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NWP 20. Grave situation

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3-Sept-24 Beechey Island

0630hrs.

Bang.

Shudder.

What the.

Bow thrusters kick in at full power.

Wake from a deep slumber.

Something is up.

Peer out window.

Wow.

Memorable moment.

Silky smooth sea. Sun rise. Belt of sea ice. Ship just crashed through. Sun glinting off the sea. Rush to get camera for photo.

Scheduled to arrive at Prince Leopold Island at 0600hrs. For a sail past. It’s 0500hrs body clock time as clocks went forward again in the night. Now 6hrs behind UK.

Unlikely to ever see Prince Leopold Island again. So. Make the effort. But not too much effort. It being the middle of the night. Polar gear put on over jim jams. Again.

Quick look on deck 7 observation deck at the bow. Smattering of birders and wildlife enthusiasts. A fresh sprinkling of snow on deck like a dusting of icing sugar on a cake.

But. Worth the effort. The island protrudes vertically from the sea in sheer cliffs. Quite something to see after the low level and dry Arctic tundra.

Did I mention the snow.

Lots of it on the Arctic mesas of surrounding landscape. Completely different landscape. Flat topped mountains. This is what we have all been waiting for. Snow and ice. Did I mention the cold?

OMG.

The cold. This is proper cold. Biting cold. Quick photo. Back to bed. In warm and cosy cabin.

Jeez. It. Is. Cold. Today.

Miss Nottingham. Who is tracking me. Saw a fog bow on the ship’s webcam early in the morning our time. As I was in bed. I missed it. Thank God for Miss Nottingham.

Little Sister, we’ll call her Floss, though not to be confused with another little sister, Bloss, sends me a photo of ageing parents. Along the lines of all OK. It’s more like a proof of life photo. Keep them going for a few more weeks.

Approaching Devon Island the sea fog lifts and blue sky and sun sparkles on the snow white cliffs of the southern side of the island.

See more sea birds in one hour than have been seen the past week. Phenomenal bird activity. The reason. The cliffs. Somewhere safe to nest. Not like the low lying Arctic tundra.

Beechey Island is cold. Flipping cold. 1C but with a windchill down to minus 5C. Miss Brandon in Manitoba is laughing that I think that is cold. She’ll be thinking ‘wuss’. That’s tropical to her. Minus 20C is more like it in Brandon during winter.

Beechey Island famous as the location of three graves from the Franklin Expedition. John Hartnell. John Torrington. William Braine. All died on the island in 1846 as Sir John Franklin’s HMS Erebus and HMS Terror expedition wintered here on his fateful North West Passage.

In the days when men were men.

Definitely not the place to spend a winter. In minus 40C. Very dark. Very windy. Very barren. You would have to be a very hardy soul to tolerate all that. Had enough at minus 5C after an hour. Back to a hot shower and warm cabin.

In addition to the three graves are a further two from later expeditions. One marked by a ‘headstone’. One marked by a rock.

In the 1980s John Hartnell’s body was exhumed for research. Our resident archaeologist was involved with the exhumations and there at the time. The body had been very well preserved by the ice. A photo of the preserved body is at the very end of the photos below. So. Be warned. If you are squeamish.

The following year the other two bodies were exhumed.

Permafrost had to be thawed out with gas heaters. Once exhumed samples were taken from the bodies. Common belief was that all the men on board died of lead poisoning. From the lead sealing the food tins.

Whilst there were elevated levels of lead in the sample this correlated with lead levels in the general English population at the time. There was also evidence of tuberculosis and again at the time, there were elevated levels of TB in the UK population.

So. Scientists think that it wasn’t specifically lead poisoning but a combination of smaller things probably adding up to something bigger. Scurvy. Elevated levels of lead. Elevated levels of TB. Cold. Eventual death.

Once samples had been taken, the bodies were replaced in-situ. Where they remain a few feet underground. A few feet away from where I stand.

A poignant moment as I stand there looking at the graves and out to sea. So very remote. So very cold. A reminder of all the men (and it was men then) who explored this area over the centuries.

Full of admiration for the tortuous conditions they would have endured.

Proud to be British moment.

Ship sets sail past a yacht. No ordinary yacht. This has a helipad. And helicopter taking off for a pleasure flight. Yacht belongs to Larry Page. Former CEO of Google. Had to Google yacht’s name, Senses, to find it belonged to Google. How the other half live.

Further sunset Zodiac scheduled in Radstock Bay. Well. Relatively narrow inlet. We enter. We go to the end. Freezing cold on deck. Flipping windy. Secretly wishing Zodiac cruise cancelled. Cos clashes with dinner. And beer. And wine. It is cancelled. Too windy. Much more comfortable doing a ‘cruise by’. And warmer.

Continue along the southern coast of Devon Island. Evening briefing includes a ‘what do we have to pack for a shore excursion?’ demonstration. Arctic and Antarctic law says they have to pack enough shelter, water, rations etc for a 48hr emergency stop onshore.

A pack of Seven Oceans ration pack is passed around to try. Over the past few weeks a group of fellow Brits congregate on the back row of the lecture room. Like kids on the back seat of the top deck of school bus. Naughty corner. When briefings were before dinner at 1830hrs, before alcohol had been consumed, it was a steady affair. Now. It’s at 2030hrs. After dinner. When a few beers and glasses of wine have been consumed.

A giddy atmosphere.

Germans sit in front of us. There’s a few stereotypical characters. Who warrant a bit of mickey take.

Ration pack arrives at the back row Brits. It’s like eating sawdust. One starts giggling as can’t swallow it. It’s so dry. Chain reaction kicks in. We’re all giggling uncontrollably now. Each have a mouthful of sawdust we can’t really swallow.

I pass it on to the Germans and tell them it’s really nice. Just to get rid of the flipping stuff.

Which sets off another bout of uncontrollable giggling. From little old ladies no less. Tears streaming down our faces looking at ze Germans realising they’ve been conned.

It’s not nice at all. It’s bloody awful stuff!!

NWP 19. Polar bears!

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2-Sept-24 Bellot Strait

10 years ago today HMS Erebus was discovered off the coast of King William Island.

At last night’s briefing told to expect sea ice during the night. So might hear a crunch. But don’t worry. Not sinking. Ship is designed for eight tenths sea ice. Forecast is for five tenths. And shown a sea ice forecast map of the James Ross Strait. It includes oval legends. Have been wondering what these mean for months as have been religiously studying sea ice maps since January. The oval symbols bottom left (in picture below) are called eggs. Top number is sea ice concentration measured in tenths. Number 10 is fast ice. Solid ice fixed to land. Number 1 is 1/10th and minimal sporadic ice.

Second number down, if there is one, splits this down into specific concentrations of the three thickest ice forms present.

Third number down is the stage of development. Ranging from new ice to multi-year ice.

Bottom number is the form of the ice. Is it small growlers (number 1 – piddly little bits of tiny icebergs) or something that would sink the Titanic (number 9).

