A Marvelous Observation

The Longest Day pt. 6 - Ice Cap

2010-07-24T07:18:00.000-07:00

Wednesday, July 21st, 2010

There are moments in life that seem like dreams or visions, the ones from which I suppose some novels are written or movies made. Amazing that there are places that exist beyond what I can dream or even imagine.

I have finally reached my goal; I have pursued my small and largely unknown adventure. Solo. I was headed toward, quite-literally, the edge of the world.

In the 1950’s, the once-populous Camp Tuto 20km to the southeast of Thule AFB served as a rendezvous and research base for exploration of the Greenland ice cap. Now, all that remains are piles of rocks, an abandoned, partially-paved air strip and an emergency shelter with fuel tank.

All the roads in the area are made of dirt and rock, and the trail became increasingly rugged as I approached the glacier. In times of inclement weather, a flat tire along the way without a spare could mean frostbite or death. However, the weather is rarely better in northern Greenland than today. I did plan on returning from this trip, so I had postponed my excursion until it was reasonably safe to travel. On days like today, one can see 70km or more with a view unrestricted.

As I began the final climb toward the ice cap, I noticed the first mammal of the trip; a wild hare.

I stopped my truck and snapped a few pictures before continuing up the moderate incline, the diesel engine chugging along as I changed gears up or down as appropriate to navigate patches of larger stones along my path.

About thirty minutes into the journey, I finally reached the abandoned airstrip, though with sixty years of weathering, it was hardly distinguishable from the surrounding landscape. I could not imagine an aircraft being able to take off from it as it lay strewn with rolling waves of asphalt and rock. It is the permafrost changing underneath that causes these bumps from what I hear.

I came to a juncture and picked a path that seemed headed in the right direction. I soon found myself at the base of a man made ramp of earth and rock that likely stretched a mile in length and several hundred feet into the air and onto the field of ice. At this point, the ice cap rises at a steady 6 percent angle into the sky.

I originally intended to walk on the glacier, though the edge was surrounded by either steep ice cliffs or small lakes of partially-frozen water in places, like a moat protecting a castle.

The ramp offered one possible option, though parts had eroded or partially fallen away, and I was afraid to shut down my engine in case I could not get it to start once again. The wind off the ice was strong and piercing, and for the first time since arriving in Greenland, I had to pull out my gloves, cap and snow jacket. A fog hung just over the ice as if to hide what was underneath. In any case I was satisfied, and I took several more pictures of this arctic wilderness.

Starting back, the road seemed smoother than before. I glanced through the passenger window at the glacier. Stopped. Though subtle, the sight of a “snowbow” reflected off the glacial fog.

I continue on once more, though it is not long…

Overcome.

If my life ended today, I could not have pictured a more-appropriate road to heaven on display before me. Even as I write now, my soul is stirred with just the memory.

I thought my intended destination would be the climax of my journey, but it was the way back that was most overwhelming. A reminder that my joy is dependent on His grace; and how thankful I am for this fact. I have never realized the smallness of my existence and the significance of Jesus’ love for me in such a way as this day.

I wish everyone could have witnessed this with me, and I can only communicate but a fraction of the experience; our human devices do not encompass even the smallest measure of the greatness of God.

One musn't travel to Greenland to realize and experience some of these things, thankfully; it only requires an open heart, faith, love and His grace.

If you haven't travelled internationally before, I encourage you to take advantage of the opportunity when available. It is not that you will always have a life-changing experience or discover something new; you may even have a trip you would consider uneventful or even unpleasant. I think people have a tendency to be just a little more open and adaptable when they are pushed out of their comfort zone (once they understand they do not have control of their situation), and whatever your experience, it may help you grow.

The Longest Day pt. 5

2010-07-20T16:08:00.000-07:00

Tuesday, July 20th, 2010

Today is my second day of conducting class 7am-4:30pm, though this morning wasn’t without an expected hiccup. After the 1st hour, the projector lens popped, which required the use of a laptop at the end of a table until a suitable replacement bulb could be found. Thankfully a replacement was located; otherwise, the two students with me the whole week of training (we had six for the morning of the first two days) would have to huddle up with me around the laptop for some of the classroom training.

I have enjoyed this class so far, and my two students, a Danish Greenlander and a Canadian Dane, have been great to work with and exceedingly friendly and welcoming. In general, the predominantly Danish-Greenlandic population here is very friendly. The base is home to a combination of American, Canadian, Danish and Inuit peoples, though all seem to live together in great community. Even when driving, it is customary to wave at every vehicle that passes on the dirt/mud roads of the base.

