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NWP 30. It’s been emotional

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13-Sept-24 Gulf of St Lawrence, Nova Scotia

Have you missed me dear reader? Been a few days delay to blog whilst clearing a hurdle and a business deadline.

Bright blue sky and calm seas as I work on a business deadline in my cabin. The wonders of modern technology and a tiny satellite in space mean I can do this. Thank you Elon Musk.

Busy working until the main event of the day. The quiz. Not your usual pub quiz. A quiz on everything we’ve seen the past month. Mr & Mrs Engineer invite me to join their team of six. Another woman, who I’ve not seen before, joins us. Like Mr & Mrs Engineer, she too is doing the Pole to Pole trip. Vancouver-Nome-North West Passage-Greenland-Halifax-Boston-Miami-Panama Canal-Chile-Antarctica-Ushuaia. Three months sailing. On first glance she looks like she could easily have been a hippy in the 1960s. And still is. Judging by hair. Clothing. Attitude. Clearly somewhere on the spectrum she has been revising all day for the quiz. And has a pile of notes to prove it. Yep. Defo on the spectrum.

Quiz starts. 40 questions on different subjects we have seen and done. To one question I think it’s answer D. Miss Hippy asks if I’m sure. I think so. Say I. Well I think it’s A. Says she. Why do you think that? Say I. Well you only ‘think’ it’s D. We go with A. Can’t be bothered arguing the toss.

Quiz sheets swapped with neighbouring team for marking. Whenever she knows we get an answer right she gives herself a little fist bump of glee. Every. Single. Time.

But.

When we get an answer wrong. She’s upset.

Someone to steer clear of.

Well. Dear reader. Mrs Engineer chose well with her team.

Because we win. 34 out of 40.

Mrs Engineer gives a knowing wink when I say I’m glad Miss Hippy is on the team. She too recognises that someone is on the spectrum.

We win a bottle of bubbly. And so share it. A fine afternoon’s work.

Following the quiz, crew give a quick fire presentation of their personal highlights of the trip. Quite moving. The young lad marine biologist stayed up until 0300hrs one morning to transfer the old captain to his new ship in Lancaster Sound on a Zodiac in freezing temperatures. Just so he could give his sister a hug on the landing gantry of the other ship as she is working on the other ship.

A fleeting moment and then gone.

To round off the afternoon’s activities, the Captain gives an address and all enjoy a glass of bubbly and clap all the crew to say thank you as they parade around the Explorer Lounge. They have all been brilliant.

And then.

They play a 15 minute video of the trip. With soaring music. Amazing photography. And videography.

Dare I say it, dear reader, but feel a bit emotional watching it.

See things we’d done and had forgotten about. Then realise it was nearly a month ago.

A few other people feel emotional too and, as I later discover in the bar that night, a few of the men were saying they found it all a bit emotional.

And then.

Just as I’m thinking what a trip. How amazing it’s been. Miss Hannover comes up to me. A small tear in her eye having watched the video. Also quite emotional. And wishes me all the best in my future life. You have to live life. Enjoy your life. Stay well. Travel well. Etc.

I’m nearly in bits, dear reader. We had a good rapport. And enjoyed a couple of lunches together. And now gone. Never to be seen again.

Final dinner onboard. And for the final time Lurch brings a plate of blue cheese. And another glass of red. Really shall miss all this.

A photo with Miss PB, Lurch and their colleague. All in their twenties. All three have been serving me the past month at lunch and dinner. They have been utterly, utterly brilliant. No need to order drinks. They know exactly what I want. When I want. Preferential treatment. I talk to them normally and treat them as equals. As humans. Not like some passengers who have been a pain in the whatsit.

Ask for a photo of them all with me. Miss PB drags a chair and stands on it. Trying, at 5ft tall, to be taller than me. Nope. Still too small. Never seen her not smile. She always has this most amazing smile. Something to always look forward too of an evening.

Final drinks in bar. Have been chatting with Miss Sidmouth the past few weeks. Mentioned that my mate was a military historian. She asks for help. Trying to find her father’s military records from 1942 onwards. Everything available up until that date. He was in the Long Range Desert Group in North Africa. Mate suspects he could have been in the SAS as all SAS records are embargoed for 100 years which possibly explains why his records stopped in 1942. Further research required so we swap details to follow up this intriguing line of enquiry. And rather hoping mate reading this will be able to assist further!

Drink with another Miss (Norwich) and both of us sussed out the same odd bods at the start of the trip. Which has proven to be correct. There are some very peculiar sorts.

And that’s that. The final night. Onboard.

The end of the North West Passage expedition.

What an amazing trip it has been.

What an amazing experience it has been.

What an interesting education it has been.

I know I am lucky in life. But this has been bloody brilliant. And very sad to be leaving the ship.

But don’t worry, dear reader. We’re not done yet. Two more weeks of travelling on land yet to do.

In the words of Vinnie Jones at the end of the film, ‘Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels’…

It’s been emotional.

NWP 29. Captain Cook

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12-Sept-24 Corner Brook, Newfoundland

Between 1763 and 1767, Captain James Cook charted the coastline of Newfoundland. The first scientific, large scale, hydrographic survey to use precise triangulation to establish land outlines. His charts remained a standard for over a hundred years. As I read with interest. At the top of the Captain James Cook Historical Site. A large hill overlooking Corner Brook. Newfoundland.

Two options to reach the top of the hill.

One hour walk up. Five minutes look see. One hour walk down.

Or.

