Diary - Salter's travels

Half Moon Island

We left Puerto Williams in the morning and headed for Cape Horn. For decades, Cape Horn was a major milestone on the clipper route, by which sailing ships carried trade around the world. The waters around Cape Horn are particularly hazardous, owing to strong winds, large waves, strong currents and icebergs. The need for boats and ships to round Cape Horn was greatly reduced by the opening of the Panama Canal in August 1914. Sailing around Cape Horn is still widely regarded as one of the major challenges in yachting. We were scheduled to do a landing here. This could have been interesting but in the event, it was far too windy. The bridge reported gusts up to 80 knots. I have experienced 60 knots – it is enough to make walking almost impossible, you are continually being knocked down. So trying to make a landing in 80 knots would have been ridiculous. This is what Cape Horn is famous for, extreme wind, so I guess it should not have been a big surprise that the shore trip was cancelled. Instead, we headed back to the Beagle Channel and dropped the Chilean pilot off. Turning south again, we passed Cape Horn much further to starboard than before embarking on a night crossing of Drake’s Passage.

The wind dropped and the seas never got too big. There was a bit of rolling but nothing to write home about. So, the next day, with very little drama, we arrived at Half Moon Island. To me, this is misnamed because it is a crescent shape. In fact, it looks just like an old caldera that has become flooded by the ocean. The expedition geologist assured me that this is indeed the case although Wikipedia states otherwise – Despite its shape, there is no evidence Half Moon Island is or ever was a volcanic crater.

Indisputably, there are penguins here. Mostly Chinstrap penguins. We did spot a few Gentoos in the water. It was lovely to reacquaint myself with these lovely creatures. I doubt they ever intend to be fun to watch but they are. Everything about their antics on land seems faintly ridiculous and amusing.

The weather was lousy. Overcast, snowing, dull and grey. We were given a small route of about 1 km to walk around. I stepped off to one side to let some people past and got told off by a small girl who had apparently been appointed “path monitor”. Although she did not have a badge to prove it. I am in Antarctica and someone is complaining that I am standing in the snow. Further along we had a view over a small bay. The slushy ice at the edge of the bay made the water look milky. I was assured by one of the expedition crew that this was because the sea was freezing. They were completely wrong. I did not argue the point but it did underline to me the difference between my serious experience of the Antarctic and spending a few weeks around the sub-Antarctic islands. The other excitement of the afternoon was a cormorant flying past. Once everyone was back on the ship we set off for the next island and the intriguingly named Paradise Bay.

Beagle Channel

Next morning, a little further down the Beagle Channel, we had another landing. The weather was still overcast and raining. Diane was still not interested in going out in it. I went ashore and walked up a short track to a vantage point. From here I could see the snout of the glacier and where it was calving off into the fjord. The ice was moving quite fast. You could not see it move, but I could hear it cracking and groaning every few minutes. There was a large block of ice which looked absolutely ripe for falling off. I found myself a good vantage point and waited for it. Never happened. The ice kept creaking and cracking. A few little bits fell off. After an hour I was getting more than a little cold and damp. Eventually, I was told we had to leave. Just another five minutes and it might have fallen.

With everyone back on the ship, we set off along the Beagle Channel. There are three ways past Cape Horn. To the north are the Magellan Straits where we had been a few days earlier. To the south is the open ocean known as Drakes Passage. This is the preferred route for commercial shipping because although it offers little shelter it is otherwise straightforward to navigate. The Beagle Channel is 240 km long and just 5 km at its most narrow. It is remarkably picturesque with five glaciers emptying directly into the waters. Named after the HMS Beagle that did the first hydrographic surveys of the area. Charles Darwin was introduced to glaciers here on the second voyage of the Beagle and noted “It is scarcely possible to imagine anything more beautiful than the beryl-like blue of these glaciers, and especially as contrasted with the dead white of the upper expanse of snow.”

Darwin probably had a nice sunny day. We were less fortunate but even so the views were spectacular. Many people came out on deck to have a look. I took a few photographs but it was difficult to do justice to the place. Heavy, thick clouds gave a dull grey featureless light to everything.

A little further down the channel we met the Fram. This is the ship we did the Northwest Passage on last year. The two sister ships engaged in some great horn blowing as they passed. The sound of the ship’s horns echoes of the walls of the fjord. On we sailed, past the glaciers to Ushuaia. Known to the Argentinians as the most southerly city in the world. This will be the eventual end of our trip. Where we leave the ship. Fortunately that is still a few days away so we carried on.

Finally, just after dusk, we arrived at Puerto Williams, population 2,800. A very small Chilean city on the south side of the Beagle Channel with the distinction of being the southernmost populated settlement in the world. Stopping here had been on our original itinerary. However, the plan, especially for the coast of Chile, was proving to be very flexible and Puerto Williams had been removed. Nonetheless, here we were. It all proved to be very frustrating. I would have loved to go ashore there if only for an hour or two. The last time I was here, I had just come from the Falklands in a small yacht, via Cape Horn. It would have been great to pop down to the yacht basin and maybe have a beer. Relive a few moments. Instead I had to content myself with scanning the shore for familiar landmarks in the distance. The Amundsen stayed there all night. Lurking a good distance from the quayside. Nobody got on or off the ship. Next day we set off for Cape Horn.

Magellan

South of Punta Arenas, south of the Magellan straits, are the Darwin Mountains and the Parque Nacional Alberto de Anostini. We had skipped Punta Arenas, yet another place I would have like to revisit, but now at least we had a chance to get off the ship. We had the opportunity to do a wet landing in the RHIBs. From the landing site there was a short walk to a viewpoint in front of a glacier.

Diane took one look at the weather and said “No”. She had a point. It was cold, overcast and raining hard. We have done three consecutive sea days to here. The Chilean fjords are interesting but not captivating. It does not help that the weather has been consistently Patagonia normal. That is, overcast and raining. Shipboard there is a general air of frustration over all the landings that have been cancelled. The bar has lost its mojo. For most of the trip there was a really good vibe in the evenings. Warm, friendly and chatty. Since Valparaiso, the introduction of the new menu, and a change of bar staff things have badly gone off the boil. People are worried about unexpected charges with the new menu. There are a bunch of ‘standard’ cocktails but they are awful. Each cocktail is made of a spirit and a pre-made syrup. Two ingredients per drink. Doesn’t work. This is why the margaritas, bloody marys and others have been tasting so strange. Quick and easy to make but pointless, to me, throwing the baby out with the bathwater. Other, more elaborate, cocktails are available but then you are off into high-cost territory – which is not in the spirit of an all-inclusive package. So, the bar staff are shouldering a lot of complaints, the customers are annoyed and the really nice comfortable atmosphere that the bar has maintained for nearly three months is gone. I needed to stop dwelling on this and get out for a bit of fresh air.

It rained and we got soaked. But it was good fun. I put my camera inside a waterproof bag. The type with a roll-down top. Then I put the bag into my rucksack which is similarly waterproof and has a roll-down top. By the time I got to shore in the RHIB the damp was starting to sneak in. My trousers used to be stretchy and waterproof. Now they are still stretchy but only shower proof at best. My jacket, a newly issued Hurtigruten jacket, is moderately waterproof. The walk up to the view point for the glacier was good fun. Here I found a bunch of very damp looking people standing around. I tried to get my camera out while keeping it dry. This is not possible when it is remaining. Best I could do was manage a few quick photographs while hoping it did not get too wet. Back at the RHIB the wind had been picking up. The ride back to the ship involved bouncing through a lot of waves. We got back, beyond soaked, looking like a boat full of little drowned rats.

Castro

Fidel Castro was a Cuban revolutionary. A champion of socialism and anti-imperialism whose revolutionary government advanced economic and social justice while securing Cuba’s independence from American hegemony. He was also a dictator who oversaw human rights abuses, the exodus of many Cubans, and the impoverishment of the country’s economy. Whatever your opinion, Fidel probably never visited the lovely city of Castro, population 41,000, on Chiloé Island in Chile. But we did.

The morning began with being ferried ashore in one of Amundsen’s tenders. Then we had a walking tour. We saw the city centre church which was opened especially for us. We saw the park where Ibis sat in the trees. We saw the palafitos, traditional and colourful wooden stilt houses by the river. It was a pleasant walk and after a couple of hours we were back at the port. We still had time to kill so we wandered off in search of queso empanadas. Fortunately, we did not have to look far. Lovely little restaurant with several types of cheese empanadas. Dale and Debbie, friends from the ship, joined us. We had a very pleasant hour with delicious empanada and wine. Chilean wine. It was lovely. Diane checked the wine with her app. This stuff was rocking a score of 4.0 at a price of around €10 per bottle. Way better than the ship wine. So good that we had a couple of bottles.

Back on the ship we began the long trek south to Puerto Natales, gateway to Patagonia. I did find this a little irksome. From my previous travels I knew we were passing some terrifically interesting places. I also thought that they could at least pick up a few cases of the local wine. The weather was dull and overcast. We were passing through the inner channel and it was all very pleasant if not spectacular enough for photographs. Instead, I amused myself by trying to photograph some of the birds flying around the ship.

We passed through several narrow channels. These were fun from my point of view. Probably a bit more stressful for the bridge crew. Then we got to a particularly tricky passage, know as the White Narrows. It is passable but very tight and needs to be tackled at just the right point on the tide. The weather was against us. The wind had picked to a small gale. The vertical, flat sides of the Amundsen catch a lot of wind. Usually this is not a problem but it can affect how accurately she can be steered. The combination of a gusty strong wind and a narrow channel is asking for trouble. It was announced that we would skip Puerto Natales and continue south. This was particularly annoying. I remember Puerto Natales as a wonderful place and we had booked a long trip round the scenic Torres Del Paine national park. Ah, well.

