Noisy wilderness


The Arctic is noisy. On the icecap, at 10,000′, the wind scrapes past in furtive bustles of spindrift. On the coast, the throb of exploding glaciers sound like cannons in a war zone. Inside our yacht, we were alarmed at the clang and rasp of her steel hull crashing through ice. But in our kayaks, we had become a part of the environment, treated to a symphony of sounds as jagged chunks of multi-hued ice tinkled musically along our hulls. In concert was the rattle of brash ice as our paddles crunched through frozen rafts to carve a pathway for our bows. A long, low swell drifted in from the North Atlantic to force a cacophony of deep whooshes to echo from the waterline caves of nearby icebergs. Occasionally a frightening sharp crack signalled the collapse of several tons of iceberg into the sea.

Published by earldeblonville


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