Tuesday, December 18, 2007
The previous post, by some strange mental connection, reminded me of a tale told by a friend who had spent some time in Antarctica some 30 or 40 years ago.
The latrines had been built a short distance from the housing. Nowadays I suppose they use chemical toilets or something, but back then things were more primitive, and not so ecologically conscious. He says it was just holes dug in the snow pack under a heated outhouse. Painted half-moon on the door and all. I guess they figured anything deposited there would freeze, and they'd just fill in the hole when they left.
It didn't freeze.
Unbeknownst to them, it moved. The deposits flowed down the slight slope, under the pristine surface. An underground brownish-yellow river. ("Kitchens uphill, latrines down!") They didn't discover what was happening until the first guy broke through the crust and almost got buried alive. It got to where folks were afraid to walk outside, because they weren't sure where it all went.
He also talks about penguins. The penguins would bunch up at the edge of the ice, peering over into the water, looking for killer whales. They had to go into the water, because they had to eat, but no one wanted to be the first in. So they'd bunch up, and then one penguin would bump another, knocking him in, and they'd all rush to that spot to see what happened to him.
If he was safe, they'd all go in. If a whale got him, they'd all go in (figuring the whale was busy, I guess).
That's REAL testing the waters.
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