Field Notes: The Arctic Circle and the Ice Bear
The Arctic is defined by its latitude, but more practically so by the fact that you’ve crossed into terrain where the sun may not rise or set at all in a given day. The celestial rules no longer apply.
You cannot map this area with normal means; there are no roads or cities, or landmarks. There is only ice, horizon, and sky.
The environmental conditions of low-angled light (if there is any), diminished orientation, and dangerous weather set the terms here. Temperatures drop to -50 degrees F, transforming the sea into an endless ice field.
Anything less than full congruence with nature results in an untimely death.
Ornament is non-existent. There isn’t a tree or a blade of grass anywhere; green has been erased from the spectrum.
The only sounds are breath, wind, and footsteps. There is no news here that is not carried on the wind. Who am I without distraction, comfort, or societal orientation?
As I stand in this tundra, snowflakes fall in a ghostly whine of wind. Frost covers the entire scene, including my camera. What is before me is hard to accept as of this world. A veritable mountain of giant bones, with no less than 20 of the largest land predators on earth within sight.
If you set out to design a creature to rule this ice scape, its adaptation must be absolute. A beast to match the scale of the scene: up to 1600 pounds, ten feet tall when standing. Paws 12” wide, to help it swim 100 miles at a time in ice water. Its pupils would open twice as wide as ours, its retinas would have an extra membrane to reflect the light within, and its eyes would have an extra and transparent eyelid to help it see underwater and protect it from blowing ice crystals on land. Its impossibly sensitive nose would be able to smell prey under 3 feet of ice more than a mile away.
In the arctic, humility is my only path. I am but another piece of meat, a vulnerable curiosity.
To be approached by Nanook is a breath-stealing experience.
The Ice Bear needs nothing from civilization, least of all approval.
It wastes nothing, knows its purpose, and does not suffer from an identity crisis.
Can I be that sovereign, that congruent?
-Jak
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Title Painting by Theodore Lambert