Five minutes taxi ride with an Indian (as in curry not indigenous). Five minutes look see. Five minutes taxi ride back down.

Tricky one.

Have better use of time today than walking up and down a hill through a housing estate. Taxi it is.

Not the first time Captain Cook was here though. Initially came to the area in 1759 to chart the St Lawrence River (the Gulf of St Lawrence into which it flows is apparently the world’s largest estuary). So the British could advance and take Quebec City. The British won that argument.

In February 1763, the French recognised British sovereignty over Newfoundland with the signing of the Paris Treaty.

And there followed Cook’s charting of Newfoundland using a plane table. A small, square, flat table mounted on a tripod, with a brass telescope attachment. The table had drawing paper attached to it and the telescope was fitted with a straight edge that allowed the user to mark the telescope’s bearing. The table allowed one to create a drawing in which the true position and distance of geographical landmarks and the land that joined them could be documented. Google it.

On his third voyage, Cook sailed through the Bering Strait into the Chukchi Sea in August 1778. From where I have just sailed from. But. Being blocked by sea ice returned to Hawaii. Where he eventually died on Valentine’s Day 1779. Bit of a rumpus when the locals got agitated as he tried to kidnap their king. Cook was stabbed to death.

The stuff you learn on this blog, dear reader.

Views from the top of the hill are magnificent. See video below. Glorious hot day. Not since Vancouver have I been in shirt sleeves. Quite nice not to be walking around like the Michelin man in layers of polar gear to keep me warm.

Now trying to keep cool.

The largest blot on the landscape in Corner Brook is the paper mill. Constructed between 1923 and 1924 it sits on the shore at the bottom of a valley. Which has a river. Which feeds the paper mill. Town since been developed substantially since then but the valley has been maintained as a wonderful parkland with nature trails. Amazing to think that as you walk through woodland following the river, lake and dam that a small town is only a few hundred metres away either side.

On the lake is a Tudor style hotel called Glynmill Inn. Built in 1924 as a hotel to accommodate senior staff building the paper mill.

Nice to get a walk in along the paths on a sunny summer’s day.

There’s not much else to see in town apart from a museum in the civic centre. Which whiles away the time.

Penultimate night onboard. Party night. Crew concert. Thought it was going to be the European expedition crew concert. But it’s the Filipino ship’s crew concert.

They start with a couple of rock songs with the drummer singing. Not good, dear reader. Nearly went to bed.

But then.

The young Filipino girl on reception starts singing.

She’s good.

Kicks off with The Cranberries.

Then.

4 Non Blondes’ ‘What’s up?’. A favourite of mine.

She’s good, dear reader. And I stay a while longer.

‘And so I wake in the morning and I step outside

And I take a deep breath and I get real high

And I scream from the top of my lungs

“What’s going on?”’

If you know. You know.

NWP 28. Seal of satisfaction

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11-Sept-24 Red Bay, Newfoundland & Labrador

Still a few bumps in the night early on but much calmer as we approach the coast of Newfoundland & Labrador.

Wake up to bright blue sky to the north. Bit cloudy to the south. Sea on one side is bright blue reflecting the sky. Sea on other white. Like a mirror to the sky above. It’s as though we’re sailing along the dividing line.

Entering the Gulf of St Lawrence late morning you realise that water from the Great Lakes feeds into this through the St Lawrence River. Thousands of miles away.

Mid afternoon by the time we arrive in Red Bay. Shocked by how green everywhere is.

And trees!

Not seen trees since Vancouver. Why? You may ask.

Well.

The treeline in the northern region of Canada is determined by the extent of the permafrost. The onboard scientists show the extent of the permafrost stretching from the west of Canada to the east around the southern side of Hudson Bay. And the tree line follows that boundary. Fascinating insight when shown on a map.

The approaching landscape resembles the Borders of Scotland or Dartmoor. A glorious day. And warm. Between 10C to 15C. Not been this warm since leaving Vancouver. Now about the same latitude as London. No more polar gear.

After lunch I retire to the Deck 10 Explorer Lounge. To catch up on diary. Oh yes, dear reader. Running two books. Blog is what I want you to hear. Diary. Not. You’re all in it. What goes on in the diary. Stays in the diary. Lounge empty as all at lunch still. Except. Some chairs have coats laid out on them. To reserve them. It’s the Germans. Lacking a beach towel…

As we’re in the final few days of the trip temperatures have been fraying a little. No one cares now. They’re going for it. After nearly four weeks at sea. Niggles are rising to the surface. At dinner night before a group of four Brits laughing and joking. Nothing loud. Just normal levels of chatter and laughter. One jokes to another who has left some chips, “It’s illegal to leave a chip on a plate in England!” Cue laughter. Stern German woman on table adjacent turns around and sternly says, “Vell you’re not in England!”

Retired bloke from Shrewsbury got so fed up with the loud Chattering Chinese Couple on table across the aisle he shouted, “Shut the f*** up!”. Immediately followed by his wife shouting at him for being so rude. He’s now on a table about 20ft away from them.

Nice to sit back out of it all. Quietly observing. Pretending to read Kindle.

Transfer to Red Bay is by lifeboat. So no thermal wellies required for a wet landing. No life jackets. Just your normal boots and coats.

Not been in a lifeboat before. Takes some time to lower etc. Glad we’re not sinking. Like a fibreglass bubble. Which can hold about 80ish people. It even has a toilet. Well. I say toilet. What I mean is a shower curtain enclosed space. To save everyone’s blushes. You literally sit next to shower curtain with someone doing their business centimetres away from you. Enough you to make you all shy.

