The mood on the ship is changing. In the stairwell there are sheets of paper on the walls with a red page-size exclamation mark which are very familiar to those who have been on Polarstern before. They announce deadlines for packing and delivering the packing and freight lists. Oh, yes, the packing lists, now where did I put them... After 54 days at sea, some realities of life have vanished into the background as we live in our own small world, despite emails and daily news from the internet.
The gods of the weather have been kind to us, the Polarstern is swaying very gently in the cat-paw waves, and even though there was snow on all the decks this morning, the sun came out often enough to call all those among us who have no laboratory work out on eck into the fresh air. Two days ago, this shifting weather made for a truly unique performance by nature. For about half an hour we admired a fiery red sunset over a nealy clear horizon- the story of the green flash was told once again. Close to the ship, however, snow showers passed by, and the flakes reflected the light to create an unearthy, nearly armageddon-like shine through which the sun slowly slid below the horizon. We are now far north enough to have a few hours of darkness at night.
Conversations in the hallways begin to contain words like “airport” and “cruise report”. Thoughts, not only mine, turn towards homes we left behind so many days ago. But checking the laboratories, one also notices that station work is still in full swing, with everybody trying to collect as many data as possible during the few remaining days.
Brigitte Ebbe, Senckenberg
Photos: B. Ebbe