Mark Warford

‘The skis of the Twin Otter scratch and skim the surface of the broken and undulating sea ice once, then twice, then silence. The aircraft’s engines resume their familiar whine as we climb out, banking sharply as we survey the glaring, brilliant white and sun-dappled surface for apparent weakness. Our third approach is much harder, this time scarring the ice and flattening small hills of snow. The smooth descent gives way to an orchestra of cracking and exploding ice mounds, accompanied by a relentless pounding and buffeting of man and machine. Slowly but surely, with fixed concentration, we carve out a lane almost half a mile long. The roar of the engines pushing back to full power suggest we must go around and do it all again. On the last approach, we commit fully. The entire weight of the aircraft and all souls on board are now at the mercy of the seductive and temperamental sea ice. For what seems like an eternity, we bound across the rough, white plain like helpless ice cubes in a glass, eventually grinding to a halt amidst an impenetrable white cloud of displaced snow and ice. It is then you are confronted with one of the most disconcerting sounds known to humankind - the cracking and popping of ice beneath you. “Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the Arctic Ocean.” ’  

AN UNFOLDING TRAGEDY

As a director and cameraman, I have spent many months filming in remote polar regions and I share this memory as a personal testament to the magnificent frailty of our planet and what the majority of the world mistakenly sees as an ever-present fixture. We have read the stories and we have seen the movies, but still our unanimous reaction to an unfolding tragedy remains focused only on the present. We are so consumed with our collectively diminished world-view that, if individuals, corporations and governments alike do not act positively and unselfishly, we will unconditionally and negatively impact the lives of every generation to come.