Memories

Recently, I was asked to write a piece about my adventures in polar regions. At first, I thought "I dont go 'adventuring', I am a PhD student. My life consists of reading about experiments, conducting my own experiments, discovering my experiments didnt work, then going back to try and fix them".

Then I realised that the PhD journey is in itself a bit of an adventure - you set off, not sure where your going to end up (or if you are, you find out its not as straight-forward as it might have been), pack yourself a kit of published literature, background knowledge and ideas. You venture out into the world, only to find that you either overlooked packing some vital clue, or that the way forward is criss-crossed with difficulties. You hike up high mountains of achievement and enjoy the view before sliding into valleys of despair when the analysis goes wrong, or a reviewer doesnt like your paper.

And eventually (I hope, as this is the bit I am approaching), you climb out of the last misty years, sore muscles (from sitting and writing too long), weary mind, and with a real sense of having experienced the adventure. I hope I shall be better for it!

However, writing this piece made me realise that I certainly have not filled in this blog with adventure memories as yet! So here is one of my favourites:

The Polar Bear (Summer, 2011)

I was polar bear guard for a student cruise, and we had hiked along a beach to get to this fabulous field site covered in moss, lichens and other plants just below a bird cliff. As we were walking along the beach we came across three sets of bear tracks, and Mertensia maritima, a beautiful grey-purple flowered sandy beach plant. It is otherwise known as 'Oyster Plant'.

Mertensia maritima on the beach.

However, soon after the students settled to working, a thick fog descended. We discussed packing up and leaving as visibility was getting worse, but patches of blue sky above persuaded us to stay for another 5 mins and reassess the situation. About 2 mins after that decision, the bear guard near the beach called out the word; “Polar Bear. Im not kidding! Polar Bear!”

With that, we all gathered into a group, behind those of us with rifles and flare guns. Nervous silence and all I could see was the head of the bear, ears pricked, watching us. We fired a flare, and it turned and ran over the small dune and into the ocean. We packed up all our things and started a quick pace back to where the boat would pick us up – the fog also lifted. Keeping an eye on the bear which swam along the bay as we walked along the beach, we got to the pick up spot. 

The sun was bright overhead, the bear was just floating in the middle of the bay, and the group was being shuttled back to the ship. I will never forget the moment that happened then, watching through binoculars; the bear swam into shore, and walked up on the beach and shook itself, fat rippling down its shoulders, drops of water sparkling, fur shivering down its back! The bear looked to the right, then the left and it saw us and it NODDED, as if to say “Oh! There you are!”. 

Bear tracks on the beach.

It started walking towards us, but when it got to a certain point, we fired another flare and it turned tail and ran away up the glacier. I shall never forget that moment though when the bear nodded towards me - and blow me down, it looked just like the Northland Hello (when you nod your head upwards, slightly raise your eyebrows in greeting of the other person).

The end is nigh

I am all too quickly approaching the finish line!

I am working frantically to get a final copy of my thesis prepared to be handed in. It has been such a journey, and so busy just lately that I have completely neglected the blog!

However, I have not neglected the approaching Spring. Made myself a wee garden out of long pots, with some Polyanthus for colour in between the rocket that is racing away in the warm weather and the lettuce that is more sedately sprouting.

Furthermore, I have been venturing into the social media scene on Twitter, with "Tweet Your Science". Has made me quite thoughtful about how science is communicated, and whether or not simply sharing information with someone is enough to change their mind about an issue. Also about publishing my work from my thesis - it seems that academia is never going to end sometimes... But daydreaming about future adventures is enough to keep the motivation up today, here is hoping the adventures continue in the polar theme!

Springtime Camellias on the windowsill

First Blush of Spring

The first shine of light I have seen on the mountains since I arrived nearly three months ago! And even the moon is making an appearance. Am feeling uplifted, and my mood is rising just like the sun!

 It is stretching into Adventdalen, hopefully I get to feel its rays on my face before NZ (where, lets face it, I will quickly resemble a lobster after enjoying life as a translucent being...)

Still not quite so radiant in town yet! The sun will come back to town on the 8th of March, the day after I return to NZ.

In Search of Sunshine

It has been 75 days since I last saw the sun, that burning ball of light, high up in the sky!

