I hadn't expected that parts of a glacier would just push up like sharp little mountain ranges, exposing so many layers and colours, revealing part of the history of her life. For some reason I was also surprised at how many rivulets and tiny [or not so tiny] valleys scarred the surface. There were so many perfect crack lines running crossways over the ice, evidence of the pressure she was under. On a rare sunny and completely still arctic day the sounds of the glacier shifting, readjusting and seemingly breathing, were easily heard – sometimes loud cracks and rumbles, sometimes sighs. The beauty and delicacy, the strength and the fragility of the glacier were incredible.
Not so incredible, the sound of glacier melt water dripping and catching in small trickles, then becoming louder, growing in volume to constant streams of running water. This is late September, this should not be happening.
The ridges and valleys in the glacier are metres high