Still in the Dark

No news from Janet, but I haven't expected to hear from her. I'm hoping she can get a word through if they get into Ny-Ålesund, but not sure if or when they'll get there.

Good news is that the winds are much lighter than last year -- but it will pick up early next week (predicted windspeeds of 30MPH/50KHP). It's cold up there -- 0F at night, 25F during the day. Daytime is disappearing, too. Two weeks ago, there was 12 hours of sunlight in Svalbard. It's below five hours now, and will be gone by the time they return to Longyearbyen. And even during those five hours, the sun is low on the horizon.

I'm sure they're having fun, can't wait to hear about their adventures!

Snow

Looks like the weather is finally appropriate for the Arctic. Snow started falling tonight, weather for the Noorderlict is predicted at about -15C (5 degrees F), clear skies, light wind.

Reliving the arctic!

Blizzard in New York!

We're all waiting for Janet to finish the details of the Svalbard trip. She's been busy reviewing and editing the many, many hours of footage from the trip. She describes herself as a "mono-tasker" - once she's ready to take some time off from looking at the amazing footage of the Arctic, she'll continue this blog.

In the meantime ... here's shots of Janet putting on her arctic gear and playing on our Manhattan roof during the great blizzard of December 2009.

Last Night Aboard Ship

October 19th - pm



The deck was completely iced over and the sleet was still falling. The crew and any artist with prior sailing experience worked together to raise sail.



Not an easy feat under these conditions. At one point the bowsprits sail became tangled. The Captain left the wheel and made it to the bow in about six strides. He slipped only once, righting himself with ease. (everyone else had gone down repeatedly).



He climbed out on the bowsprits and wrestled the sail into submission, and returned to the wheel with a smile on his face.

For the next couple of hours we lived at a forty five degree angle or better. Lunch was a challenge. Food, dishes, glasses, and people were all sliding downhill. Moving about the living quarters took a lot of planning.



To get from the lower saloon onto deck I started by hanging onto the table ... running downhill to the wall next to the galley, pushing off and grabbing onto the railing at the bottom of the stairs, dragging myself up the stairs at a forty five degree angle, pausing at the top to get my breath and plan the rest of my path, use Osman as a ricochet point to come back around and brace off the mast that ran down through the upper saloon, push off the mast to hang onto Matt who was trying to get back downstairs, run towards the door to deck, glance off the bar and finally make it to the three stairs that led onto deck. This was all done with good footing. The deck was covered in ice.



Once outside, the howling of the wind was matched by the howling of our group! We were all out in force and loving it! We had to hang on to each other and to the ship to keep ourselves from being blown overboard. I had grabbed the Sanyo underwater camera as I was heading out on deck and it was a good thing!



The waves were flying over the ships railing, hitting us full force. I was hanging on to the uphill side of the boat with one arm and filming with the other. I looked down at Osman who was on the downhill side of the ship. It was like he was standing on a floor below me! It was exhilarating!!!!



Even Willie, who had experienced real fear on some early "nights of terror", was hanging over the rail, camera in hand and a huge smile on her face. It's amazing how much we've all changed in a couple weeks at sea.



We arrived back at the Longyearbyen dock in the early evening. We will spend one last night on board and then it's back to the Polarriggen tomorrow. Most of us are in complete denial that this is the end of our voyage.

We invited the crew to be our guests at dinner. We chose the Polarriggen since it was close to the dock and large enough to handle our group. We walked to dinner feeling the ground undulate under our feet. It was tough to walk on solid ground after so many days at sea. Dinner was festive, but tinged with the knowledge that tomorrow the Noorderlicht and her crew would head to Tromso without us.



We slowly straggled back to the ship after dinner. As more and more people showed up the night felt more and more like a party. It finally kicked into gear when chef Anna showed up. She had kept to herself and kept us in fear throughout the trip. Tonight she was ready to party with us. Soon the Captain, Jan, and Sebastian arrived and the Captain started pouring drinks. It was getting late (actually early, as in 3am early) and most partiers had wandered off to bed. We had to be packed and off the ship at 9am. Katja, Ian, Raphaele, and I were reluctant to let the night with the crew end. We hung on as long as we could and then finally made our way down to our cabins.


Later that morning ....

While I had been filming onboard a group of artists and scientists had joined Jan in the Zodiac and traveled to shore. They had hiked up a big hill and disappeared from sight into the sleet and fog. Sebastian was willing to take Katja, me, and Ian Burns to shore with Audun as our armed escort. The Zodiac slammed across the waves and we squinted against the sleet.