At times, I have missed it sorely. When I first arrived, I had absolutly no sense of day from night, up from down, in part due to my jet lag but mostly because there was never any light. It really struck home how much I relied on the changes in daylight to tell the time. No beautiful sunrises to tell me it is time to throw back the covers and leap out of bed!

The view as I leap out of bed in the mornings. Hehe, who am I kidding, I dont leap out of bed, but this is my view!

But now, the light is definitly back at 78 degrees North. There is a sense of daytime, with blue light from around 8 in the morning, until about 4 pm. And on the weekend (16 February to be precise), I attempted my first adventure to see the sun.

Looking north, across Plateaufjellet and at Isfjorden

It was to be from Trollstein, a mountain near Longyearbyen, which is 849 m high (according to my map). This was my very first mountain to be climbed while wearing skis. 

The mountain top, just before midday

Now, my skiing is definitly in the class of "young giraffe in high heels wandering across the ice". But, I was determined to give it a go (will try anything once!) and as such, I stuck 'skins' on my borrowed skis, and set off up through the moraine and onto the glacier. It was actually alright - you dont sink into the snow so much, and sliding your feet along is much easier than having to lift them out of snow.

Me, attempting that "ski attitude" I have seen in pictures.

Twice, I had to remove my skis to walk up a steep section though. The second time was when I was 'traversing' (totally getting this language now!!) and starting going backwards, downhill. Not such a nice feeling, being unable to control your movement on a steep, hardpacked, snowy mountain side! 

This was a community event, plenty of people to talk to on the way up and down!

Eventually, I made it to the top, to look out at the stunning vista of mountain tops with the shy sun just peeking out....

The view to the east. Lovely crescent moon, but in the end, no sun whatsoever...

BUT nothing. Just a mass of grey cloud, very cold temperatures and a sense of disappointment!  And fear. Fear of skiing, down a steep slope, with nothing but a snow covered glacier to catch me!

After a biscuit, hot drinks and a quick chat with friends, I attached my skis to my backpack and walked down the steepest part. Then, tentatively re-attached my skis to go down a little bit... Only to panic for about 5 mins, take off skis, then run to catch up with friends and walk the rest of the way down.

All in all, a good trip but am uncertain about this downhill skiing. Just wait until you hear about my experiences of skiing with dogs...

Heading back down towards town, hot chocolate and cosy company!

You sound like a little girl!

Last weekend, I got to indulge in a typical Scandinavian activity - skiing!!

Heading out into Adventdalen, the site of my second skiing experience

My previous skiing experience consists of 'this one time...'
       - It was during my Bachelors, and we all went to Cardrona to have an annual ski trip. It was down hill skiing, and I was going okay, I had learnt to make a v out of my skis to stop, learnt that if I didnt keep my knees together, I would end up in the splits, and that the ski instructors were distractingly attractive. Regardless, I approached the pommer (is this the technical term? Im not sure) with great excitement and determination to look just as cool as the skiers coming down the hill. I managed to get on, and was being pulled up the short slope, when the 6 year old on the pommer ahead of me fell off, right in the middle of the track. What could I do??? If I let go, I was going downhill, backwards! If I stayed holding on, the child might... get out of the way... in time....

He didnt. I skiied straight over the top of him. In my defense, he was FINE, he just got up and skied away (maybe to go cry somewhere else?), but I was left, one ski up, one ski down, unable to lift my head without being hit by the pommer, in the middle of the track!

Thankfully, noone else skiied over me. But the entire field came to a halt, pointing and laughing, as the lovely young man operating the pommer lift, came up to take off my skis so I could regain my feet. Overall, embarrassing, and since that time I have been a 'casual' snowboarder.

Embracing my inner-scandinavian. And inner-child, who knew skis could be SO MUCH FUN!

But this, this was fantastic! For a start, it was flat. Secondly, it was during what is currently the lightest part of the day! There was almost no wind, and it smelt like very early dawn, before the sun even peeks above the horizon and everything is all damp.

There was this mysterious fog on the fjord as well, adding to the overall intrigue of the afternoon. I only fell over twice, and there was no laughter as such, just the challenge to try and make a more impressive face plant next time!

Super experience. Cant wait to head out again tomorrow!!

Longyearbyen, with the not-quite-rising sun