Thrilling Calving at Greenland's Eqip Sermia Glacier

One of the highlights of our trip to Greenland's west coast was two nights at Eqi Ice Camp, a small group of huts with giant windows looking directly onto the face of jagged face of Eqi glacier.  It takes over five hours to travel from Ilulissat to Eqi by boat, which is the only practical choice, since there are no roads whatsoever.

[This is the fifth of a series - earlier galleries: flying over an ice fjord, midnight sun iceberg kayaking, Greenlandic puppies and villages, and iceberg whale watching.]

Here's a preview of the photographs herein.  Notice the ice in mid-air!

As soon as we came within a few miles of the glacier, we started hearing thunder, which was actually the sound of chunks large and small crashing down the glacier face into the water.  The captain steered us through slushy water, and picked his way between floating chunks of ice the size of buses and cars.  Ice scraping along the boat's metallic hull went "scriiiiiiitch." Every once in a while, we'd hear a loud "GONG", when colliding with one of the larger hunks.   It did make me wonder about the likelihood of Titanic-style sinking.  I hoped the captain had enough experience to avoid getting us in trouble.

Here's how it looked when we arrived.  The boat is on the left.

The captain cut the engine when we were about a mile from the glacier face.  They don't go closer because a huge calving could generate a tsunami and capsize us.  The face of the glacier towered 1000 feet above us.  The boat looks kind of small here, but it's big enough for about forty people and their luggage.  Of course, we were on the boat at the time - this picture (of our boat) was taken the next day, when new guests were arriving.

It didn't take long to see our first huge calving.

It's difficult to convey the scale of these events.  This is a closer up view of the same falling ice.  Notice there is a huge flock of seagulls circling in front of the white water of the splash.  These gulls are only halfway between us and the splash.

As I was trying to get photos, I realized there's a problem - the glacier doesn't give any warning; it just goes.  By the time you notice something is falling, it's already hitting the water.  The glacier face is about two miles wide, so it could be in any direction.  You have to try to anticipate the next calving by sounds and small pieces falling, hoping a big one will follow.

The following series of photographs shows the biggest calving we saw in the three days we had at the glacier.  First, one huge piece started to fall.

Once that came down, another section beside it started to crumble.

And then the other side started to crumble.  Then the captain started yelling at the crew in Greenlandic, and we realized this might not be entirely fun and games.  As the wave plowed toward us, they quickly started up the engine and pointed the bow directly at the oncoming wave, so we wouldn't get broadsided.

An entire section of the glacier face was caving in all at once.

Considering the height of the glacier face, this splash must be well over 100 feet, as high as a ten-story building.  As we continued to take photos, our guide was yelling at everyone to hold tightly to something with both hands, and repeating herself when we were slow to react.

A closer view of the impact.  The lower layers of the ice are dark grey from grinding against stone.  This dark gray gravel and dust tints the water as the glacier face collapses downward and churns up the bottom of the bay.

An closer view shows the vivid color of the freshly exposed ice, giant chunks in mid-air, and the explosive force of the 

Thousands of seagulls' peaceful afternoon was rudely interrupted.  You can see them circling in front of the approaching tsunami.

Of course, as a photographer, I wanted us to get much closer.  Even if your boat didn't capsize from the tsunami, imagine what would happen to it if a chunk of ice the size of a city bus came down on you - see light blue chunk mid-air front and center in this photograph.

Jennifer had the skill and presence of mind to catch the whole thing on video.  If you have problems with the video below, you can also watch on vimeo!

Thank goodness the captain understood the danger, and kept us at a safe distance, so the wave only set the boat pitching back and forth, but wasn't a real threat.  After all that excitement, we went on into camp.  This was the view from the bed in our rustic cabin.  After hiking and dinner, we sat out on our porch each evening and enjoyed the view.

The cabins didn't have bathrooms, so I had to go out to pee in the middle of "night" - except we're above the arctic circle, during the midnight sun.  So, this is the view of the bay at 2:00 AM.  In camp, the sun was blocked by the hills, but notice the direct sunlight hitting an iceberg from a low angle out in the bay.

The next day, we went for a hike to get a closer view of the glacier.  On the way, a couple of large white birds flew up out of the brush, but we didn't get a good look at them.  Since I expected them to remain close to their territory, I watched for them around the same spot on the way back.  Just as I'd hoped, they turned up right on schedule.  They were too far away to get truly sharp photos with the equipment I had, but these give some idea of what they looked like.  They're Gyrfalcons.

