Twas the Night Before Christmas...Mpala Research Centre style

I've been writing Night Before Christmas poems recently for unusual jobs/places where I have spent Christmas.

So here's the one I wrote for Mpala this year.  Also below it is the one that Elisha, Kaitlyn, and I helped my brother write for his avalanche forecast on Christmas Morning.

I'm also including 2 poems after that from my time in Antarctica

Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the Mpala
The hyraxes weren’t stirring, not even a holla.
Camera traps were tied to trees with great care
In hopes that nocturnal critters soon would be there.

The mzungus were nestled all snug in their beds,
While nightmares of ugali danced all through their heads.
And mamma in her shuka, and me shivering to stay alive,
Had just returned from a chilly night game-drive.

When out on the ring-road there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from my banda to see what was the matter.
Through the spiny acacias I weaved with a crash,
Tore open some skin and exposed a large gash.

The moon on the breast of black-cotton dust
Reminding that leopard vigilance is a must.
When, what to my sun-burned eyes should appear,
But a miniature land cruiser, and eight ascaris full of cheer.

With a wily old driver, so lively and curious,
I knew in a moment it must be Mr. Julius.
More rapid than hornbills his coursers they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name!

"Now Titus! Now, Richard! Now, Tony and Isaac!
On, Sammy! On John! On Lentikwa and Eric!
To the top of the escarpment! To the plots of UHURU!

Dash away! Dash away! Illegal grazing’s not through!"

As red dust that under thundering hooves does fly,
When it meets with a breeze, mounts up to the sky.
So up to the North boundary the coursers they flew,
With the cruiser full of guns and Chai tea too.

And then, amid hyena laughing, I heard on the roof
The yelling and joking of each ascari goof.
As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
Off the solar panels regal Julius slid with a bound.

He was dressed all in khaki, from head to toe
And his clothes showed stains from a spilled cuppa joe.
A bundle of snares he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a famed lion hunter, just opening his pack.

His eyes—how they twinkled! His dimples how merry!
His nose was glistening, his cheeks not too hairy!
His droll little mouth was drawn up in a smirk,
The green beret on his head was askew with a quirk.

A swagger stick he clutched tight in his hand,
As he strutted around like he didn’t give a damn.
He had a narrow face and a tall, slender frame,
That had dodged many an elephant, not ending up lame!

He was witty and quick, a right jolly old elf,
And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself!
A wry smile there and a quick salute here,
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to fear.

He spoke into the radio, then went straight to his work,
He spotted some lions, then turned with a jerk.
Grabbing fecal samples, he plugged his thin nose,
And giving a nod, up the Princeton tower he rose!

He sprang to his Sazuki, To his team gave a yell,
And he drove the rutted road like a bat out of Hell.
But I heard him exclaim, ‘ere he drove into the night,
"Happy Christmas to all, don’t let the buffalo out of sight!"

Twas the day of Christmas, and around the Crested Butte area,

The snowpack was dangerous, with slides large enough to bury ya.

Beacons were strapped under jackets with care

in hopes that slab avalanches would not be there.

The skiers and riders fired up their sleds

while visions of steep powder lines danced in their heads

When out of the peaks there arose such a clatter.

A natural avalanche...that's whats the matter.

Away to our binoculars we forecasters flew like a flash

While Than kept on partying away at the Stash.

The light on the breast of the new fallen snow

gave luster to the crown and debris below.

When what to our wondering eyes did appear

A large slab over facets, so crystal clear.

With abundant new snow and windloading this week,

Deeper layers are ready to crumble, so fragile and meek.

This new snow today is adding more weight

And gusty alpine winds won't soon abate

Fresh and older wind slabs are on the naughty list

But scariest of all are those dang slabs that persist.

Large and tender, they fail in unpredictable ways.

They don't heal quickly, it takes far too many days.

Watch for naturals! Watch for collapsing!

Watch for cracking and whoomphing!

Go to ridges! Go to low angle!

Avoid windloaded or north facing!

Use cautious routefinding and make the conservative call.

From everyone at CBAC, Happy Christmas to all!

THE NIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS

McMURDO SHUTTLES STYLE

By Shuttle Guy

‘Twas the night before Christmas, when all through Mactown

The seals weren’t stirring; there wasn’t a sound;

Big reds were hung in the dorms with great care,

So many pockets, St. Nick better bring full flair;

The ANG were nestled all snug in their beds,

While nightmares of Deltas bounced all through their heads;

And mamma in her smartwool, and I in my cap,

Had just settled down for a restless nighshift’s nap,

When out at DJ there arose such a clatter,

I sprang from my bunk to see what was the matter.

