Page 9 of The Typo

Maybe that’s how you feel when you’re doing your photography? A connection with your subject which goes beyond the lens. I’d love to see more of your pictures. If you don’t mind me asking, how did you get into being a photographer on an expedition ship? It’s not exactly one of those jobs they mentioned in careers talks at school. Mind you, they never mentioned music as a career to me, so I’m not convinced by the efficacy of the system. All the quizzes I filled out always came back with the suggestion I should go into fish farming. Maybe there was a shortage of fish farmers in Scotland at the time? Anyway, photography must be a very competitive field, and in the expedition world, even more so. How can you top this?! That’s not a question intended to make you freak out, by the way. Perhaps it would be better to phrase it like this—what exciting adventure comes next?

All the best,

Amy x

I stuck with the kiss. If I didn’t put it in this time, then it would make the previous one stand out more, and I didn’t want to make a thing about it. Although given this amount of analysis, I’d already missed the boat on not making it a thing. I knew I was distracting myself by fixating on the kiss. Because the issue I felt most unsure about was describing myself as a violinist. I thought guiltily of my poor instrument, unceremoniously stuffed in the cupboard, untuned and most definitely unloved of late. When was the last time I had actually picked it up to play? Not since… I forced my mind away. Okay, so it had been a while. But with a bit of practice, I could probably make a reasonable sound again, if I wanted to, so I wasn’t completely lying to Cameron. I was merely being sparing with the truth. What was more interesting for him to hear about, my love of the violin, a love I’d never completely forfeited I hasten to add, or the anxiety which my day job was currently causing me? I didn’t want to inflict tales of marketing shenanigans on him. They would seem so banal and dull in comparison with his daily life.

I hit send and waved the message off into the ether, still debating whether I’d done the right thing. Would Cameron respond? And what would he think about what I’d said? I wondered where he would be when he received my missive. How had he spent his day, and what amazing creatures had he encountered? As a photographer, he probably got to be at the heart of everything happening on the expedition ship, and off it, focusing his lens on pristine beauty and capturing moments beyond my imagination. How long was he out there, and where on the continent was he travelling? I’d looked up a few Antarctic tourist itineraries, but despite my best googling, I’d still not discovered what company he worked for and which ship he was on board. Maybe he would tell me in his reply. If he replied. I really hoped he did.

ChapterFive

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Date: 19 Jan, 16:43

Subject: Whales!

Amy,

I’ve just seen a humpback whale, and I had to share the sheer wonder of the experience. Actually, there was more than one of them, there was a pod of at least four. Is pod the right word? This is where I really miss being able to quickly look up stuff online. I’ll have to check in one of the reference books in the ship’s library. Old-fashioned, but effective. You can’t go wrong with a book. Maybe the whales were a family. We were in the Zodiac doing a shuttle run between the ship and the shore with a small group (it takes around 20 runs to get everyone ashore, and that’s fewer than 100 people because we’re not allowed more than that on land at any one time) and I heard this wheezing sound. At first, I thought someone on the boat was having an asthma attack so I did a subtle check of everyone, trying to remember my emergency medical drills, and wondering whether I should ask Antoni (who was steering the Zodiac) to speed up and get us back on board double quick. But then there was a crackle on the radio and one of the crew who was watching from the expedition ship buzzed through to tell us to look to starboard. And there it was, a humpback whale, idly hanging around on the surface. Before we knew, its mates had turned up to join in the fun. George (the lead photographer on board) who’s been here countless times before tells me humpbacks are very inquisitive creatures. Apparently, they often mosey on by to check us out and see what we’re up to. I like to imagine somewhere below the surface the humpback whale tour guide equivalent was pointing out the lesser spotted humans, ‘Check out their brilliant red plumage.’ (We all wear these bright red thick coats when we go ashore. They’re the warmest things in the world, and make us stand out from miles away, which comes in very handy when we’re trying to herd everyone together on shore excursions to return to the ship.) I love that the whales are as curious about us as we are about them, although I think they’re much more fascinating.

Before long, our little Zodiac was surrounded by these gentle giants slowly circling around. At that point a couple of the guests got a tad nervous that we might be upended by an over-friendly whale, but somehow, I knew there was no real danger. I soon managed to distract them by reminding them their photographs of this moment would be the envy of everyone else on the ship. I wish I could show the pictures to you. There’s no way my clumsy words could possibly do justice to the experience.

The whales remained in position for a good hour, so we stayed bobbing around in the boat, breathing in the experience. I was very glad of the bright red coat, let me tell you. It’s relatively mild here for this time of year (around minus three degrees centigrade which is positively balmy compared to the temperatures further inshore) but when you’re not moving, you soon begin to understand why the phrase ‘frozen in position’ is so apt. It was the one occasion I wished the sauna wasn’t broken. Instead, when we got back on board, I compensated by rolling myself up in a duvet with a hot water bottle and feasting my eyes on all the pictures and video footage I’d taken. For once, I was able to switch off critical photographer brain and ignore the usual niggles I’d have about composition and enjoy the continued glow of wonder.

I’ve just checked my watch and realised I’m due in the main saloon in ten minutes for the whale pictures presentation, and instead of getting ready for it, I’ve been waxing lyrical to you about the experience. Never mind, I guess I’ll have to attempt to wing it. As you’ll have realised if you’ve stuck out reading this email, I have a lot to say about whales, so hopefully that will get me through.

