It’s cold out on the fjord. So cold the seals don’t surface, preferring warmer depth. Finally a little ringed seal peeks up. BANG! Max is quick, spot on. But not quick enough for the huge bearded seal who breaches like an orca and scares us half to death. Might there be seals around the peninsula? How open is the ice? Max leaps ashore, scoots up the spit, looks. No way. Slowly we turn back, cut leads through freezing-over sea ice, ever watching for seals and feeling colder when we find none.
Max says the ice can trap you out here, sometimes for days.
Oh. There’s the helipad windsock. We’re okay.