Away to the galley I flew like a flash,

The nearest window so distant, I thought I would crash.

Midnight sun slowly warming the thick volcanic mud,

Gave the luster of a mining town, not to mention the crud.

When, what to my goggled eyes should appear,

But a miniature Ivan, and eight shuttlers full o’ cheer,

With a little old driver, so lively and shrill,

I knew in a moment it must be Shuttle Bill.

More rapid than skuas his coursers they came,

And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name;

“Now Shuttle Spring, Shuttle Matt, Shuttle Queen, and Shuttle Dan!

On, Shuttle Jen, Shuttle Bob, Shuttle Mel, and Shuttle Fran!

To the top of t-site! Up to the golf ball!

Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away all”

As ice crystals that before a condition one do fly,

When they meet with the ice shelf, mount up to the sky,

So up to the dorm-top the shuttlers they flew,

With Ivan full of liquor, and Shuttle Bill too.

And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof

The dancing and singing of each shuttle goof.

As I drew in my head, and was turning around,

Through the galley dock came Shuttle Bill with a bound.

Getting dressed in ECW was surely a toil,

And his clothes were all tarnished in glycol and oil;

A bundle of bottles he had swaddled in a rag,

And he looked like a fuelie just opening his orange bag.

His eyes—how they twinkled! His dimples how merry!

His nose was frostbitten, his cheeks not too hairy!

His droll little mouth was drawn up in a smirk,

The hat on his head was askew with a quirk.

A VHF radio he held tight in his hand,

Sunglasses on his nose against the harsh light of this land;

He had a broad face, a mop of silver on his head,

That stood straight up like he had just rolled out of bed.

He was witty and quick, a right jolly old elf,

And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself;

A funny quote there, a wild story here,

Soon gave me to know I had nothing to fear;

He checked the DSP, then went straight to his work,

And filled all the bunny boots; then turned with a jerk.

And keying the mic with the touch of his hand,

He gave a nod and down highway one he ran;

He sprang up to Ivan, to his team gave a beep,

And down wild Plagasus, they drove in a heap.

But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight,

“We’re all here til February, we’ll get it done right!”

[Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good-night!”]

Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the lab
Not a creature was stirring, not even a crab.

The test tubes were placed in their racks with great care
In hopes that dry valley samples soon would be there.

The grantees were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of perfect data danced in their heads.

And mamma in her lab coat, and I in safety goggles
Had just returned from a long winter’s boondoggle.

When out on phase one there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from field party staging to see what was the matter.
Up to the library I flew with great hope,
Tore open the blinds and focused the scope

The midnight sun on the breast of McMurdo mud
Reminded me of my last battle with the crud
When, what to my goggled eyes should appear,
But a seal sled, and eight lab staff full of cheer

With a muscular driver, so strong in the core,
I knew in a moment it must be Libor.
More rapid than skuas his coursers they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name!

"Now Beverly! now, Mindy! now, Cara and Mitch-o!
On, Travis! On, Liz! On Abraham and Ricardo!
To the top of the lab! to the top of Ob hill!
Now dash away! Dash away! There are dewars to fill.

As drifting snow that before a condition one does fly,
When it meets with a pressure ridge, mounts up to the sky.
So up to Crary Lab the coursers they flew,
With the sleigh full of sticky notes, and space allocation too.

And then, amid glycol alarms, I heard on the roof
The laughing and joking of each Crary goof.
As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
Down the fume hood mighty Libor came with a bound.

He was covered in ECW, from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all tarnished with oil and soot.
A bundle of chems he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a grantee, just opening his pack.

His eyes-how they twinkled! his dimples how merry!
His wisdom immeasurable, his survival stories, scary!
His strong little jaw was drawn up like a bow,
And the thin beard of his chin was as white as the snow.

The tools on his belt were warm with great wear
And they sounded like music as he walked here and there
He had a warm face and hardly a belly,
Thanks to Insanity, it resembled not jelly!

He strolled through the lab in a deliberate stride

Regaling us with travel stories, but with the absence of pride

A quick joke and an allegory just for Supply,

Then was off to the aquarium to save a mawsonii

He was humming and smiling, a right jolly UT,
And I laughed when I saw him, overflowing with glee!
A chia seed gift and a twist of his head,
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.

He spoke in an accent, but went straight to his work,
Replacing the air filters, he turned with a jerk.

Adjusting a freezer he warmed up his nose
And giving a nod, out the fume hood he rose!

He sprang to his sleigh, to the lab staff gave advice,
And away they all slid like a penguin on the sea-ice.
But I heard him exclaim, ‘ere he drove into the weather,
"Happy Christmas to all, I’ve never been better!"