Cameron

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Date: 19 Jan, 18:21

Subject: Me again

Hello Amy,

I was going to put the subject line as ‘Penguins and Passions’ but then it occurred to me that it might get filtered out as spam so I settled for something safer. It’s me, Cameron, once again. I realised in my previous missive that I spent the whole time bombarding you with my thoughts on whales without asking you a single question, which was plain rude, so I’m taking the opportunity of a quick break between talks to send you another message.

How are you? That’s a genuine query, by the way. I don’t know about you, but all too often I ignore the first sentences of an email because they’re usually the written equivalent of meaningless small talk. ‘I hope this email finds you well.’ Actually, it finds me screaming into the abyss, but thanks for asking. To clarify, I’m not screaming into the abyss, thankfully, and I very much hope you aren’t either.

It’s interesting you asked me how I could top this experience. It’s a question I’ve found myself wondering about ever since I first got into a Zodiac and sailed past a leopard seal casually sunning itself on an iceberg. I realise I keep mentioning Zodiacs—only a few days into my first expedition and I’ve already picked up the ship lingo. When I return to normal life, I’ll be casually dropping it into conversation at every opportunity, no doubt driving everyone mad. ‘We know you’ve been to Antarctica, no need to keep wanging on about it.’ The answer to your question is that I’m not sure that I could top it. Perhaps if NASA is on the lookout for a photographer to record the next moon landing, but as I most definitely would not qualify on the science front, which I believe they’re pretty hot on, I guess I’ll have to rule that one out, sadly. Although being somewhere as remote as Antarctica does feel like good preparation for a space mission. Admittedly I am getting the cushy experience in a nice comfortable expedition ship with plentiful hot showers and the option of getting back to port within a few days if something went horribly wrong. The people who winter over at the Antarctic bases are the ones who are truly isolated, probably even further from help than those in the international space station. Once that last flight leaves the base, there isn’t another one for around nine months, and they have to be able to deal with whatever challenges are thrown at them, all while coping with constant darkness. Now that would be a very different experience.

Perhaps somewhere hot should be next on my list—tiger watching in India or elephant husbandry in Africa maybe. But to be honest, I’m trying not to think of what comes after my Antarctic season. I’m making a concerted effort to live in the moment. (Yes, how very virtuous of me.) But as I mentioned before, if the ten years since graduation have gone this quickly, imagine how speedily my two months on the expedition ship will go. I want to savour every moment so that when I look back, I will know I’ve made the most of the opportunity.

But that’s enough of me talking about my passion. How about yours? What a talent to be able to play the violin, and I’m guessing you play it very well from the way you talk about it with such fervour. Fervour. Good word, that. Must find a way to get it into a photography class on the boat. Have you always played? I remember at school, anything other than guitar or drums was declared distinctly uncool so most kids stopped playing, me included, to my shame. What’s life like as a musician? You mentioned enjoying playing as part of a group, but do you perform as a soloist too? In my pre-ship life, I would probably have googled to find the answer to those questions. As you’ve pointed out, it’s quite terrifying how much information you can discover about a person nowadays online. I think that’s one of the reasons why I don’t bother with social media and the like. But in this strangely antiquarian world of creaky or even no internet, the casual online search is a luxury which I’m not allowed. Besides, I think I prefer it this way, asking questions and reading your answers.

Cameron

PS: the penguins send their regards.

The two emails in quick succession took me by surprise. I guessed the ship must be in an area with better signal. I read and re-read his words, picturing the events he described and relishing every enthusiastic word. His sheer joy at seeing the whales leapt off the page, and I felt touched that even among the high adrenalin he was no doubt experiencing, he’d taken time to think of me.

‘How are you?’ It had been a while since someone had asked me that question and he seemed to be genuinely interested in the answer. Normally I’d reply with, ‘I’m grand, thanks, and you?’ A quick deflection, the pleasantries ticked off the list, everyone able to move on with their lives. But while I appreciated being asked, genuinely asked, I knew I wasn’t brave enough to give the real answer. I didn’t want to frighten him off. Yes, Cameron seemed like a decent guy, and reading his emails was definitely turning into a highlight of my mundane life, but they would probably stop appearing if I replied in all honesty and revealed my doubts and fears on the page. Nobody needed that, least of all a handsome nature photographer. I stopped in my tracks. There I was ascribing physical characteristics to a man I’d never met or seen a picture of (despite my best internet search efforts to remedy the latter issue.) To say he sounded handsome was utterly ridiculous, but somehow, he did. Asking a woman how she was and meaning it, plus being passionate about penguins were attractive qualities, as were his respect for the environment and his patience in waiting for the right moment to take his photos. I allowed myself to indulge in a brief daydream, sketching out his features in my imagination. I pictured a man with a ready smile and a clear gaze, perceptive eyes full of warmth and humour. He was tall and strong, because why not, and besides, it would make clambering in and out of boats and striding across the Antarctic ice much easier for him. And as I was going down this route, with a musician’s appreciation for hands, I figured his were probably large but gentle and dexterous, used to delicately setting up photographic equipment and courteously helping to steady guests as they transferred between the ship and the Zodiacs. I knew I was getting carried away building up this fantasy idea of the man, but it was a welcome distraction from the dreariness of my own existence.

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