It felt good to be underway, but odd to be leaving Petermann Fjord. I was downright melancholy about it the night before we left, thinking to myself, "I will never, ever be back here again in my life". I can imagine that sounds completely ridiculous, but I really did feel pretty down thinking about the fact that I'd never return. Maybe it's the remoteness of it, or the fact that we had such a slim chance of making it there in the first place, or the way Petermann felt so other-worldly, with polar bears meandering on the glacier and seals popping up out of cracks and whirlpools that cut through ice that took on the shape of huge sand dunes. Hey, what can I say, it feels weird and sad leaving it all behind, knowing that this less-than-once-in-a-lifetime experience is over and never to be had again.
 
The ship found shelter in the northwest side of Kane Basin, about 80nm (148km) as the crow flies from where the ship sat next to Petermann Glacier. We are now just a few miles from the front of the immense Humboldt Glacier, which, at 110km across, is the widest glacier in the northern hemisphere. Unlike Petermann, which floats on the sea, Humbolt is grounded, so it spits out icebergs which are scattered everywhere, some sharply angular and some sloping, and all incredibly beautiful. There's been no wind, so it feels like we are sitting in a giant pond, allowing for crisp, clear reflections in the water of the icebergs and the surrounding cliffs. I snap pictures with my little point and shoot but there are so many people on board with professional cameras and long lenses that after a few snaps I wind up putting it away and just gazing.
 
I like our new location in Kane Basin, but am still a bit sad that we had to hightail it out of our previous position where we were actually tied up to Petermann Glacier.
 
- Melanie
 

Photo: The Arctic Sunrise at Petermann Glacier. (c) Greenpeace/Nick Cobbing