November 19, 2007
The end of my Arctic journey has finally arrived. Though there were moments, when I was out in the cold staring into the dark abyss of the frigid north, that I hoped to be in warmer climate, I found that it was with a heavy heart that I set out to leave the Amundsen. After all, those six weeks were such good times.
By the end of October we were having negative 20 temperatures and less sunlight. The heaters in our rooms were also malfunctioning. The arctic chill was penetrating the cabins. There was an outbreak of cold virus. Most of the researchers, myself included worked nights when it was even colder. Yet despite the chill, the company was certainly very warm. I can't help but miss the warm smiles and conversations we exchanged day and night of our life in the Arctic.
November, brought in the Halloween party fever (a repeat of Disco party fever but wilder). I didn't bring a costume, but the resourcefulness of a science major came in quite handy. A couple of clear plastic boards, garbage bag, Teflon tape and duct tape and thereI have it, a witch's hat!
People came with the wildest costumes. There were cheerleaders, nuns, superheroes, pirates. There was even someone dressed up as a crane holding a Rosette, an instrument on board the ship used to sample sea water. The best costumes for me were Mukesh dressed up as a girl; Dan, our CFL coordinator, dressed up as a Q-tip; and Matthew, one of our engineers, dressed up as a man being eaten alive by a shark.
November, though mostly gloomy and overcast also brought in one of the most scenic days I've ever seen. I woke up one day to see the sun floating above the horizon and the clouds of the previous day swept away. Accompanying the sun on both its sides were sun dogs, a spectacle caused by light coming from the sun being refracted by ice crystals, splitting the light into a spectrum of colors. It was the first time I ever saw one, the effect was almost mystical. The sea was all covered with ice, a serene sight, broken every now and then by patches of water. Over these patches of water hovered mist, vapor condensing due to the intense cold. As the vapor rose, it spread over the ice and scattered the beams of the sun. As the sun sunk into the horizon and reddened, the mist acquired the reddish hue. It seemed as if the ice was on fire. Even my senses were fooling my mind, making me think it was very warm despite the -20 temperature.
In the very last week, as i stressed myself out organizing the samples, number crunching and packing instruments, I received another special treat. No, it's not another polar bear sighting, although I was hoping for one.
I was in the navigation bridge, in hope of seeing more wildlife before the end of the trip. We were near Banks Island on our way to Paulutuk which was the last stop for our journey. I was standing beside Trevor, our wildlife expert as he scanned the view with his binoculars searching for signs of life. As I stood there, David the 2nd officer offered to let me drive the ship. Oh wow, I couldn't believe it! For someone who couldn't drive a car and couldn't ride a bike, driving an ice breaker was certainly a big step. I sat on the chair, took the wheel and steered the ship left and right. I sat there for less than 5 minutes as Bruce kindly took my picture so i could have something to remember my few minutes of glory. In those few minutes I felt like I was captain of the Amundsen. What can I say? Captain Ofelia Rempillo, doesn't that sound really awesome?
Finally it was time to go. I shut down my high volume samplers and took down the DMS samplers. No longer would anyone hear the humming of the vacuum motor above the navigation bridge until we return next year. I disconnected the Gas Chromatograph and the Sulphur Chemiluminescence detector and packed them away in crates. Our little space called the "Norman Lab: Not a Storage Space" was left empty. Finally when all was done and my bags were packed, I felt that sinking sensation. I was sad to leave.
November 8, around 9 am, the helicopter flew us to Paulutuk where we transfered to Twin Otter planes and flew to Inuvik. In Inuvik, the crew and scientific personnel gathered one last time at a bar called Shivers, then our charter plane arrived to take us to Winnipeg and Quebec. Winnipeg was my stop and it was time that I said my goodbyes to all the good friends I've met on the ship.
I stayed a day in Winnipeg. It felt weird to fall asleep in the hotel bed and not hear the ship's engines. As I slept, I dreamt that i was back on the ship and I should wake up in time for lunch and not miss the day's new dessert. It felt even weirder to look out of the window the next morning and see buildings and vehicles instead of sea, ice, snow and the horizon.
I arrived at the Calgary airport with my friends and family there to welcome me back. My friends Jyotsna, Adam, Paul and Michelle were just so excited to catch me up with all the news i missed in the six weeks I was away from Calgary. And I had to tell Michelle all the things that happened on board the ship after she left. On the way home, my cousin, Kathy began telling me all the things i've missed and how it was all nice and warm in Calgary. It felt great to be back.
As I pushed my luggage out of the airport, I realized that this is not the journey's end but just the start of my research. Inside my luggage were the filter papers with the aerosols i collected and the log book that has the record of DMS peaks.
I have to start processing my samples in the lab and analyzing the data. There's still a long way to go before all the work we've done on the ship could generate scientific results. When all that work is done, it will be another year. Next year, 2008, we'll have the chance to do it all again, to see the Arctic and all it's wonders, viewed from the topmost deck of the CCGS Amundsen.