La Serena and Valparaíso

The first place our tour of La Serena visited was a small marketplace of shops dedicated entirely to selling tourist tat. Cute souvenirs, fridge magnets, t-shirts with amusing captions and a wide variety of impractical kitchen implements that combined the words La Serena with a red heart symbol. To me this was a tricky start to a tour. These things do happen. In Morocco, any tour will include the carpet shop of the tour guide’s brother. In Thailand you will inevitably end up in a tailors shop. Ostensibly, we were here to look at a church. But we had to walk past the market to get to the church. The church was locked up and a bit dilapidated anyhow. We were given a twenty minute break in case we wanted to look at anything in the market.

Then we walked to a park. It was Sunday so all the (non-tourist) shops were shut. Made for a somewhat dull walk. But the park was in full swing with some dancing. We watched the dancing for a while and nearly bought an ice cream. The tour ended up at a lighthouse that was not really a lighthouse, it had just been built for tourists. The lighthouse was on the beach. The beach is the main tourist attraction. There was a stall nearby selling fried queso empanadas. This was truly the highlight of the day although on the way back to ship, we did spot a pirate ship.

La Serena thoroughly explored, we sailed overnight to Valparaíso. Built upon dozens of steep hillsides overlooking the Pacific Ocean, Valparaíso has a labyrinth of streets and cobblestone alleyways, embodying a rich architectural and cultural legacy. Valparaíso was declared a World Heritage Site in 2003. We did not see any of that, except at a distance. A few of us, those doing the pole-to-pole, were sent off on a tour to keep us out of the way. Meanwhile, at the Amundsen, they were preparing for the next leg to Antarctica. This meant taking on lots of supplies and also passengers. A lot of passengers. The ship was going to be just about full. 277 people.

Meanwhile, we were taken to a very nice park and a famous outdoor theatre that was closed. Next came a very tiny museum. Upstairs was a taxidermists display of Chilean fauna and a two headed sheep. Downstairs were several very dark rooms with old things in and a long queue for the toilet. Outside, as a backdrop to the tourist tat stalls, was a stone head. It looked to have been stolen from the Easter Island people. We had a walk along the shoreline promenade and ended up in the city centre square. Late afternoon we were taken back to the ship which was now starting to feel very crowded.

Iquique

South from Arica but still in the Atacama Desert is Iquique, population 200,000. The history of the town is mostly associated with saltpetre mining. This used to be particularly important. Saltpetre, sodium nitrate, is a vital component of gunpowder and fertilisers. It is also used as a food additive. For more than a century, the world supply of the saltpetre was mined almost exclusively from the Atacama Desert. Since the first decade of the 20^th century, nitrogen can be fixed directly from the air (Haber-Bosche process). This directly led to the decline of the mines. Today, Iquique has one of the largest duty-free commercial port centres in South America and this is the main source of income.

We were taken on a bus trip to visit a museum and an old saltpetre mine. This proved to be remarkably boring. As I have mentioned many times before, we are not museum people. This museum represented an all-time low. The most interesting thing I found was a shed with lots of holes in it.

Meanwhile, back on the ship, trouble is brewing. Hx is busy rebranding itself as the expedition side of Hurtigruten. Today Hx introduced a new menu for the bar. Previously, those of us on the Pole-to-Pole trip had an inclusive drinks package that meant we did not have to explicitly pay for any of our drinks. Just about every bottle and cocktail was included. This was pleasant and felt like fair value. Now, Hx has substantiated the existing class divide between those in the more expensive cabins, called suites, and the rest of us. The affluent elite already have their own, exclusive, restaurant. I find this reinstatement of nobility strange. Norway is one of the world’s more egalitarian societies. Hx by contrast, despite being firmly Norwegian, is working hard to solidly reinvigorate the class system. The new cocktails and drinks top out at €50 a shot. Unless you have a suite. Making them essentially inaccessible to the proletariat. But it gets worse. The bar staff are desperately trying to learn and serve the new cocktails to the handful of aristocrats leaving no time to serve the plebians. A wait of up to half an hour for a glass of wine is now common. During one of these periods of class induced boredom, Diane and I started examining, more closely, the wine being served to those of us with a drinks package. Using the Vivino App we discovered that it is particularly cheap and nasty. Typically scoring 3.2 or less and costing and average of well under €5. You will only ever find this stuff on the bottom of a discount supermarket.

The day was rounded off by a short concert from the crew band. The ship’s crew, mostly Filipinos, are not allowed to drink at all and are paid a pittance. Despite this, a few of them have formed a quite reasonable sounding band and we all enjoy the occasions when they play to us.

Arica

The night before we arrived in Arica, Nicky did some songs outside. Nicky is our onboard pianist. She also plays guitar. Twice a day, she plays in the corner of the bar on the top deck. This is very pleasant. Adding an outdoor spot while the weather is still warm was a great idea.

Later that day I spotted a whale. Might have been a sperm whale. Difficult to say but I grabbed a few photographs anyhow.

Arica is in the far north of Chile. It almost never rains here. The Atacama Desert is one of the driest in the world. Back it the day, I was a carefree, solo traveller with a rucksack on my back. I visited Aric as a starting point for seeing some of the Altiplano area that lies eastward towards Bolivia. Here you can find massive, snow covered volcanoes, lakes, llamas, rhea, vicunas and pink flamingos. The tour description, “Desert man” sounded very promising. Sadly, instead of majestic landscapes of the Lauca National Park, we got dancing girls and modern art. I should have read the description more carefully. We were driven up one of the valleys that cut into the desert from Arica. These are irrigated from a subterranean aquifer and are very fertile. Citrus and olives are the main crops. Above the valley are four sculptures that were made about twenty years ago. I do not really have a gene for modern art and often struggle to differentiate meaningfulness from rubbish in contemporary designs. These sculptures were particularly challenging. The flamboyantly dressed youths dancing to loud, distorted music did nothing to improve my sense of artistic appreciation. My disappointment was however, slightly offset by the glasses of a very nice pisco.

Next stop was described in terms of geoglyphs. I would have managed expectations a tad better by mentioning a few rocks laid out on the hillside. Then came the museum. There are some ancient mummies here. Remains of the Chinchorro culture. They are some of the oldest examples of artificially mummified human remains in the world. 5,000 BCE makes them up to 2,000 years older than the Egyptian mummies. Many of them were found at the base of the Morro de Arica – a steep hill that looms above Arica. Our penultimate stop was on top of the Morro. Here we got some lovely views of the surrounding area.

Then it was back to town for a wander round. We found an excellent bar that served empanadas and pisco. Empanadas are a staple part of Chilean cuisine. A pastry turnover containing a filling. Often meat but also made with cheese, mushrooms and onions. The empanadas we found were queso empanadas – small and filled with tasty cheese. Went well with the Mango Sour pisco.

Quite soon after that, the ship was making preparations to leave. We were safely back on board and heading for the bar when we heard the band start up. A 21 piece band had turned up on the quayside and was serenading us as we left. Not just a couple of songs. They played for a good half hour or more as we sailed off into a particularly good sunset. It all felt very satisfying.

Peru

We had a sea day with a lovely sunset and then arrived in Lima. A cute little, red tugboat helped shunt us into place at the dockside. Diane and I joined a group on a tour of Lima. We are going to be in and out of Lima quite a bit over the next couple of months. A guided tour seemed like a good way to make our initial acquaintance. As guided tours go, it was pretty boring. The traffic is terrible. Lima does not have any sort of mass transit system and it certainly felt like we spent most of the day in a traffic jam. The central square was closed because the president, Dina Boluarte, was in her office and did not want to be disturbed by demonstrations. Everyone got off the coach for a walk around. Diane and I found a small café for beer and pizza. Then there was confusion about where to meet which wasted a lot of time and some people got quite grumpy. We drove down to the Miraflores area. Popular with tourists who enjoy the walk along the cliff tops. This is where most of the larger hotels are. We also spotted a statue of Paddington Bear – who, as is well known, originates from “deepest, darkest, Peru”. In the evening we enjoyed a fabulous sunset over the docks before setting a course south.

Next morning we arrived early at Pisco. The national drink of Peru and Chile, takes it name from this city. Peruvian Pisco Sour uses pisco with freshly squeezed lime juice, simple syrup, ice, egg white, and Angostura bitters. In Chile it is made slightly differently. But we were not here to drink, we had come to see the Nazca lines. I have known about these lines for years. Ever since reading Von Däniken’s best-selling book “Chariots of the Gods”. He speculates about ancient astronauts using the lines for navigation, or a landing site, or something like that. This is, of course, complete nonsense but nonetheless it instilled a lasting sense of awe into my pre-pubescent brain. Now we were going to take a flight over them.

A half hour drive brought us to a deserted airport. Very strange place. A brand-new airport. The bollards at the entrance still had protective plastic film on. Obviously built to be quite a big airport but, apparently, only used by a couple of small aircraft flying over the Nazca lines. Despite the size, there was then a lot of confusion. We waited around for the best part of two hours but eventually got put into a small group, assigned seats and walked out onto the tarmac. The plane was not my ideal for sightseeing. A dozen small seats. Small and very scratched window to look out of. Diane and I were flying on Aerodiana airlines. We sat back and tried to enjoy it.

The weather had improved since the morning. Sadly, it was still rather hazy with a flat light. This combined with the plastic windows meant that my photographs were really struggling to show any detail. It took quite a bit of post-processing to make them look anything other than featureless desert. The flight out, across the desert, was interesting. There is virtually no rainfall here. Less than a millimetre last year. Where the ground had been irrigated it appeared to be very fertile. A stark contrast to the dry, hard dessert right next to the fields. The first thing I noticed as we started to get closer to the Nazca lines is that there are lines everywhere. Not all of these were ancient lines with arcane meaning. Some were simply vehicle tracks, or footpaths, riverbeds and even a modern tarmac road. Most Nazca lines run straight across the landscape, but there are also figurative designs of animals and plants. This is what we had really come to see. Our co-pilot announced when we turned onto the first of the figures and I am fairly sure than many of the passengers could not see it. Only when we had passed several of the shapes could we really begin to see them. The plane did a well-planned dance so that we flew over each figure, first to one side and then to other. There are about a dozen main figures. They are all quite close together. In total the flight was well over an hour but I think only about fifteen minutes of that was actually flying over the shapes. On balance, it was interesting to see the lines and flying is the best way to do it. Nonetheless, I felt a sense of anticlimax. The photographs were not very good but I suspect the real problem was that it was never going to live up to my childhood expectations.

