AN ARCTIC EDUCATION
The chill of the freezing air gnawed at my face as I gazed at the jigsaw of ice lying between our dinghy and the shore, the gentle hum of the outboard motor drowning out the normally serene quiet of the high Arctic. We were navigating the growlers of Spitsbergen, the largest and only populated island of the Svalbard archipelago. Their sharp edges could easily puncture our dinghy. Our Sweden 38, Cosmic Dancer V looked unnatural against the rugged snow-covered mountains and flowing glaciers that surrounded us. We scanned the shore for danger to avoid an unwanted first meeting with the mascot for Glacier Mints, and pressed on.
The ground crunched underfoot as we pulled the dinghy up the beach. The bay was semi-circular, with sporadic rocks and an undulating grassy tundra beyond. The shrill call of geese honked from just beyond the coarse sand but it was not them we’d come to see. A whiff of rotting clams, and proceeded to start delicately rubbing her flipper against her stomach. Persisting, I upped the ante with: ‘Ah babes, she totes wants you as her beau, just shoot your shot’ ( slang for giving up on pride and pursuing the person of your dreams). Thoroughly unimpressed with my antics and with a mind on our next destination, our skipper curtly turned on his heel and marched back to the dinghy.
