Floating between icebergs on a crippled inflatable boat

Our outboard motor lay silent as we drifted between two massive turquoise and white icebergs. In utter stillness the sound of lapping water against the sides of our crippled Zodiac inflatable - assisted by a light wind billowing the advancing fog - cut through my hazy thoughts. Am I going to die today?

We had lost contact with our mothership - Braveheart - named after the movie by a half-mad New Zealand Captain. He purchased her years before from the Japanese government and leased her to this National Geographic expedition to chase the largest known iceberg - named B-15. Leaving New Zealand as a last minute crew addition I had not fathomed, until now, the idea of not coming back.

We left the ship on an inflatable so we could shoot dramatic photos of the boat in the fog next to the massive iceberg; it seemed like a good idea at the time. We embarked in such excitement and haste we forgot to bring an EPIRB - a marine electronic pinging GPS device.

My position was assisting Wes Skiles with his photography. Wes was known for bravery under adversity, having delivered award-winning underwater images from deep within cave systems world-wide. With his wide-grinning, southern prankster drawl, he summoned his usual humor and quipped:"Well, I reckon today is a good day to die." Then he went back to clicking the camera shutter.

Bobbing adrift in the Ross Sea, surrounded by icebergs a thousand miles from land, darkness and fog closing in, is very humbling. I pondered our options. Helicopter? Our pilot was here with Wes and me. Radio? We had lost contact as the Braveheart went out of range.
Paddling with my hand? The 29 F degree water would cripple it in minutes. Start yelling? Instead I opted to take the "No Worries, Mate" attitude so prevalent in the Southern Hemisphere by picking up my camera. I held out the Pink Flamingo swizzle stick at arms length and framed it up with a fog-shrouded iceberg. Click. Another photo for a satirical series on global warming enters my digital pile.

Minutes later a fog horn sounded. A light beam cut through the fog. It was the Braveheart back to retrieve its missing crew. The beaming faces looking down from deck was a most welcome sight. One asked, "What happened?"

Wes replied,"We were enjoying the silence."

Several years later Wes died in a mysterious diving accident in shallow waters off of Florida. It must have been a good day.