Máncora

Advice from the British Foreign Office was to avoid Columbia and Ecuador. Not the whole of each country but certainly the bits we were intending to visit. Instead, we had two sea days. Life was quiet. We crossed the equator. Naturally, Poseidon came on board to gives his blessing to the initiates. Diane and I stayed well out of the way. I felt there should have been some sort of party for those doing pole-to-pole. Didn’t happen. We had a couple of nice glasses of wine in the bar.

Then we arrived at Máncora in northern Peru. Later, I discovered that we were the first cruise ship to ever call at Máncora. Of course, we don’t think of ourselves as a cruise ship. It is an expedition ship. But with three nice restaurants, a bar and comfortable cabins it could easily be mistaken for a cruise. There was nowhere to moor up. We had to anchor off. First task of the day was whale watching.

The whale watching boats right came up to the Amundsen so that we could step on directly. About forty people to a boat. It was cramped. A bit too cramped for me. I need a bit of space to swing the camera around. Felt like every shot I took had someone or something in the way. In the end I did manage a few photographs but it was awkward. There were whales. That was the main thing. Over the course of a couple of hours we spotted two humpback whales with calves. They behaved very differently from the humpbacks we had seen in Iceland. The mature animals were very sedate unlike their offspring who both kept leaping into the air. A breaching humpback whale, even a smaller young one, is quite a sight. Difficult to photograph in the best of circumstances. I needed to guess where they were going to pop up. If I stood up it was a lot quicker and easier to bring the camera to bear. But then someone would complain that I was in their way. It was great to see some whales. It always it. But this particular trip was also a bit frustrating.

In the afternoon, we could use the RHIBs to go ashore. There was a little jetty which made landing easy enough for Diane. We had a short walk down the beach. Máncora, population 10,000, is a resort town. The Pan-American Highway is the main street. It is a popular surfing destination amongst Peruvians but not so well known further afield. The beach was busy. People were swimming, driving jet skis, surfing and just lazing around. We had a beer and wandered back to the jetty. Waiting for the RHIB back to our ship I saw frigate birds, boobies, pelicans, cormorants, and large turtles. A fisherman was cutting up fish at the end of the pier. He was throwing unwanted fish bits alternately to the local dogs sitting patiently around him and the giant turtles swimming under the deck.

Cébaco

Cébaco is a small island in the Gulf of Montijo off the coast of Panama. We dropped anchor there and went ashore in the RHIBs. More accurately, we did not drop anchor. Instead the Amundsen used its Dynamic Positioning system to hold station for the day. This works much better than an anchor. There is no damage to the delicate reefs. The ship stays pointing in the same direction. At anchor a ship will swing on the end of the anchor chain according to the water currents and tides. The weather was warm but overcast and raining. Diane could not risk getting the pot on her arm wet. She had a quiet day on the ship while I went bird watching.

This was not my plan. It just sort of happened. An accidental twitch if you like. The landing began with a walk down the beach. A few people live on the island. Mostly fishermen. There is no commercial ferry to Cébaco. It is seldom visited. After we landed most people wandered up towards the small settlement. I wandered off in the opposite direction and had a wonderful couple of hours wandering along the beach. Tropical rainforest, exotic flora and fauna, wide open beach and not another person in sight. Brilliant.

On the way back, I spotted a vividly coloured heron in a palm tree. It seemed quite calm. Step by step I cautiously moved closer to it. “Bared Throated Tiger Heron. Magnificent.” Came a voice behind me. It was Brendon the ship’s resident bird nerd. Then he asked if I wanted to join the bird watching walk that was just starting. I felt a bit obligated. It turned out to be good wholesome fun. We wandered around various habitat types. Brendon pointed out various birds, all of which he identified with a laser precision and then told us a bit about them. I started to question my eyesight. Normally, I think my eyes are fairly good. Now, I was starting to have doubts. Somebody would point to a tree. Brendon would do his stuff. Everyone would take a few photos. Then we would move on. Well, everyone else would. I was still looking at the tree trying desperately to spot a bird. Eventually I would have spots in front of my eyes. Maybe I needed to go to SpecSavers.

After twenty minutes or so of this, I did start to get my eye in. Just occasionally, I could differentiate a small brown bird from a leaf in the far distance. I even managed a few photographs. Started to quite enjoy myself. Started to become a twitcher.

At the edge of the settlement were some chickens. Diane likes chickens. We used to keep a couple that Diane named Hilda and Violet. Whenever I went into the garden, they would come over to see what I was doing. The dogs thought they were magic. After the initial introductions, I had to explain to the two German Shepards that the chickens were to be looked after, not eaten. This actually worked very well. Dogs and chickens lived outside together. We never had to worry about foxes. But the chickens were magic. At the edge of the field was an electric fence to keep the dogs out of the woods. I had put this up the year before. Only needed to have it switched on for two days before both dogs had learned to stay well clear of it. Now, a year later, the chickens fearlessly hopped through the fence while the dogs stayed well back. They watched in amazement at the magic chickens.

Sapping out of my reverie, I took a picture of a cute chick for Diane. The next day we would sail across the equator and then onwards to deepest, darkest Peru.

Panama

The Panama Canal cuts north south through Panamanian isthmus. Panama is the great land bridge between the continents of north and south American. The canal is the maritime connection between the mighty Pacific and the Atlantic oceans. The small country of Panama has always been massively important for international trade. The canal emphasises this. Each year 14,000 ships traverse the canal carrying nearly 300 million tons of cargo. By using the canal, they can avoid long and dangerous routes such as Cape Horn or the Northwest Passage. At the north end of the canal is the city of Colon: named after Columbus the explorer. Our ship arrived the day before we were scheduled to transit the canal. We got there just in time to see the Fram heading across Gatun lake. Fram was the ship we visited Greenland on last year. We had a day to explore and got taken to see the new canal locks.

Panama is covered by a substantial tropical rainforest although deforestation is increasingly becoming a problem. There are mangrove swamps next to many of the forested areas and this supports a remarkable diversity of plant and animal life. On the way to the locks, we stopped to watch a howler monkey high up in a tree. Also, a small group of white nosed coati running along the side of the road. These cute and curious mammals have become a bit accustomed to tourists and will, apparently, even hop inside the bus if they can smell Pringles.

The Panama Canal uses two flights of three locks. One at each end. 26m up to a large, artificial lake, Gatun Lake, then 26m back down to the ocean at the other side. The canal was mostly built between 1904 and 1914. It was only a few years before it was carrying far more traffic than initially envisaged. Ships were built to be exactly the maximum size that could pass through the locks. This has become known as Panamax. In 2007 work began on a second, larger set of locks to support larger ships now known as Neopanamax. The new locks use floating lock gates rather than the more conventional hinged doors in the original locks. There is a very impressive visitor centre where you can watch the massive ships transiting the locks. Unfortunately, there were no ships while we were there. Nonetheless, we got to watch a film, view an exhibition, look over the new locks and eat ice cream.

Next came a visit to Fort San Lorenzo. This was the site of many pirate related episodes back in the days before the canal. Treasure from South America and several gold rushes in the north of the continent all tended to focus on the area. It was possible, back then, to sail part of the way to the Pacific along the Chagres River. Goods then got carried overland the rest of the way. Fort San Lorenzo controlled the entrance to the river making it strategically enormously important. Henry Morgan (as in Captain Morgan rum) famously sacked the fort by feigning a frontal assault with his fleet while 400 of his men sneaked in from behind. The canon had only been set up to guard from the ocean, so his men had quite an easy time of it.

That evening, our ship, the Amundsen, slipped out into the main estuary to join its place in the queue for the locks. We arrived at the first lock around 9am. Typically it takes around ten hours to get through the 82 km long canal. Although the locks are over a hundred years old, the scale of the construction is seriously impressive. The American Society of Civil Engineers ranks the Panama Canal one of the Seven Wonders of the Modern World. Approaching the locks, lines were put out to four of the little locomotive engines running on rails at the side of the lock. We used four, two at the front, two at the back. Larger vessels use six. The purpose of these “mules” is not to pull the ship through the lock. It looks like that is what they do but in fact they are only positioning the ship in the middle of the lock. The ship is expected to use its own propulsion to move the vessel forward. We had long since taken a pilot on board. Now we also took on board a gang to handle the lines to the mules.

Each ship uses about 200 million litres of water to get through both staircases. The top lock is filled with fresh water from the lake. This drains down through the lower two locks and into the ocean. Fortunately, Panama has a very hight annual rainfall. Even so, on occasion, there have occasionally been drought conditions which have limited the number of ships that can transit. The lake is artificial. At the time it was built it was the largest man-made lake in the world. It is no deeper than necessary. To create a channel for the ships it was necessary to take down a lot of trees before the lake was filled. This was done with explosives. There is a marked channel through the lake. The rest of the area cannot be used for ships because even after a hundred years the trees, preserved in fresh water, are still there. An American company is currently studying the potential for harvesting these drowned trees.

The most difficult part of the canal to navigate is a section, “the cut”, that was dug through the continental divide. This is literally excavated through a small mountain range and was only made to be wide enough for the smaller ships of the day. A larger ship coming through the cut today needs a special, extra, pilot and a tug. This is to mitigate the potential collisions that might happen when big ships try to pass each other in a small space. The tug is tied onto the stern of the ship. From here, it can push, pull and steer the ship should there be a failure with the engine or steering gear.

Along the banks we spotted many deer. Somebody saw a crocodile but not me. We did see some Capybara, Frigate birds and Turkey Vultures. There was a big lizard which I also failed to get a good photograph of. Late afternoon we reached the final lock and the Pacific Ocean. The line crew left and a short while later the pilot left. Next stop is the tiny island of Cébaco.

