Whether it was himself, Lin Wan’er, Grace Lowes, or Song Rife, all four were top targets for the Society. Drawing attention was unwise. Asian faces were uncommon here to begin with; four together would stand out even more.
So Charlie wade accepted the suggestion. Once all the luggage was collected, the four of them loaded their bags into the minibus the man had brought and headed directly to Ushuaia port.
Between them they had ten suitcases. Most had been prepared by Lin Wan’er with Helena’s help. She knew that Charlie wade, Grace Lowes, and Song Rife would spend nearly all their time in cultivation, for whom months would pass in the blink of an eye, whereas she herself would have to endure several months of polar night in extreme cold. Naturally she had packed extra.
Ushuaia in March is autumn, with pleasant temperatures. Along the road Charlie wade saw many backpackers, each carrying huge, professional-looking packs in bright, vivid colours that lent the streets a distinctive charm.
Curious, Charlie wade asked the driver, “Are all these backpackers tourists who have been to Antarctica?”
The man smiled and answered, “These backpackers have just withdrawn from the Antarctic continent and the South Shetland Islands before winter arrives. The Antarctic tourism season runs from November to March. Only during those four months do commercial expedition cruise ships visit Antarctica. Now it’s late March, practically the final withdrawal window. After returning to Ushuaia, some tourists fly straight out of Argentina, others stay and travel around the country a bit longer.”
He continued, “Ushuaia is the most important gateway to Antarctica, handling over ninety per cent of Antarctic tourists, so tourism here is highly developed. It accounts for forty per cent of local GDP, and half the city’s jobs serve the ships and visitors heading to Antarctica. Every year at least a hundred thousand people pass through here to reach the continent.”
Then he smiled and added, “Right now, though, is not the peak season for the town itself. The Antarctic continent is about to enter winter and polar night. Ordinary tourists will finish evacuating within the next fortnight. Many summer-station researchers have already started leaving. We also need to be back from Antarctica by early April, so the four of you may have only three days, five at the absolute maximum, to deploy your equipment.”
Charlie wade asked, “How long does the ship take from Ushuaia to reach our station?”
The man thought for a moment. “Fastest is about two and a half days, slower would be three and a half.”
Charlie wade asked further, “Are the other stations near ours summer stations or year-round?”
The man replied, “The station we’re heading to is quite far inland. Within a radius of several dozen kilometres, almost all the stations belong to European countries, and every one is a summer station. The further inland you go in Antarctica, the harsher the environment, so year-round stations are mostly built on the Antarctic Peninsula and the surrounding islands.”
Charlie wade felt a little more at ease. Before coming, he had studied Antarctic winter climate. Antarctica’s weather is peculiar: once polar night begins in winter, temperatures plummet so low that even air circulation is severely restricted. During polar night there is almost no wind or snow on the continent; instead it is extremely cold, clear, and calm for months on end. Summer, by contrast, is when the storms and blizzards rage.
An Antarctic winter night means minus eighty degrees or lower, no wind, no snow, a sky filled with countless stars and auroras, silent to an extreme degree.
In such bitterly cold yet clear conditions, visibility would certainly be excellent. Under starlight and aurora, one could easily see several kilometres. If there were year-round stations nearby with people coming and going, moving about freely would be inconvenient. If, however, they were the only four people within dozens of kilometres, everything would become much simpler.