The clouds have set in once again today, and the occasional rain has turned the roads to mud once again. I have an opportunity Thursday to take a boat tour around the island about 20km to the east in North Star Bay (Saunders Island), though we will see if the weather cooperates. There is an active wind advisory for winds up to 45 knots off base.

Saunders Island is the one on the right.

I am spending at least an hour every day in the community center attempting to check email and post these blogs, though it is rare that I can even log into the blog or my email. A lot is dependent upon who is attempting to download music, etc. The bandwidth is pretty good here around 8pm, so I can get caught up with my posts.

There may be go-carting tomorrow at near the end of the runway, so hopefully the weather will hold for that as well! Arctic carting; I like the sound of that…

I must not forget my glacial aspirations either.

Now it’s laundry time, as I packed light for this trip. Good evening all.

The Longest Day pt. 4

2010-07-20T15:46:00.000-07:00

Sunday, July 18, 2010

This trip has been refreshing to me in many ways, and one of them I will discuss with you in just a moment. Though I would love to explore endlessly the lands that surround me, I am limited at the moment due to the lack of finding a buddy (for safety reasons). There are arctic polar bears in the area, and though many destinations are within sight, the area is desert (albeit a cold one). The glaciers can be covered with hidden holes and crevasses, or the trip back on foot after a flat tire or engine trouble could be dangerous. Not to mention areas potentially riddled with unexploded ordinance, a remnant of decades past when the base was home to almost 10,000 and served as the northernmost forward air base (in fact, Thule is exactly between New York and Moscow flying the shortest distance over the Arctic). The glacier to the east is calling my name, however, and my task the next few days is to get there.

Since I must hang around base for the most part, I have used much time for reading and rest. Today has been such a day.

I have been reading C.S. Lewis’ “Mere Christianity,” and I have enjoyed it so far. I definitely suggest it in addition to his other works. I’ll save the analysis for later.

This afternoon I decided to rest, and what great rest it was. I have been leaving my window cracked since last night, the 40 degree temperatures outside offering a cool, refreshing flow of air into my slightly stale room. The sun has been shining brightly all weekend, and after a few hours of sleep, I awoke to a warm sunbeam embracing me through my smallish window.

Though there are occasional sounds of vehicles or machines onside, there is a stillness about this place. Devoid of many typical sounds of civilization, even the breeze seems to whisper during the summer. There are no trees in this part of Greenland, though there is grass in places, even cotton patches and a scattering of yellow and white flowers.

Of course, I couldn’t pass up another sunny day to take a few pictures around base.

My guess is the glass-like reflection is caused from the fresh water glacial melt in the North Star Bay. Three glaciers flow into the bay just northeast of Thule.

Mt. Dundas and the lone tanker in the bay.

The longest Day pt. 3 - Midnight Sun

2010-07-19T16:51:00.000-07:00

The Land of the Midnight Sun

12:30am

Between April and mid-August, Thule experiences 24-hours of sunlight. Of course, I had to experience this for myself. The pictures below were taken just outside of the North Star Inn.

The sun still travels around the sky as you would expect, except you will find that during the “evening” hours, it dips fairly low on the horizon from the northwest to the northeast. The midnight sun was even more blinding than during the day here due to the lower azimuth.

1:30am

Still shining, though now in the northwest (as seen through a mud-covered, second-story window of the hotel.

Now it is time for bed.

The Longest Day pt. 2

2010-07-18T15:10:00.000-07:00

Saturday, July 17th, 2010

Today I have plans. After spending most of the previous evening watching tv on my bed in a state of restlessness due 46 hours of consciousness, I am refreshed and revived after a good night’s sleep. The constant light outside through the “night” wasn’t a problem thanks to the shade and curtain that mostly block the smallish window in my room. The constant clouds and sunlight above looked liked it was constantly 4:30pm on a dreary Sunday afternoon back home, though the grey buildings and rocky ground dotted with ice patches in the distance looked like some encampment on mars in monotone. Interestingly, the climate and scenery here isn’t much different than parts of mars, this arctic desert.

I hope to take in some of the surrounding views today, and with my 4-door, manual transmission Toyota truck, I am equipped as such. I do not plan to go far, however, as the buddy system is encouraged, and I am without a buddy at the moment.

Thule Air Base, in the northwestern part of Greenland, is bordered by North Mountain and South Mountain in their respective directions, by the great land glacier 12 miles to the East and North Star Bay overlooked by Dundas Mountain to the West. It is usually only accessed by ship a few months of the year when most of the ice clears, or by the single incoming flight per week through the year, weather permitting. My flight was delayed into Thule by a day, though this is not uncommon for the DC-8. I guess it is fitting that it is affectionately known as the “DC-Late” by those who fly on her.