I had thought that days like this would be the norm for our trip. We had been pretty lucky with the weather ... up to this point. Once on shore I set up to film Katja's performance. Half way through, I saw a flare flash in the fog behind Katja. I turned to Audun and said, "I think I just saw a flare gun flash!". As the words were leaving my mouth we heard a gun shot ... and then another!!

We had left the Noorderlicht without a walkie-talkie so there was no way to reach the ship. We yelled from shore and swung our arms in the air, but no one saw us. We gathered the life preservers that the group had left on shore and started down the beach towards the gun shot sounds. It was standard practice to take off our life preservers once we reached shore.

With thoughts of polar bears we rushed along, occasionally stopping to try to get the attention of someone on board the Noorderlicht. My heart was racing and the color had drained out of all our faces. None of us was sure what one more gun, four more people, and a dozen life preservers would do to help if the group was in serous trouble. Even so, we continued to rush towards the gun shot sounds.



Suddenly, we saw the outline of a person heading towards us out of the fog and sleet ... then another. Still short of breath from fear, we realized that they were walking calmly! Eventually, the entire group could be seen walking casually towards us. We called out to them saying we heard gun shots. Jan sheepishly answered that he had fired off a couple rounds of flares and gun shots (that were out of date and needed to be discarded anyway) so that some of the artists could photograph it, and Matt Holzman could get the sound for his NPR piece. Jan had thought his group was too far away for anyone to hear or see what they were doing.

I considered requesting CPR, but instead we requested they call the Zodiac for a pick-up. The ride back to the ship was wild, with everyone holding on for their lives.

We use a rope ladder to get from the Zodiac back onto the deck of the Noorderlicht. We tried to hang onto the ladder, but would loose our grip as the boat rocked and bucked.



It was a crazy scene! With Jan, Sebastian, Audun, the Captain, and everybody else on board helping, we finally got everyone out of the Zodiac and safely on the ship. The Zodiac is usually hoisted aboard at the stern of the ship. The sea was so rough this day that the crew wanted to get the Zodiac aboard as soon as possible, so they decided to just haul it up from the side. The entire crew tried to muscle it up by ropes, but the weight of the motor made it impossible.

With Herculean strength, the Captain reached over the side of the ship and grabbed the motor in one hand. He lifted the motor up onto the ship and then grabbed the ropes and brought the Zodiac right up after it. We had all suspected that the Captain was superhuman ... this confirmed it!




Ship's Log: Day 14 - Morning

October 19th - A.M.


We woke up to the ship rocking and rolling, while at anchor! The wind was howling outside. The Captain had heard that the wind was going to pick up and it was living up to the prediction.

I had been thinking about the shots I needed for my project. This was the last day I would be able to film Audun kayaking. As much as I personally wanted to get out one last time in the kayak, the shots I needed had to be taken from the ship or the Zodiac. I had to make a choice between indulging my desire to kayak one last time or to stay focused on my project.

I was also struggling with a kind of apathy. The thought of my Arctic experience coming to an end was sapping my energy. I didn't even feel like filming. I've felt this way before when I've spent extended time on location so I knew I needed to push past my apathy and get out there and shoot. I also knew that I was in the Arctic to make art, not enjoy paddling in the wild. When I told Katja how I was feeling, she understood, but pushed me to get out there and film (she's been an amazing help and a true friend). I found Audun and asked him to go out in the single. He also seemed a bit sad that we wouldn't enjoy one last time out on the water together.



I went up on deck and realized that none of us should be kayaking! The sea was rough with whitecaps and the wind too strong to go out safely. I went back below deck to let Audun know. He insisted that he would be okay, and that we should just go for it. He has gone from being a somewhat reluctant participant to a real collaborator in the project. He has a great sense of adventure and truly loves this region -- suggesting locations that we could explore for shots -- and now seems to really enjoy being in front of the camera. He is also taking a lot of kidding about his future Hollywood career and his need for an agent.



With Audun, Jan, and the Captain all saying that it should be no problem to go out in a kayak in these conditions, we decided to go for it. I wanted overhead shots and planned to start filming from the ship and then move out onto the water in the Zodiac. Fighting the pelting sleet and rough sea Audun got into the kayak. We planned for him to circle around the ship so I could film from above. This close to the Noorderlicht, Jan didn't need to follow him in the Zodiac.

I set up my tripod at the stern and waited for Audun to come around the back of the ship. It seemed to take him forever so I went to the side to look for him. He was paddling hard and hardly moving. The sea and wind was very strong, and pushing against him! He made it to the back of the ship and I started filming. It looked as if the ship was underway and Audun was struggling to catch up to it, but we were still at anchor!



