On our way to Antarctica we listen unblinking to the Russian crew chief giving the prep for life boat use.  To our life vests are stitched communication essentials – the whistle (the “t” audible in his accented English) and the blaster, a flashing beacon, nothing but a bigger version of the red flasher on the rear of my bike.

The whistle we can use, if we’re on the life raft for our final moments of existence.  “But,” he says, “don’t touch the blaster.”


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