Land at the small dock in Red Bay. Greeted by half the village. Literally. Population only about 120. All here to greet us. Feed us. Show us around. What a warm welcome. Including the mascot. The Red Bay Lighthouse. Someone obviously pulled the short straw.

Quite a lot of history here. Bits of a red clay roof tile were discovered here which led archaeologists to discover that this was originally a Basque whaling station in the 1530s. Red clay roof tiles not being a local thing. Remains of which still exist today. The Basques sailed from Spain and France to hunt whales because at the time whale oil was needed for lighting. In addition to soap, pharmaceuticals, cloth and leather industries.

At its peak, Red Bay was the world’s first industrial whale fishery when 2,500 whalers in the region produced approximately 20,000 barrels of whale oil per year. A major source of wealth for the Basques at the time.

The area includes remains of rendering ovens, cooperages, wharves, temporary living quarters and a cemetery, together with underwater remains of vessels and whale bone deposits. The whaling station was used for about 70 years, before the local whale population became depleted.

Three interesting ‘museums’ in the village highlight the past. One has an original 400 year old ‘chalupa’ whaling boat showcasing the traditional method of construction at the time. One ‘museum’ just for that. Another ‘museum’ provides interesting history and artefacts. Another ‘museum’ houses a 500 year old bowhead whale skeleton. Its flipper skeleton, made up of various finds, is also on display. Over 2m high. Looks like a hand. Fascinating stuff.

Not only is there the history to savour. But the local food. Locals have conjured up a feast of various tastes. Think the local WI showcasing its homemade wares.

Except the WI doesn’t really specialise in. Seal. Moose. Ptarmigan Soup. Arctic char. Chowder. Patridgeberry (lingonberry) tarts.

Have to try the seal and moose.

Well.

Seal tastes quite meaty. Not as fishy as I thought it might be.

Moose tastes like braising steak.

Ptarmigan is quite a dark meat which they also call partridge.

It’s all marvellous. And very tasty. Thank you ladies.

Certainly gets the seal of satisfaction.

See what I did there, dear reader.

And if that wasn’t enough amazing hospitality. Free bottle of ‘Iceberg’ beer being handed out as we board the lifeboat back to ship.

And if that wasn’t enough to end the day. Look at the sunset photo below, dear reader. The view for dinner as we say goodbye.

Thank you Red Bay.

You made my day.

NWP 27. Life on the ocean waves

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10-Sept-24 Labrador Sea

Oh what a night. Somewhat rough as we head due south across the Labrador Sea. Full speed ahead as ship tries to avoid a low pressure. Which we are on the periphery of. But even so. Smooth sailing it is not.

Constant crashing against the waves. Like hitting a rock face each time. Which sends shudders down the ship. Cabin is about a third of the way back from the bow. So feeling it. Plenty of creaks. One to my left. One to my right. But not in sync. Constant cacophony of creaks. All cicada like. Left ear. Creak. Then. Right ear. Creak. Alternating. Creak. Creak. Creak. Creak. From side to side. Almost torture.

Have to shift to the middle of the bed to avoid tumbling out of bed. Miss Nottingham recalls the time she was on board ship to St Helena. So rough she had to transfer mattress to floor. To avoid any mishap.

Two days like this. But not feeling unwell in the swell. Given I’m high on cinnarizine.

And it’s a leisurely two days. Missing lectures as have a business deadline on Monday. So need to work. And plan the next few days of the trip after arrival in Halifax. Need to reach Bangor in Maine. Need a private shuttle from Halifax to Yarmouth. No. Not Yorkshire to Norfolk. Nova Scotia. Then ferry to Bar Harbour in Maine. Then somehow get to Bangor. Yet to research. Pick up hire car. Go pootling. What could go wrong.

Highlights are visiting the bridge and the engine room control room. There’s no rudder. Change direction by using the azimuth propellers. And bow thrusters. Tiny joysticks the order of the day. No big ship’s wheel here. All electronic. A blip on the radar identifies a large Titanic crushing iceberg. 8 miles away. 40 minutes later we sail south of it. But looks a piddly little thing. But then there’s no sense of scale.

Visit to the engine room control room. Not actually allowed in the engine room unfortunately. So have to look at the video feed. Four diesel engines supply heat and power. Two large batteries provide power when necessary. Drinking water is sea water treated by reverse osmosis.

Evening auction. Bits of Inuit jewellery. A crappy card painted by one of the Inuit kids. Of an Inuit looking at the aurora. But the aurora looks like lightning. My 12 year old goddaughter can do way better. An artist of the future…and I’m going to be her agent (agreed chap?!).

Some seal fur handbags. Can you imagine walking about in Nottingham with a seal fur handbag. Didn’t think so. That’s why I didn’t buy them. Ahem.

Star item is a chart of the Arctic Archipelago. A0 size. Marked up by the Inuit girl. Who professes to be an artist. See note above. Route is drawn on a paper map you can buy for CAD25. With some little coloured drawings of each stop. Whale tail here. An ulu there. Polar bear here. The sort my 12 year old goddaughter would do to fill time on a rainy afternoon.

Bidding starts at EUR200. Nope. Drops to EUR100. And then. Two people decide they want it. All proceeds to a good cause.

Guess how much that chart goes for?

EUR500?

Nope.

EUR1,000?

Nope.

EUR2,000?

Nope.

EUR4,000?

Nope.

