Voyages onto the ice

At a time where many people are stranded throughout Europe and are facing the possibility of not being able to share Christmas with their loved ones, Duncan and I have braved the erratic sixteen hour train journey and made it up to Denmark. Without going into the details of the trip, it is suffice to say that at one point our train simply stopped and had no way of continuing and no information, so everyone simply got out and headed for the local service. At another point, we seriously considered sitting in an elevator for an hour's wait in the hopes that a small space would heat up a little with two bodies inside. At 11pm when we finally made it and my gorgeous happy relatives, Lisbeth and Torben, collected us from Fredericia, we felt somewhat vindicated to know that it was minus seventeen degrees. Woah!

We are going to be staying here for one week and are reveling at the 99.9% chance of a white Christmas, according to the weather man. Already we are enjoying the festivities and the boundless love that these lovely people offer us in the lead up to Christmas.

Their house is situated on Vejle Fjord and has breathtaking views of the ice on the water. Dunc and I have now bravely ventured outside and down to the 'beach' two times (of course the general consensus is that we are loonies). Yesterday when the waters were quite calm, the sun was setting and the sky was clear. The ice seemed to go out forever, and the water undulated lazily underneath, slowly moved the ice sheets back onto the beach. The most incredible thing was the sound - a sound that I have read about when describing icebergs. It is as if the ice is alive: breathing, sighing and creaking, squeaking and crackling. The snow muffles all other sound, and it is just magical.
I have always been fascinated with ice. No, not the kind that comes from the freezer, but the kind that falls from the sky, forms over oceans and seas, breaks off the ends of glaciers and grows at the edges of window panes. I have dreamed of adventures to Antarctica, trips to the Arctic, searching for the infamous North-West Passage (though not so difficult to find nowadays, of course)... and not for the cultures and the fauna that survive in the most inhospitable environments, but simply for the ice.

My six-month exchange to Halifax, Canada, allowed me to explore this more, particularly when some friends took me to Prince Edward Island in Winter, where the sea was completely frozen as far as the eye could see. To stand at the tip of a peninsula and to feel completely surrounded by frozen waters - this was a dream come true for me.

Now, to be here and to see the pink sunset reflecting off cracked ice, to be surrounded by a kind of blue that is so unworldly, and to be able to then walk just a few minutes back to a warm fire, a cup of tea and a shower - this must be some kind of heaven. This is my Christmas present!

Today, the snow is billowing , the air is filled with flurries and the ground is covered in snow dunes, with crests and waves that remind me of images of the Sahara. The snow is so cold and dry that it is impossible to make snowballs or a snowman - it is a fine powder. The clouds were in today, and the winds have pushed all the ice on the fjord up to the coastline. When climbing the stairs down to the beach today, there was no telling where the ice-covered sand finished and the ice-covered sea began!
So, of course, a little adventure was in order. And you can imagine how such an adventure ended - with me, thigh deep in ice, water pouring into my boots, squealing like two year old.

These sure are merry times!