It might seem strange to say that water has many moods but it could be looked at in just that way. Water, the miraculous molecule that makes us what we are. We replenish ourselves with its liquid form and sail upon its masses. Its surface might be as smooth as glass or as crumpled as crushed satin. It can be deep dark navy blue with silver streaks dancing from crest to trough as it was for us this morning. Or it could be gray loaded with glacial flour or maybe even turquoise blue with light scattered from those same fine particles. Earlier we met one of its frozen phases; platters of drifting sea ice where polar bears and walrus resided. Today, another face, another mood left us marveling at its beauty.
The sun shone down upon us from a clear blue sky. To our north Devon Island was frosted white. Fingers of an ice field flowed down valleys dividing the highlands into isolated hillsides. Most of these glaciers seemed to lack the energy to reach out and touch the sea. Rather they slowly sublimated depositing their sediment load as broad aprons of fragmented rock. But then, just as we reached the northeast corner of the island a majestic face appeared. Mile upon mile of tidewater glacier drew us into Bethune Bay near to Philpots Island.
As so often happens the best laid plans are sure to change. A bear on land means we cling to the sea. For an instant a change in plans can produce anxiety but in most cases the alternative proves to be so much better. Our gorgeous glacier had spawned a sculpture garden and in our trusty Zodiacs we circled and examined one after the other. Of course there is often one berg that outshines the rest. A pure white towering pinnacle reaching towards the still visible moon took the prize today. But there were more. Fluted blue edges, arches and fingers, bergy bits crackling like breakfast cereal could fancifully be thought of as exhibiting the mood of water.
The wind began to agitate the surface of the inlet while clouds snuggled against the higher mountaintops. Ice crystals in the atmosphere formed a rainbow beneath the sun. Moisture began condensing out in Lancaster Sound telling us that maybe the time had come to head to the mother ship. But not before examining a pile of walrus on the rocks and our sleeping bear on shore. Raiding Vikings attacked us, one boat at a time. Thank goodness there was no plundering or pillaging involved. Instead they came bearing gifts of warm cocoa with a shot if so desired.
All boats safely back on board the ship plunged into the fog that wrapped us in a blanket of secrecy. Sheltered from the world outside we furthered our education discovering the knowledge of the past frozen deep within the ice and the ice held Sir John Franklin and his men and many more that followed.
And so to bed, with visions of icebergs dancing in our heads.
