, she says.
No shit.
Wow, Jetstar sucks. She says that. I can’t agree more.
Baggage delivered, I now only have my backpack and pelican case. The cart feels super light and I fly back to the domestic terminal. Forty minutes to go. I check in the backpack. Carry the pelican case through security. They ask if I have a computer in there. Yes, but it’s a box computer. That’s good enough, and they let it through.
Hallelujah! But wait. There’s more. As I get to the gate they are making pre announcements. Apparently if your check in bag is more than 7 kg (15 lbs) it won’t go on with you. I don’t even bother arguing that it’s an international itinerary, codeshare ticket, blah blah. I run out the exit gates, back to the counter agent. One more thing to check, I say. Thirty one minutes. The cut off got checked bags is 30. Ah, but her bag tag printer is broken. Over to the next agent. I make a growling sound that wouldn’t be out of place in a werewolf movie. The pelican case is checked in, I shit you not, right at 1303, and the flight takes off at 1333.
I walk back through security (Hey, weren’t you just through here? Yeah, but Jetstar sucks, and this seems to be a perfectly understandable answer). I’m the last person on the plane, I collapse into my seat, and the kid behind me is vigorously kicking the back of my seat like it’s a drum set. It’s heaven compared to the last two hours.
Next post: Christchurch!