Isla Escudo de Veraguas

A small (4.3 km²) isolated Caribbean island to the north of Panama. Much of the island is covered by mangrove forest. A short way offshore is an enormous coral reef. The island is about 17 km away from Panama and it is estimated that is has been isolated for about 9,000 years. Several animals found on the island have evolved to be quite distinct from their mainland counterparts. These include several types of bat and also the critically endangered pygmy three toed sloth. Until 1995 the island remained largely unpopulated, but since that time Ngöbe–Buglé fishermen from nearby coastal towns moved in, first using the island as a base for fishing parties and later settling permanently. In 2012, about 120 fishermen and their families were settled on the island.

The first part of the day was a beach landing which, to her annoyance, ruled Diane out. She still must be careful with her arm. I went ashore to see a presentation from some of the locals. This was mostly some dancing and a bit of music. As usual we were shown a selection of crafts and art. This is generally of little interest to us simply because we do not have space in our suitcases. Diane has taken to occasionally buying some earrings and now has quite a collection.

Our afternoon trip was far more interesting. At least it was for me. For a start Diane could come along. Some of the locals brought their boats out to the ship. We divided into suitably sized groups and clambered aboard. They took us all the way around the island. Weaving in and out of the mangroves and tiny, rocky islands. The vegetation was amazing. Dense, lush green mangroves back by exotic trees and palms. Then, up one particularly narrow channel the boatman suddenly cut the motor and pointed excitedly into the tree. I could not see a thing. Well, I could see lots of leaves and branches but nothing out of the ordinary. After more pointing and moving the boat a little I finally grasped what all the excitement was about. There were two pygmy three toed sloths. One was firmly wrapped round a tree trunk high in the canopy. He did not want anything to do with us. The other unwrapped himself a little and swung down to look at us. It was still very difficult to see through the leaves. Trying to photograph it was a particular challenge. The auto-focus would always fixate on the leaves, so I needed to go manual. Felt very old school. That was it for animals for the day but we did see a few more birds. In particular, there was a lovely brown boobie bird that sat on a branch over the water and seemed undisturbed by our presence.

Providencia

We left Guanaja with a spectacular sunset and set sail for Bobal Cay. This is a tiny island and one of the most southerly cays in Honduras. We never got there. An official warning of pirate activity had been posted. A Royal Navy vessel offered to accompany us but this could not be fitted into the schedule. Instead, we had a pirate afternoon on the back deck. The captain dusted off his cutlass and best pirate clothes. There were pirate drinks, pirate snacks, pirate songs and a tug-of-war competition over the swimming pool.

Pirates often used dry ice behind their bars

Our next stop turned out to be Isla de Providencia, population 5,000, off the coast of Columbia. The landing was on a proper jetty so Diane could come along. We were met by couples dancing on the quayside to traditional music. The men wore suits and the women had long dresses. To me it all seemed a bit too hot for that sort of heavy clothing. We got assigned to a guide and set off to explore the island.

First stop was a footbridge. The previous one was demolished in a hurricane Lota in 2022. It was quite an important bridge that linked a beach and housing area on the south island with the town on the north island. They are enormously proud of the new, rather colourful construction. We did have to agree that is a rather magnificent bridge. The hurricane did an immense amount of damage. An estimated 98% of all infrastructure was destroyed from the impact, making it one of the worst and strongest tropical cyclones to impact Colombia.

We were driven around the island for about an hour stopping at various places. There were some explanations. A lot of what we were shown was hurricane damage. Hotels , restaurants and other commercial activities put completely out of business. I would not be so rude as to say some of the places were boring, but I found little of interest to photograph. Certainly, full recovery from the hurricane is still many years away. There were some cows. I quite like cows. A mix of different bovine types and ages all accompanied by white birds. Egrets I think. I also spotted a lovely little yellow bird that I later found out was a Bananaquit.

The tour ended up on a beach. It was an idyllic beach with soft sand, warm water and palm trees. We were served coconuts containing iced daquiris. A variety of fishy foods were proffered. I ignored these and focussed in on some plantain fritters. They were a bit bland until some hot chilli sauce was rustled up. Really hot chilli sauce. It was wonderful. We lazed on the beach for a couple of hours. A few people went swimming. I wandered through some of the vegetation and found some scary spiders.

Like many locations in the Caribbean, Providencia has associations with piracy. The privateer Henry Morgan used Providencia as a base for raiding Panama. Tales and rumours abound that much of his treasure remains hidden on the island. Many parts of the island are named after Morgan.

Guanaja

Guanaja is one of the Bay Islands of Honduras. Population 5,500. Most of whom live on a small, densely packed cay just off the main island. A cay is a low elevation sandy island on the surface of a reef. Quite why everyone wants to live packed onto that one small island is a bit beyond me. Our guide told us of a fire a few years ago that wiped out nearly half of the wooden houses. There is also the risk of rising sea levels and tsunami. But they still live there.

We were out cruising on the RHIBs. Diane figured that if she was careful, she could manage getting in and out without causing any harm to her arm. This proved, with a little care, to be the case. The boatman took us right around the cay. It is so packed with houses that you cannot see any open ground. The main part of the Guanaja island rises high above the cay, in the distance, and looks almost deserted.

Guanaja has a small channel separating the part to the southwest. This is where we went next. Winding our way up the increasing narrow channel with tree leaning over us. Here we saw several brown pelicans. Our guide, mentioned crocodiles, but I didn’t see any. At the far end of the channel, we popped out on the far side of the island. This side is sheltered, pretty, and popular for picnics and fishing trips. Coming back, we saw the pelicans again. We also drove pass Dunbar Rock. A rather remarkable hotel that straddles a single rock in the bay.

After lunch, came a visit to Grahams Place. The landing here was onto a jetty so we thought Diane would be fine for this. It is a small resort. A beach area with tables, chairs and caged birds. A bar and restaurant. Some accommodation huts along the beach. A jetty with a caged off area in which we spotted some turtles. It was hot there. Too hot for us to be comfortable. Some people were swimming or snorkelling. The water was over 30°C so I doubt this was a highly effective way of cooling off. We had a beer and then headed back pausing briefly to photograph a small lizard. He seemed completely comfortable in the heat.

Belize

The day after Miami was a sea day. Gave us chance to get settled back into our cabin. In the evening there was an epic thunderstorm. It started before sunset when the ship changed course by 20° to avoid the worst of it. Rattled on until after 10pm and made for an excellent evening’s entertainment.

In the morning, we arrived in Belize. This is a tiny, little country that many people have never heard of. 280 km top to bottom, 100 km wide, population 400,000. The country was claimed by the Spanish in the 16^th century but was often used as a base by English pirates attacking the Spanish. A British settlement became established there 1716. The British did not acknowledge Belize as a colony but at the same time the Spanish starting thinking of it as British. Whenever war broke out with the British in 18^th century, the Spanish would have a go at the country now becoming known as British Honduras. Britain formally declared it a British Crown Colony in 1862. In 1973 the country was officially renamed Belize as a step towards independence in 1981. Although now self-governing, the official head of state is still King Charles although he has very little to do with running the place and probably could not point to it on a map.

The Amundsen anchored a little way off the custom-built cruise ship terminal outside Belize City. This terminal appears to be dedicated to attracting cruise ships. There is an array of shops selling variously duty-free goods, burgers and tourist tat. Fast catamarans collect the tourists from their ships and bring them to the pier. Here you meet your guide, in a diamond shop. Then you get taken out of the other side of the complex to an area where the coaches can circulate. We chose a trip on an airboat through a mangrove swamp. The preliminary was still ten minutes in a diamond shop where were offered rum cocktails and iced water. Then a 30-minute coach ride to the swamps. Before we could board the airboats, we were serenaded by a three-piece drum ensemble. Serenaded is possibly not quite the right word. My ears were ringing afterwards.

The boats are flat bottomed and driven by an aeroplane propellor. They have a very shallow draft and no underwater protrusions. Ideal for a swamp. They can skim over patches of weed, reeds and other vegetation without causing any damage. Our boat was powered by a large V8 engine. They had opted to leave out an exhaust silencer. It was incredibly loud and we were all issued with ear defenders. Before we set off, there was a brief introduction to crocodiles and manatees. In the event, we saw neither. I did not think this was very surprising, giving the amount of noise the boat made. Quite impossible to sneak up on anything. We had a half hour tour round the swamp. The boat was quite fun and we saw a few birds. In general, anything we saw was heading away from us and the racket of the engine, extremely fast. At the halfway point, the engine was switched off. A crocodile nest was pointed out to us and one of our guides caught a fish. Another quarter of an hour whooshing around swamp and we were done. Next stop was the souvenir and local rum shop.

On the way back to the cruise ship multi-terminal, we got given a discount card for the diamond shop. Leaving the coach, a man tried to sell me cigars and then we were back in the diamond shop. Nothing in the shop had a price tag. I found that quite disconcerting. Neither of us had any desire to buy diamonds. I doubt I could tell the difference between a diamond and a piece of glass. Diane bought a coconut but suffered buyers regret. The coconut milk was not especially nice and definitely not worth $7, however exotic it appeared. After a quick go on the swings, we headed back to the ship. Next stop would be the little island of Guanaja.

Charleston and Miami

Our ship was broken. The azimuth pod drive system uses variable pitch propellers. One of these was not working correctly. It had failed a while ago and meant we could not get full power or efficiency from one of the two drive units. Not a fatal problem, the crew had been nursing it for a while. But it does need fixing before we get into Antarctic waters where help can be a long way away. The Boston to Miami leg was cancelled. Most of the passengers left in Boston and nobody got on. Those of us doing the pole-to-pole trip were allowed to stay on. There are less than sixty of us, so the ship started to feel empty and deserted. Just a small group huddled in one corner of the bar.

From Boston we sailed directly to Charleston. To keep us amused on the two-day trip, we got shown around the some of the ship internals. Sadly, the engine room was firmly off limits. However, we had an open day on the bridge when we were invited to spend time as we wanted there. We got shown around the kitchens. This was really interesting, but we were not allowed to take photographs. Passengers are not really allowed in the galley, so the chef did not want any evidence. We also got shown around the area where they keep the RHIBs and canoes. This came with a little talk about how the boats are prepared.

