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 Tuesday, October 30, 2007
Ice and Light
Light is symbolic for me as the force that animates and gives life to all forms. In watercolor the light bounces off the white of the paper and back through the glowing pigment molecules that form the storied veils of washes—some transparent, others more cloudy.
This light never lets up, as 4:49 am sunrise tugs me from sleep, even this late in the season. The ship drifts quietly and a foggy overcast and snow flurries blow in, like a soft blanket, which feels like a good excuse to sleep in a bit; however, before I close my eyes a cool white light starts to reflect off the ceiling and fills the room to accompany the sound of waves lapping at a shoreline. Out the porthole a massive Pantheon shaped iceberg is forming out of the fog.
We have stopped here in Franz Joseph Fjord, Greenland, and will take the opportunity to zodiac cruise around several fantastic icebergs. This is a major fjord connecting to an extensive system of subsidiary and tributary fjords. The fjord extends for over 160 km and Katabatic winds keep it often ice free in summer except for displays of grounded icebergs such as these.
A few sketches are all I have time for, as we are circling the variety of shaped icebergs: from pinnacle, wedged, domed, tabular, and a double, towered with its own featured turquoise bay (these bergs are called drydocks). Most mysterious to view and paint are the blue caves. If an iceberg calves off or rolls over, revealing fresh ice, it often appears with incredible variety of blues. This ice is very old and dense; thus, it has very little oxygen in it, so that only the blue light waves are seen. Later as the ice is exposed to air, the rest of the light waves scatter and mix as white light.
To capture the height of these bergs, I prefer to be lower deck to have the perspective of looking up. To make the blues glow, I often work in wet in wet sections, starting with an underpainting with light Winsor violet, scarlet lake, with a touch of aureolin yellow. Into this wash of very transparent colors, I drop a more semi-opaque turquoise blue and often use Holbien’s horizon blue. These are very cool, sometimes greenish blues; however, the darkest blues sometimes will include French ultramarine mixed with Winsor violet.
What makes the iceberg painting work, however, is the background or negative shapes and some evidence of scale. Attention to the waterline and the size of waves or water undulations can create that sense of space. Iceberg cave and zodiac. Photo by Daisy Gilardini
10/30/2007 12:04:12 AM (Eastern Daylight Time, UTC-04:00) 
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Tuesday, September 25, 2007
Inspired by the Arctic Landscape
 Painting a view of the massive Wordie Glacier, Greenland (photo be Daisy Gilardini)Still glass waters mirror the steep fjord walls, creating a fantasy of totemic, metamorphic shapes. The ship's wake breaks and distorts the diorama and reveals a temporary thin, flexible film of ice that will melt into the black water, for this will be another sunny day in the Arctic. Today’s expedition will explore Godthåb Golf, which is an extensive stretch of inland sea entered through Gael Hamkes Bugt in northeast Greenland. The vast Wordie Glacier empties into it, as well as wrapping around it—like a collar around several fantastic mountain shapes called nunataks http://www.coolantarctica.com/gallery/scenic/mountains2/peaks_ice_and_nunataks.htm that rise upward through it. Expecting a charted tidewater glacier, we instead find it has receded back several hundred meters—revealing melt water braided channels that draw designs in the tan glacial silt. Endless inspiration is stirred from such raw and primal forces sculpting the land. I remember as a young kid being on a field trip to The McMichael Canadian Art Collection in Kleinberg Ontario, very close to where I live. The paintings were strange and supernatural, but what I remember was a very old man with a timeless, contented glow. As a founding member of the famous Canadian collective of painters called The Group of Seven A. Y. Jackson was still alive and a resident artist there. In the 1920’s the Group of Seven traveled and painted on site in the wilderness—creating a distinctive and influential style. A.Y. Jackson was one of first to head to and paint the High Arctic in 1927, when he traveled aboard the supply ship the Beothic. Later he took along another member of the Group, Lawren Harris, whose iconic, transcendent mountain paintings evoke a spiritual and meditative reflection that, like this landscape, can