"Walking On White Mars" The mini-doc: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=USSXFBO1SIo
Although I could write about my excursion (or “Arctic cruise” as some have put it) in the format of a full-length article; I’ve opted to bullet point a few of my Arctic Circle highlights in order to save the special moments for myself. Please be advised as this is in no specific order.
*Our silver passport covers that Brian purchased for our trip made for various conversations/ stares/ glares from Los Angeles, to London, to Helsinki, and finally Murmansk, Russia. He bought them as a symbolic gesture to the Arctic ice … I bought Arctic Blast gum.
*Murmansk, Russia, the port city of the Russian nuclear fleets was what one would imagine a post-WW II city would look like—especially because a lot of the buildings were still damaged from WW II bombs. But, since the weather was unusually warm for a Russian July, we were handsomely rewarded with a long bus tour (sans air conditioning) with scenic visions such as residents riding their bikes in Speedos.
*When we opened our door to our cabin, I’m pretty sure we both blacked out due to the shock of our “quaint” quarters / home, for the next 17 (I think) days, in the middle of nowhere, and with no one to run into (literally) but each other. However, that little room surprised us, as there was ample storage space for Brian’s arsenal of camera equipment and then our clothes. I’m just glad there was enough room for my furry boots I’ve had since high school. The bathroom was the size of my closet (and it’s not a walk-in) and the shower curtain had a way of sticking to you like a layer of blue skin. But hey, that’s nothing when it comes to taking 5 consecutive days of cold Arctic sea showers. That’s right, until the Swiss boys pounded it into my head that our nuclear ship had energy to waste, and that there was no way I should be taking cold showers, I finally let the blue knob run for awhile and VOILA! … it flowed hot water just like the red dial flowed cold. Who knew? Yes, apparently not me.
*As many women know, relying on hair appliances while traveling overseas can be a touchy subject. So, just in case, I brought 2 flat irons. And, before I went all Three Mile Island / Chernobyl because my 1st flat iron didn’t work, luckily for me and Brian's sanity, my 2nd one did. Not only did it work in Helsinki, it actually worked on the Russian icebreaker. Unfortunately, because there was so much voltage pumping through it, it would smolder like the remnants of a small campfire … Brian would probably say forest fire.
*At first, my workouts on the ship were brisk walks from our cabin to the bar located across from the library. There, I discussed the days events, wrote in my journal, laughed with new friends, played Scrabble (American vs. UK English Scrabble), and refined my palate with that of Russian Standard Vodka. FYI—Vodka means “little water” and after drinking this, I can understand why Russian’s drink it like water! But then, after I found the workout room, which had 3 spin bikes that looked out of the porthole, I decided that that’s where I would spend my free time. So, both times, I gazed out of the porthole in amazement that I was working out in the Arctic Circle. It didn’t hurt that one of those times I was working out next to Pewyter (one of the Russian security men). However, there’s only so much communication one can do when Russian is the spoken language … he tried.
*Seawater, plus laundry on a Russian icebreaker, equals hurty clothes. HURTY. I’m pretty sure they hung our clothes out to dry in the night sea air and then delivered them the next morning after they chipped off all of the icicles. I still have abrasions from my t-shirt. It’s either from that or from “refining my palate” at the lounge.
*If I mention that the food was prepared by an Austrian chef (and his crew), three times a day with meals such as Piccata of Monkfish, Pork Medaillon Gratinated with tofu, and desserts called “Hot Love Sundae” (which was prepared on my birthday and the pastry chef Wolfgang knew who I was—in a platonic sense of course), would that make it seem less “expeditiony”, “excursiony” and more “cruisy?? Would receiving a birthday cake while the whole dining room sang Happy Birthday seem too fluffy for a hard-core trip to the Arctic? Eh, who cares?
*Brian can actually speak Russian. Albeit broken Russian but it really didn’t stop him from communicating to the crew that it was wrong to throw garbage bags into the ocean. Yeah, he’s my environmental hero and Al Gore would be proud. However, I have to say, after Brian asked the captain a few too many questions about the nuclear reactor, and then caught the crew garbage dumping onto the ice (which he also witnessed them garbage retrieving from the ice), I was concerned that one cold night, we would get a knock on the door and Brian would be whisked away to Siberia. Or, at the very least be made to shovel coal into the nuclear reactor.
*The 24 hours of daylight was something so bizarre. One minute you’re at a seminar at 3pm and the next minute you’re back in that damn lounge across from the library until 4am ... I'd now like to thank the makers of Visine.
*Going from open water to seeing / breaking ice and feeling like you’re in constant turbulence is sensory over-load. Watching my fellow passengers’ weeble wobble was somewhat hilarious. It’s amazing what one finds humorous in the middle of nowhere.
*If you could imagine what it was like for early settlers at sea to see land in the distance for the first time in months, that’s what it was like when we were told we were descending upon 90 degrees—the Geographical North Pole. If I can remember correctly, we all were told that when we wake up, we would be at our destination. So, for those of us who never slept, we just knew that the ship had stopped and then I think we went to bed at around 3am. When we woke up, I looked outside my window where I saw a huge red circle formed on the ice with a sign in the middle that read “90 degrees North Pole”. Next to the sign were picnic tables and BBQ grills. Very interesting. Much like on Christmas morning, I sprang out of bed, jumped in the shower, cranked up smoky (my flat iron), put on my winter gear, and headed outside! AMAZING! I walked on the Arctic ice cap … I was walking on (what I call) WHITE MARS!
*Brian did the Arctic plunge as did many others. Brian cut himself on the ice—as did many others. Personally, I felt like I had done the Arctic plunge 5 days in a row with my cold showers AND I wasn’t about to stand in all of my glory waiting for my turn to jump in water filled with large chunks of ice. Uh-uh.
*What is the worst-case scenario when traveling to the Arctic? Well, I guess perhaps a polar bear could attack you because they have an insane sense of smell. But, that would only happen if one of the AK47 toting Russian security guards kept chatting to cute girls when he was supposed to be on the lookout for polar bears when we did helicopter landings.
*I don’t know about everyone else but I often felt like I was on the hit 70s show “Land of the Lost” ... especially when I came face-to-face with polar bear dung while climbing a hill that resembled Devil's Tower. On this particular excursion I expected to see a Sleestack come out from behind a rock formation and throw a net around me. But, the closest thing I got to adventure like that was when I got stuck in a bog, started sinking, nearly lost my rubber boots (like the boots that were stuck in the bog next to me), was pulled out by Raja, who then got stuck, and then we both walked to the rocks in our muddy socks putting our boots back on.
*Seeing my first total eclipse on my 40th birthday was magical and has been magical.
Well, I think I’ve written just enough for you, while saving just enough for me.
DASVIDANIA!
Pictures taken by the amazing photographer John Weller.