Hurtigruten had arranged for us to leave the ship at Boston. We were booked into a nice downtown hotel. Some trips and a meal had all been arranged. Sounded like it might be fun. However, first job was to get the ship into the dry dock. The idea is to sail the vessel into the dock, close the gate and then pump the water out. Sounds quite easy but sometimes the devil is in the detail.

When the ship was constructed the first thing the builders did was to make a set of shaped blocks, pillows, to rest the keel on. Then they could start building the keel. Long before the Roald Amundsen arrived at the dry dock, Hurtigruten had sent a detailed set of drawings for these pillows. The dry dock company built a replica set and laid them out in the bottom of the dock before they flooded. When we arrived at the dock there was a barge in the way. The skipper had to manoeuvre around this and then squeeze the ship into the doc. A very delicate parking exercise. There was about 30 cm clearance to some concrete pillars whose effect on the hull would have been a little like a tin opener. Using laser positioning the ship was tied into the correct position.

The gate for the dry dock is way to big for a simple hinged assembly. Instead, the whole gate floats. Two rather strange looking boats manoeuvre the gate into place. Then water is pumped into ballast tanks within the gate and it sinks into place. The big pumps start up and water is removed from the dry dock. The pressure of the outside water pushes the gate into its final position against some large rubber seals.

With the water being pumped out of the dock, the ship starts to settle. It has been accurately positioned over the pillows using laser beams. However, it is also essential that the ship settles evenly onto the pillows. Otherwise, the ship can twist. Only a small amount but even this can be enough cause tears in the hull. To make sure that it is settling evenly, two divers are underneath the hull watching it settle. This sounds to me like one of the more gnarly jobs in the world. Sitting under thousand of tons of ship, in dark murky water, while it settles down onto the pillows.

I was pleased we could stay on to watch the whole docking procedure which was quite fascinating. With the ship in position and sat on the pillows we could finally leave. Two coaches had been provided. We were taken on a guided tour of Charleston. This was moderately interesting. Charleston is a clean, colourful city with many older buildings that have been carefully preserved. Later in the afternoon, we arrived at the hotel. A lovely building, close to the city centre. The following day, Diane and I wandered around the city centre. It was very hot. A bit too hot for us and after a couple of hours we were both starting to melt. In the evening we all got taken out to a nice Italian restaurant. Just after the pasta course I got a text message. The ship was not fixed yet. In the morning, we were to be transferred to another hotel.

The Mariott in Charleston is a perfectly good, clean, efficient, modern hotel several miles from the city centre. It is also completely soulless. A trip had been laid on but when we checked the details the lunch menu had absolutely nothing for vegetarians. Rather than feeling like complete pariahs and being hungry, we gave it a miss. Instead, we tried to use the bus system to get into the city. Sadly, we failed. Busses only came every hour and it was too hot to stand around outside for long. That evening we got another text message about staying another day. The days were starting to drag and then we got another message. Then the hurricane arrived. Hurricane Helene. The main part of the storm was well away from Charleston but there was still a period of heavy rainfall and strong winds. The ship came out of dry dock but the Master thought the weather was too bad for embarking passengers. The day after, day six, things finally came good and we got back on the ship.

Superyacht “Viva” 94 m £200m 280,000 l fuel

We sailed directly for Miami and the next set of passengers. Miami is an incredible concentration of wealth. Sailing up the channel to the cruise ship docking area we could see rows of millionaire, waterside houses with their superyachts parked at the end of the garden. This was all set against a backdrop of massive glass covered skyscrapers. The ship squeezed in to the dock between two enormous cruise ships. We were allowed off for a few hours to explore Miami. Bit of a dodgy start while the border officials messed everyone around. An hour later they finally let us ashore. It was very hot again. 35°C. The cruise dock area is well away from the city. Several thousands of people had arrived here to embark their ship. There were queues of people everywhere and literally thousands of suitcases piled up between them.

We jumped onto one of the free trolleys running into the city. These are all decked out with wood inside. Gives the vehicle a nice feel of being from an earlier age but the benches are a bit hard to sit on. It was Sunday. Most of the shops and restaurants were closed. The trolley went round a loop, so we just stayed on. The air conditioning was pleasant and we got a perfectly good tour of Miami.

The ship sailed in the late afternoon. Perfect timing. A new set of passengers were onboard for the leg to Panama.We got to see the famous Miami beach and some of the more extravagant superyachts. The day was rounded off with a spectacular sunset behind the many tall buildings.

Boston

The next three days took us down the Gulf of Maine calling at Lunenburg, Eastport, Boothbay, Provincetown and finally Boston.

Luneburg is cosy little town designated as a UNESCO world heritage site. We went ashore using Amundsen’s two tender boats. There was much talk about the fish museum. I imagined a museum of ancient, desiccated fish. Old fish nailed to the wall. Actually, turned out to be a fisheries museum which contained many and varied ways of killing fish. Further along the jetty was a rather lovely looking gaff rig schooner called Bluenose II. This is a replica. The original Bluenose was built in Luneburg for fishing and racing in1921. Proved to be good for fishing and exceptionally good at racing. Out of the fishing seasons, she enjoyed success in the International Fisherman’s Cup and achieved a degree of fame. On several occasions, Bluenose defeated boats specifically built to complete against her. Wind power became obsolete for fishing in the 1930s so the masts were removed and a diesel engine fitted. Later, the masts were re-fitted for what was to become the last race of the fishing schooners of the North Atlantic. Bluenose distinguished herself by winning against yet another yacht built just to beat her. De-masted again and reduced to carrying bananas she eventually sank on a reef of Haiti in 1946. Bluenose II is a pale reflection. Not used for racing but more for promoting beer, as a pleasure yacht and, most recently, as a cultural ambassador promoting tourism.

Eastport contains one of the few museums, in the world, that I have actually wanted to visit. Raye’s Mustard Mill Museum. At 120 years old, this is the last remaining traditional stone ground mustard mill in North America. I thought it could be interesting to see how they make the mustard and I also wanted to buy some sample to liven up the rather bland ship’s cheese. We wandered off, up the hill, in the right general direction. After twenty minutes or so my legs were hurting and so was Diane’s arm. Feeling terribly incapable, we gave up and took a short cut back towards the pier where the Amundsen was moored. Here we found a lovely wine shop with a cool cellar where we could recover from our ordeal. Just across the road was a small shop which sold Raye’s mustard. So, I managed to get a couple of small jars eventually.

For Diane the key feature of Boothport was the popcorn shop. An entire shop that exclusively dealt with their own handmade popcorn. She chose five packets with different flavours and then was pleased to be told that, with five packets, she could choose a sixth for free. Generously, she let me choose the bonus packet and I went for “Parmigiano and garlic” flavour. We wandered around the town for a while longer before ending up in a dockside bar. Here we whiled away a very pleasant hour drinking the local beer. I took a photograph, from the bar, of a heron at the water’s edge.

Penultimate call for this leg of the trip was Provincetown. Situated on the very tip of Cap Cod this is a colourful, bustling town known for its big, welcoming LGBTQ+ scene. We went on a short, organised bus trip. The most notable part of this was when the driver clipped a parked car. “Illegally parked” was his explanation and we carried on. We drove round some of the surrounding countryside and back into the other side of town. For some reason we were not allowed to get off. This combined with difficulty hearing the guide made for one of the less remarkable tours we have experienced. Afterward, we wandered around town for a while on our own before returning the ship and getting ready for Boston.

We arrived at Boston in the evening and most of the ship disembarked. The port was a stark change from the pretty coastal towns of Maine. Aircraft were on their landing approach directly above the ship. Quaysides were stacked with shipping containers and lined by massive cranes. There is nothing cute or glamorous about this place. Next day we sailed for Charleston and ship repairs.

Sabel Island

Next stop was Halifax, Nova Scotia. Here the ship disembarked some passengers and then embarked some new guests for the short leg to Boston. While this was happening, those of us that were simply staying on the ship got sent off on a bus excursion. This proved to be one of the least exciting excursions we have ever done. First, we went to Peggy’s Cove. There is an old lighthouse here. Mostly however, it appears to be a tourist destination. I am not sure why. There was a guy playing bagpipes rather badly. A couple of coffee shops, a souvenir shop and masses of parking for all the coaches. Leaving there we were taken to a cemetery containing the graves of bodies recovered from the Titanic. This was a remarkable only for its extreme dullness. Last place on the agenda was the Maritime Museum. As I have mentioned many times before, we are not museum people. We gave it a go though. There were a few interesting ship replicas and details of a massive explosion that happened in Halifax in 1917. Reckoned to be the largest non-nuclear explosion ever when two ships, both carrying explosives, collided in the harbour. The walk back to the ship was the most interesting part of day. The absolute highlight being vegetarian poutine on the quayside. This traditional Canadian dish is an unholy mix of French fries, cheese curd and gravy. Comfort food at its best. The shop advertised itself with the byline “Poutine so good, you will think you have died and gone to Canada”.

We left Halifax in the evening and by the following morning were at Sabel Island. This is a long, thin sandy island that is a national park and bird reserve. Three permanent staff live there. Two of them cam aboard first thing to brief us on the visit. Sable Island is famous for its enormous number of shipwrecks. An estimated 350 vessels are believed to have fallen victim to the island’s sand bars. Thick fogs, treacherous currents, and the island’s location in the middle of a major transatlantic shipping route and rich fishing grounds account for the considerable number of wrecks. These days, vessels are far less at the mercy of winds and currents. With improvements in electronic navigation, nothing has gone aground since 1974.

We were lucky. The Amundsen has called here twice before and this was the first time the weather was good enough to get ashore. Even so, the breakers on the beach meant that at least four people were needed on the beach to manhandle the RHIBs onto the sand. Diane was still confined to the ship but I went ashore. We were met by a park ranger. He took us a short walk up to the highest point on the island and explained some of what were looking at. There are about 500 wild horses roaming free. The first horses arrived in 1760 when they were used by a rescue station established there to aid ships. When the station closed, the horses were let free and have been doing fine ever since. Certainly to my untrained eye, they all looked fit and healthy. Later, horses were rounded up and sold for use in the coal mines of Cape Breton Island. Since 1960 they have been protected.