refresh the soul. When trying to paint today, I cannot help but feel the Group’s influence, but also the weight of trying to find my own way of expressing this landscape. Feelings of transcendence this morning are now giving way to the breeze of anxiety, for it's time to get some work done. First rule of creativity, as a photographer friend says, is to “be there”. In the painting Godthab Golf, Greenland, the format is again 8x22 inches, a half sheet divided the long way. I again start painting on the moving ship; a light drawing helps define a few key features. In this case, I paint the main mountain first and take notes on the reflections, which will look totally different by the time I get to work on them. I'll use a full palette today; my portable white plastic watercolor palette has a folding lid, at least 3 mixing wells, and a thumbhole. It has about 15 small watercolor pans for which I'll refresh the semi-moist cakes. From left to right, the colors are Winsor&Newton artist quality watercolors, although there are a few exceptions that I note with brackets: French Ultramarine, Winsor Violet, Quinarcidone Violet (Stevenson), Permanent Rose, Scarlet Lake, Cadmium Red Light, Aureolin Yellow, Cadmium Lemon Yellow (Stevenson), Perylene Green, Horizon Blue (Holbein), Turquoise blue (Holbein), Cerulean Blue red shade, Winsor Blue green shade. My most used brush is an old Chinese wolf hair brush (equivalent to a Number 10). It does not hold a lot of water, so I can snap off excess water with ease and avoid blooms; its organic marks are less predictable than the fine sables I have. I use the fine sables if I have to do delicate glazing. What I also use on large washes is a 1-inch flat sable brush. The afternoon expedition will be by helicopter; it will take us high up into some lakes along the Wordie Glacier. The vantage point is stunning and again requires a panoramic format. It's hard not to find a good view, but I choose a rock for a comfortable bench overlooking the immense glacial plain. While setting up, I'm captivated by the creaking and groaning of the ice. Anticipating a calving, I thus have the camera ready. All is well into the painting until I realize my paint pans are freezing.This dry cold is deceptive; it must be now well below freezing. Not wanting to ruin the good start to the painting that will be Wordie Glacier, Eastern Greenland, I tape a chemical hand warmer to the back of the palette and add a few tablespoons of glycerin (from the drug store) in one pan, and some ox gall in another. As I make a wash of color I just dab a bit from the 2 mediums, as I see fit. The glycerin seems to keep the paint flexible, although it takes longer to dry, and the oxgall helps the paint flow. Sometime I use alcohol, but it evaporates very fast and dries out the brushes; however, it can create neat textures for rocks. Other additives such as glycol could work, but there is a restriction as what to take on airline baggage. The palette is warm, but I need to move to create some body heat after being motionless in below freezing temps for a few hours. I grab the camera and head down to the toe of the glacier before the light is obscured by the creeping afternoon shadows. While studying up close the towering ice face that I have painted from above, the creaking grows louder until 4 successive ice slabs crash down. I take pictures rapid fire with the camera, capturing the calving event. A mini tsunami caused by the falling ice echoes through the whole lake. The ice will melt into the sea and appear again for painters of the future to capture in the precipitous clouds. More information:An historical note: Immediately to the south of Godthåb Golf is "Hold with Hope" a prominent group of mountains named in 1607 by Henry Hudson. ) A tidewater glacier is one that flows from mountains into the ocean; a glacier is said to "calve" when part of it breaks off. To read more about glaciers, visit http://www.nps.gov/glba/naturescience/glaciers.htm
 Painting from the flydeck while entering Godthab Golf, Greenland
 Godthab Golf, Greenland (watercolor 8x22)
Painting late afternoon light above the Wordie Glacier (photo by Daisy Gilardini) David McEown's set-up at Wordie Glacier, Eastern Greenland Wordie Glacier, Eastern Greenland (watercolor 8x12)
 Calving Wordie Glacier (photo by David McEown)
Greenland - Week 3
9/25/2007 3:02:19 PM (Eastern Daylight Time, UTC-04:00)
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Friday, September 21, 2007
The Melting Arctic