Four. Thousand. Three. Hundred. Euros.

Bloody hell.

NWP 26. Aurora Borealis – WOW!

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9-Sept-24 Labrador Sea

2330hrs last night. Finishing off yesterday’s blog. In bed. With Jamesons. Hear the faint ding dong of the PA announcement down the corridor. Hit the in room PA button. To hear something I’ve been longing to see for 40 years.

Aurora visible.

Quite faint but might improve.

Fair enough. Polar gear on over jim jams again. Thinking it will be a quick five minutes.

An hour and a half and 124 photos later…

WOW!!!

But first. Nearly another casualty. When I slip on the icy deck. Crikey. Surprisingly icy.

With the naked eye you can see nothing.

The only way to see it is taking a photo on your mobile phone. Your eyes can’t register it.

That’s when Joseph’s Technicolor Dreamcoat becomes apparent.

Very faint colours.

But then.

It just gets better. And better. And better.

Brighter and brighter until you can see the massive expanse of the aurora stretching from horizon to horizon. In a monochromatic swish of a brush across the sky.

To the naked eye it just looks like a white cloud. But in a peculiar shape.

Utterly mesmerising.

My other lady friend, we’ll call her Miss Sidmouth. Bit younger than Miss Hannover. But not much. Joins me on deck.

And spend the night together. Oohing. Aahing. Groaning. As we lean back trying to take a photo directly above us.

Magical moment.

This. Is. What. Memories. Are. Made. Of.

This. Is. Why. I. Work.

Starts with purple hues. Di-nitrogen below 100km altitude.

Then morphs into strong and bright greens between 100k and 200km altitude. Reds are also oxygen but above 200km.

Aurora created by a Coronal Mass Ejection (CME), or plasma, shooting out from the sun. Hits earth’s atmosphere and because of the earth’s magnetic shield is diverted around the magnetic shield until it hits the poles where the shield flows down into the polar regions.

Which is why you generally see aurora in polar regions.

An absolutely majestic display of nature.

What better way to experience the aurora in all its glory.

In the middle of the Labrador Sea.

Zero light pollution.

Towards the end of the most amazing voyage through the North West Passage.

I know I am lucky in life.

One of life’s great memories.

(photos taken on a Samsung Galaxy S23 with 4 second exposure on a moving ship…handheld no tripod)

NWP 25. It’s a beautiful day!

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8-Sept-24 Sisimiut, Greenland

Calmer night on the sea. And no clock change. Yay. Currently only 2hrs behind the UK. Next clock change we are promised a 2hr extra lie in as we head back to Halifax in Canada.

Arrive at the small fishing town of Sisimiut. Glorious day. But still cold. Like Ilulissat just up the coast it’s clean and neat. Very Danish. Most of the houses are wooden. Fire hose reels located in the street at regular intervals. In blue wooden housing. In the days before mains cold water to properties these also served as the ‘parish pump’.

Houses painted different colours. Historically, the colours meant something. Red buildings were churches, schools, teachers’ or ministers’ houses. Yellow was hospitals and doctors. Green was communications and power. Blue were fish factories and black was the police.

Despite a population of only 6,000 there are a phenomenal amount of taxis. Apparently cheaper to phone for a taxi than import, maintain and run your own car. On a sunny Sunday afternoon it’s a surprisingly busy town. Plenty of cars and quads zooming about.

2hr walking tour at 1350hrs. To finish at the museum. To spend a leisurely afternoon looking in the museum. But. Plans change. Now have to do museum in centre of town before walking tour. Means walking 15mins to museum. Looking at museum. Walking 15mins back to ship to join walking tour. In the 50 minutes notice given. Rush. Rush. Rush.

Used to rubbish Inuit ‘tours’. But this is done by a great Dane. Proper tourist board tour. Educated. Informative. Interesting.

Three Inuit words adopted for everyday English. Kayak. Igloo. Anorak. Hadn’t realised Kayak and Anorak originated from Inuit. The stuff you didn’t know you didn’t know.

There’s about 2,500 dogs in the ‘dog town’ on the outskirts. Dog teams used to be kept in town. But the noise and smell meant they were shifted out of town. Dogs live outside in all weathers. Including sub zero. They can only go in a house for about 15 minutes before they start overheating. Not been in my house obviously.

Very enjoyable walking tour. Until. Little old lady trips. Stumbles. Falls. In the middle of the road. And headbutts the road. Blood. Complains of broken wrist. Taxi flagged down to take her back to ship to the see the doctor. See her a few hours later in plaster and two stiches. Necessitated a trip to the local hospital. Think that’s the fourth broken arm/wrist on the trip. First was on day one when someone tripped over their luggage on the floor in cabin. Another was walking down ship’s internal stairs and missed a s step. Plus another. Details unknown. Coupled with the helivac on about day 3 it’s not been the healthiest of trips. Especially as I learn a few others slipped on the rocks and mud at yesterday’s glacier viewpoint. Thankfully no broken bones. Just bruises.

Helped by the blue sky and sun. Sisimiut shines. Really enjoyable wander of a few hours.

It’s a beautiful day. Something to lift the soul after yesterday’s incessant rain and grey.

But we’re not done yet.

Depart port 1800hrs. See snow capped mountains to the south.

It’s a wow moment.

Another wow moment as we head south following the western coast of Greenland.

Snow capped mountains to our east.

Stunning sun setting over the sea to our west.

Snow capped mountains change from white. To pink. To Orange. To red.

As sun sinks.