As you will see on the photo below. We’ll be sailing through the part of the sea identified in yellow. Designated symbol B. This shows the ice coverage will be 5/10ths. Thick first year ice (4dot). And medium floes 100-500m in size.

The stuff you learn on this blog.

Told we should see sea ice in the morning.

Before bed. Peer out of window. OMG. Significant ice floes floating past. And ships searchlights scanning sea to see ice.

Hmmmm.

Am in my jim jams. It being nearly midnight.

Sod it. I’ll not be back here again. Better have a look. Pop on polar gear. Still in jim jams. Only for a quick look.

Nip up to deck 7 on the bow observation deck. A few others standing. In the pitch black. Looking. Quite eery.

Ship’s searchlight scanning ahead for something that will do damage to the ship.

Discover the night setting on my phone’s camera.

And take what is my favourite photo of the trip. See below. Searchlights reflecting off the water with sea ice floating past.

A memorable moment.

Standing at the bow in the icy cold and dark ice strewn waters gives an appreciation of the North Atlantic Arctic Convoys during World War 2. And how it might have felt. Quite a feeling.

I know I am very lucky in life to be able to experience these things.

During the night there’s a regular crunch and scrape as sea ice hits the hull then floats down the side. Sometimes feel the ship being gently nudged.

Miss Nottingham. Who is tracking my every move. Reports that ship was only doing 5kts during the night as it negotiated the sea ice.

Polar bear territory now. As much further north. Inuit hunter onboard gave a talk last night on hunting beluga whales in the area we now are. He and wife travel in an open aluminium looking boat with outboard motor for 8-12 hours to reach Coningham Bay. Complete with three 45 gallon barrels of fuel. Hunt beluga whales for 8-12 hours. Then return home. A further 8-12 hours. About 30hrs in total. With no sleep.

Kills 6-8 beluga whales in the area a year. They have to skin the beluga whale in about 10 minutes before the polar bears arrive. The skin and blubber is called ‘maktaaq’ or ‘muktuk’. And used to feed the family and excess given to the community. Whale meat is also taken along with the intestines. Which can be used as sausage skin. So don’t moan about the lack of avocadoes at Waitrose. This is proper living.

During the night sea currents and wind had propelled a lot of the sea ice out of the area so are now sailing into the Franklin Strait in open water.

As we head towards Bellot Strait. The 16 mile long few hundred metres wide channel separating the Americas land mass from the Canadian Arctic islands. It’s at the end of the Boothia Peninsula.

And do you know why it’s called the Boothia Peninsula, dear reader. Well. John Ross’ expedition to the area in 1829-ish was sponsored by Felix Booth. Of Booth gin fame. So it was named Boothia after the gin. Nearby is where John Ross’ nephew, James Clark Ross, discovered the magnetic north pole in 1831. The stuff you learn on this blog.

Zenith Point is the northern most point of the peninsula. And. Of the Americas. Technically, you could walk from Zenith Point all the way to Ushuaia.

Takes about an hour and a half in slackwater. As we are. Currents are quite strong which can delay transit.

And then.

To our left is a polar bear.

To our right is a polar bear.

Finally.

Like a bus. You wait ages to see a polar bear. And then they all arrive at the same time.

At the end of Bellot Strait is Fort Ross. Invisible to the naked eye from our location. Thankfully have a 1400mm equivalent zoom on my camera and can see it about 2km away.

An abandoned trading post set up in 1937 it was the last to be set up by the Hudson Bay Trading Company. Do a Google search and you will see it still has the remnants of a bygone past slowly rusting away.

NWP 18. Scrapheap Challenge

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1-Sept-24 Gjoa Haven

Downloaded Michael Palin’s Erebus book late last night then realised sailing through the area between where HMS Erebus and HMS Terror were discovered. HMS Erebus actually discovered 10 years ago tomorrow on 2-Sept-14. Our resident archaeologist was part of the team involved with Parks Canada and tells us that they have been diving on HMS Terror the past few days as part of the research process. HMS Erebus and HMS Terror were only discovered by talking with the local Inuit. HMS Terror was found near the Inuit village of Umiaqtalik. Which means, ‘there is a boat there’. Bit of a giveaway. Especially as the top of the mast could be seen at low tide.

Quick lecture before landing on shore. Differences between the Arctic and Antarctic.

Arctic is a polar sea surrounded by land. Antarctica is a polar continent surrounded by sea.

Arctic ice is oceanic and the sea ice protects the relatively warmer sea beneath which provides a more moderated climate. It freezes then melts. Antarctic ice is pretty constant throughout the year.

Arctic is at sea level. Antarctica is generally about 7,500ft altitude and is a desert with minimal precipitation.

Average temperatures in the Arctic. Minus 40C winter. 0C summer. Average temperatures in the Antarctic. Minus 60C winter. Minus 28C summer.

Sea currents play a vital part in the climate. Arctic ice influenced by the Gulf Stream. Which is why the eastern side of Greenland and heading further north is less icy than the western side. Antarctica is governed by the Antarctic Circumpolar Currents. Fairly constant current flowing eastwards around the south pole. And the reason why the Drake Passage never freezes.

Polar bears in the Arctic. Penguins in Antarctica. Winged flightless birds such as penguins thrive in Antarctica as there is no land predator. Puffins in the north are the parallel equivalent but developed flight to evade land predators.

The stuff you learn on this blog.

Four hours shore excursion to Gjoa Haven (pronounced by the Brits onboard as Joe Haven). Approaching, it’s clear that this is the same old, same old Inuit settlement.

Roald Amundsen landed here in 1903 on his North West Passage expedition. He stayed for two years. Things have clearly changed since then as wouldn’t want to be holed up here for two years. Couple of hours and job done. And that’s the view from the deck. Before even setting foot on land.

During his two years, Amundsen learnt from the Inuit. This knowledge of living in polar regions propelled him to winning the race to the South Pole. Beating RF Scott by five weeks on 14-Dec-1911.

Offered the usual tour by locals. Sod that. It’ll be another. This is the police station. The shop. The museum. The shop. Etc. Etc.

Go it alone. Waddling along in my thermal wellies. Which are too big. Size smaller is too small.

Not sure how to describe Gjoa Haven. Think living in the Scrapheap Challenge set. With added detritus. Housing wouldn’t look out of place in a 1990s Center Parcs. Or Davy Crockett’s Ranch at Euro Disney. Pre-fab chalet type. You get my drift.

Oil tanks stand on metal frames at high level. Gravity feeding the boiler. Waste water goes to a tank. To be removed by tanker.

Unlike Ulukhaktuk and Cambridge Bay there appears to be more litter. Not the usual scrap used for spares. General litter. Paper. Plastic. It’s everywhere. The Cotswolds it isn’t.

Whole town seems to be in the middle of a building site. Plenty of construction materials lying around. Waiting to be constructed at some point.

Having waddled for 40 minutes. Return to ship. For. A. Lunch. B. Change of footwear.

