It was the first time in weeks you could see beyond the runway. The moon was ablaze, pouring light across this barren land. I could see the cracks in the sea ice that spreads for miles around. I could see the mountains looming shape across the horizon. For the first time in weeks, I could see.
I woke up at 0530 this morning and did some yoga. I finished with sun salutations to the moon; who would have thought? It’s amazing how much of a difference any amount of light makes here. Today however, after weeks of a moonless existence it seemed as though the sun had arisen and you could finally peer into the dark and see some of your surroundings.
It was an opportune moment that I ventured outside, the ice crystals settled, the winds became calm and you could hear the rumble of the ice beneath its frozen blanket. The light northerly breeze licked my ears and face with a painful burn. Again, it stung.
People tell me I’m foolish for wandering outside in the cold; I tell them they’re foolish for missing some of the amazing sights we have gone weeks without seeing. Standing there, on the frozen banks with my tripod and camera, I could finally see what has been covered by the dark unforgiving blanket of the endless night.
These photos were totally worth the freezing cold, the painful numbness that creeps into your extremities and chills you to the core. In this particular instance, with the bone chilling cold and the land being almost completely barren, it is beautiful. You stand here realizing so few people get to see this and that is why it is worth the freezing trips outside, the hours spent slathering on lotion to the burn you received in minutes and finally the trips running between the camera and truck: it is worth it, to be able to share.