To a cloudless sky.

As darkness envelopes us. In the Labrador Sea.

And reminded of a some lines from Lord Byron’s poem ‘Dark Lochnagar’:

‘I sought not my home till the day’s dying glory
Gave place to the rays of the bright polar star’

It’s a beautiful day.

NWP 24. Mud. Glorious mud.

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7-Sept-24 Ilulissat, Greenland

Slight feeling of weightlessness in the night. As the ship drops in the swell. Until body is then pressed firmly into the mattress. And repeat. All night.

Clocks move forward again in the night. Another hour lost. That’s five days on the bounce now. 23hr days not good, dear reader. Reminds me of a mate of a mate. Owned a garage. Offered 24hr recovery. But signage shop had run out of ‘4’s so made do with 23hr recovery. At least when they rang up at 2am he could say it’s out of hours.

Reliably informed that as we sail past Disko Island on our port side early morning that the scenery is stunning. So. Make the effort. Set alarm for 0800hrs. 0700hrs body clock time. You all know by now TT does not do mornings.

Ready for a morning brew.

Routine is take a Twining’s English Breakfast teabag from the deck 6 tea kitchen. Fill up with hot water. Sugar. Splash of milk. Only enough for a milk cloud. Nothing too extravagant.

Then go to deck 10 Explorer Lounge. Window seat. Admire the view.

Wake up sloooowwwwllllyyy.

Read Daily Telegraph on mobile phone. Because I’m civilised.

Routine is to have three mugs of tea. Before even contemplating a day’s activities.

So. Imagine my concern when I see only three individual Twining’s English Breakfast teabag packets left in the tea kitchen.

Hmmmm.

Will they restock before I want my second and third brews?

Doubtful.

What if someone else is in need of a Twining’s English Breakfast teabag. To start their day.

Good God. What if there is another person like me!?

Doubtful.

You laugh.

But what if there were? What a team we would be! World would be sorted. UK would be a nice place to live.

Apply within.

Well, dear reader. Like the Artful Dodger. Pocket the other two.

Sneaky I know.

But needs must.

Grim. Is the start of the day. Grey. Low hanging cloud. There’s more grey than a school sock. Circa 1981. Oh. And icebergs. More icebergs than you can shake a stick at. Disko Island obliterated by grey cloud.

Baffin Bay has calmed down somewhat but still a bit of a swell. Taken two days to cross.

Lecture on glaciology. By a PhD glaciologist. Bright young girl in her thirties. She spent months on the Greenland ice cap doing this, that and the other. Including laying some electronics on the surface to monitor earth’s magma flow below the crust. Important because it enables them to ascertain how much the crust has been pushed down by the ice mass of ice above. Thus creating a pinch point in the flow. Bit like sitting on a water bed. Your mass pushes the bed down and creates a pinch point in the water. Assisted by NASA’s latest technology. Impressive results. We’d seen the velocity flow maps yesterday. But she shows further imagery to enhance a really interesting talk on glaciers. Ice at the bottom of the glacier we’re walking to shortly is 90,000 years old. There is a hotspot under the Greenland ice field. Which came from the Icelandic hotspot when Greenland passed over where Iceland is now millions of years ago.

If the Greenland ice cap melts. Sea levels rise by 7m.

Goodbye Norfolk.

If you place Greenland over Europe. It stretches from Estonia to the Greek Islands. And primarily all ice. Just think about that for a moment.

And in that massive area. Only 56,000 inhabitants.

Arriving Ilulissat the schedule is to arrive 1330hrs. Just outside the port. Set free a lifeboat to act as tender to transfer through the tiny port/marina. Disembark 1400hrs. For shore excursions.

Ilulissat is Greenlandic for icebergs.

Some have paid EUR169 to go on a local pleasure boat to the glacier. This is cancelled a couple of hours beforehand due to currents. And the fact that water access to the glacier is denied by. Well. An exuberance of ice. What they call a glacial melange. Big ice bergs have grounded on the lip of the fjord creating a log jam of ice.

Bit of a swell as we sail through the ice bergs into Ilulissat. Lifeboat set free. Takes some time. Glad we’re not sinking.

Many are suited and booted for the imminent transfer. No life jackets needed as it’s a tender boat (always nice to travel in a caring and loving boat). Can wear own footwear. But kitted up in full polar gear. On account of…rain…sleet…snow. And the cold. About 2C.

Then.

Announcement.

Too much of a swell to board the lifeboat.

Really?!?!

Oh wait. What if we’re sinking?!

So.

Now a Zodiac transfer to the marina.

Which needs lifejackets.

And because there’s only 10 to a Zodiac. Will take longer than the 100ish on a lifeboat.

Fortunately. One of the first on shore.

Shuttle bus from the local Spar to the Icefjord Centre car park. Then walk nearly a mile along slippery board walk to the glacier viewing point.

Pretty impressive view.

And.

Silence.

Apart from two chatterbox Chinese.

Air so still.

Water so still.

Impressive sight.

Fjord is covered in ice. Lots of little floes sitting still. Obediently. Like first years. Waiting. For the gigantic icebergs to melt so they can flow over the lip of the fjord 300m below. Like sixth formers having one last laugh at school.

Did I mention the rain, dear reader?

It’s raining as I walk the near mile to the view point. And snow. And sleet.

At a point in the board walk it’s clear there is a natural footpath left off the boardwalk to the rocks above. Expedition Crew stands guard preventing people veering off. Boardwalk then goes downhill and then up to a low level view point. For amazing views.

