NWP 26. Aurora Borealis – WOW!

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!

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.

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

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?

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

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.

NWP 20. Grave situation

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!

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

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

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.