But. There’s a queue for the Zodiacs. Inuits are being transferred to the ship for a ‘community visit’. Part of the deal I suppose. We let you land. You let us come on board for a nosey. So. There I am. On a Zodiac. With a mix of the old, teenagers and Mums with babes in arm. It’s like crossing the English channel.

If you get my drift.

Personal hiking boots are allowed. Provided I stand in the disinfectant tray on the way out. Deal.

Return to shore after lunch. With a spring in my step. Can now stride out in comfortable, fit like a glove, boots.

Local museum has a very small display on the Erebus and a replica of the ship’s bell. Along with quite a clear sonar image of the wreck only 11m below the surface. Plus a polystyrene replica of an igloo. With a sign. That says. Do. Not. Enter.

Museum shop assumes I want to pay $65 for a small beaded pair of earrings. I don’t. Because it’s the sort of thing I could knock up in two minutes with a bead kit from Hobbycraft. Well. OK. Might need guidance from my 12 year old goddaughter.

Everything is stupidly expensive. Made by Inuit innit.

Notwithstanding additional supply costs to reach Gjoa Haven.

Approaching two o’clock so hot foot it over to the Community Sports Hall. Fish or caribou soup on offer. With caribou flakes. Hall full of about 250 people. Primarily passengers plus people performing for passengers. Treated to square dancing by children. With live band.

Then.

Throat singing.

One thing we should definitely not appropriate.

Deary me. Quite alarming. And disturbing.

Then.

Inuit lad does ‘touch the seal fur pouch dangling on a string at high level with hand’ thing. Balancing body on one hand he then touches seal fur pouch. At the very extreme of his reach with other hand. Round of applause.

Then.

Inuit lad does ‘touch the seal fur pouch dangling on a string at high level with foot’ thing. Now strung up much higher. And kicks seal fur pouch from standing still. Impressive kick. Round of applause.

Then.

Inuit lad does ‘touch the seal fur pouch dangling on a string at high level with feet constrained at knees by belt also around neck’ thing. Trouser belt through legs to knees. Belt then placed over neck. Lifts self up on two hands and tries to swing legs to touch seal fur pouch. But it’s just a bit too high. After many attempts and being applauded by the assembled masses he gives up and potters off. With a slightly embarrassed demeanour. No need lad. None of us could have got belt over knees and neck!

Then.

Live music from the local Inuit band. Igloo and The Eskimos. No. Not really. Made that bit up. For fun. But has a ring to it.

Come and dance on the dance floor. They said. Dance like there’s no one watching. They said. Except. There are. 250 or so people.

So off I go.

Back to boat.

Mentally building a Scrapheap Challenge contraption with all the debris lying around.

You’ll make your own mind up, dear reader, when you see the photos and videos.

Like John Simpson on the BBC. I just report what I see.

No doubt be harpooned if someone finds me.

NWP 17. Blue cheese-gate

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31-Aug-24 Borge Island

During last night’s briefing meeting for today the Captain appeared. He was born in Borge, Norway. South of Oslo near the Swedish border.

Who else was born in Borge?

Roald Amundsen.

In 1872.

Just so happens that we shall be sailing past a tiny island called Borge. Named after Amundsen’s birthplace.

Captain’s prerogative to go ashore and set foot on it.

After last night’s briefing there’s also singing of songs from the NWP. Audience participation a must. One of the songs is from the 19th century and refers to the local Inuit as savages. So the word has to be changed. What word could they use that rhymes with savages. But is a ‘safe word’. So the Inuit don’t get upset.

Of all the words.

Cabbages.

Is it.

I kid you not.

Think I’d rather be called savage than cabbage.

Shown a video by Inuit group The Jerry Cans. Their single ‘Northern Lights’ is rather good. Have a listen to it on the video below.

It’s a cold, dark, dank, foggy, windy day as I open the curtains.

Hmmmm.

Not sure this is the weather for an hour or so Zodiac cruising around the island. Apparently, no one has been given permission to land here before. Resident archaeologist has a permit to land and do a recce. If there are no archaeological artefacts/settlements, we can go ashore. Two hours waiting. For wind to calm down. One hour Zodiac cruise cancelled. Thank you. It’s +3C with a significant windchill. And choppy. Zodiac cruises in calm waters are brilliant fun. Not so when it’s cold enough to freeze your whatsits. And choppy.

Finally. A ten minute warning. We’re off to land. Now the wind has dropped. And the sky is blue. And the sun is shining.

Zodiac surfs the crest of a wave all the way there for an ultra smooth ride.

To be greeted by the great Roald Amundsen himself. Complete with bell tent. Complete with Norwegian flag. Complete with the ‘Roald Amundsen’ sign from the ship’s bridge. Complete with the Borge town flag.

It is. Of course. The Captain. In his element. Fulfilling a childhood dream. One suspects.

Boys and their toys.

Great fun.

Borge Island is flat. Featureless. Rocky. Can’t be more than a few metres high.

There’s not much else to say. It’s like the lonely kid at school. Standing away from everyone. He’s there. But not.

That’s Borge Island.

It’s just the other side of 100deg West. Miss Brandon in Manitoba is just the other side of 100deg West at 99.9deg West. Look south and wave to Miss Brandon.

Warned that the Zodiac ride back will be choppier. Now going against the wind and the waves. Bounce. Splash. Bounce. Splash. Bounce. Splash.

Blue cheese-gate continues at dinner.

My table is served by both Lurch (and I mean that in a nice way on account of being taller than the rest) and a young, petite, very bubbly and beautiful young girl. Who has a smile that definitely brightens your day. Oh yes. And something to look forward to of an evening. And lunch. We’ll call her Miss Petite and Bubbly (PB). Miss PB serves me. Lurch lurks. He walks past. Stops. Says. “I was ashamed last night I didn’t get your blue cheese.”

Don’t worry. Say I. It was very thoughtful of you to get Sainsbury’s weekly truckload of blue cheese for me. I really appreciate it. Don’t worry. It’s not your fault.

Or something like that.

Not wanting to be overloaded with blue cheese tell Lurch I’m having the chocolate fondant with raspberry coulis. Because. You know. It’s chocolate fondant with raspberry coulis.

Miss PB continues service. Starter is Beef carpaccio. Which reminds me of a colleague in Braunschweig who ordered beef carpaccio at the Christmas party one year. Not knowing what it was. Plate placed in front of him. “It’s f***ing raw!!!”. He exclaims. In a loud voice. In posh restaurant. Miss Braunschweig now giggling to herself at the memory.

Confit of duck leg is excellent. What would I like to finish? Well. Was going to have chocolate fondant with raspberry coulis. Because. You know. It’s chocolate fondant with raspberry coulis.

But.

Dear reader.

I’ll go for the cheese.

Just to see what happens.

Miss PB brings the cheese plate.

Morsel of something. Morsel of something else. Morsel of blue cheese.

Perfect portions.

Lurch arrives and asks if I’d like more red wine.

Oh go on then.

