A few small details
Little things of interest
“A Yup’ik hunter on Saint Lawrence Island once told me that what traditional Eskimos fear most about us is the extent of our power to alter the land, the scale of that power, and the fact that we can easily effect some of these changes electronically, from a distant city. Eskimos, who sometimes see themselves as still not quite separate from the animal world, regard us as a kind of people whose separation may have become too complete. They call us, with a mixture of incredulity and apprehension, “the people who change nature.”
Barry Lopez in Arctic Dreams
I am reluctant to write about Svalbard and the Arctic. The place is so far removed from the usual and from the expectations of the norm that it is difficult to describe.
I have had a few conversations with people where pieces of the whole leaked out, like secrets I was not meant to share. And the response was as anticipated – the ideas, the images were so beyond recognition and understanding as to be preposterous.
Like rumors, gossip that is not unheard of but beyond credibility. The Arctic and the small corner of Svalbard that I saw fall into this category.
The mountains rise directly from the sea and the fjords unimpeded by beaches or plains; the glaciers grind down the mountains and valleys. The sky extends beyond the imagination in colors that don’t exist in other realms. The atmosphere is both clearer and thicker, which seems counterintuitive and contradictory. The sun is never overhead – even in summer, it circles the horizon at a stubbornly low angle. Setting in late October and not rising again until mid-February it begrudgingly offers light for eight months a year. Graciously, however, it bestows the same amount of light in the year that the rest of the globe receives. When there are snow and ice, the colors of the sky offset the monochrome palette of mountains and rocks. Distance is deceptive and what appears just across the tundra may be hours away. Mountains loom above the water, glaciers loom above the people, and the sky wraps us all into its folds indiscriminately.
Does the Arctic feel my absence the way I feel its? No. The land is indifferent to me. The Arctic does not suffer fools lightly, and only a fool would go to the Arctic for a few weeks thinking that was enough.
To say I am changed is trite. To deny it is folly. My challenge now is to express what seeped into my consciousness and spirit without losing the essence of the experience, without giving in to hyperbole and empty words.
The Arctic Circle residency is conducted on a tall ship. Twenty-eight residents, seven crew, and four guides set sail from Longyearbyen on Spitsbergen to explore the west coast of Svalbard. We found sun, snow, glaciers, icebergs, rain, reindeer, polar bear tracks, walruses, seasickness, fulmars, ethereal calm, swimming beaches, northern lights, excellent food, sublime sunsets, blue air, fierce winds, islands, waves, epic hikes, camaraderie, laughter, collective awe, joy, and humility. Each person brought their unique perspective, their creativity, and their best game to the ship. We were all richly rewarded.
Back on Terra Firma. This was an amazing trip: Snow, cold, ice, glaciers, mountains, rough seas, sailing, tight quarters, Arctic sun, reindeer, walruses, epic hiking, creativity, adventure, an amazing crew, and diverse shipmate-residents.
There is a lot for me to process, I’m in Oslo for a day and then the still-long trip back to Oregon begins. I expect to be reunited with the truck and Big Cat in Montana on Tuesday or Wednesday and hope to be home by Friday, 26 October. I will begin sorting and processing thoughts and images along the way. Stay tuned. xoxo