High level view point at top of the rocks has picnic table, bench and telescope. Scramble up smoothed glacial rock to high view point. Magnificent views would be better with clear blue skies and sun. But no. Rain. Sleet. Snow. And low cloud.

Further along the rocky ridge other people congregate. So assume another view point. Off I wander.

Then realise that if I veer left off the designated path I should come to the boardwalk. Which means a shortcut. Which means not walking downhill for some time to then walk uphill. No need to exert one’s self unnecessarily. And a bit of fun in the process.

But.

Dear reader.

In that process.

Slip on a bit of mud.

Knee crashes on rock.

Body falls sideways.

To soften the impact. Put my possum fur gloved hand out.

And land.

On my bottom.

In a. Big. Muddy. Puddle.

Ouch.

With my possum fur gloved hand in same puddle.

Quite fond of my possum fur gloves. Bought in Antarctica. The fingerless type. Ideal for photography. Keep hands warm but fingers available for fiddling. The sort you see a market trader use. On a Saturday morning.

Now covered in sodding mud. And sodden wet.

Bugger.

Soggy bottom.

Soggy gloves.

At this point. Realise I’m being watched. It’s friends from the Back Row Brits. A motley crew. Mr Engineer and wife. They too have the same idea as me.

Take the shortcut.

Bit of a scramble back to boardwalk.

But caught in the act. By Expedition Crew.

Like two naughty schoolboys make up some story about getting lost Miss. Followed other people’s footsteps Miss. Thought it safer to come this way Miss. Ticked off. For damaging the flora and fauna. Somewhat abundant here so no great shakes.

Finish the boardwalk with two other Back Row Brits. Say I feel like I’ve just completed a Duke of Edinburgh expedition. Soaking wet. And muddy. Turns out they’re both D of E Gold assessors.

At the beginning of the boardwalk is the Icefjord Museum. But it’s a ‘take your boots off before you enter’ sort of place. It’s hot. And sticky. Everything comes off. Boots. Soaking wet polar gear. Waterproof trousers. Along with hordes of others doing same. In a cramped space. Bit of a faff. Everyone tripping over everyone sort of thing. And getting in the way.

Walk into museum. Not really a museum. More a glorified coffee shop. Two minutes later walk out.

Faff putting on boots, waterproof trousers and polar gear again. Not easy when everything soaking wet. Walk outside. Discover coat hanger is somehow caught on coat. Return coat hanger.

Bus back to the harbour passing the dog parks. Large open spaces on the outskirts of town where Greenland dogs are tied up. Each with own area. And little kennel. Just sitting there looking sad. And lonely. Looking bored. In the pouring rain. Used for sled pulling in the winter months.

Ilulissat is the place to buy tugtupite. Only found here and on the Kola Peninsula in Russia. Tugtupite is a red coloured stone. Derived from the Greenlandic for reindeer ‘tuttu’ and means reindeer blood.

And what better way to showcase this stone than in jewellery. Not a frequent jewellery purchaser. Somewhat shocked at the price of it all.

Will you be one of the lucky ladies?

NWP 23. Whisky War

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6-Sept-24 Baffin Bay

Clocks move forward another hour. Four days on trot. There’s a few looking tired. Quite rough in the night. Ship creaking and groaning like an old galleon. In the swell. But. Surprisingly do manage to have a cinnarizine and wine induced sleep. For 11hrs. Having gone to bed at about 2130hrs. Like old folk. Being more a midnight to 1am type of going to bed chap. Much needed lie in.

Like Christmas morning as a kid. Open curtains to discover it’s snowing. Flurries here and there. Then a quick blizzard. Then flurries. Flurrying across the white horses. Swell’s up.

And then bright blue sky and sun. For the rest of the day. Warm enough to stand at the bow observation deck in jumper as ship acts as a wind break from the northerlies/westerlies. This is the life. A life on the ocean waves. Passing one cargo ship. Second seen in two days.

Leisurely day catching up on diary and blog. You lucky people.

Did you know that sedimentary rocks are formed by weathering or chemical erosion of existing rocks or dead bodies of animals. White Cliffs of Dover are obviously chalk, calcium carbonate. But did you know these were formed by the calcium carbonate shells of algae over one to three million years? Just think about that for a moment. The White Cliffs of Dover are one gigantic graveyard of algae.

In England we have Old Red sandstone. The red colour is caused by iron oxide representing about 1% of the sandstone. Means that the area was a desert.

Limestone on the other hand is formed by dead animal shells and thus denotes that the area was a sea. Millions of years ago.

Another day’s sailing to Greenland. Greenland has a massive ice cap. So heavy it has caused the earth to sink. And earth below the ice cap is below sea level. Glaciologist shows an animated velocity map. Fascinating. Shows the velocity of the glaciers flowing down from the ice cap into all the smaller fjords. Glaciers formed by snow. More snow. Some more snow. And then some. Over millions of years. Snow on top of snow compacts and over millions of years compacts with the pressure to form clear ice at the bottom of a glacier.

Shown a clip from a film called ‘Chasing Ice’ (www.chasingice.com). Which shows a glacier calving. Massive chunks of ice rearing up from the glacier before plunging into the water. There’s no sense of scale. Only when Lower Manhattan is superimposed across the film do you realise that the massive chunks of ice are skyscraper sized. Unbelievable footage. Go watch.