He’s pouring wine. Like a sitcom scene it misses the glass. It goes everywhere.

He apologises.

He’s literally been distracted by the blue cheese on my plate.

I thought you were having chocolate fondant. He exclaims.

You distracted me with your blue cheese. He says.

You said you didn’t want blue cheese. I’ve got four slices of blue cheese for you. Waiting at my station. Says he.

And that.

Dear reader.

Is why I told him I was having chocolate fondant.

At the end of each day we have a briefing for tomorrow. Used to alternate between English at 1830hrs/German at 2030hrs. Now consolidated to one briefing at 2030hrs. After everyone has had a few beers and glasses of wine at dinner.

Now a relaxed affair. There’s an alcoholic buzz in the room.

Older German Geologist, who studied in Braunschweig (my second home), gives tonight’s briefing. He’s box office. Very dry humour. Very British sense of humour. A real character. The sort you’d like to have a beer with. And schnapps. And gluhwein. Miss Tamworth and I know how to enjoy gluhwein. Mit schuss. In Braunschweig. What went on in Braunschweig. Stays in Braunschweig.

Miss Braunschweig doesn’t drink. Miss Tamworth on the other hand…

German Geologist has to stop the deck 6 briefing as deck 10 bar is not picking up the live stream of his briefing. Has to fill in time for a few minutes.

Tells us the story of a colleague in rough seas. Enjoying his lamb stew with mashed potatoes and carrots. But found it was slipping and sliding off the plate. So put everything in a sick bag so he could spoon it out. Easy peasy.

But colleagues made of less sterner stuff saw the obvious. Bloke eating out of a sick bag. With carrots in it. Which made them feel even more ill.

You might have heard the roar of laughter further south. So funny.

Laughter no doubt fuelled by a few glasses of wine.

NWP 16. ‘aving a whale of a time

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30-Aug-24 Cambridge Bay

6hrs set aside for shore excursion to Cambridge Bay.

Ah yes. Cambridge Bay. Sounds enticing. Doesn’t it.

Sounds quaint. Doesn’t it.

Conjures up images of the Cotswolds. Doesn’t it.

Er no.

Fleapit.

Apparently for the past 5,000 years it’s been chosen as a place to live for its location and its resources. In Inuit it’s Iqaluktuuttiaq. Meaning place of many fish. In English named after the Duke of Cambridge. No. Not that one. The 19th century one.

At the evening briefing the night before it was suggested that residents of Cambridge Bay are a bit brighter (as in intelligence) than residents of Ulukhaktuk. Schedule to arrive at noon. Told that we may hear the town’s siren to denote start of lunch hour. When everything shuts down. One of our Inuit CA’s sons heard this for the first time a few years ago and thought a Russian nuclear strike was imminent.

Landing on shore it’s clear that this is a bit more of a cultural mixed bag. Ulukhaktuk was completely Inuit. But. There’s a couple of African looking gents handling logistics. A few more white Canadian looking faces. Local RCMP officer appears to be Pakistani/Indian. More diversity.

Told that there will be a 2hr guided tour by locals. Who are young teenagers. The school tries to promote the youngsters whenever a ship is in town. Last year it was the basketball team doing the tour. This year we have the cadets.

Shown around town by a 12 year old in tracky bottoms and sweatshirt. We’re all wearing polar gear. Flipping kids. They’ll catch their death.

It’s not a tour. It’s a follow me to the next shop/centre/museum/Arctic Research Centre/shop/shop/shop. ‘Cos I know where I’m going. ‘Cos I’m local.

Dire.

Decide to stride out alone. Except. I can’t. I’m wearing these thermal wellies we all have to wear. For bio-protection nonsense. So. It’s more of a waddle. As they don’t fit like a glove. And trying not to get a blister. As I can feel one coming on. Given they’re a little bit loose. Like the Ministry of Silly Walks.

Which exacerbates my arthritic left knee. And my dodgy left ankle from an electric scooter incident in Berlin. Last summer. When I tried to stop myself from being killed using left foot as a brake. At 15mph. Miss Braunschweig felt this was funny as I limped around Berlin that weekend. And for a further 6 months. Not forgetting my right little toe being stubbed/broken/dislocated a few weeks ago. Apart from that. I’m fighting fit.

Head for the Canadian High Arctic Research Station (CHARS). As been told it’s worth a visit. For about two minutes. Dreadful recommendation. Not worth the trek to the edge of town if you’re ever in Cambridge Bay.

There’s a Canadian military exercise happening in town. To ensure that all the plans are in place and working. Ensuring no illegal incursions into the North West Passage. Canadians consider the NWP to be its territorial waters. Russians, Chinese, Americans think differently. Military PR bod is very military. Very upright. Very intense. Very. Short. Sharp. Speech.

Whilst it’s considered a minimal risk of unknown Russian/Chinese surface water vessels there is the possibility of submarines.

Having now done the CHARS and the museum. Am to discover the delights of KFC! (See yesterday’s blog). There’s nothing much else to do.

Ask a local where I can find the KFC. It’s in the Northern supermarket. Off I speed. The excitement.

Hmmm.

Just a room off the supermarket. With deep fat fryers. And soda drink pumps. Think I’ll stick to the excellent food on board.

The Northern supermarket is about a small Sainsbury’s size. It’s local noticeboard has an advert wanting people to go on a grizzly bear hunt!

Fresh fruit and veg well stocked. Including. Bizarrely. Avocadoes. Not much more expensive than Waitrose.

Lea & Perrins Worcestershire Sauce – CAD6.69/£3.78

Tabasco CAD4.89/£2.76 (not much more than Sainsbury’s)

HP Sauce CAD10.49/£5.92

And its piece de resistance. Never been to a supermarket where real fur has been on sale.

Yes. Racks of pelts. See photos below.

Rabbit.

Beaver. CAD200.

Raccoon.

Coyote.

Fox. CAD300.

Brushed beaver fur is the softest thing I think I’ve ever felt.

Assistant identifies each fur. One of the largest furs is, she says, rabbit.

Bloody big rabbit. Think I.

Someone’s shot Harvey.

But no. It’s tiny little fluffy bunny rabbits which have been killed. And skinned. And then sewn together. To form a large coat like fur. All the woke leftie vegans are crying now.

See a bit of a commotion further up the road. Requires waddling to. Loads of crappy furniture on display. The sort you might see in a third hand shop down Hyson Green (ethnic part of Nottingham for those who don’t know). Local Housing Association is offloading its crap. Sellotaped to each piece of furniture is a brown paper bag. White Canadian woman handing out strips of paper. Not unlike raffle tickets. But ticker tape style rather than a book. You take a strip of paper. Like a raffle ticket there are two parts. You rip one part off and put in brown paper bag attached to furniture that you want. And retain the other bit as proof it’s your ticket. Like a raffle.

Each piece of furniture now has brown paper bag with lots of numbered tickets in it. Like a raffle. They pull out a ticket. And the winning number gets that piece of furniture.

It’s a busy old place.

