This Disappearing World
Sunday, July 5, 2015
My alarm woke me just after 7:00 a.m. this morning. Silversea Expeditions’ Silver Explorer was rumbling quietly beneath my feet – a sign I took to be the anchor letting loose. I opened the curtains and let an uncensored stream of expletives escape my mouth. I ran over to grab the camera – fumbled around to find the battery I’d stuck on the charger – and snapped a photograph.
We were in another world entirely; the alluring confines of Burgerbukta, Svalbard.
I finished last night’s post at 1:30 a.m. When I wheeled around from the desk in my suite, I was surprised to see that full-blown daylight greeted me from the balcony door; I’d opened the curtains earlier in the evening so I could have a view while I worked.
I can understand why the Midnight Sun can seriously mess people up. It’s as bright outside as if it were the middle of the afternoon on a winter’s day. I went out to take a picture; even the Silver Explorer’s deck lights were extinguished. There’s just no need to turn on external lights this far north.
I came back inside and snapped the curtains shut. I hit all the light switches in the room and waited for my eyes to adjust to the darkness. Silversea has great curtains with thick black-out drapes, but this is the one time in my life I wished for an inside cabin: light permeated from the seams of the curtains and bled