I had planned to join a “memorial tour” at 1330 hours, though I learn it was cancelled from the Danish assistant working at the community center on base. Instead, another assistant hands me literature on “Thule Trippin’,” and informs me of a few sites to check out. I would love to visit, though most are beyond reach for me exploring solo. Distances are deceiving here in the arctic due to the crisp, clean air, and the glacier 12 miles in the distance does not seem that far away. I head toward North Mountain (which overlooks the base), and I see another truck climbing the road from the base of the road, much farther away than I would have thought.

I turn onto the road and begin my ascent, though it is not long until I lose my breath.

The clouds have cleared today, and the brilliant light of the summer sun washes over North Star Bay. Along the horizon, perhaps 20-30 miles, an offshore island juts out of the ocean with steep, cocoa cliffs.

To the left, low level clouds hover over the water between the island and the mainland, spilling onto the waters as if poured from the heavens by angels. Small icebergs dot the bay, and I remind myself that only a fraction floats above the water. A lone tanker floats close to the small port of Thule in the foreground, and the 900 foot tall? Dundas Mountain stands firmly planted alongside.

I snap several pictures and continue my way up the wide-stretched, zig-zagged road to the top.

After reaching the summit, I must stop once more, this time looking toward the East. As barren as this desert is, the world around is alive. Not wanting to be outdone by the clouds on the ocean, the glacier pours into the valley in similar fashion, mimicking the scene on the water. It is proof that indescribable beauty does not come from humanity. We paint with watercolor or soapstone; the Lord paints with water and stones.

I know the pictures I take will not come close to illustrating what I see today, a mere glimpse of the experience. But it is worth sharing with as many as possible. It is no wonder the fugitive Erik the Red returned to his native land to tell of his discovery of this place nearly 1000 years ago. However, the Inuit people who originally came here have long known the secret.

Thule Air Base from North Mountain

The Great ice glacier to the East. The glacier is actually very steep, often inaccessable due to ice cliffs at the edge.

The Longest Day

2010-07-17T17:19:00.000-07:00

Friday, July 16th, 2010

2:00am

A day and a half in Baltimore isn’t a bad way to spend some time, though the hour to board the antiquated DC-8 has finally arrived. Due to the 2/3 cargo, 1/3 people arrangement (and perhaps due to predating standards for terminal connection to aircraft), I snake my way downward through the concourse into the even darker depths of the abandoned international terminal of BWI. It is 2:00am, and any regular passengers who would use this concourse have long since boarded for their destinations. Our group of thirty-two file after one another into a tarmac-level area to await our chariot to the lone aircraft standing illuminated a few tenths of a mile away. The double-doors guarding the waiting area soon open, and we are greeted by a strange vehicle. At first appearance, the interior resembles that of a small ferry…one which would transport us across the concrete ocean surrounding the airport. We board the vehicle (think of a giant scissors lift for people) and soon make our way toward the aircraft.

At 2:10am, our operator seems to be having difficulty aligning our “people lift” with the left-rear door of the plane, though at 25 feet from the ground, I am sure it is no small task. We finally board the plane and take our seats – I am fortunate to be sitting in 1-E, a middle seat on the right side of the plane in the very front (of the rear). This position affords me an extra two feet of leg room to the bulkhead, and I am please with the assignment. Everything feels a bit smaller – the overhead storage bins that can barely swallow my swollen backpack, the 13-inch tv screens molded into the ceiling (are they black and white?), the faint odor of aged fiberglass and cloth. That this plane can still fly sixty years after conception is a testament to how innovative we really were in the middle of the twentieth century. After some moments waiting in taxi, our pilot signals to the attendants to prepare for takeoff, we round the bend onto the runway and begin a slow, incremental increase in thrust. With all four engines of the Douglas ‘8 howling, our speed increases, though not with the same authority as a modern jet. Perhaps it is the belly full of cargo, or a higher takeoff speed, though it seems an eternity that we are flat on the ground, the shades of trees in the distance blurring into darkness along my horizon……

Finally. Her head lifts upward toward the black sky, gradually followed by her backside. Northbound I am, chasing after the sun.

At 3:40am (still EST), first light appears on the horizon out of the starboard window. I didn’t expect to see it so soon…I knew that this would be the beginning of the longest day of my life.

I couldn’t help but to look at my watch every few minutes; the beginning of a dream. The indicated value seemed to parallel the intensity of the light that peered through the partially shaded window. Around 5am, I believe I finally dozed after 26 hours of consciousness.