Local Inuit girl carrying baby in traditional way. Ask if I can take her photo. “20 dollars”. Is the reply. No thanks. Say I.

After over 3.5hrs. Return to departure point. Have spent 2.5hrs longer than I thought I would. It being a glorious blue sky day. Sunny. Would be a warm 10C were it not for wind chill.

But before boarding Zodiac. Canapes. Small selection of local delicacies. Smoked Arctic Char. Biltong style Arctic Char. Caribou burger. Some sweet thing based on Arctic Char. Spicy Banana Chutney.

And.

Whale.

Two types.

Beluga Whale. White skin. Creamy coloured blubber. Delicious.

Narwhal. Black skin. Rose pink blubber. Dipped in soy sauce. Delicious.

See photos below.

Not a good read for leftie vegans is it this blog today.

General consensus amongst people I speak with is that we wouldn’t rush back to Cambridge Bay.

Dinner on board tonight. Is excellent. As usual. Trout ceviche. Brisket and risotto.

Followed by cheese and biscuits. It does come with blue cheese doesn’t it? Ask I. Yes, of course. Says waiter. We’ll call him Lurch. They’re all brilliant. But he stands out.

Cheese arrives.

Oh. No blue cheese then?

No.

They’re trying to find the key to the storeroom as ran out in the kitchen.

Ah OK. No problem.

Crack on eating the brie and Edam. Small pieces of cheese. The sort of size you would put on a mousetrap. With bits of walnut. Dried apricot. Nice end to a meal. To finish off excellent glass of wine. Just a little bit of this and that. To taste.

And then.

Nearly finished my cheese dish. Only small portions. A couple of crackers. A few nibbles of this. A few nibbles of that. A delicate dish. Small tasting portions. Just what you fancy at the end of a meal.

So.

Imagine my surprise. When. A. Told Lurch not to worry I’ll do without blue cheese. And. B. Have just about finished what I have and am replete.

When.

Lurch plonks a plate down on my table.

To which I say, a bit too loudly, “Bloody ‘ell!”

For before me is a large slab of blue cheese. The sort of 500g packet size you buy at Sainsbury’s to keep you going for a few weeks.

Delicate. It. Is. Not.

As he’s gone to the trouble of sourcing blue cheese. Feel obliged to take a few broken crumbs from the plate.

There still remains a very large chunk of blue cheese.

He’s not tuned in to the ‘delicate tasty morsels’ programme.

NWP 15. Flipper lickin’ good

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29-Aug-24 Murray Island

Been following a chap’s blog who is rowing the North West Passage on the Cambridge Bay to Prudhoe Bay sector. Our paths will cross this morning. Between 0500-0600hrs. As you all know by now. Don’t do mornings so won’t be up to wave. In any event, they are rowing in the lee of an island we are the other side of it seems judging from their tracker. And we are some miles away. So unlikely to see a small 4 man rowing boat called Hermione bobbing up and down on the horizon.

You can follow them here (which also has links to there blog): www.facebook.com/NWPexpedition

If you like gin, you can support them here: https://cambridgedistillery.co.uk/products/northwest-passage-gin

Lectures on the Franklin expedition, bird feathers and the geology of the Arctic are, as usual, fascinating. I have no interest in birds but the wildlife lectures are really informative. Ever looked at a bird feather under a microscope? Like Velcro.

Late afternoon by the time we arrive at Murray Island in the Coronation Gulf. Expedition crew have to Zodiac around the island and go ashore with rifles and flares to ensure there are no polar bears roaming about. Takes an hour.

Standing on deck looking at a remote, desolate, barren island with nothing but some grass and rocks. Receive a text from Miss Nottingham. Miss Nottingham has been alerted by little sis, Bloss. Telling me that there’s a Kentucky Fried Chicken at my next destination.

Hmmmm.

Thought I.

Don’t think so.

As I look out a flattish, featureless Martian landscape.

But there’s a smidgeon of doubt in my mind. Had previously heard a bloke tell another bloke on deck that there’s a McDonald’s on here as we approached a few miles out. Obviously thought it was a joke on account of it being so featureless.

But now Bloss is telling me there’s a KFC.

Miss Nottingham also doubting little sis does some research and confirms. Yes there is a KFC. With a 4.6 rating on Google.

Now. To put this in context. Miss Nottingham and Bloss are seasoned travellers. More than me, dear reader. I am being followed on my journey. Not stalked though. They know their stuff. They know the ship’s track. They know it’s at Murray Island.

With three people saying there’s a fast food joint. I begin to think that maybe there is a KFC on the island. Miss Nottingham suggests it could be whale nuggets. Finger lickin’ good becomes flipper lickin’ good.

I know. It’s bad.

But of course. It all becomes clear. There is no KFC on Murray Island. But there is at my next destination after Murray Island. In Cambridge Bay. Something to look forward to then.

Zodiac landings start at 1830hrs. Early dinner, dear reader. Don’t do early dinner. That’s for old folk.

1915hrs by the time my group bounce along in the Zodiac to shore (on the return a tall German is scared witless as we literally bounce up off our seats going over a wave). Surprisingly sandy beach. And we walk to the top of a hill. For those who have walked across the top of Kinder Scout in the Peak District in Derbyshire, UK. It’s exactly like that. Boggy. Tufts of grass. Granite stone here and there. Granite becomes more prevalent the higher up we go. Smoothed by glaciation. Streaks in the granite show glacial striation.

Walking in thermal wellies which are a bit too large. With a lifejacket on. With a rucksack on back. On top of lifejacket. With a camera bag on front. Wearing polar puffa jacket. With a waterproof overcoat. Oh yes. Less Touring Taurean. More Sherpa Taurean. Would help if I could wear my own hiking boots. You know. The ones that fit like a glove and are comfortable. But no. Suffer in silence.

And reach the top.

Wow.

What a view of the Coronation Gulf.

Radar domes on the nearby Edinburgh Island part of the Distant Early Warning System. To detect nuclear attacks. Early.

Now about 2000hrs. Sun is sinking to the sea. Sunset soon.

Hang around at the top until a batch of tourists start going down.

Now on my own.

It’s one of those pinch me moments.

Less than 400 hundred people have apparently set foot on Murray Island. I am one of them. Now.

Bright blue sky. Soon be the golden hour.

Have a moment to myself.

This is my Danco Island moment. (https://touringtaurean.com/bloody-hell-bloody-hell/)

This is why I work.

NWP 14. Cultural Appropriation

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28-Aug-24 Ulukhaktuk

Morning lectures, as usual, are excellent. Photographs of the Inuit taken in the 1930s and 1950s.

But.

There’s a trigger warning.

Will be shown dead foxes. Yikes. And other things being killed.

FFS. We are all grown mature adults. Not a bunch of woke millennials crying at the slightest thing. No. We’re made of sterner stuff.

