I have no clue what day or date it is today, not that it matters in the mountains. What matters is that I have woken up with a terrible body ache. Our tent is pitched right on top of stones and uneven ground, a discomfort we (Lykke and I) discovered after retiring last night and once it was too late to shift.
Everyone else today has gone looking for Musk Ox herds over the mountains and to make good use of Jason’s 800mm. Devoid of a super telephoto and lured by the option of not hiking, Simon and I are staying back to ponder and observe the surrounding beauty at leisure. A little more relaxed and far less brutal pace from our hectic hiking yesterday should be welcome.
Jason disheartened me when he first suggested the idea to me, I wasn’t sure if I should stay with Simon or hike with the guys, after all I am here to learn from Jason, but then he surprised me with the ‘gift’ of Hasselblad. With 19 shots left on his XPAN2, he told me to go and explore and shoot panorama. Not every day you get to play with toys like these! I was elated. He quickly explained rules to me, and left in search of our wooly friends.
Simon and I started walking towards the valley at the end of the lake. The wind was strong and light was flat. I was overjoyed at having the Rolls Royce of a camera all by myself, but taking shots on it was tougher than I had imagined. A strong wind was raging, and the stalks in the foreground swayed, making focusing an interesting challenge. Shooting digital, you tend to snap away, having the luxury of chucking a bad frame. Shooting on film, you suddenly are overly cautious as you weigh every frame. I shot 9 from my stock of 19.
In between Simon explained the workings of a Mamiya to me, promising me an entire roll soon. Could life get any better! Photographically tougher for sure, but so great!
After ambling around the valley for hours in search of some interesting frames, we walked back towards the campsite, and settled inside a tent for some snacks and conversations. It started to rain. We were glad to be snug inside the tent and with nothing much to do, travelled the world with personal anecdotes and stories, as it rained outside a great travel location. The rain turned into hail and sleet and the other guys were surely getting slammed!
Lykke and the team were back and it was raining cats and dogs. They waited for the rains to stop and dry themselves before being comfortable inside the tent. Once the rains stopped, Lykke settled in.
The Greenlanders have hiking in their blood, and when she told me about her 80 year old grandmother, who still hikes, I had no reason to doubt. Lykke herself is very interesting as an individual and embraces the tough Greenlandic roots with a more upbeat Danish upbringing. Quite like a rock chic that can bake.
A violent storm brewed outside, amidst harsh nature and darkness; there was little sleep and plenty to talk. Huddled inside the tent to the glow of a flashlight, we warmed up by sharing personal stories and soupy noodles. A strong wind howled outside, providing soul music. And Lykke unfolded stories about her eclectic lifestyle and Greenlandic culture.
Much like Hindu mythology, where everything has a soul, Greenlandic or Inuit myths are based on the idea of an all-pervasive spirit and the sea is held in high regard. Like most regional tribes, the nomadic Inuit were shamanistic and worshipped nature, carrying fascinating tales of power and myth you’d love listening to on a cold night like this one. Probably unimpressed by engrossing tales, sometime around the 18th century, when Missionaries first came to Greenland, they tried converting the locals to Catholicism. They brought with them the idea of heaven. The Catholic notions of heaven and hell did not appeal to the locals, and the missionaries had a tough time. For Greenlanders, Heaven is where all their food and livelihood comes from, the sea. What would they do in the sky after they died?
One famous legend Lykke told me about was of the sea mother who controls the success of seal and whale hunts. In ‘olden’ days, every time the catch was bad, Angakooq (a Shaman) would go under the sea and in an attempt to pacify the sea mother, comb her hair, and smoothen her tresses. Delighted, she would release the animals trapped, making the sea once again bountiful.
There are different versions to the Sassuma Arnaa or Setsui-anna tale and I was itching to listen to more. But Jason called me from outside; I poked my head out of the tent, and could almost see the cold. Nobody in his or her senses would want to step out. He sensed that, and called me a ‘softy’. That flared me up enough. I pulled my pants, tied my shoes and stepped out to Lykke’s amazement. Outside, it was cold as an ice slab in a morgue, and the grim dark clouds in the distance only added to the gloom.
Low light and extreme weather conditions are hazardous for comfort, but Jason taught me, how brilliant they are for photography. Our current obsession was a Caribou head we had discovered earlier, but had not made good use of. In that blasting weather, the little skull conformed to what the arctic can be like when it is dark, portraying the idea in one frame. We spent a lot of time, with Dan helping us with light and angles, and despite the cold, it was great to work and see Jason work so intently.
Way past everyone’s bedtime, crazy people spent time around a skull, dancing with light, playing with an LED, and making magic without sound, just some chatter and shutter.