Navigation lecture is both useful and informative. In Europe and the Rest of the World you pass a red buoy with it on your port/left side. A green buoy you pass with it on your starboard/right side. But. In USA and Canada it’s the opposite way around. Allegedly to confuse the British during the American War of Independence.

I nautical mile = 1 minute of latitude. 1 nautical mile = 1.15 statute (land) miles. 1 nautical mile per hour = I knot. 1 nautical mile = 1,852m.

The stuff you learn on this blog.

And then, important matters. Whisky War. In Baffin Bay is Hans Island. Exactly half way between Canada and Greenland. Both agreed the border would skip over it. As it was uninhabited and so insignificant. Until. Denmark landed. Placed a flag and bottle of schnapps. To claim it as Danish.

Which wound the Canadians up.

So they landed. Planted own flag. With a bottle of Canadian whisky.

So another bottle of Danish schnapps was placed. So the story goes.

This humorous diplomatic incident became known as the Whisky War.

Hansa Island now split between the two countries.

NWP 22. Are you an engineer?

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5-Sept-24 Pond Inlet

Clocks move forward one hour. Again. 23hr days not good.

Wake up to steel grey skies. Steel grey water. Brew with a view as we sail close to Bylot Island.

Steel grey soon gives way to azure sea. Reflecting bright blue sky. And sun.

Nothing happens today. A leisurely day. Pottering. Catching up.

Sail for about 4hrs into Pond Inlet to the Inuit settlement of Pond Inlet on Baffin Island. Simply to pick up pilot for Greenland. Aircraft flies over and lands. Within ten minutes pilot boards Zodiac zooming to ship. Small airport then.

Settlement of Pond Inlet appears the same as Gjoa Haven, Cambridge Bay and Ulukhaktuk. No shore excursion. Just a view from the bridge. You know the score by now. Scrapheap Challenge and all that.

Chat with fellow Brits on deck. About Inuit. One has worked with heroin addicts. And thinks they are in better shape than some of the Inuit we saw in Gjoa Haven. Another has said that 40% of Inuit in Gjoa Haven live off the state. Some I saw wouldn’t seem out of place as a tramp in England judging by their physical state and appearance in dirty, raggy clothes. A number agree that the Inuit CAs are ramming it down our throat a bit. I know I’m not alone in thinking what I do but nice for it to be confirmed.

And back the way we came. Down the western approach. The northern approach is off limits due to whales and being a protected area. But no whales seen at all. Spend much time on the bow observation deck in the sun. Admiring the scenery. Cold. But not biting cold. Polar gear required though.

Use the time in between lectures to catch up on diary. Have been pootling about all day with my A4 Black n’ Red writing book. With black Bic biro tucked in right ear. Like you do. Like on site. But where else do you put it?

Busy scribbling away. Minding own business. Old woman approaches. Are you an engineer? No. But work in an engineering environment. I could tell. Said she. By the way you walked about with a writing book. And pen behind ear. She said. Oh. Said I.

Stunning snowy scenery and sea. Superb skies. So sunny. Sort of day you stand on deck and can’t take it all in. Too much scenery.

Final event of the day is Joe and wife Mary Rose. Traditional Inuits. Wholesome Inuits. Everyone likes them. Joe hunts. Doing manly things. Mary Rose cooks and sews. Doing wifey things. Woke leftie feminists getting their knickers in a twist now. Joe goes fishing for Arctic Char. Can be served six ways: 1) cooked fillet; 2) hot smoked – with a flaky cooked texture; 3) cold smoked – raw texture; 4) jerky – dried, salted and spiced; 5) Piffi – outdoor air dried fish which is the traditional way; and 6) raw – sashimi style.

Piffi is made by filleting the Arctic Char straight after being caught. It’s then hung outdoors on racks with skin facing out. On the second day it’s turned over and the flesh is facing out. Depending on weather it takes three to five days to air dry. Typically done in the Spring and Summer months. As soon as it starts to dry it can be eaten.

Chefs hand out four types of Arctic Char. Piffi the best. A real taste of the Arctic.

Joe had previously told us about his seal hunt. Standing there in his seal fur tie and seal fur waistcoat. Typically catches about 30 seals a year. For food. To sustain family. To live. Before you woke lefties get your knickers in a twist again. Rose then renders the skin and dries it so she can use it as material to make clothing for the family. Blubber and meat obviously used to eat. They discovered spices in Yellowknife. And now enjoying Seal Jalfrezi. Joe is a humble chap. This is what I do. Whether you agree with killing seals and whales or not. This is our life. Not ramming it down our throats. We do this to survive. Top bloke.

Evening briefing confirms that we have now sailed through the North West Passage.

Yay.

I did it.

Up to 2023, only 392 vessels had transited the North West Passage. Vessel may be a one man yacht. Or 300 people ship.

More people have climbed Mount Everest than have sailed through the North West Passage.

I know I am lucky in life.

NWP 21. More polar bears

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4-Sept-24 Dundas Harbour

Clocks move forward again. Another hour lost.

Morning brew whilst watching snow capped mountains and icebergs drift by. Scenery at last. Big difference with Arctic tundra the past few weeks.

Scenic cruising into Croker Bay on the southern side of Devon Island. Glorious blue sky. Sun shining on snow. Four days of shore excursions had to be cancelled last year due to weather. So. Very lucky.

Croker Bay is the furthest north of the trip at about 74.7deg N. And the furthest north I have been. So far. North Pole anyone?

About a 4 mile wide inlet leading to two glaciers. Rock rears up vertically from the sea with amazing regular rock formations at the top. Falling scree forms a protective shield around the shore line. Amazing sight as we cruise into the 20 mile long fjord.