This one stopped to take a look at us.  This is extremely cropped - in the original photo, he's only a white speck.

When we got closer to camp, we heard yipping, and saw a tiny Arctic fox scampering behind some rocks.  Then we saw him run into a hole under a boulder.  A few seconds later, he and his sibling came back out to look at us.  Just for fun, I imitated their barking, which really freaked them out. They stared at us, then one spun around in a circle, and looked again.  Then they both darted back into their den.  Later that evening, I saw one skulking around the edge of camp.

If you're like me, you're thinking "Why is he brown?  Aren't Arctic foxes supposed to be white?" The explanation is that Arctic foxes are white in winter, but this was mid-summer. He was curious about the camp.

So I started stalking him. He would come close, then run away again when people noticed him.  Here he is getting spooked.

He had a peculiar habit of "skipping" when he walked.  He would take a few normal steps, then pop his front end in the air for two steps with hind legs only.

He went off to watch from a safe distance.

Hope you enjoyed the show!  I'd be thrilled if you share with friends and family, whether on Facebook, Twitter, or however you prefer. Thanks for visiting!  Here's one last iceberg for the road (seen on the boat ride back to Ilulissat).

[This is the fifth of a series - earlier galleries: flying over an ice fjord, midnight sun iceberg kayaking, Greenlandic puppies and villages, and iceberg whale watching.]

Eiffel Tower Fireworks 2016 Juillet 14 - Bastille Day

After seeing them four years in a row, we still can't believe how great the fireworks are at the Eiffel Tower on July 14th.  Apparently, us Americans just made up the name Bastille Day, the French wouldn't know what you're talking about.  They just call it Juillet Catorze - July 14th.

The French do the best lighting anywhere on Earth.  Here's my evidence.  The halo around the tower here is the smoke from previous fireworks being lit up by super powerful blue spotlights.  It looks like it's made of dry ice or something.

I planned the shoot to have reflections in the water, so we went to the closest bridge they allow people on during the event.  You can see the lights in a train's windows as it crosses the bridge in the above photograph.  The funny thing was, the driver really slowed down the train as they went over the bridge so they could get a good view.  Why not!?  Who's going to complain!?

This sequence of fireworks is cool in motion too, because the top fireworks shoot out one after another, until they go all the way around, like spokes of a wheel popping out from the hub.

Serious amounts of smoke in the air make for great special effects.

You simply couldn't see what you see in this picture with the human eye.  All of the lights on the tower appear to be on at once, but they're sparkling all over the tower in real life.  Keeping the camera shutter open for a few seconds means every light will have turned on at least once in that time, producing this shining tower of solid light.

 I especially like the white reflection in the river in this one.  This is the last for 2016, but there are lots more, just as beautiful as these, in earlier posts.

Eiffel Tower Fireworks 2013

More spectacular photos from other years!

Eiffel Tower Fireworks 2014

Eiffel Tower Fireworks 2014, Part 2

Eiffel Tower Fireworks 2015

Greenland: Humpback Whales Among the Icebergs of Ilulissat

Wherever we went in Greenland, we saw whales.

We really got to see first-hand where the expression "Thar she blows!" comes from.  Under the right conditions, when a whale blows, it's visible over a mile away.

We saw whales from the land, and we saw whales from the air...

This is the fourth in a series of photo-essays based on our trip to Greenland in July 2016.  The others were an aerial perspective, puppies and villages, and icebergs kayaking in the midnight sun .]

This is the boat that took our group of about 14 on a whale-watching trip, but any boat trip in Greenland could be considered a whale-watching trip.  It's almost funny.  We saw our first whales in under 1 minute.  The guides were laughing that it was a record.

These humpback whales were hunting together.  I don't think we ever saw a whale by itself.  There were usually two or three together.  They would surface and dive at the same time.  They never seemed to be in a hurry all the time we watched them.  The would surface and dive smoothly and slowly over and over, making a loud "ffffffff" out their blowholes every time they surfaced.

First thing we would see was their heads blowing mist ten feet or more in the air, then the fin would slide into view.

After they took a breath, they would slip back under the water.

This was the best ice arch we saw the entire trip.

The same arch after we had gone around the other side.  The seagulls perched on the ice and flying by give it scale.

While we were watching the peaceful, relaxed whales, a sheet of ice the full height of the iceberg sheered off and slammed into the water, creating a dramatic splash.

