As we sailed out of Isfjorden that night we realized how spectacular this place was - the sun was high still (and would never dip below the horizon during the whole trip) and the craggy, desolate terrain spilled into the water in a hurry. Thin strands of snow still in the rills of the hillsides ran vertically along steep black rock and eventually fed into massive tidewater glaciers calving bergs into the sea. The bergs mixed with pack ice and filled the ocean with a tapestry of shattered bits. The light played off of these pyramids of ice and open water in such a way to look almost tangible. You felt as if you could see the light falling through the sky, and see it bouncing back upwards after refracting off the ice. I know it sounds crazy but there is no adequate way to describe the high Arctic light and it is the elusive quest of many a professional photographer to capture it. It is enough to say that it has a magical, ethereal quality that plainly transfixes you. As a result, my Dad and I spent hour upon hour on the deck of the ship.
