Friday, October 12, 2018
Humid and rainy in the morning, but cleared in the afternoon, +1°C
Mary Ellen woke shortly after I did, and we were both awake for the next several hours. Apparenty during the night, Sarah and Captain Mario wanted to take the ship into a small fjord on the way back down before we got back to Isfjorden. But, once they got there they looked up the weather forecast and knew that we needed to get into isfjorden that night to beat a large storm. The Antigua continued on despite the southerly winds and rough waters.
I have never felt anything quite like that before. I could feel the nose of the ship rise in the air then drop back down suddenly at the top of each wave. Things flew around in our cabin that hadn’t been completely secured. “Seafast.” I’m glad that I’d taken a couple of extra minutes when I came down from playing cards to secure my cameras and toiletries. Sometime between 4:00-6:00am, the ship turned east into Isfjorden, so the rocking moved from front to back to circular and in all directions. More things flew in our cabin as we were almost thrown from our bunks. Some time later - maybe a bit after 6:00am - we came into the calmness of the fjord, and Mary Ellen and I dozed back to sleep. It was a long, restless night of wild motion and loud sounds.
In the morning we woke up just before the end of breakfast to eat and hear the instructions for the day. We had anchored at Borebukta and would prep for a landing - both stationary and a silent hike for those who wanted it. I couldn’t eat much. I felt hungover because of dehydration and not sleeping. I was the most groggy of the whole trip so far and felt terrible. But despite that, I got ready with everyone else to go on the landing. I got my gear on for a hike. But this morning was different than all of the others. It was raining. I had to trust that my gear would keep me warm and dry.
Aside from the rain, something different about this hike was that we intended for it to be completely silent. No phones, no cameras, no chatting, just pure observation. Pure absorption of the landscape and quietness of the Arctic.
We walked over a moraine. Silently. Only the swishing of our waterproof gear and boots crunching wet snow. Then into a vast flat expanse of white that slowly turned into water. Sarah stopped several times during the hike so that we could look in silence without the swishing sounds we made while walking. By the time we’d reached the plain - the flat part of our hike - the rain had mostly stopped.
We passed a skull of a reindeer that had been tangled in a large fishing net. We stood, frozen in the face of the deer’s tragic end. When we got back to the shore and broke our silence, Sarah told us that every year reindeer (and even other animals) get caught in nets. They scrape their antlers when the fuzzy part comes off, so they can get tangled if nets are in the area. Because the nets are so large and heavy, they tire themselves out and die of starvation on the beach.
We had walked almost two hours. By the time we headed back, I was feeling very weak for lack of sleep and not eating enough at breakfast. While we were waiting for the zodiac, I gobbled down a snack bar and started feeling a bit better. There were such large chunks of ice on the beach that had washed ashore - they looked strange and out of place, yet statuesque.
We reboarded the Antigua via zodiac and had a delicious lunch of vegan curry and rice with a vinegar-based slaw. Marvelous. Took a small nap, washed some clothes, and my hair - felt so much clearer after that. The rest of the group went zodiac tours that afternoon, and we moved to a new place… Wahlbukta?
But the reindeer skull stuck with me as a reminder of the fragility of this place and the care that we must take while we’re here and especially once we return home.
This activity is made possible, in part, by funds provided by the Metropolitan Regional Arts Council (MRAC) through a grant from The McKnight Foundation.