On the edge
In case you were wondering, this is where the West begins. Step off the pavement and into another realm. Don’t anticipate stepping back onto pavement willingly again.
In case you were wondering, this is where the West begins. Step off the pavement and into another realm. Don’t anticipate stepping back onto pavement willingly again.
The final leg of the Svalbard journey was from Montana, where Big Cat was staying with a friend, to Oregon. Big Cat and I set up for a road trip. I planned to stay in Boise, halfway between Bozeman and Ashland, but nine hours out of Bozeman, I hit Boise and thought, hell, Ashland is only eight more hours. And, so I drove on. The following is a road trip poem and the final Svalbard installment. I’m sure there will be more about Svalbard to come to these pages but this is technically the end of the trip.
Longyearbyen – Oslo
Oslo – Copenhagen
Copenhagen – Newark
Newark – Denver
Denver – Bozeman
One day rest
Road trip
Bozeman 0900
Autumn light in golden cottonwoods and aspens
Mind’s eye sees Arctic blue light
Elk herd #1
“Caution! Animals on roadway. 12 bison killed by vehicles in 2018”
West Yellowstone
Coffee
Henry’s Lake
Rigby
get banged $2”
Gas
Idaho National Laboratory
Craters of the Moon
Sagebrush desert and lava fields
Glacier mirages
Sardine juice for Big Cat
Lunch for me
Identified roadkill:
1 Badger
1 elk
1 cat
Uncounted deer and skunks
1 jackrabbit
1 raccoon
Elk herd #2
Gas
Boise rush hour
NPR first time in 71 days
Trump still an idiot
Coffee
Keep going
Sunset
Not polar night
Oregon
White Settlement Road offers glimpse of past
Says more about present
Sardine juice sloshed on truck seats while attempting to catch throwing up cat
Nap
Harney County
Pacific Time Zone
Gas
Starvation Ridge
Thirty miles; one car
Wagontire. Population: zero
Coyote crossing road
Wait. Motion entirely wrong
Two bounds; gone
Straight tail; big body
Revision: wolf crossing road
Midnight pit stop
Moonlight on sagebrush
Too cold for rattlesnakes
Coyote chorus
Coyotes for sure
Just past full moon
Nap
Orion rising; Mars setting
North Star oddly to north
Christmas Valley
Silver Lake
Cattle guard
Open range
Black angus; black night
Juniper scent
Crater Lake
Great horned owl nearly road-killed
Golden moonlight on aspens
Lake of the Woods
Into the trees
Quiet stars
Ashland 0445
Good night, Moon
Often, when I feel pressed for time but have something I want to write, I leave notes in my journal, so I remember to flesh out the thoughts later. 10 October was one of those days, but I don’t think I adequately fill in the gaps here. What I do remember was standing on the bow of the boat surrounded by ice floes, brash ice, and pancake ice, alone, at 0100 hr., watching the northern lights play across the sky, the stars screaming brilliantly across the velvet blackness, and Bob Marley rolling through my head. Why would the Redemption Song fill my mind now?
“Emancipate yourselves from mental slavery; None but ourselves can free our minds”
moving through the ice – pancake ice in the night
stars- shooting star
northern lights – green and white, pulsing, flowing, swirling, east to west across the south and above
glacier sounds- thunder and jet engines
setting sail – hauling ropes and raising the sails
snowing, pelting, cold, stillness, silence
snow cave on island at glacier base
northern lights and redemption song @ 0100 hr Bob Marley
Water on the hull, ice on the hull
We’re in port. Shore leave for an evening, and this morning we do a tour of the town. Built for coal mining, it is now an international research station.
While sailing the other night, we were called out for the northern lights, which turned out to be minimal. I never went back to sleep. An hour or two later, we had dropped the sails and were running on the engine, through the ice. Brash sea ice that was in giant pancakes in the fjord. I finally looked out the porthole and had to go on deck. The ambient light was inconceivable. The ice was thick and as far as I could see in the night. At the bow, Marijn was using a torch to look for icebergs and glacier ice, directing the captain port and starboard, maneuvering through ice cautiously. As I watched, we came to a stop and dropped anchor.
