Edgeoya, Svalbard
Above and below. North and South, near, far, polar, tropical, marine, terrestrial, East and West, in our language we make the Earth a very big place, full of distance and contrast. But in our experience, we know it’s really not true. “Small world”, we say, when we meet a friend unexpectedly in a distant city; it’s fun but it really doesn’t surprise us too much. We all know that no two points anywhere on the Earth’s surface are more than about 8000 miles apart (7926, if you like to be exact). 8,000 miles! It’s nothing! True you have to go around the long way if you want to travel there and that raises the distance to around 12,450 miles, but you can still make the journey in a single day. It’s really a very small planet, just a little rocky ball, swaddled in a thin blanket of atmosphere and smeared with a film of ever-recycling life that very literally has nowhere else to go.
Like a tapestry with threads woven deep into the rock below and high into the atmosphere above, the biosphere is rife with patterns, connections, intersections and many many layers. Here in a far northern corner of the globe we looked into the sea below a cliff inhabited by creatures of the air and found clear links between them, a tight cycling of nutrients and energy in the closed system that is our world.
The cliffs of Cape Fanshaw, rising vertically from the freezing waters of Hinlopen Strait, are an important breeding site for Thick-billed Murres; around 200,000 of them crowd the ledges, staining the rock white with their guano. The birds themselves, skilled at both flight and diving, are the first link between the terrestrial environment and the marine ecosystems below. Flying out from their nests, they dive deep into the Arctic seas, harvesting polar cod and other fish and invertebrates which they carry back to feed their young. In turn, all their waste, including guano, eggshells, molted feathers and dead birds, falls into the sea below and nourishes wonderful gardens of seastars and anemones. Strong tidal currents spread the bounty of nutrients over many miles. In combination with the energy of the Arctic sun, these essential chemicals support blooms of phytoplankton, which feed zooplankton which in turn are the food of the cod and many other cratures. Driven by the energy of our star, the cycle turns round and round.
And this cycle links to many others, all around the world. Larger currents carry Arctic waters to the tropics and beyond. Whales and other migratory species make journey of thousands of miles to feed in the bountiful northern and southern seas, then return to warmer waters to breed. It’s such a beautiful little world, churning with life, balanced and ever-shifting, tuned and ever-changing, all alone.
Above and below. North and South, near, far, polar, tropical, marine, terrestrial, East and West, in our language we make the Earth a very big place, full of distance and contrast. But in our experience, we know it’s really not true. “Small world”, we say, when we meet a friend unexpectedly in a distant city; it’s fun but it really doesn’t surprise us too much. We all know that no two points anywhere on the Earth’s surface are more than about 8000 miles apart (7926, if you like to be exact). 8,000 miles! It’s nothing! True you have to go around the long way if you want to travel there and that raises the distance to around 12,450 miles, but you can still make the journey in a single day. It’s really a very small planet, just a little rocky ball, swaddled in a thin blanket of atmosphere and smeared with a film of ever-recycling life that very literally has nowhere else to go.
Like a tapestry with threads woven deep into the rock below and high into the atmosphere above, the biosphere is rife with patterns, connections, intersections and many many layers. Here in a far northern corner of the globe we looked into the sea below a cliff inhabited by creatures of the air and found clear links between them, a tight cycling of nutrients and energy in the closed system that is our world.
The cliffs of Cape Fanshaw, rising vertically from the freezing waters of Hinlopen Strait, are an important breeding site for Thick-billed Murres; around 200,000 of them crowd the ledges, staining the rock white with their guano. The birds themselves, skilled at both flight and diving, are the first link between the terrestrial environment and the marine ecosystems below. Flying out from their nests, they dive deep into the Arctic seas, harvesting polar cod and other fish and invertebrates which they carry back to feed their young. In turn, all their waste, including guano, eggshells, molted feathers and dead birds, falls into the sea below and nourishes wonderful gardens of seastars and anemones. Strong tidal currents spread the bounty of nutrients over many miles. In combination with the energy of the Arctic sun, these essential chemicals support blooms of phytoplankton, which feed zooplankton which in turn are the food of the cod and many other cratures. Driven by the energy of our star, the cycle turns round and round.
And this cycle links to many others, all around the world. Larger currents carry Arctic waters to the tropics and beyond. Whales and other migratory species make journey of thousands of miles to feed in the bountiful northern and southern seas, then return to warmer waters to breed. It’s such a beautiful little world, churning with life, balanced and ever-shifting, tuned and ever-changing, all alone.