The wind was blowing my tripod over as I struggled to stay upright. I took my big Sony camera off its tripod thinking it would be easier to film that way, only to have the camera come apart in my hands. I was holding two separate pieces!! The camera has a button to release the lens on the bottom of the camera. In my struggle to hold onto the camera and not fall over I must have hit the button (I still have no idea how this could happen). With the inner workings of the camera exposed to the sleet and high winds, I frantically tried to screw it back together. The whole thing jammed and was unusable.



I bolted for my cabin and grabbed my Canon so I could keep shooting. If Audun was going to risk his life for this piece there was no way I was going to stop shooting now. I got some amazing footage of him battling the wind and waves.

The Captain called Audun back in. The Zodiac, which was tied to the side of the ship, was banging so hard against the ship that the motor was at risk. Audun paddled for all he was worth and finally reached the Zodiac.








Ship's Log: Day 13

October 18th.

The next morning was tough after the previous evening's festivities. I slept through breakfast, assuming everybody else would too, only to be woken by Katja saying Jan was taking us on a tour of town in 5 minutes.




Ship's Log: Day 12

October 17th



We got underway at around 7am. The passing mountains are a really rugged mix of black and white points. The sea looks dark and uninviting. We are heading for Poolepynten, a rocky sandbar island on Prins Karls Forlandet. We are all feeling anxious about having the time to get our work done. Aaron assured us that there would be time for projects once we arrived at Poolepynten.

Just off Poolepynten the Captain canceled any attempt to go ashore as the wind and sea were too rough. He thought there might be an alternative landing location later in the afternoon, but that was canceled as well due to the increasing stormy weather. The Noorderlicht was moving via motor power today as the wind is against us and we can't raise sail. The time at sea today, without the opportunity to get to shore, has increased the feeling that we are in some mad rush to return to Longyearbyen and then back home.

The Captain decided to head for Barentsberg, where several of the shipmates are eager to reach -- so they can hit the pub. Barentsberg is an old working Russian mining town. The Captain radioed ahead to request that they open the pub for our arrival and they've agreed. Ever since Ny-Ålesund we had hit some kind of tipping point and our return to civilization seems inevitable. Between the physical strain of trying to stay upright on a ship in rough weather (at one point, four of us lined up in the lower salon, all standing at a perfect 45 degree angle due to the tilt of the ship) and the psychological strain of approaching the end of my time in the Arctic I decided to spend most of the day in bed.



Ship's Log: Day 10

October 15

We arrived at Ny-London, an uninhabited former settlement which is the sight of a mine started by a British miner, Ernest Richard Mansfield in the early 1900s. He thought that he would be able to quarry for marble and make a fortune.


The marble was under the permafrost so when he brought it back to the UK it all cracked. This was not his first failed endeavor. He had tried to mine for gold as well which didn't pan out.


The whole group went ashore after breakfast. After debarking from the Zodiacs we climbed up a steep, rocky embankment. We followed some stone paths (laid by Mansfield's crew) that led to abandoned quarry equipment and huts. Eventually, some of the group decided to head back to the Noorderlicht. Katja and I opted to stay on land and film another of her performances. It was a cold day and the stone paths were treacherous with ice. After filming, we skated our way back toward the site where the Zodiac would pick us up. We met up with some others who had stayed behind to work. One by one, we sat on our butts and slid down the steep embankment onto the narrow stretch of beach. As I was waiting my turn my feet went out from under me and I started sliding away from the Zodiac and toward a rocky drop to the sea. Jan yelled out, "Grab her!" With amazing loyalty, dexterity, and super human strength, Katja reached out and caught my sleeve, dragging me away from the precipice and back to safety!



In the afternoon we motored down Kongsfjorden and docked at Ny-Ålesund. Ny-Ålesund is the world's furthest north settlement, populated by 27 international scientists. At present, Norway, The Netherlands, Germany, United Kingdom, France, India, Italy, Japan, South Korea and People's Republic of China all maintain research stations at Ny-Ålesund, although not all are inhabited year-round.It's the home of the world's northernmost post office. After a week aboard the Noorderlich it was strange to be around other people and a society other than the one onboard ship.


Jan said that we can buy phone cards and call home. After being completely cut off from civilization for ten days it felt strange to be able to finally contact the "real world." Katja and I walked up to the one tourist shop that said they were out of phone cards and that there was no internet access either. What ever hesitation we might have felt disappeared at the thought that we wouldn't be able to call home! Jan saw our distress and suggested we try the information office. They had three cards left! We each bought one. Jan had shown us the pay phone, which was a plywood box on the dock. It had the phone inside and a broken window which let the outside in. Katja and I were both relieved to learn that this public phone wasn't our only option -- we could use the phone in the information center after hours (so I could talk to Bob when he was awake and alert, rather than waking him at 4am).


