10,000 years is a long time. As you approach the iceberg, a bulking mass of frozen water bobbing lazily in the Atlantic Ocean, you can see the striations, each line representing years of compressed snowfall.
As the boat engine cuts out, you are surprised that you can hear the iceberg. It snaps, crackles, and pops like a bowl of cereal. It dawns on you that this piece of ice is alive, in a way, but not for much longer. Soon, it will have all melted away in the open ocean, beyond the eyes of humanity.
You are also amazed that this is a “small” iceberg -- the bigger ones are a little more unstable and cannot be approached so close.
The rigid hull inflatable boat nudges gently up against the ice. Your arm extends, and you caress the golf-ball-like dimples of its surface. Snowfall from hundreds of years ago melts onto your hand.
The skipper fetches a piece of the iceberg. “To cool your drink later!” he laughs.
It’s a long way to go for an ice cube, but the ice maker back home doesn’t have as much style, does it