Our decent into Thule, Greenland, seemed quicker than I would have imagined, crossing through multiple blankets of clouds until the surface of this great earth could be seen once again. Icy waters capped white on some waves, a dark, brown earth stood in the distance blotted with snow and ice. The horizon appeared white, though I could not distinguish where the ice ended and the clouds began. After a few turns, our touchdown was relatively routine, though I noticed the cracked concrete was unlike that of any airport I had visited. Puddles of water lined the tarmac, and the weather foreshadowed the cold, dreary day in Thule.

Upon leaving the plane, we stepped onto a roll away ladder (a better idea than the scissors lift in my opinion) and were immediately greeted with handshakes from eight uniformed officers, including the base commander and various other commanders from the area operations. The chilly breeze immediately made my acquaintance as a scattering of rain drops also announced their presence. We filed into the small metal building a short distance ahead that served as the terminal – an average American home is larger – and awaited our baggage and to clear customs. Several of the commanders and other uniformed personnel stood only 30 feet away behind a piece of tape to greet specific individuals or groups of people. After retrieving my baggage from an external room connected to the terminal, I meet my contact among those waiting for our plane, hop into his new, dark blue Toyota Land Cruiser, and ride for approximately 45 seconds to the North Star Inn. This will be my home for the next 8 days.

The commander and I quickly part ways, I check in, then make my way to my room. One of the larger buildings on base, this three-story metal structure very much resembles a modern college residence hall complete with single beds, typical college furniture and community bathrooms, two placed strategically in the hallway. There is a tv facing the low-standing bed and a microfridge. I have two hours until pickup at 11:30am Thule time (one hour ahead of EST).

Crunchy Leaves

2008-12-29T18:45:00.000-08:00

It is hard for me to believe that we have already celebrated the birth of Christ and now looking toward 2009, though I'm not sure if I have fully appreciated fall this year! For some reason, I feel like I associate smells, touch and sound more with fall (at least in the US) than with any other season...like pumpkin pie baking in the oven, or a thanksgiving dinner with all the trimmin's. There's also a crispness in the air - a distant scent of winter announcing it's coming, but not quite. And, the sweet smell of white oak burning in the fireplace on the colder nights.

There's also that first pair jeans since the spring (unless you live in the mountains of NC like myself, or any place with a nice, cool summer), slightly foreign but remarkably comfortable at the same time; the coolness in your boots after resting from an afternoon hike; the prickly, crunching leaves announcing each of your steps as you walk barefoot by a cold stream. Then, the slippery, moss-covered rocks underneath when wading through the waters, numbing and refreshing. It's as if everything in life becomes more brilliant when your senses are awakened, away from the climate-controlled, routine-ness of life we strive so hard to embrace.

I think most of this can be summed up with one picture:

I feel that the more time I spend observing and thinking about His creation, the more I can't help but to be in awe of His love and grace expressed through the beauty that surrounds us every day.

In the Beginning...

2008-12-15T19:56:00.000-08:00

I finally decided it was time to start writing down a few thoughts here and there; my hope is to share a little of myself and also to provoke a little thought of some sort if you're intersted in reading. I haven't quite decided what will be added, but it will probably vary frequently...Christ should be the reoccuring theme in this soliloquy, and it if isn't, please let me know! :)

I really have been inspired over the months by others' writings to start this, though I have contemplated the effort for a few years, honestly. I'm not sure the deepest of thoughts will make it to the blog; these I will reserve for an in-person conversation sometime. Our society is so proliferated with technology and texts and voicemails that I believe it is important not to lose touch with the most revealing form of communication we have; being in the presence of one another. It is for this I truly yearn, and in light of this desire, I hope to keep my time on here somewhat limited. And, I am not fully confident in my ability to communicate some of these experiences though merely words or pictures, no matter how many or few.

Many blessings to you and welcome to the story...

Here are a few pictures I took on a random hike this fall...I discovered this place accidently after a gentleman told me about it when I had stopped for a few minutes during my Blue Ridge Parkway drive one Sunday afternoon. This trail is at the highest point along the Parkway ranging from about 5800-6400 feet above sea level.

Looking toward South Carolina and Cherokee, NC, on the Parkway before my hike.

Near the beginning of the trail.

I thought the beauty overwhelming despite the inperfection.

The colors a few miles in the distance across the valley.

I believe these trees are seeing some acid rain damage (or maybe disease).

6400 Ft. Above sea level

Life in transition.

Also at the top of the mountain

Back at the trailhead

Seriously???? ;D

And a final one back on the parkway (wish I had a polarizing filter)

In Him, -Kevin