The ice is a living organism. Like the topsoil in a garden, it is the key to the ecosystem. Plankton grows underneath the ice; fish, birds, seals and bears feed on that krill. So many stories are written on this beautiful “blank” canvas! Polar bear tracks crisscross the ice floes, and pressure ridges tell stories written by the wind. Although the ice prevents our approach to the top of Greenland, it is in itself the reward. The ice is absent in many places in the Arctic now; 2007 marked the lowest ice coverage in recorded history. Climate change is evident in our approach to what our maps tell us should be tidewater glaciers, now hanging—having receded back quite a distance from the shore. As part of this International Polar Year expedition (in which our ship plays a part of by collecting water samples and charting new data), it has been my main purpose to pay witness, recording in paintings this rapidly changing landscape. We exit the large ice pack and duck into a wonderful fjord system. Hochstetterbugten is a large bay bounded on the south by Pendulum ÿer, Wollaston Forland, Shannon Island and Hochstetter Forland. We are also at this point entering Greenland’s only national park, which is also the world’s largest park encompassing 972,000 square kilometers. Northeast Greenland National Park is mostly icesheet and mountain tops, but coastal tundra provides excellent habitat for muskox. Bredefjord is a long fjord that we aim to explore on an afternoon expedition; I again paint on the moving ship quickly, using the paint scraper to carve out—of an earth red wash—the etched geologic rhythms and echoes of ice that has retreated to higher ground. Afternoon landings by zodiacs (inflatable boats) give us a chance to explore the valley. Wind made it impossible to set up on the glacial outwash plain, but I aim for the still colorful vegetation and find shelter for a view of the cloud patterns cast along the 1700-meter peaks in the distance. It is well into autumn and a chance to indulge in my warm palette, after so long working with the cool colors from this summer's earlier North Pole trip. I find it's so important to find a comfortable set up, and it is relief and rejuvenating to sit among the blueberries and stunted arctic willow, while an arctic hare muches the dry plants—breaking the incredible silence. The wind has stopped, and the movement now is the mixing of the complementary autumn colours: violet, yellow and orange blue, which bleed into one another on my paper creating warm grays. In this painting Autumn Valley Bredefjord Greenland (see previous blog entry), the values are most important, so to keep the darks dark, I avoid too much water on the brush. This is a problem in cold temperatures when freezing is an issue, a problem I anticipate encountering tomorrow in the high altitude landing on Wordie Glacier. The cold will be welcome in this warming climate! More information:To read about glaciers, visit http://www.swisseduc.ch/glaciers/arctic-islands/arctic-04-en.htmlJames Mann (Jock) Wordie (1889-1962) was a genial British geologist, born in Glasgow; he took part in a number of polar expeditions, most notably with Shackleton on board the Endurance in 1914.  Painting from the fly deck, while entering Bredefjord, Greenland
 Bredefjord, Greenland (watercolor, 11x15)
 Painting Autumn Vallery in Bredefjord, Greenland (Photo by Daisy Gilardini)
Autumn Vallery, Bredefjord, Greenland (watercolor, 11x15)
Greenland - Week 2
9/21/2007 4:31:26 PM (Eastern Daylight Time, UTC-04:00)
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Painting with Watercolor in the Arctic
Flade Isblink Peninsula is the easternmost point of land in Greenland. Our goal is to reach the northernmost point of land, but ice charts show ominous, multiyear ice along the north and down the east coast. With the limited time given for this expedition, the risk of being trapped gives way to a desire to explore the rarely seen northeastern fjords. We now drift by in 10/10ths ice cover. The satellite Polar Ice Charts are nature’s grand paintings; the charts' huge jagged shapes and patterns are an inspiration. In his briefing this morning, the Captain said that it's not the ice he looks for but the winds and currents. If the forces are not in our favor, the winds will pinch the icebreaker, and it will have nowhere to move. The ice thus slow our progress. Understanding the underlying forces in painting also can influence decisions to avoid being stuck or sunk by dreaded blooms or unwanted backwashes! In painting with watercolor, especially on dry paper, the force of gravity influences the direction of which way the wash will run or the bead will hang. Working on site in this colder climate, I like my paper at fairly steep angle, maybe 45–70 