January 11, 2000

Steve Dunbar enjoys another day at the office in Arthur Harbor.

Three days in a row of spectacular weather! Steve and I took advantage of the opportunity and returned the the site we explored yesterday--across Arthur Harbor along the terminus of the Marr Ice Piedmont. With more sunny skies, the glacier would be calving, sending huge chunks of fresh ice into the water. The cove that we had explored from a sonic perspective is a real treat. Like Loudwater Cove, it has a cul-de-sac or parabolic aspect, that transforms any sound into a robust series of reflections. The echoes today were more pronounced, particularly in the morning, when there was no brash ice. The water glowed an opaque teal and aquamarine green. A pair of elephant seals patrolled about the cove, sparring with one another and playing with pieces of ice. They were juveniles feeling their oats. As they glided through the water, muddy sediments churned up from the bottom, leaving clouds of umber and ochre silt floating and dissipating in the ebbing tide. One was especially vociferous, and he seemed to enjoy hearing his own modulated bellows cascade back to him in the echoes that bounced around the cove.

Glacier face of the Marr Ice Piedmont.

Based on our experience of nearly having the boat tossed high and dry following a calving yesterday, Steve opted to stay close by and keep an eye on things, while I wandered off along the rocks. We sat in the sun as it circled the rim of the ice, illuminating one surface and then another. The heating and cooling was accompanied by a rich percussive patter associated with melting and re-freezing. The tide pulled out and a dense brash meandered in. The soundscape changed gradually, with the floating ice dampening some of the reverberation and adding a percolating effect of popping, sqeaking and crackling. We spent about 5 hours listening to the ice heave, slump and thump. Tommy knockers built up, in a rapid stoccato, relieving inner strains and ensuing crashes sent tons of ice hurdling from on high. At one point, a piece of ice about the size of a car dropped about 40 metres, sending pieces of ice flying over my head--crashing and shattering on the rocks around me, from 50 metres away!

Click here to listen to an MP3 sample of a juvenile elephant seal playing with his echo in a glacier-ringed cove in Arthur Harbor.