There is little in this world that is as brilliantly white as the tundra in spring when the sun is shinning brightly. In fact, the only thing that can possibly be called whiter is the pack ice shimmering under that same insane sun. Like everything else in life, it doesn’t necessarily look that white when you get up close to it. In fact, the pack ice becomes a jumble of old ice, new ice, blue ice and grey ice, boulders tumbled around like grains of sand kicked by a child on a beach.
This year, Barrow has had some storms