degrees, because I then have control in knowing the bead will always flow down. Painting at this angle will also help me avoid puddles. Pools of standing water can freeze over, or just not dry, in the time I have to paint on site. Also by having paint always draining to the bottom of the paper, I avoid excess buckling of the paper. Nonetheless, it's always important to soak up the gathering water at the bottom to avoid its creeping back up and destroying the bottom part of the painting. I use a Masonite board that attaches to a photo tripod. I can thus change the angle of the board and can paint standing or sitting. With bull dog clips I attach my homemade folder, made out of plastic corrugate (neutral grey in color). The folder is 16 x 22 inches, so I can put several half sheets inside. Without having to pre-stretch the sheet of 140-lb. Winsor & Newton cold-pressed paper, I secure it on the outside of the folder, again with clips. If I use tape to subdivide a sheet or create clean borders, it's best to pre-tape indoors where it's warm. Tape will not come of the roll without tearing when it gets really cold. As for water—I hang a collapsible water container on one of the clips. At Flade Isblink Peninsula, the easternmost point of land in Greenland, the farthest north we will achieve on this journey, 80°54.5’N, 13°58.5’W, it's snowing horizontally, but it's balmy for this place, just at the freezing point! Nonetheless, the wind chill makes it painful on the fingertips. In this case, I place the easel into the wind and lean it against the backpack (which can fit my painting folder). I place the painting inside the folder but keep it open with a clip to create a snow deflector. Snow, sleet, dust and jacket sleeve all still get into the painting, which makes it all the more valuable as and record of the whole experience! On this 15x22-inch sheet, the paint is not quite dry, nor is the painting finished before we have to pack up and head back to the ship. Sometime I will use spacers like twigs or, in these extreme environments, flat stones to prevent the painting from being blotted when stuck into a folder. However, in this case, packing the wet painting, which is mostly of rocks, creates an interesting effect. When I place the painting on a clean sheet and peel it apart later in the thawing-out process, I like the variations that have occurred. Of historical note, on September 6, 1909, Robert Edwin Peary transmitted the news that he had reached the North Pole with Matthew Henson and an Eskimo sledgeparty on 6 April 1909. One of the Eskimos was named Oodaq, which became the name of the northernmost island on Earth.
More information:
Geographers adjust their concepts just as mapmakers react to changing conditions when they revise maps. To read about the changing topography of Greenland, visit http://www.iht.com/articles/2007/01/16/news/warm.phpScientists are reporting a severe retreat of Arctic ice; see the report in the New York Times at http://www.nytimes.com/2007/09/21/science/21arctic.html?_r=1&adxnnl=1&oref=slogin&adxnnlx=1190388862-tykhgBNWp7pn7XikMzqhOg  Flade Isblink Peninsula, Greenland (watercolor, 15x22) Painting at the farthest north, Flade Isblink Peninsula (Photo by Daisy Gilardini) Easel and snow-shield-painting-set-up, Flad Isblink Peninsula, Greenland
(Photo by David Mceown)
Greenland - Week 2
9/21/2007 9:38:36 AM (Eastern Daylight Time, UTC-04:00)
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Wednesday, September 19, 2007
Northbound to the Ice Edge
As the Kapitan Khelbnikov reaches top speed, we plow northbound to the ice edge. I give
the eager passengers the next workshop on “shape seeing.” We are treated to the Northern Lights in the evening, as we make are way to Scoresby Sund for an early morning supply stop. Sunrise is 3:32 am; sunsets at 6:24 pm. Some daylight has vanished as we head north, but the sun is lower in the sky, making for great light and shadows.
 David McEown painting at Scoresby Sund (photo by Daisy Gilardini) Scoresby Sund (watercolor, 8x22) by David McEownMore information:
Greenland is one of the best places in the world to see Aurora Borealis or the Northern Lights, a phenomenon caused by the collision between particles electrically charged by the sun and atoms in the earth's atmosphere. The Inuit people believed that when the Northern Lights were dancing in the sky, the dead were playing football with a walrus skull. Charted by William Scoresby in 1822, Scoresby Sund is the longest fjord in the world and one of the deepest. A fjord is a long, narrow estuary with steep sides, made when a glacial valley is flooded by the sea.
