After a snowy morning on Petermann island, the sky much darker grey than the land, we are suddenly surprised by sunshine. A lot of sunshine. The full on Antarctic summer day that no type of sunscreen can handle. Sea like a mirror, high peaks, glaciers tumbling down. And icebergs. Lots of icebergs, stranded on the shallows that surround Pleneau. Have been melting. Slowly turning, have been tilting, constantly changing. Large, large pieces, brought by the current, melting with endless patience. Crabeater seals – in all different shades own brown and silver, laying on the last small flakes of sea ice. And we go – in our zodiacs, between those piles of blue and green. Sculptures of all kinds – abstract, realistic, performative - not to many conceptual ones, but plenty of beauty. As it is this full on Antarctic summer day – they melt – drips and streams of water are running down. As we turn off the engine, there is nothing but the sound of water. And, actually, after listening for a
while, the breathing of a nearby seal. It is at this moment one realises how Antarctica is: exactly like this when we are not here. Perfectly the same when no one is looking.