Although the island is little more than a long spit of sand, there is fresh water there. It was explained to me that because fresh water is less dense than sea water it forms a lens shaped under the island which rises up close to the surface. The horses can be seen digging shallow holes to drink from. The permanent base on the island is supplied by a well.

Along the beach there were many seals. Mostly grey seals. In the breeding season, several hundreds of thousands arrive at the island. The majority of seals were far down the beach, well away from us. But there were a few bobbing around just beyond the breakers. It appeared as if a handful of seals had been dispatched to keep and eye on us. There are plenty of birds on Sabel Island including Arctic Tern and Savannah Sparrow. The only ones I saw were Sanderlings running around at the waters edge picking worms and other small treats out from the sand.

Greenland

Two weeks out of Nome, we arrived at Dundas Harbour. In 1924 a Royal Canadian Mounted Police (RCMP) outpost was established here. Their role was two-fold. They were trying to prevent foreign whaling and also stopping Inuit travelling over from Greenland. After many hard days of dog sled travel across sea ice in fierce some conditions, the Inuit were being asked to produce identity documents and other bits of paper. It caused a lot of problems. The Inuit, who had been doing this for generations were not too keen on being told where they could and could not hunt. The Hudson’s Bay Company leased the building from 1933 and later a group of Inuit were relocated there. Today there are a few ruining huts and the graves of two RCMP officers. One of these committed suicide just a few days before the relief for his two years stint arrived. The other shot himself in the leg while hunting walrus and died, rather miserably, sometime later. Diane is still barred from the RHIBs but I went ashore and enjoyed wandering around for a while. In the bay, to one side, was a beluga whale. For the whole hour I was ashore, it was swimming round the in the bay. Although it was quite easy to spot, it was near on impossible to photograph. I tried, and tried, but they mostly stay underwater. Best I could manage was the occasional glimpse of the back of its head. While I was busy with the camera, I was also chatting with one of the Inuit Cultural Ambassadors. Hurtigruten had invited several Inuit to travel through the NWP with us to help explain Inuit life, their traditions and customs. Her view on this wonderful whale swimming round the bay was to tell me how good they taste.

Leaving Dundas Harbour, we began the long-haul south-east across Baffin Bay to Greenland. Late afternoon we arrived at Pond Inlet where we paused briefly to collect a Danish pilot. As night fell, we headed out into the big ocean. The weather was good and the seas were calm. Next day was a sea day and the following morning we arrived at Ilulissat. The wind had picked up a bit and the rain had arrived. Landing was just by RHIB so Diane was stuck on the ship again. I got ashore long enough to collect a few essential meds. The rain was relentless. I did not hang around too much.

Next stop was Greenland’s second largest city, Sisimiut, population 5,500. Fortunately, it has a good pier where the ship could tie up and also a good hospital. Diane and I took this as an opportunity to get her arm checked out. It all went well. The very nice Danish doctor x-rayed her arm through the pot. Everything looked good. Simple break. No need for further reduction (aligning the bones). Nothing more to do. Just wait a bit longer and hopefully, when the pot comes off, the arm and wrist will be fine. We reported back to ship’s doctor and he was happy with this. No further need to involved specialists. No missing the ship in Halifax waiting for an appointment.

As the ship left Sisimiut, and Greenland, we were feeling much happier. My legs seemed to be responding well to some common steroids. The rest of the trip was still on. To cap off a good day, I saw a pair of Humpback whales and in the evening there was the most fabulous aurora.

Another sea day as we sailed down the coast of Labrador brought us to the little fishing village of Red Bay. Lovely sunny day and a pretty village. The captain decided the sea was calm enough to use the tender for ferrying people ashore. Diane and I went ashore. There was nothing very exciting but it was nice to have a walk around. We looked at the church. We looked at a museum. We bought some coffee in the coffee shop. Nothing exciting but still very pleasant.

North-West Passage (NWP) #2

From the Bellot Straight we headed north and at 6am arrived at Prince Leopold Island. This is a roughly circular island of 68 km². A plateau surrounded by steep cliffs of 250m. It is an important bird sanctuary and home to 155,000 mating pairs of various species. This makes it one of the most important locations for breeding marine birds in the Canadian Arctic. Unfortunately, when we arrived the island was shrouded in mist. We heard many birds but could only see a few.

Later in the day we got to Beechey Island. Scene of many important historical events in the story of opening of the NWP. HMS Terror and HMS Erebus overwintered here. Three of Franklin’s ill-fated 1845 expedition have their graves here. Fresh snow and a stiff, chilly breeze gave the place a properly arctic feel. Diane was ship-bound with her broken arm. Far too dangerous for her to try and get in and out of a RHIB. I managed to get ashore for an hour or so.

Here we also encountered a lovely motor yacht called “Senses”. At 59m long this classy vessel can accommodate a dozen guests in six cabins. It has a crew of thirteen and many toys including jet skis and a helicopter. Charters start at $360,000 per week.

In the evening, we were at Radstock Bay. There was too much wind for a landing so instead we cruised right up into the fjord. The inlet splits into two and each arm has a glacier calving into it. We also saw another polar bear. I don’t think I will ever tire of encounters with these magnificent bears. This time I even managed to get a couple of half decent photographs.

North West Passage (NWP)

Our first stop in the NWP was at Ulukhaktok on the west coast of Victoria Island. Population 400 and host of the world’s most northerly golf course. In the morning, some of the locals came aboard to demonstrate traditional music, dances, songs, games and sports. Briefly, the bar on the top deck was transformed into a colourful party. In the afternoon, we went ashore. Initially we followed a local guide but then wandered off on our own. There are many Starlink antennas around. Most households have one. This gives them good, fast internet access. The primary sources of income are hunting and fishing. Often the hunters will take a Starlink system with them so they can Facetime their family while they are away. Things have changed an awful lot since the days, not so long ago, when a hunter would set off the rest of the village would just have to hope that they came back.

There was a brief landing at Murray Island and the next day we arrived at Cambridge Bay. This was where Diane and I had left the Fram the previous year. In a sense, this completed our traverse of the NWP. All the way from the Pacific to the Atlantic. Rather satisfying. The weather was not so great and the previous year we had spent most of the day ashore so this time we gave it a miss.

Leaving Cambridge Bay we headed for the Bellot Straight. The next day was a rather tricky one for both of us. For several months, I had been suffering from a skin rash. Initially on my legs, it has spread to my arms and now was popping up all over leaving a trail of sores and blisters. It was very painful and getting worse. Three courses of antibiotics and a bucketful of ointment had not done much to slow it. So, I had decided to visit the ship’s doctor. Then Diane tripped on the last step of a flight of stairs and broke her arm. The pair of us spent the afternoon in the surgery. An x-ray confirmed a broken radius and Diane was fitted with a back-slab. The doctor had some insight into my rash and gave me a course of steroids. But we were facing a dilemma – the doctor wanted Diane to see a specialist when the ship arrived in Halifax. If the break needed to be surgically reduced, then she would almost certainly have to fly back to the UK. He also thought I might need some specialist steroids that would require close monitoring. This would also require a return to the UK. We were still ten days from Halifax but potentially this was the end of our trip. In the evening, we treated ourselves to a bottle of champagne.

Next day I saw a group of Harp seals in the water. We were invited on a tour of the bridge. The Amundsen is only a few years old and has a beautifully modern bridge. The biggest ECDIS display that I have ever seen – still rendered next to useless by the clutter of chart overlays. Several radar including one that specialises in spotting sea ice. Not a wheel to be seen anywhere. Control is all done through joy sticks. Multi-beam echo sounder that could be deployed from a pod in the bow. This can give them 3D images of the sea floor but it has to be retracted to avoid damage in sea ice. Many other computer displays covering the engines, steering, and all the other ship functions. The master was clearly very proud of it all and happy to explain everything.

The afternoon saw the Amundsen at the entrance to the Bellot Straight. Back in the day, this was the key to the NWP. 25 km long and very narrow in places. The weather was a bit dull but still an improvement on the previous time we had been here when there was thick fog. With land close on either side it was an excellent opportunity for spotting wildlife. Right at the entrance to the channel we spotted a polar bear. First polar bear of the trip. Further on we saw two more and also a Musk Ox. To date I have not managed a good photograph of a Musk Ox and this is still the case. We had an early night to prepare for a 6am start at Prince Leopold Island.

Dempster Highway

The Dempster Highway starts just south of Dawson City and runs north-east for 736 km to the Arctic Ocean at Tuktoyaktuk. It is mostly a dirt track and build on permafrost. To stop the permafrost melting there is an insulating layer of gravel up to 2.5 m deep. The first 115 km were built in the early sixties when there was a suspicion of oil to be found. The rest was built in the late seventies in response to the Americans finding oil in Prudhoe Bay. The road is quite well maintained. We saw several graders working. There is also significant traffic including large trucks.

As we set off, it was raining, again. The sky was grey and the road slippery. I was grateful we had 4WD. Muddy spray off the road coated the back of the truck and before long the lights and numberplate were quite indistinguishable. Despite the damp, the driving was quite fun. Just this one, long track winding its way through the wilderness. We passed a vehicle coming the other way every ten minutes or so. The first section is through dense forest. Then you start to climb up into some hills and the terrain becomes more open. Dropping down again we started following a series of river systems. The Blackstone River and then over to the Ogilvie River by way of Engineer Creek. The confluence was marked by the muddy waters of Engineer Creek swirling into the clear, dark waters of the larger Ogilvie River. Some of the tributaries had bright red rocks along the banks. I think this is caused by iron ore that is leaching out of the surrounding hills. We crossed the Arctic Circle as indicated by roadside sign.