Greenland - Week 2
9/19/2007 3:45:33 PM (Eastern Daylight Time, UTC-04:00)
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Ammassalik (Tasiilaq)
We visit the colourful village of Ammassalik. There are very few towns along the isolated east coast, which is vastly different in climate and culture from that of western Greenland. Since we'll only be onshore for four hours, I have a good walk around town and up to the cairn overlooking the town. A potential painting place, but light is flat and I am always curious to see what's up in the valley. Late wildflowers seduce me to stay up in the warm hills until the hordes of flies eliminate the desire to undo the paint kit. Chased by the biting hordes, I head back to the breezy, cool lookout and find a composition of a few coloured houses juxtapositioned by a large grounded iceberg. Drawing is all I have time for with the HB pencil, with notations on light direction, values, and hues, then it's time to pack before a large cruise ship comes ashore with 500 people.This will be our last look at a town before setting sail for the northernmost point of land in the world. The ice charts show very thick ice, 10/10ths coverage in our path. We therefore plan to head east farther out to sea and follow the ice edge north, before cutting back into the ice pack. Our days at sea will allow time for some workshops, of which out of the 90 passengers, 15 are very keen on painting and thus make the lounge a hive of creativity.
 Into the jaws of ice! The ice chart reveals a 10 out of 10 degree of coverage of ice,
represented by the red pink color. The Kapitan Khlebnikov plows its way through sea ice.More information:
Around 877 AD, 1170 years ago, Gunnbjörn Ulfsson made a voyage from Iceland and was blown off
course. Driven to the west, he encountered new land on the east coast of Greenland, probably near
what is now known as Gunnbjornarsker, close to Ammassalik. The highest peak of Greenland, and the highest peak in the Arctic, is named Gunnbjørn Fjæld (3693 meters) after this pioneering explorer.
Greenland - Week 2
9/19/2007 1:44:47 PM (Eastern Daylight Time, UTC-04:00)
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Monday, September 17, 2007
Painting onboard a Moving Ship
We again awake to the common fogs and calm, silver waters that reflect mirror images of the low flying seabirds. I prepare the outdoor painting kit, as we anticipate entering the Prins Christian Sund. This spectacular, often ice-choked, channel is a shortcut around the southern tip of Greenland; the Sund displays jagged peaks that rise 1600 to 1800 meters from the ocean. I place the easel and tools at the bow of the now sun-filled ship. As we enter the channel, the fog lifts. Thus starts the first challenge for the painter, which is the torture of deciding: should I just take photographs of this moving landscape for reference as the ship passes through the channel, or should I try to pull off a few short sketches? Doing both would be the answer in this case. I do shoot reference material with a digital SLR; these reference photos will come in handy, because I can review the shapes later inside on the display board, if I need to resolve some painting problems or start a new painting. Painting, however, is why I am here, and experience has taught me that for painting on a moving ship through a tight channel, I’ll do a very simple light pencil drawing, focusing on compositions that I can catch sight of farther ahead. By the time I’m ready to paint it, we are much closer. If it has not already gone past, I will divide my half sheet (15 x22) in half with painter’s tape so that I can have two paintings on the go at once. Thus, while I am waiting for a layer to dry, I can start another. Often it helps to work off the fly deck, where I can have a 360-degree view. It seems as if I often find better compositions behind the ship. Whenever I engage in discussions with photographers onboard, we always hit on the subject of truthfulness. Are we trying to record one split second in time or are we trying to express the whole experience? For me a painting from a moving ship is a response to the many different features and angles we encounter over time and we weave together—with feeling and memory—from our experience as artists. This compression of time and space expressed through the artist’s hand and placed on paper results in a truthful piece of art. However, the captain does play tricks with my overconfidence, as we navigate through this archipelago. More than once have I started to compose some scene in one direction, while he turns the ship in the opposite—obliterating the view. After exchanging a few “friendly” gestures directed toward the bridge, I resort to the camera for another reference shot and await the next corner.  Peaks of Prins Christian Sund (Photo by Daisy Gilardini)