One shows a small boat from the 1930s. It’s one of our Inuit Cultural Ambassadors’ (CA) grandfather’s boat. We are privileged to see a slice of life from another era. Another photo shows Inuit in traditional dress that you were perhaps taught at school. Clothed in furs. Trigger alert. Animals were killed to clothe them.

‘Sounds of the Sea’ lecture is excellent. Scientists put hydrophones in the sea to detect all sorts of noise. Either man made like submarines, sea life like whales or environmental like waves and rain. Hydrophones can pick up low frequency whale noises from 1,000 miles away. Scientists know that certain sounds belong to certain animals by the pattern and frequency. Fascinating stuff. Listening to a recording of whales is almost like a jazz trombonist playing. It’s that quality of sound. End of lecture quiz. Man made or natural sounds? And we listen intently to 10 sounds. All are convinced that one is a dolphin.

It’s not.

It’s a creaking door.

Misses Nottingham, Braunschweig, Brasil, Vancouver. Etc. Sorry to disappoint you all but have traded you in for another model. Have been getting to know Miss Hannover. She invites me to join her for lunch. Our connection. I used to live in Braunschweig. Which is near enough. Early stages yet. But I’m anticipating something more in the relationship. A pot of homemade jam perhaps. A knitted scarf. About 30 years older than me. Oh yes. Still got it dear reader. I’ve pulled.

Amazing coincidence. American couple I’ve been chatting with recognise a lady from a trip they did to New Zealand. In. Wait. For. It. 2008. 16 years ago. They even have a photo of her on their mobile phones still. Unbelievable. And they only live about 2hrs apart in Seattle.

You forget how big this country is. Taken 18hrs sailing over the Amundsen Gulf through the night and much of the day to arrive at the Inuit settlement of Ulukhaktuk. Our Inuit CAs tell us that we have been granted permission to land but don’t do this, that and the other. And don’t take photos of the cemetery. Specific request from tribal elders.

But.Before we can go ashore. Wait to ferry about 40 Inuit to the ship. To give a cultural display. Quite why they couldn’t do it in their community hall is beyond me. Well. Actually. I’m guessing it’s part of the deal. Come on board a nice luxurious ship for a few hours. Have a drink. We’ll let you land.

Previously been subjected to a cultural display in Barrow/Utqiagvik in 2019. Strictly Come Dancing it isn’t. And I say no more. But know I am not alone in thinking this. Judging from a few other comments from fellow passengers.

Dare I suggest that there’s a slight whiff of rebellion amongst some of the passengers creeping in about the Inuit ‘this is our land not yours….do this…not this…’ mentality?

Landing on shore the options are walk to the top of a hill in boots that don’t really fit and unsuitable for hiking. Or. A guided tour of the settlement. Guided tour sounds interesting. Can climb a hill any old day. In proper hiking boots. Dreadful. Small Inuit speaks to a group of 20. But only two or three adjacent can hear him. Because of wind and softly spoken. Group soon starts fracturing. Visit to the Inuit Arts Centre sounds interesting. What they actually mean is shop.

Another ramble through the settlement. Large tanks feed the diesel generator to provide power. A community meeting next week to discuss whether to make the place alcohol free. As in most situations. Alcohol fuels crime. Drink driving seems to be the biggest crime.

Very barren tundra and very dry. Our Inuit CAs had previously told us not to be put off by the rubbish lying around. There’s all sorts of detritus. Toys. Cars. Skidoos. Quad bikes. If it breaks down it’s kept for spares.

Enticed into the school’s sports hall for an Inuit print making demonstration. What they actually mean is a shop. Well. A few trestle tables with locals selling earrings, seal fur gloves, seal fur hats, and such stuff. A small seal made of seal fur attracts my attention. Exactly like one my Mum has. From 60 years ago. Pick it up. Quite taken with it as it’s a sentimental memory. I’ll buy it. Thinking it’s a few quid. Because that’s all it’s really worth. How much? Ask I. CAD30. Says she. Really?!?! Think I. It’s in my hand. I actually do want it. So. Cough up. Reminding myself that our Inuit CAs have told us not to barter. Reminding myself that this is seemingly all a bit of a con. For the tourist dollar. Like everywhere else in the world. Not that I’m a cynical old sod, dear reader.

Local shop is seemingly fully stocked with groceries. Albeit not fresh. Tins. Packets. Canadian contingent go gulp. This is expensive. And it is. Logistics, dear reader. Boat or aircraft every so often. Not the daily lorry delivery we all expect in our comfortable western lives. Complaining about the lack of avocadoes.

Clear that this is a hard lifestyle.

Another splashing of saltwater spray as we Zodiac back to the boat. Waterproof trousers have ridden down a little. Now have a soggy bottom.

To complete the Inuit experience. An evening talk on Inuit Ulu. A crescent shaped blade with handle. Inuit miffed that some western companies are copying the style and selling cheapo products.

And then for the first time. But suspect not the last. Two words we all love to hear.

Cultural Appropriation.

Do not appropriate our culture. You do not have the right.

Well, dear reader. This upsets the French. Always the French.

French woman stands up and mentions that the Ulu style blade was well used in Europe for tanning way before you lot came on to the scene. Not those exact words. But you get my drift.

Ouch.

Two young Inuit girls thought they were going to have an easy gig. Talking about Ulus and Inuit tattoos. Which we also can’t have. We’ve not earnt the right. It’s not our story.

They are taken aback by this.

They don’t know how to react.

They’re not used to being challenged like this. One feels.

Well that soon wraps up the evening talk.

As I said. There’s a faint undercurrent of rebellion in the air.

Bit of an edge tonight, dear reader.

But we’re not done yet.

Still have the lighting of the Inuit qulliq.

What you may ask is a qulliq. Well. It’s a lamp fuelled by seal oil or blubber. Crescent shaped. On a slight incline. So the wick of Arctic cottongrass or moss along the straight top side can soak up the oil pooling below. And burn. To provide heat and light in an igloo. Can raise the temperature inside an igloo to a toasty 16C.

NWP 13. Smokin’

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27-Aug-24 Smoking Hills, New Territories

Bit rough last night. Sea depth exceeded 200m and sailing at just under 16kts. As we cross the deep Beaufort Sea off the continental shelf. Can only assume we are sailing international waters rather than Canadian. Disturbed night tossing in the swell.

And another clock change during the night moving forward to New Territories time. Another hour’s sleep lost. You know how much I love my sleep. So have a lie in. And a brew watching petite icebergs float past. The sort of size you’d have in a Giant’s Gin & Tonic. First sea ice we’ve seen. Though hopefully not the last. Not felt very Arctic so far. Just sea fog. And grey skies.

Very interesting lecture on how the North West Passage was discovered over the centuries. Each expedition incrementally gaining a little bit more knowledge than the last. The eastern approaches by Greenland. Western approaches by the Bering Strait. Complemented by land expeditions going north through Canada.

Expeditions put on hold during the late 18th and early 19th centuries due to the Napoleonic Wars. Always the French.