The weather started to clear and while I don’t think it actually got as far as sunny, it did get a lot brighter. Drier weather brings its own problems though. First of all, there is the dust. In some ways not as unpleasant as mud spray but it has a remarkable ability to penetrate. Our plastic living unit ended up full of the stuff. We needed to shake the sheets out before we went to bed. The other problem is the mosquitoes. There are several basic campsites along the Dempster and come early evening, we stopped at one of these. Looked lovely until I opened the door and was met by a great cloud of mosquitoes rising up out of the grass. It did not need a second glance for me to shut the door and keep driving. Towards the border between Yukon and North West Territories (NWT), the road cuts through some bare mountains. We stopped on a pass where there was plenty of wind to keep the mosquitoes away and were entertained by a family of ground squirrels. They were running around being terribly busy. I think they were collecting nest material. Not really sure, but great fun to watch.

Next day we arrived at the ferry across the Peel River. By contrast to the previous day, it was sunny and warm. Mid-twenties. Probably as hot as it gets. The mosquitoes were making the best of it. Not just mosquitoes but also a large variety of that bite you in a large variety of ways. I noticed some birds had been building nests underneath the bridge of the ferry. This made sense given that, at these latitudes, there are very few trees and the insects that the birds eat seemed to really enjoy feasting on ferry passengers.

A short while later came the ferry across the Mackenzie River. Same arrangement. Free, government run ferry in the summer and an ice bridge in the winter. There then followed a very long, flat section until we arrived at the town of Inuvik. This is quite a modern, bustling place with gas stations, supermarkets and a shopping centre. We only paused briefly before pushing on to Tuktoyaktuk, a much smaller village on the edge of the Arctic Ocean that marks the northern limit of the Dempster Highway. This last section of the highway loops around numerous lakes that form the Mackenzie River Delta. As we drove into town, we noticed that many people had mosquito nets over their heads. This was a worrying sight. We found the tourist office and were directed to the campsite right at the end of the village overlooking the sea. A dozen or so other vehicles were there. It is not much of a campsite and the toilets are some of the most evil I have encountered in a while. But we were happy to have made it to the Arctic Ocean. A stiff sea breeze kept the flying insects and the smell from the toilets at bay.

Next day began with a puncture. Fortunately, it was only slow. We found a garage to get the tyre pumped up and then headed back to Inuvik in the hope of getting it repaired. Before that, we wanted to check out the Pingo we had spotted when we arrived. We saw one in Svalbard earlier in the year. Pingos are intrapermafrost ice-cored hills, 3–70 m high and 30–1,000 m in diameter. They are typically conical in shape and grow and persist only in permafrost environments. Worldwide there are only about 11,000 pingos of which over 10% are in the Tuktoyaktuk area. There are a couple of mechanisms by which they are created. Both of these involve a core of frozen water which, over time, pushes the hill upwards. The Pingo was a pleasing shape and came with a notice board explaining how it had been formed. We were looking at Ibyuk, the largest pingo in Canada and the second largest in the world.

It was a Saturday and nobody was working. After determining that there were only two possible tyre shops we resigned ourselves to staying for a bit longer. At the small shopping mall, I managed to buy a small electric tyre inflator. This would at least buy us some more time. Fortunately, the campsite at Inuvik is lovely. Probably the best toilets in NWT and hot showers as well.

Sunday afternoon seemed unlikely for tyre repairs but we tried Polar Tyres anyhow. The man was in. He emerged from behind a fishing boat on a trailer. His arms were literally covered in blood up to his shoulders. Momentarily, I wondered if we had just stumbled on some hideous criminal activity. He explained that, with his brother, they had just been out harvesting Beluga whales. Now they were cutting them up for the freezer. Just occasionally when I am travelling something gives me the feeling of being a long way from home. This was one of them. We arranged to get the tyre repaired in the morning.

After three nights at the top of the Dempster we were properly back on the road again. The return trip was a simple unwinding of the trip up. The weather got damper again as we returned to the land of trees. We eventually arrived on the Yukon Highway in just the same sort of downpour as when we had left.

Alaska

The river ferry at Dawson City operates 24 hours a day. In the winter, the river freezes and traffic drives on the ice. The ferry is paid for by the government. There is no booking, no reservations. You just turn up and wait until you can get on. It takes less than ten minutes to cross the river and this brings you to the start of the Top of the World Highway. This is mostly a dirt track and gains its name from the way the road links the top of several hills such that for most of the route you are looking down into valleys. It is 127 km long and only open in the summer.

At about the highest point of the road, 100 km in, you arrive at the USA border. Previously, we had both applied for ETAC (Electronic Travel something or other) but we still needed to be finger printed and photographed before we could be allowed in. In my experience, border guards do not have a sense of humour. Never. Not even a hint. Surgically removed or something. Trying to joke with a border guard is like trying to play tennis with a jelly fish. It just won’t work. This time however, I was standing in front of the camera with my best serious but clearly innocent face when the guard told me I could smile. I was taken aback. Passport photographs are strictly no-smile zones. But, as the guard went on to explain, this was America, land of the free, where you can do anything. He then told us that Independence Day (July 4^th) was the one day of the year that English were not allowed into USA. He then went on to regale us with stories of bear hunting, the bear steak he’d had for breakfast and what to do if a bear came in the door. I suggested running away but no, he was clear that he would stare it down. I pointed out that my apparent lack of bravery was because he was carrying an exceptionally large revolver whereas I was armed with only a smile. Never saw the final ID photograph but I suspect I mostly looked puzzled.

Just round the corner from the border post is an immense “Welcome to Alska” sign and our first view across the Alaskan scenery. A few miles further on the road descends through a valley system and comes out at the gloriously named town of Chicken. They appear enormously proud of the name and just about every signpost has a chicken theme. We also saw a moose. It stepped into the woods and disappeared long before I could get my camera out. They do that. Very frustrating animals to try and photograph. Remarkable how, despite their size, they seem able to completely vanish in just a few steps.

The weather was consistently terrible. Rain and thick grey clouds and fog, several types of mist and more rain. We seemed to spend quite a lot of time driving without seeing very much. Arriving at Fairbanks, we turned south towards Anchorage. I would have liked to go north here, to Prudoe Bay and the Arctic Ocean, but the hire company had put the Dalton Highway out of bounds. Instead, we went through the Denali National Park where we drove past the highest mountain in North America without seeing even a hint of it. At Wasilla, we began heading east back towards Canada and at last the clouds lifted a little so we could see the mountains and glaciers of Chugach National Park.

We completed our soggy circuit of Alaska at Tok quite a few days earlier than planned. We might have taken a leisurely drive back to Vancouver but instead decided to try another route to the Arctic Ocean along the Dempster Highway in Yukon. By late afternoon we were back on the Top of the World Highway and the road to Dawson City.

Dawson City

From Dawson Creek we had been following the Alaska Highway. This was built in the second world war to connect Alaska to the rest of the USA as part of a response to the Japanese threat. Back in the day it was a dirt track and considered to be a long, difficult and, in places, dangerous route. These days it is a fast, easy road supporting a lot of traffic. I reckoned that well over half the vehicles we saw were RVs. Many of these are American so that means an RV based on a full-sized coach towing a family car. The Canadians tend to favour an equally large RV that is towed by a pick-up truck using a fifth wheel bolted into the flat bed. The rest of the traffic is commercial trucks often pulling two full sized trailers.

At Watson Lake we left the Alaska Highway and headed up the far less travelled Robert Campbell Highway. This took us north, roughly following the Pelly River and deep into Yukon. A few short sections of this route are sealed but most of it is a dirt track. Throughout the rest of the afternoon, we only saw two more vehicles. We enjoyed two quiet days on quiet roads with quiet campsites. Rather disappointingly we saw very little wildlife. We had hoped there might be more on a quieter road but obviously this is not always the case. At Carmacks, we joined the Klondike Highway which would take us north to Dawson City. We also followed the Yukon River for a short while. At the height of the Klondike gold rush Dawson City had a population of over 16,000. Much of the food and supplies needed to support so many people came in on paddle steamers that navigated their way up and down the Yukon River. Today Dawson City is a tenth the size and there is a well-made road.

North from Pelly Crossing we passed through a large area of forest fires. The air still smelled smoky and we drove past several miles of blackened trees. A few days earlier the road had been closed. Canada experiences a lot of forest fires in the summer. Most of these have a natural cause and are so far away as to not cause many problems. Occasionally fires are caused by negligence. These are often much more of a problem because they are usually closer to habited areas. There is some suggestion that climate change is exacerbating the situation. In the last few years there have been some quite extreme heatwaves leaving the forests tinder dry.

Dawson City still manages to feel like a bit of a frontier town. Some of the shop fronts and wooden buildings have been deliberately left looking a little like a wild west film set. There is an old paddle steamer by the side of the road and pretty much every sign appears to reference gold. We stocked up on a few essentials and prepared ourselves for the ferry in the morning.

Serre Chevalier

Serre Chevalier is a lovely ski area in the southern part of the French Alps. We had heard rumours of snow earlier. In fact, it was looking like one of the best places in the Alps for a bit of skiing. The month in Chamonix had been a spectacular failure, ski-wise, so we were hoping for some change. Also, we both had a terrible cold over the New Year. Not covid, we tested repeatedly, but irksome all the same and stubborn to leave the chest.

Feeling much healthier and more optimistic, we arrived at Briançon in the rain. Undeterred, I went for a walk round the old part of the city while Diane telephoned some people. An hour later I was soaked and Diane was bored, so we had coffee and pizza at the bakery across the road. The chalet we had rented turned out to be compact but very cosy and well appointed. As darkness fell the rain turned to snow and we settled down with a bottle of local wine in hushed anticipation.

Next day there was snow. A good healthy dump overnight and it was still snowing. A few hardy souls were digging out their driveways and the only cars moving were sporting snow chains. Fortunately, the owner of the chalet had let us park the Jaguar in an underground car park. It is a beautiful car and a joy to drive but completely unsuitable for the Alps in winter. Low profile tyres and rear wheel drive are terrific on dry roads but quite the opposite of what you want on icy roads. We cannot even fit snow chains, there is not enough clearance. We had done what we could to prepare. Proper winter tyres are not only important but also mandatory in some areas. I had bought some snow socks, a sort of fabric equivalent of chains, but hoped we would not need to use them.

Car forgotten, I could finally get some nice skiing done. Everywhere was open. All the lifts were running. There was fresh snow. Happiness.