Prins Christian Sund, Greenland #3 (watercolor, 11x15) by David McEown
Greenland - Week 2
9/17/2007 8:52:56 AM (Eastern Daylight Time, UTC-04:00)
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Monday, September 10, 2007
Along the Davis Strait
The Davis Strait extends from western Greenland around the southern tip, then heads north following the mountainous east coast. Fog and light rain announce our morning; it is a fine time to unpack and get ready for the first watercolor demonstration. Winsor&Newton, celebrating the company’s 175th anniversary, generously provided wonderful art kits for us to try. Today I want to write about the materials and methods artists can use as we encounter the many unpredictable conditions of painting in the Polar Regions—as well as painting in the comfortable lounge setting of our great studio aboard the Kapitan Khlebnikov. For the half-sheet watercolor demo introducing the art program, I used a composition inspired by a thumbnail sketch from the previous evening. Having the full moon as my subject allowed me to demonstrate a radial gradation in watercolor, as well as employ my trusted utility paint scraper (called a “5 in one” at most hardware stores in Canada) to lift out the still wet, dark blue greens and mauves to reveal the icecap and moonlit peaks.
 David McEown is at the easel; passengers are at work in the art lounge of the Kapitan Khebnikov.
(Photo by Daisy Gilardino)
Eastern Greenland, Atlantic Ocean (watercolor, 8x22) by David McEown David McEown drawing at Ammassalik, Eastern Greenland
 Ammassalik, Eastern Greenland (watercolor, 11x15) by David McEown
Greenland - Week 1
9/10/2007 3:33:26 PM (Eastern Daylight Time, UTC-04:00)
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Painting as Adventure
We arrive at Kangerlussuaq (also called Sondre Stromfiord) Airport via a charter flight from Ottawa, Canada. The sunny, warm inland fjord welcomes our group of 85 international passengers who have boarded an icebreaker in order to experience an expedition to Greenland’s remote east coast in an attempt to reach the northernmost land in the world. The warm wind stirs the seedpods of the low lying wildflowers that are now turning gold and alizarin crimson. The not-knowing-where-the-seeds-will-land is similar to our adventure, which is about discovery. The excitement of new lands found or the unexpected, formidable ice encountered is like flooding a full watercolor sheet before painting! I will be conducting painting workshops and sharing my own work methods with the group—hoping to enhance my fellow travelers' way of seeing. Tonight is clear, and the full moon casts spotlights along the open ocean, as we head out of this fjord and into the unknown. More information:Greenland, the world's largest island not a continent, is lodged between the Arctic and Atlantic oceans. The Greenland Sea lies east; Baffin Bay lies west. Greenland is a province of Denmark with close ties to Norway.The coastland of Greenland is 39,330 kilometers (24,430 miles) long, approximately the same length as the earth's circumference at the equator. An ice sheet covers 81 percent of Greenland; so heavy is that Greenland ice sheet that its weight has formed a basin that lies 300 meters (984 feet) below the surrounding ocean. The occupants of Greenland speak both Greenlandic and Danish; people live on the coasts, because the coasts are free of ice. Eric the Red, hero of the Icelandic sagas, discovered Greenland when he was exiled from Iceland for commiting murder; Eric named the land "Greenland" to attract compatriots as settlers. In spite of the vast ice sheet, Greenland has a variety of flora derived from European species. Especially in the summer and the end of summer, Greenland from the air is verdant with mosses and wildflowers. Today the Kapitan Khlebnikov is journeying through a fiord, a long, narrow estuary with steep sides; a fiord forms when a glacial valley is flooded by the sea. Polar ice is always meltiing, but is it being replaced? To see photos of glaciers in retreat and to read National Geographic's commentary on global warming in Greenland, visit http://www.nationalgeographic.com/adventure/adventure-travel/greenland/global-warming.html