John Davis’ expedition in 1585-87 nibbled away at southern Greenland mapping the coast. MacKenzie completed a land expedition along what is now the MacKenzie River to map that route and the Arctic Ocean at the mouth of the river.

Ross & Parry in 1819 continued on the eastern side trying to find access to the NWP and a further land expedition by Dease and Simpson in 1837-39 capitalised on the MacKenzie route by extending the mapping further to Prudhoe Bay.

Not forgetting James Cook’s forays into the Chuckchi Sea in the late 1770s (the same trip he returned Omai…whose portrait is brilliantly displayed at the National Portrait Gallery in London, well worth a visit!).

Each expedition slowly providing another piece in the jigsaw. In preparation for the Sir John Franklin expedition in 1845-48.

But. As you know. This came to a sticky end with Franklin dying enroute and HMS Terror and HMS Erebus becoming stuck in the ice and eventually sinking.

No one survived.

More to follow on that topic, dear reader. Once we’ve had another lecture.

And so to plankton. I have no interest in plankton. But I aim to attend all these science lectures no matter the subject. I am learning stuff, dear reader. Left. Right. And centre.

There are three types of organisms in the sea: 1) Benthos, which live on, in or near the bottom of water bodies eg. crabs, seagrass, starfish (derived from the Greek ‘depths of the sea’); 2) Nekton (from Greek ‘to swim’) which can actively propel themselves against the current eg. fish; and 3) Plankton (derived from Greek ‘sea drift’) and are organisms that drift in water and are unable to propel themselves against currents. The stuff you learn on this blog.

Water sample taken a few days ago at Point Barrow is used to look at through the microscope. My inner schoolboy is excited. Not looked through a microscope since school. My first foray with a microscope was with my Thomas Salter Microscope Lab kit in the 1970s. Still have it in the roof.

Shall be retrieving it from roof upon my return.

Science Centre onboard ship has about 10 microscopes linked up to the monitors. It’s excellent and able to view chaetoceros plankton in the sample. But what a faff if you wear glasses and have dodgy sight. Like me. Discover the best way to look at the sample is one eyed. All pirate like. Ahargh. See photos below of the sample taken with a mobile phone.

More excitement after lunch as the sister ship MS Fridtjof Nansen sails up to the MS Roald Amundsen bow to bow about 20m apart. Last time they did this they got to 6m apart. Nansen appears to have more people on board so wins the ‘who can get the most passengers on deck’ competition. Pretty impressive GPS and propeller technology that allows this stunt to happen. All for a good photograph.

And the final trick of the day is a sail by of the Smoking Hills. Named by Sir John Franklin on his western recce of the NWP in 1826.

The fires result from auto-ignition of the sulphur rich lignite deposits found here. Auto-ignition caused by friction between the geological plates. About half a dozen points smoulder away.

As they have for centuries.

NWP 12. There she blows

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26-Aug-24 Beaufort Sea

Clocks went forward last night. Now on Yukon time. BST +8hrs. As you all know by now. Touring Taurean doesn’t do early mornings.

It’s an early morning. By Taurean standards.

By early I mean 0730hrs. 0630hrs body clock time.

Curtains open to reveal bright blue sky.

And land!

Herschel Island before me. With a load of Zodiacs buzzing around.

After four days at sea glad to get off the ship for a walk on land. This was meant to be the point where Canadian Immigration Officers flew in from somewhere to check visas and stamp passports. But. Last year they couldn’t do it due to weather. So last year they did an electronic check with document check at Cambridge Bay. And decided to continue doing that this year. Seems a bit of a faff for a couple of Immigration Officers to fly for a few hours just to check passports. With all the waiting if they cannot make it.

Mandatory briefing by the Park Ranger before we land. Approximately 2,400 passengers will set foot on Herschel Island in a two month period. So don’t tread on plants. Don’t disturb.

Five minute Zodiac ride from ship to shore. Necessitates putting on thick socks, thermal boots, waterproof leggings, polar puffa jacket, waterproof coat, life jacket, hat, scarf, gloves (possum fur gloves that I bought in Antarctica). And after putting all that on in a warm cabin you start gasping for the cold air. And sweating buckets.

Life jacket has to be worn at all times on shore. In case of immediate evacuation.

Arrive at Simpson Point. A small spit of land. Getting off Zodiac entails scooching up to the bow. Swinging legs over. Plonking self in calf deep water. Wade a few steps to dry land.

Originally an old whaling station set up in the late 1800s. Herschel Island has also been used for Anglican missionaries (hut still there), Hudson Bay Company and the Royal Canadian Mounted Police. Even Sir John Franklin came here in July 1826. 21 years before he died on his infamous NWP expedition aboard the HMS Terror and HMS Erebus.

In order to protect the island we’re guided by bright traffic cones. Which somewhat spoils the ambience of the place. Oldest dwelling dates back to 1893 but some newer ones have been built in the past 10 years. Inuit live on the island and a couple of our Inuit cultural ambassadors were born here. The Park Rangers are here for a couple of months during the summer period when ships pass by. To greet and keep the tourists under control. A freshwater lake at the top of the island provides drinking water. Its ice is cut out at the start of the season and brought to the huts by sled. Then melts naturally to provide drinking water for the inhabitants. About 2,400 gallons can be produced this way.

Sanitation is provided by outside toilets. The sort Grandpa Potts would use in Chitty Chitty Bang Bang. Though you wouldn’t want to be constipated in one. No. Bit nippy for all that. Also. You wouldn’t want to be getting up in the middle of the night for a pee either. See the photo below. Ensuite. It. Is. Not.

The Ranger’s have caught some broad white fish which is air drying on wooden poles. Smoke house is adjacent. For smoking fish and meat. Caribou. Grizzly Bear. Polar Bear. Sounds delicious.

Some of the fish they catch is tagged. Meaning a scientist has tagged the fish to track it. You get CAD25 for reporting a tagged fish with location, weight, stomach contents, length etc.

Only an hour on Herschel. Good to set foot on terra firma. And see a slice of another way of life.

By now the wind has picked up. So a bumpy Zodiac ride back to ship. Plenty of spray as we bounce over the waves. And all get wet.

Quick lunch. Limiting myself to salad. To try and not get fat…ter. The generous drizzle of blue cheese dressing probably not as healthy as it should be. But. As a little old lady in Sainsbury’s said to me a few weeks ago. A little bit of what you fancy does you good.

Cause of death. Blue cheese dressing.

Post lunch lecture on rocks. Have a passing interest in geology. There are three types of rock: 1) magmatic/igneous – formed through cooling and solidification of magma or lava, such as granite; 2) sedimentary – formed by accumulation of organic or mineral particles followed by cementation, such as limestone or sandstone; and 3) metamorphic – caused by physical or chemical changes due to temperature and pressure of existing rock, such as slate (metamorphosed sedimentary rock of clay and volcanic ash) and marble (metamorphosed limestone). The stuff you learn on this blog. No need to thank me.

