CANADA'S FIRST SUN OF THE MILLENNIUM

 Diary notes of February 28, 2000

We leave the station at 7:40 AM. Sgt. Reg Mercure is driving us in his BV vehicle [an enclosed tractor vehicle capable of traversing arctic regions], Peter Brickell of Environment Canada has come along for this memorable occasion. We remark how clear it is today. Yesterday, it was misty along in the northwest: fog, rolling in from the Nares Strait between Ellesmere and Greenland. We talk little going out, each in our own thoughts. After passing the gorge and driving through the pass between two mountains, we find the wind picks up. The movement of air is carrying extensive, slightly curling lines of snow over the surface. These are clouds of snow which originated elsewhere. In this polar desert snow is not from overhead, but from beyond the northern coast of Ellesmere somewhat out from the North Pole. I watch the blowing snow erasing tracks we made yesterday. At times, I cannot find our direction. Reg watches his Global Positioning System (GPS) instrument mounted on his dashboard to guide him. Then we begin our steep ascent up the mountain, some 405 meters above the floor of the terrain. The BV moves straight up the steep grade, seemingly without effort. At the top it is very cold today. I put on my balaclava. Once outside, Peter and Reg both remark about the cold. Reg thinks it is about minus 60 with the wind-chill factor added in. Later I find it was hovering between minus 57 and minus 62.

Before the sunrise I take out the tape player I've brought. I play David Lidov's "Polar Dawn 2000". David has composed the piece for this occasion. His graduate and undergraduate students performed the work. In the BV we listen as we look out at the now brilliant twilight, waiting.

The sun will begin to come up just after 10 AM. The sky is perfectly clear at the point of its emergence. When I turn around I find that behind me the light from the sun creates a deep light blue at the horizon. Then above it is a bright mauve color. And there,to the right, are mountains. They too radiate a mauve color.

I set up my tripod at the edge of the mountain. The sun begins to emerge, just a fraction of it. I begin photographing trying to remember not to advance the film too quickly, as that will create static electricity and mark a flash across the image. My camera begins to freeze up. The shutter speed is slowing down and the last third of the film is too stiff to advance. At least I've learned to use a cable release, so I no longer press a shutter button. But even then it's hard for my hands to be only in glove liners. They start to become stiff and numb with my mitts off. I return to the BV and get my other camera. Reg says something about the cold and wonders about the BV fuel, but then says we should not worry because the fuel will not begin to freeze up until minus 70 C.

The sun rests in a slight margin above the horizon of mountains to the south. For those mountains are much higher than where we are standing.The sun is up for only two hours. We stay for all of the time. But we just can't see the full disc of the sun at our elevation. I will have to return another day to photograph the full disc. For today we must be content with what is here. We return to the BV, eat our lunches packed by the kitchen. Then we photograph the traditional "I was there" of ourselves before returning to base.

As Reg moves, turns the BV around, and starts down the mountain I have that familiar feeling that I've come to experience here: I don't want to return to the base. Others tell me from that they have felt this too. As cold and difficult as it is to be out in this landscape, you don't want to leave it. It pulls on you. I hope my photographs will show this.