That was the last fresh snow we saw for the next three weeks. Mostly it was just sunshine. This is rather lovely for being out and about in the mountains. I find, as age encroaches, that I cannot ski all day, every day so I’ll often alternate rest days and go somewhere with Diane. After last year’s broken hip, she is quite adamant about not skiing again. A sentiment I am inclined to encourage. So we go for walks, explore the area and have the odd drive out. For three euros you can buy a day pass for the bus running between Briançon and Le Monêtier-les-Bains. This stops at all the ski areas, shops and the massive thermal spa at Monêtier. Great way to explore the valley an occasionally, Diane would use the bus to come and meet me for lunch.

We also went up some of the cable cars together. After a couple of weeks of sunshine the slopes were starting to get a bit thin and icy again. It was nice to travel without skis and instead take my full sized camera. The camera is a bit too big to comfortably carry while skiing. I enjoyed pottering around a little and being able to concentrate on the view while trying to capture some sense of it with the camera. I was particularly struck by one mountain, called Pelvoux, which I had climbed over forty years ago with Mark and Andy. In the ensuing time it appears to have become much steeper, higher and generally fiercer looking.

Chamonix

Chamonix has long been a focal point for alpine activities. Mountaineering, climbing, walking, running, skiing, snowboarding, cycling, paragliding, hang gliding and all the other games people have dreamt up to play in the Alps. Chamonix is also home to Mont Blanc which, at 4,808m is the highest mountain in Western Europe. This all sounds very promising for a visit and often the area is fantastic for all things alpine. However, sometimes it just rains.

We had hoped for a snowy Christmas with plenty of skiing and amazing views but mostly what we got was rain. I did ski, on my birthday, but it was hard work. A lot of work can go into keeping a ski area open because the consequences of closing can be severe. Ticket refunds, whole holiday refunds, loss of income, loss of reputation and so on. With a combination of shovelling snow around and making artificial snow, they try very hard to stay open. However, to be open, they really only need one run. This was the situation in Chamonix. Each of the four ski areas really just had one run open. Without fresh snow these soon become very icy and they were also crowded. Fewer people will be skiing than in good conditions but everyone is confined to just a single run. Icy and crowded can make for a dangerous combination and frankly, not much fun.

We found some other things to do. Walks in the valley, trips into town and a few drives to explore the area. The weather stayed unremittingly bad, even raining high up on the remains of the ski slopes. Another consequence of the damp and cloudy weather was an almost complete lack of views. We had hired a little apartment on the south side of the valley. On the odd occasion that the ski cleared we had sunshine and some fantastic views of the mountains. Not just Mont Blanc on the right but also the whole of the Midi-Plan ridge across to the Dru on the left. Every once in a while the mountains would reveal themselves to us and I enjoyed myself trying to photograph them.

One day the weather was nice. We took the cable car up to Brévent. A few braves souls were skiing the single slope there. We were happy to take in the views and watch the colourful paragliders floating around. Across the other side of the valley, the Aiguille du Midi was beckoning. The cable car up to the viewing platform, 3,842m, is one of the highest in Europe. We went up there over a decade ago when we skied 20km down the Vallée Blanche to Montenvers. It is a bit of an extreme place and well worth a visit. When the weather is good the views are quite incredible. However, if it clouds over you will not see a thing. Sadly, we did not get another clear day and so, after one of the warmest festive periods on record, we left Chamonix in search of snow elsewhere.

Cruising

We went on a cruise. David, husband of my baby sister Helen, had a cruise on his bucket list. Diane and I are not really cruise people but we thought we might enjoy a short one. So between us, we found a good deal on a short trip around the English Channel on board the MSC Virtuosa. First step was to drive to Southampton. We stayed at the Southampton Harbour hotel. Good hotel. Friendly and accommodating with an excellent breakfast. When we first arrived, we drove right up to the front door, which helped a lot with David and our great pile of luggage. The hotel parked the cars for us while we on the ship and shuttled us to and from the ship. Room was comfortable and we had a nice view over the marina. Top marks.

We had paid a bit extra for some nice cabins. This also meant that when we arrived at the cruise terminal, we were fast tracked through security and the other formalities. I’ll admit that we did quite enjoy this but more seriously it made things a lot more comfortable for David. Once onboard, our first impressions were very positive. The cabin was terrific. Plenty of space and nice little balcony. Helen and Dave had a lovely cabin as well. Also, it had a walk-in shower and a few other adaptations to make life a bit easier for them. Later, we reconvened in the bar where we discovered free champagne and nibbles. Of course, when I say ‘free’, I mean that they were included in the rather substantial ticket price but it felt like free which was good enough. I suspect one of the pleasures of cruising is that it takes you off into a different and, temporarily, better sort of world.

First stop was Brest in France. It rained. It seriously rained. We went into town, walked around for a couple of hours, got very wet then headed back to the ship. In the evening we explored the rest of the ship. The MSC Virtuosa only came into service a year ago. It is brand new. It is big as well, 182,000 tonnes, that means, up to 6,000 passengers being looked after by 1,700 crew. It is equipped with all the modern cruise ship facilities such as bars, restaurants, swimming pools, gym, games, casino, shops and on and on. You can easily lose several hours just wandering round. Fortunately, we had picked a week after the school holidays and before the Christmas markets, when the vessel not so many people were cruising. Our cabins were at the front of the ship in a relatively small area referred to as the ‘Yacht Club’. The area was at well less than half capacity, which made it quiet and peaceful.

Next day was supposed to be Cherbourg but the weather was too bad. Cruise ships tend to avoid bad weather. They are sea-worthy and generally capable of dealing with strong winds and big seas but this is not what the passengers expect. On commercial ships it is not uncommon for the vessel to roll sufficiently to spill your coffee and send your plate sliding across the table. However, cruise passengers are not salty sea-dogs and would worry if their cocktail glass were not finely balanced. So, on passengers ships there are often stabilisers on the hull look like little wings and steady the ship against the ocean swell. These work up to a point. The sides of the ship stop a lot of wind. Again this can be compensated for by the stabilisers and by using ballast water but only to a point. So we skipped Cherbourg and spend two days at sea heading, slowly, towards Hamburg. Up on the top deck is a swimming pool, a hot tub and an open air bar. In fine, sunny weather this would be lovely. However, with cold rain blowing horizontally across the deck it was less pleasant. Helen is a fell runner and is completely unphased by horizontal rain so we gave the hot tub a go. Fortifying ourselves with champagne definitely helped.

A local taxi driver gave us a short tour of Hamburg. It is a big city with two million inhabitants and 2,500 bridges – most bridges of any European city. The port area, third largest in Europe, is massive so it took us a while just to drive away from the cranes, ships and lorries into the centre. Hamburg is popular with tourists and has a large central shopping area. We wandered around for a while and David bought a couple of smart new shirts. Found a lovely little café for a late lunch, with beer and then headed back to the ship.

Bruges was the only place that MSC managed to provide genuinely wheelchair accessible transport. It was advertised for many of the excursions but, we discovered, what they really meant was the wheelchair user needed to get out of the chair and walk up the steps into a coach. Then they would put the wheel chair in the storage. Helen patiently explained to the MSC excursions people that David could not get up to walk and that wheelchair accessible normally meant accessible in a wheelchair. Eventually we got our money back but it was a bit annoying. The coach took us a short way along the coast to Blankenberge. From here we could get a train into the centre of Bruges. All felt like a bit of an adventure. The weather was greatly improved and Bruges was lovely. The main part of the town is a modest size and easily small enough to walk around. There are some lovely old buildings, many chocolate shops, souvenir shops and other tourist essentials. We all remarked on how clean the place is – no litter at all. After a bit of a general wander around we found ourselves in a bar. This was such a surprise that we had a beer. In fact we had several beers, small ones, arranged on a tray as a tasting set. It seemed appropriate to try several local brews as this particular bar had what they called a ‘beer wall’. A glass fronted wall supporting racks and racks of beer bottles. The wall is over 30m long and displays 1,250 different types of Belgian beers. This bar set the mood so when we arrived at the only local brewery actually in Bruges, we were primed to taste a whole bunch more beers along with a selection of cheeses. Doesn’t get much better.

Retracing our steps proved a little more problematic. We arrived back at Blankenberge to discover that the one wheelchair accessible coach had been sent home for the day. We waited patiently for over an hour while apologetic excursion people made many phone calls. Eventually, just as we were starting to get really cold, the coach arrived. The ship sailed on time but we only boarded five minutes beforehand.

Next day we were at Le Havre. This is quite a commercial port. Seems particularly busy with wind generators at the moment. Massive yards filled with turbine blades and other components. Opposite Le Havre, on the other side of the River Seine is the little city of Honfleur. We found a local taxi that would take us round there. The drive was quite interesting. We crossed over the impressive Pont de Normandie bridge. Our driver seemed particularly proud of this. Honfleur is a pretty place. The central area is a large collection of old buildings. Some dating back to the 15^th century. Apparently Monet like to come here to paint. We particularly like the harbour area. When we first arrived, our very helpful taxi driver, pointed out the best place for lunch, ”where the locals eat”. So we booked a table and went for a stroll around. The centre of Honfleur is a very impressive wooden church built in the 15^th century. The famous “Axe masters” of the naval yards of the city created this lovely building without using any saws, just like their Norman ancestors the Vikings before them. Shortly after this we found a shop specialising in truffles, which caught my attention. And then a shop selling just nougat, which caught David’s attention. Lunch was great but then we had to head back to the ship, which was sailing quite early so as to get back to Southampton the next morning.

Another item on David’s bucket list was a casino. So in the evening we got dressed up and headed down there. After a little looking around he settled on Black Jack as his game and invested in some chips. We ordered some vodka martinis and gathered round to watch. Helen needed to actually play the chips under Dave’s instructions. At some point in the proceedings he began calling her ‘Moneypenny’ despite the obvious risk of getting slapped. It took a while but eventually he lost all his money. In my experience this is what always happens at casinos and nobody was surprised. Dave was happy that he had played a casino and so we retired to the champagne to toast the end of good trip.