Another lecture on local archaeology is fascinating. Archaeologist reiterates that a lot of Inuit artefacts have been identified by both the older and younger generation Inuit. For example, a wooden harpoon was discovered. Archaeologists couldn’t understand why Inuit would make a wooden harpoon. About as much use a chocolate fireguard. And then. One young lad assisting them said, “Oh yeah, my Dad made me practice making a harpoon out of wood before I used bone.” And that, dear reader, is how archaeologists discovered the purpose of wooden harpoons.

Back in cabin to finish uploading photos, sorting photos, resizing photos, thinking of a witty blog title (I know…failing miserably each time), writing diary, typing blog. Time. Consuming. The things I do for you, dear reader.

Until. Tannoy announcement.

There she blows.

Whales on the port side. And starboard side. And in front. Grab camera. And polar coat. Hot foot it from deck 5 to deck 7outside observation deck. Like a racing snake I am.

About three or four blows can be seen. In the distance. My best photograph is below. You’ll probably think. Meh.

Back in cabin after several failed attempts at taking a decent photograph. Stand at window surveying the sea. Three or four more whales start blowing a few hundred metres away. Not breaching. Just blowing. A bow head whale is distinctive as it blows a V shaped plume.

And why was I standing at window surveying the sea? Well. Had weaned myself off cinnarizine last night as it was forecast to be calm from now on. Like a drug addict, had to buy sufficient quantities of cinnarizine from a couple of pharmacies where I live as they would only sell me a couple of packs at a time. In case I overdose.

But now the ship is in 200m deep water. Deepest it’s been in. Wind’s up. Surf’s up. And did I mention the swell.

Head down trying to write diary at desk. With no horizon to focus on. I feel the motion of the ocean.

It gets worse. Dose up on cinnarizine again.

Like a junkie.

NWP 11. Not a day of rest

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25-Aug-24 Beaufort Sea

They say Sunday is a day of rest. Not on this ship it isn’t. Considering the past four days are meant to be at sea at leisure I have no idea where the time has gone. Can assure you I have not been bored one moment. As usual, I’m very time poor.

My day…

Breakfast. Who owns the Arctic? lecture. Walk on deck. Diary. Emails. Mandatory AECO Briefing. Lunch. Oil & Gas in the Arctic lecture. Thermal boots fitting and Logistics Badges Distribution. Lecture on clouds. Walk on deck for fresh air. Look at clouds. Now. That. I. Am. A. Cloud. Expert. Meet blokes on deck. Discuss Formula 1. And how Lewis Hamilton was robbed in Abu Dhabi. And other bloke chat. Wash and brush up. Briefing for tomorrow’s landing on Herschel Island. Dinner. Kindle. Blog. No internet so they’ll have to wait. Jamesons. Large one. Bed.

Don’t think I’m swanning around the globe doing nothing.

Can’t wait to get home and do some paid work for a rest.

So who does own the Arctic?

Depends on UN law, 12 mile territorial limits, 12 mile contiguous zone, 200 mile exclusive economic zones. And the continental shelf. And the extended continental shelf. An interesting read here: https://www.noaa.gov/maritime-zones-and-boundaries

It matters who owns the Arctic because of oil and shipping routes. Main trading route is currently China to Europe via the sea route through the Suez Canal. Which is about 21,200km. But there be pirates. Aarrrghh. And rebels. And other nutjobs. Trying to blow your ship up.

If you go via the Northern Sea Route over the top of the Russian Arctic the route is 13,800km. But that’s icy and only viable during the summer months. Unless you have an icebreaker. Which Russia has plenty of. But they’ll charge you.

The North West Passage is technically in Canadian territorial limits and/or exclusive economic zone. There’s an argument that the NWP should be international waters to allow free trade.

Sail past Prudhoe Bay this morning. It’s where I finished my Antarctica to Alaska trip in June 2019. After 33,000 miles. You can read that story on the blog on this website.

Plenty of alarms and announcements this morning as the crew undertake emergency drills. Plenty of announcements that this is an exercise. And do not man the lifeboats. Just yet.

Followed by a mandatory AECO briefing. The Arctic Expedition Cruise Operators’ guidelines. Basically. Don’t touch. Don’t pick. Don’t upset the locals. Don’t walk into people’s houses. Don’t visit cemeteries. You’re a guest on other people’s land. Etc. Etc. Etc. Common sense basically.

If a polar bear appears. Not to worry. I can run faster than an 80 year old lady. That was a joke lefties. The crew have rifles, bear spray and other scare tactics.

After days of low cloud and fog all pleased to see some blue sky and sun. Albeit fleetingly.

Arctic is derived from the Greek ‘arctus’. Which means bear. Which refers to the constellation and its visibility from the northern hemisphere only.

The Arctic has oil and gas reserves. And for those interested in my Antarctica to Alaska blog, you will see photos of the Trans Alaska pipeline. A 48 inch diameter pipe stretching 800 miles from the Prudhoe Bay oil field to the Gulf of Alaska. Prudhoe Bay has one of the largest oil reserves in North America.

Oil & Gas formed by phytoplankton slowly decaying over hundreds of thousands of years by heat. Crude oil produces gas (such as methane), fluid (such as petrol) and solids (such as bitumen).

Petroleum is derived from the Latin petra meaning rock and oleum meaning oil. The stuff you learn on this blog.

Final lecture of the day is on clouds. Low level clouds below about 6,500ft are Cumulus (derived from Latin meaning heap or pile) and stratus (meaning layers in Latin). Nimbus means dark cloud bearing rain. Other clouds are available. See photos below.

After a short talk on clouds we go out on deck and do some scientific research expressly for NASA. Because the ship is sailing through Arctic waters. NASA’s satellites are looking down on clouds but because of the snow and ice it’s difficult to differentiate between white clouds and white landscape. Which is where we come in. The scientists on board have been provided with NASA’s satellite timings and take photos of the cloud at a similar time as a flypast. So NASA can correlate the downward looking images with the upward looking images we send. Fascinating stuff.

You too can help NASA by downloading the NASA Globe Cloud Observer app on your phone. Dead easy. Doing your bit for science. Link here: https://observer.globe.gov/do-globe-observer/clouds

Whilst on deck might as well do a number of laps and get a leg stretch in. But. Meet a German I’ve been having the odd chat with along with fellow Brit who also been having the odd chat with. So there we are. Like Last of the Summer Wine. On deck. Talking Formula 1. And the fact that fellow Brit is doing the Pole to Pole trip. Spending three months on board sailing from Vancouver to Halifax, Boston, Miami through Panama Canal, down Chilean coast to Antarctica before finishing in Ushuaia in November. Wow. What a trip!

Another excellent dinner. Including Wild Boar pate. And Bison sausages.

And you all know the difference between a buffalo and a bison don’t you?

You can’t wash your hands in a buffalo.

Brummie accent helps with that joke.

Poor. I know.

This blog post is being uploaded on 26-Aug-24 as there was no internet coverage for most of yesterday. Don’t know if this is a sign of things to come so blog posts may become a bit sporadic now.