Jan took a few of us for a guided tour of the town. We saw the mooring tower where Roald Amundsen began the first flight over the Arctic.


We next visited a small graveyard for miners killed in a mine explosion and a memorial for the Italian who accompanied Amundsen.


We walked a little further out of "town" to a camp ground. The scientists keep tourists well out of their way by requiring all visitors to overnight at this campsite. There was a toilet on a bridge with a "direct deposit" system into a stream far below. The campers were also expected to collect their drinking water at the point where this stream met the fjord. Not very welcoming!

Jan spoke with the scientist/technician at the German station and asked if he would give the whole group a tour in the evening. We had a fantastic inside look at the life and work of the German scientists who were studying atmospheric light refractions and weather changes. They sent up a daily weather balloon and had a beam of light that shot up into the atmosphere. It reminded me of the memorial beams of light that mark the location of the twin towers every September 11th in NYC. After the tour, the German scientist joined us back at the ship for dessert and drinks. Katja and I snuck off to the information center's phone and each called home. It was SOOOOO GREAT to talk to Bob!!! I can't believe how much I've missed his voice!!!

Once back at the ship, everyone including the scientist was in good spirits ... from lots of spirits. At about 2:30am I decided to head down to my bunk ... just when the dance party was hitting full swing.


Ship's Log: Day 9

October 14th



We sailed through the night. At breakfast, Jan told us that we would arrive at Magdalenafjorden by 11am. Shortly after breakfast the ship started rocking and rolling, throwing us about as if we were ping pong balls. I went up on deck to film the rolling seas. I've never seen anything like it. Aaron had to hang on to me while I was filming so I wasn't blown overboard. When I came back in, Willie (one of the artists) was in a complete state of panic, saying "please just make it stop."



It finally did when we arrived at the protected bay of Magdalenafjorden. Audun and I decided to take out the kayak even though there was a frozen rain falling and the swells were still pretty big for kayaking. Audun started out in the single and I shot from the Zodiac thinking that it would be easier to film that way ... it wasn't! I was thrown around in the boat and couldn't hold the camera steady at all. I had rigged the rain cover from my big Sony camera to fit my Cannon SLR. It required using electrical tape to secure the cover around the lens. This seemed like a good idea, but made it impossible to get to the focus ring. Most of what I shot was out of focus and jumpy. The few shots that I did get definitely show what rough water kayaking looks like, although my favorite shots are when I'm flying around yelling "I have no control of the camera!"




In the afternoon I filmed a project for Kuang-Yu Tsui while a large group took a hike to the glacier. Kuang-Yu stood on an iceberg (a dangerous move that had to be OK'd by both the Captain and Aaron) with a sign as if he were standing at a bus stop. Sebastian was driving the Zodiac. He would pull up to the iceberg, sort of ramming into it, and pick him up as if the Zodiac were the bus and he was the bus driver (even down to accepting the fare). It was difficult to shoot since it was raining and sleeting. I found it impossible to keep the lens clean and was frustrated at not being able to get a good shot. I was also wishing that I could have gone on the walk to the glacier.


Today was a tough day full of frustration. I'm realizing that the trip is coming to an end and I am missing shots that I need for my project. I'm feelings are so conflicted. I miss Bob and my life back in New York so much, but I also realize that this is the most amazing time and landscape that I've ever experienced and I don't want it to end. Matt Holzman described it well when he said he was experiencing "present nostalgia." I'm already missing the moments I'm living.

We raised sail about 3am and started to make our way to Ny Alesund. Shortly after our departure we hit some major weather. The ship was rolling like crazy. Both Katja and I woke up from being thrown about in our bunks and from the noise of things crashing around us. It sounded like every piece of glass on the boat was smashing. Katja and I played a guessing game of name that thing that just flew across our cabin ... tripods, pelican cases, boots, etc.

We have a porthole in the top of our cabin. We could hear all the people who had gone out on deck to get air. People were laughing (somewhat hysterically), screaming, and occasionally crying. Willie was freaking repeating "Oh la la, Oh la la!" Matt and a couple others were trying to make light of the fact that the ship had turned into a rollercoaster. Katja and I could hear Matt laughing (trying to sound reassuringly calm, but actually sounding a bit like a crazy man). A lot of Xanax was used that night -- people were just putting it in each other's mouths. It was definitely a night of Arctic hysteria and would forever after be referred to as the Night of Terror!