16th March 2032 (Earth)
Mars Exploration Day 374

The evening of the 373rd day, we finally finished moving camp over to the base of the Olympus Mons. The next morning, we put on our suits and took the rover a few miles up the side of the volcano, continuing the collection of martian soil. Due to being near the equator, the changing of the seasons didn’t have much of an effect on the weather today, as the thermometer outside of camp read 8 degrees C. None of the ice caps ever hinted at any forms of life, but someone on Earth told us to relocate to the volcano as the next step is to check for life in the opposite extreme, the heat. We parked the rover outside of the nearest cave and three of us got out and went into the cave, while the rest stayed back to do some testing outside of the cave. We don’t suspect that an eruption could happen anytime soon, however the majority of the squad is working on checking patterns to be more confident.

We made our way into the cave, thankfully staying wide enough for a few people to walk next to each other. The walls of the cave seemed to indicate that there was once lava here, and as it cooled, it shrunk, leaving this giant hole behind. Before entering the cave, we set up a sonar-modeler and generated a rough estimate of the cave. It showed one main passageway for a few hundred feet before dropping sharply into the ground. Sure enough, our flashlights finally ended and all we could see was a black pit before us. Hastily, we set up our grapples and anchors and slowly repelled our way down. My wrist thermometer showed a steady decrease in temperature as we went down. After about a couple minutes, we ran another sonar scan and it showed we only had a few more minutes to the bottom. It seemed as though from there, it opened up in one direction into a much larger room.

At the bottom, we setup the LED-lantern and set it strong enough to light a great distance. I can’t even begin to describe what I saw before my eyes, but it definitely was not what I was expecting. Underneath a volcano, one might expect to find lava and rock and not much else. Instead, the ground trapped the cold so well that ice was able to form. Olympus Mons is known for being dusty, which was well known, and we had to deal with it trying to setup camp. However, down here was a vast desert consisting of an extremely fine mixture of dust and very tiny and sturdy chunks of ice, almost like solid snow. The sand and the snow both had a red tint to them, as most of the rock does, yet it somehow felt deeper and purer. A redder hue would indicate higher levels of iron-oxide, but I cannot think of a reason for so much to be concentrated right here.

The iron in the soil of Mars is oxidized by dust storms breaking open the quartz crystals and realizing the oxygen withing them, and it is this only oxidized iron that has a red tint. It seems, then, that the snow is not snow at all, but rather extremely fine quartz crystal, which has slowly oxidized the dense amounts of iron in this sand. I signaled to the team, and we each prepared a sample of the sand that could be taken back to the lab to investigate. Even through the thick gloves of the suit, it was clear that the material felt more like a soft powder than a rough sand. Lava generally has lots of silicon and iron, and quartz is silicon and oxygen, telling me that this pit of powder had most likely been lava at one point, which hardened and slowly powder-ized over many years.

However, it was clear to me that none of the three of us knew what would have caused such an effect. After I finished collecting my sample, I looked around and I only saw one other. It was then that it hit me; there was a bizarre wind coming in from the opening outside. It nearly pushed me into the powder as well, but it also told me something. If wind was coming it, it had to be going out somewhere else. The solid ground beneath my feet started to rumble as I made my way upwind towards the mouth of the cave. The two of us left reached the bottom of the drop, where our ropes were still hanging. Thankfully, there was a small overhang under which we took cover.

After many hours, the wind stopped and the dust settled. The ropes, miraculously, were still hanging. We put on our climbing gear and we made our way back up. At the top, we frantically ran towards the mouth of the cave. It kept running through my head, unsure of how to tell the rest of the camp that we lost our third. As we neared the mouth of the cave, what we had feared became very apparent. It was dark extremely dark out, which should not have been the case at this hour. We overlooked the location where the camp once was, and all we saw was lava in its place. The entire sky was covered as far I could see with dust. Given the lower weight and the thinner atmosphere, even a small eruption could spread ash for hundreds of miles. It occurred to me, in that moment, that we were the last of our camp left on Mars, surrounded by lava and unable to send a message to another camp for a search party. Even if we could, the lava won’t harden for weeks, and we only have a few meals worth of rations. I sat on the floor, sad for the lives lost at camp and pondering if there was any hope for the two of us.

It has now been two weeks since the eruption and I have lost hope. I am the last one left, and I am growing extremely weak. The lava is still boiling hot and there are not other paths to escape. If you are reading this, it means that I am gone, and a search party came looking for the missing camp. I am sure by now they have realized there is no communication with the camp. At least some of the other camps have surely seen the dark clouds of ash in the sky, as well as read that the eruption occurred on their seismometers. I have stared into the depths of space for most of the days, seeing nothing but ash, but thankful for the occasional break in the clouds. Once, it opened enough and I think I managed to see Earth, and it reminded me of everyone left on there, probably already aware of the news of my disappearance. It reminded me of my family, of my wife and kids, and of all my friends. I promised I would return one day, but it seems now that my final words were a lie. I am sorry. This is my farewell.

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