The Polar Bear, the King of the Arctic, was just 200 metres ahead of me, camouflaged in front of an icy mound. He had heard us. He was watching us. He was working out whether he needed to prepare for battle.
Giant, majestic icebergs float gracefully in the lagoon, after breaking off from the glacier. Ever so slowly, the icebergs float down a short stream and out to the North Atlantic Ocean where the vicious waves promptly smash them into all shapes and sizes, and wash them up on Diamond Beach.