 David McEown painting on the bow. Prins Christian Sund, Greenland #2 (watercolor, 11x15) by David McEown
Greenland - Week 1
9/10/2007 11:28:38 AM (Eastern Daylight Time, UTC-04:00)
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Wednesday, September 05, 2007
A Journey to the North Pole
"Going up north" has taken on new meaning since I’ve returned from a month long expedition to the North Pole and Franz Josef Land. There were times while painting on the trembling bow of a northbound atomic icebreaker, The Yamal, that I was the farthest north a human being can be on the planet! Truly on top of the world! The quality of seeing is often more important than the object; however, the power of a place can awaken the senses and erase preconceptions. The Arctic, this formidable yet fragile wilderness of endless ice and great white bears, was so inspirational that I knew then that I would have to go back. I painted the following paintings after setting up my easel on the drifting ice within the vicinity of the North Pole or on deck while moving through pack ice.  Painting melt water pools at the North Pole, 2007 (Photo by Emily Schindler)
 Easel set up at the North Pole
The North Pole #1 (watercolor, 7x22) by David McEown
Toward the North Pole #2 (watercolor, 10x13) by David McEown
Painting at the North Pole with profile of the nuclear icebreaker, The Yamal
(photo by Sue Flood)
 Flying the Canadaian Society of Painters in Watercolour flag at the North Pole
July 15th 2007 (photo by Marketa Jirouskova)
More information:
"The North Pole" conjures the image of Santa Claus and elves, but it's an actual designation, the northernmost point on Earth; The Geographic or Terrestrial North Pole, defines latitude 90 degrees North, the point in the northern hemisphere where the Earth’s axis of rotation meets the Earth’s surface. In contrast to the South Pole, located on land, the North Pole is located in the middle of the Arctic Ocean; it is covered with sea ice that continually shifts; hence, it has been impossible to build a research station there.
Franz Joseph Land is an archipelago of 91 ice-covered islands in the far north of Russia. The islands are composed of basalt from the Tertiary and Jurassic periods; the northeastern part of the archipelago is locked in pack ice, which retreats around the southern islands in summer.
American engineer Robert Edwin Peary claimed to have reached the North Pole on April 6, 1909. Aboard the airship Norge, the Norwegian explorer Roald Amundsen sighted the North Pole on May 12, 1926. (Two years later a search-and-rescue plane Amundsen was aboard crashed; he and the crew disappeared without a trace.)
Indeed, the history of Arctic exploration is cloaked in mystery and intrigue. The first men to set foot on the North Pole may have been a party from the Soviet Union, who landed a plane there on April 23, 1948. Ten years later a Navy submarine, USS Nautilus (SSN-571) crossed the North Pole on August 3, 1958; on March 17, 1959, another Navy submarine, USS Skate (SSN-578), surfaced at the Pole. The first men to reach the North Pole on foot, with dog teams, were part of a 1968 British expedition led by Sir Wally Herbert whose team traveled for sixteen months along the Arctic Ocean’s longest axis, Barrow, from Alaska to Svalbard. (Herbert died just a few months ago at the age of 72; to read his obituary, go to www.timesonline.co.uk/tol/news/uk/article1927969.ece
Like David McEown, Sir Wally Herbert was a painter as well as a writer. Herbert's first book, The Noose of Laurels, is a biography of fellow explorer Robert Edwin Peary.
A Soviet nuclear powered icebreaker Arkitka completed a surface journey to the North Pole on August 17, 1977. Given the rigors of Arctic and Antarctic travel, nuclear power is ideal for icebreakers, since the ships can be out at sea, far from fueling stations, for years. David McEown's trip to the Arctic in July was aboard a nuclear powered icebreaker, The Yamal. To read more about nuclear powered icebreakers, go to http://www.geo.umass.edu/climate/franzjo/fjlhome.html.
For the current, September trip, David McEown is on board Kapitan Khelbnikov, a diesel-powered an icebreaker in the Quark Expeditions fleet.
Click here to read David’s blog entries written during his trip to Antarctica in 2006.
Greenland - Introduction to the Journey
9/5/2007 4:22:46 PM (Eastern Daylight Time, UTC-04:00)
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