And then.

Polar bear spotted. What must be 2 miles away. A creamy speck. Against a brown scree. Only with a 1400mm zoom can I pick it out.

And then.

Another polar bear spotted. The other side. Must be three or four miles away. Too far for a decent photo. But it’s there. Trust me.

And then.

Another polar spotted. Two to three miles away. There is no sense of scale. By the shoreline. Sunbathing. Then looks at us. Thinking. Clear off.

Prior to this trip had been debating with myself whether to buy a new camera and long lens for polar bear photos. Mentally trying to do the man maths to justify spending £6,000 odd quid. Others clearly have and a plethora of snazzy cameras and long lens 400mm, 500mm, 600mm and converters to double it.

Instead. Bought a relatively cheap Canon SX70 bridge camera for £500 with 1400mm zoom.

Oh boy. So glad I did.

The long lenses are good for short and medium distances. But not miles. Looking at images taken with fancy kit decide I made a wise decision not to spend £6,000. Images on my cheaper camera are as good if not better. As zoom is better.

As you will see in the photos below. Photo of people on deck is what you see with naked eye. The next photo of polar bear is what my camera zoom did at two to three miles away. I’m sure you’ll agree that’s an impressive zoom.

Two glaciers (about 2km wide each) at the end of Croker Bay calve their babies into the sea which then float down into Lancaster Sound and either into the North West Passage network of channels or out in to Baffin Bay. Depending on currents.

Discover a sweet spot on deck where the wind is minimal. A few steps from there and it blows a gale.

Around the corner from Croker Bay is Dundas Harbour. Former Royal Canadian Mounted Police (RCMP) settlement set up in 1924 to reinforce the Canadian presence and prevent foreign whalers coming into the region.

Wind has dropped. Sun shines. Blue sky. Zodiac cruise around the headland. Have discovered a little trick. Rather than putting on polar gear in hot cabin. Go to the holding area by the Zodiac gantry. Cool Arctic air perfect for dressing in polar gear without sweating buckets in hot cabin. Arrive early to faff to put gear on. Zodiac crew are after one person to fill Zodiac. That be me. Jump in boat. It’s ze German boat. Clearly not meant to be there judging by their looks. All set in certain groups to adhere to. Explain they wanted one person. Fortunately Zodiac pilot is one of the Expedition Crew. She’s French. She speaks no German. So the ‘tour’ is in English. Ze Germans can speak English. Apart from one. We’ll call him…Walter…(Bloss…really?!?!). He speaks no English. He’s the sort to walk around ship in tracksuit bottoms and sandals. With socks. But with formal shirt tucked neatly in tracky bottoms. If they look odd. They usually are.

At the end of the Zodiac cruise around icebergs and the headland we’re due to go back on board for about 1hr. Then go out again to visit the settlement at Dundas Harbour. Ze Germans want to go now. To save time and faff.

Walter becomes quite animated. And in German vociferously mounts an argument for going now. Too much faff going on board. Taking off all the polar gear. Wait a bit. Put all polar gear back on again. Board Zodiac. Again.

Sensing a whiff of mutiny. Egg ze Germans on. And persuade pilot to radio ship to say we want to go to land now.

Tell Walter I agree with him. My new best friend. And again becomes more animated. Releasing a lot of frustration by the sounds of it. Frustration with life. One suspects. You know the type.

But. It’s not allowed. Too many on land at the moment. So back on board. No sooner have I undressed polar gear. Then it’s time to put it all on again as the landings are ahead of schedule.

Get on an earlier boat again as close to the landing gantry getting dressed and one person required. Arrive on shore half an hour earlier than expected.

A collection of about four wooden huts. One blown over and sitting on its roof. Force of wind. Not much to see. Collection of people populate the beach at one end. Waiting for a beluga whale to pop up. Surprised the outboard motors haven’t scared it away.

Up on the hillside is a small cemetery with graves from 1926/27. One committed suicide. Hardly surprising given how utterly remote it is. Canadians imported a couple of Inuit families to try and build up the settlement but it was eventually taken over by the Hudson Bay Co in 1933. Before being abandoned altogether in 1951. Another remnant of a historic past in the Arctic.

Superb evening as we Zodiac back to ship. In time for. A. Hot shower. B. Relaxing Dinner. C. Beer. D. Wine. Ah yes. My little ploy to get on earlier Zodiacs has worked. My schedule meant it was to be another early dinner. Don’t do early dinners. That’s for old folk.

Except. Very nearly disappeared.

Disembarking Zodiac. Crewman steps on board. Puts wooden box on Zodiac floor. Sailor’s grip on him. A hand to wrist grab. Step one on box. Step two on Zodiac rubber side. Sailor’s grip on crewman on gantry. Release sailor’s grip on crewman on Zodiac. Step three on to gantry.

Works well.

Except.

At the point of stepping on Zodiac’s rubber side and then stepping on gantry. So. One foot on Zodiac. One foot on ship. Zodiac side drops about one metre in the swell. Not helped by the point load of my mass now entirely on the side of Zodiac.

You can imagine my surprise when I plunge down.

You can also imagine the surprise of the little Philippine crewman I’m hanging on to.

As soon as the Zodiac plunges down. It bounces up on the swell.

And I step off on to the gantry.

All Jack Sparrow like as his ship sinks. At the start of Pirates of the Caribbean.

Cool. Calm. Collected.

A narrow escape.