The northern lights began again in full 180º glory. Green and white, they swirled and spun, waving curtains of light. I stood for an hour there, in the middle of the night, in the cold, and watched the lights and stars. It was spectacular. We were in Blomstrandbreen in Kongsfjorden. We were anchored between a glacier and an island. The island was named as a peninsula because the glacier connected it to the mainland and it was thought to be a tongue of land that reached into the fjord. As the glacier retreated, it was discovered the island was not attached. This happened recently and it has not yet been renamed as an island.
We did a Zodiac tour through the ice in the morning. Giant pancake ice with glacier ice blocks in between. The pancake seams were fusing and knitting. Slush on the surface and the first sea ice forming underneath. It snowed heavily for a while, Christmas snow, as Kristin said. Fluffy, white, giant snowflakes. Beautiful. Arctic silence. Another massive glacier, we were well away from the face, which we estimated at 80m high. I took photos of the other Zodiac, miniature, at the glacier base.
We moved to Ny-Ålesund for the night.
9 October – morning anchor Holmiabukta
We motored out of Lilliehöökbreen that night [maybe the night of the 8th?], moving through the fjord while we had dinner and then onto the open ocean, cruising north at speed through the night. I went to bed ~2200 and was awakened at ~2330 for the aurora. Standing on deck in the dark, with a sky full of stars and the shimmering green lights of the aurora was stunning. Inky black, velvety cold. Seven satellites and a shooting star with colors curving across the southern horizon – waves of color in a line, southeast to southwest, with the most intense walls of light east and west.
When we woke yesterday morning, we were in Ytre Norskøy (~80ºN) – the northwestern tip of Spitsbergen. We were anchored between two islands in the corner of the archipelago with nothing between us and the North Pole, ~1,000 km north.
We landed and did a hike – up the ridge of the outer island. It was cold, windy, and snowing–pelting, horizontal, ice balls of snow. We got part way up but had to turn back and reroute. The snow was deep, and the landscape underneath was rocky. Rerouting, we wove our way up almost to the top. There is a modern, metal cross at the top. No one seems to know where it came from or who put it there. Kristin thought it was for the memory of the whalers.
We moved the boat a short distance to another anchorage for the night, with a landing first. Few people dd the afternoon landing – most were tired, needed to work, didn’t want to go into the snow and cold. We had a static landing spot; big boulders and deep snow. I went waist-deep into a snow-well around a rock. Laughing, of course, and stuck. Extracting myself required a lot of floundering and flopping.
Dropping back to the shoreline, I found six whale ribs in the rocks. I laid them out on a boulder in the snow to photograph before putting them back into the rocks. There was a jawbone, I think, too. An enormous length of bone – 3–4 meters, half-eaten, and chewed down and half in the water. Sarah said a whale had washed up there a year or two ago and that the bears had been scavenging. But I showed her that the ribs were cleanly sawed. It is illegal for humans to disturb carcasses.
I’m struggling to put together some photos for a presentation. The new computer has few photos and all of my recent essays are on the blog site – I haven’t kept any on the computer. And what is interesting to this group?
We had presentations again last night. Kim, the weaver, uses scientific data to create patterns – like the incarceration and recidivism rate of kids, ice mass of Greenland over time, and the shape and size of a glacier in Alaska, over several panels and 40 years. Going, going, gone. Nora does performance art and sings – amazing work. More intimidation. Carson read the opening monologue of her new play. Dawn showed some of her documentary about an Australian ballet dancer set for the international stage who was randomly knifed in the face. The attacker was never found, and 18 years later, the woman continues to work through the trauma. Intimidating bodies of work and intellects behind them.
Yesterday’s second landing was across Lilliehöökbreen. Behind the ship was another glacier, a giant blue tongue, a sleeping goanna, along the water’s edge, and one smooth surface of blue ice.
Lena said last night that for the past 18 months, life was geared toward this trip. I, too, have been that way and when we return? Nothing planned, scheduled, or aligned.
Island landing in Fluglefjorden – I built a snow cave and curled into a ball inside.