As the resulting wave rushed our boat, the guide deadpanned - "You know those life vests under your seats?  Now would be a good time to put them on."  :)

Yes, we could have died, but not really.  The wave was sort of  disappointment.  

When the whales came up, the last thing to go under was their tail.  I love the sheets of water pouring off the whale tail.  The shiny facets on the freshly-fractured face of this iceberg are pretty neat too.

Sometimes, we weren't the only boat in the area.  The guy standing on top of the roof of the boat cabin is probably a crew member.  I'd have climbed on top of our boat if they'd let me!  His body language says he's a bit bored.  All of this, the cold pure water, the whales, the crystalline icebergs, are completely ordinary.

The undersides of their tails and fins are mostly white, with speckles.  The patterns are unique, which allows individuals to be identified.

The boat captain had a book of identifying photos of the whales' tails compiled by guides and biologists tracking the local population.  I should probably mention that the Inuit tradition of hunting and eating whales continues today, though they coordinate annual hunting limits, based on the population of each type of whale.  So, tracking the populations is more than an academic exercise.

After following various groups for hours, we headed back to port at full speed, only to find two more on the way.  This one is winding up for the dive.

Here he is from the side, going under as we passed him.  The many white spots on his side are barnacles.

I hope you've enjoyed your virtual whale-watching tour.  Please share with your friends if you'd think they'd enjoy.

Next time, we're off to see the nine hundred foot-tall face of Eqi glacier drop thousands of tons of ice into the bay.

Greenland: Iceberg Kayaking with Midnight Sunlight

This is the third in a series of articles on our trip to Greenland.  Click these links to see the first, with aerial photos of icebergs, and the second, all about puppies and village life.  My next article will take you close up on a whale watching tour. 

We love kayaking, and Greenland is a great place for it, especially if you can go at midnight.  The only caveat is that the water is not much above freezing, which is cold enough to kill in about a half hour. To be safe, everyone has to wear dry suits.  As you can probably guess, they're called dry suits because, unlike wet suits, they keep you dry when you're in the water.  The guides told us they cost somewhere around $1500 each.  Here are a few members of the group sporting spiffy blue dry suits.

Putting on a dry suit is quite an experience.  All the openings are strong latex tubes you have to force feet, hands, and head through.  The feet were the easiest.  Pushing my hand through this extremely tight tube of stretchy rubber was a bit of a struggle.  But the worst part is getting it over your head.  You have to pull the tight latex neck down over your face, so your whole face is briefly smashed flat.  Once it gets onto your neck, it's feels like it's strangling you, but you quickly get accustomed to it.

The trip was billed as a midnight kayaking trip.  Of course, since it was July in western Greenland, it would not get dark.  Instead, the sun would dip low on the horizon, then begin to rise again.

This huge iceberg, towering about 35 feet above the water, was just a short distance offshore.  It had been in the bay since we arrived.

Earlier that day, it had started to crumble, so it was smaller than it had been.  It was fun to get to see it close up and kayak all the way around it.  Of course, we were hoping no really large pieces would break off while we were close.  Sometimes whole icebergs can roll over, or a piece can break off underwater and shoot up to the surface.  Either of those events could do bad things to kayakers, so we didn't get as close as I was tempted to get!

Here's Jennifer, in front of me in the tandem kayak, keeping warm with her fuzzy red hat.  The guides chose this spot for us all to take a break, just beyond the big iceberg above.

While we rested, out guides surprised us by pulling out a bottle of whisky. We all got our own little reusable plastic cups to have a sip of either that or hot tea.  We had the whisky.  Warmed us up nicely, though the air temperature wasn't bad at all - I think it was in the forties F, with no rain or wind.  They said the people a few days before had windy, rainy weather.  So, we got really lucky!

It was getting late, and the sun was really, really trying to set, but this was about as low as it could go.

Looking north across Disko Bay to Disko Island, with the sun so low in the sky, the air was suffused with an amazing orange glow.

It was so spectacular out there, I didn't want it to be over.  I kept rowing out to get more photos while the others worked on hauling their kayaks up onto land one by one.  Finally, we couldn't delay it any longer.  We were the last boat out of the water.

One more.

Thanks for coming by to take a look!  Still more to come on Greenland.  Glacier calving at Eqi Glacier and Eqi Ice Camp is coming up.  Then, spectacular view of much bigger and better icebergs for the finale.  Those are my favorites, so I'm saving them for last.