HXLogbook - Salter's travels

Machu Picchu

Up at 4am for a quick breakfast before jumping into a minibus. The breakfast spread was very impressive. Sadly, at such an early hour of the day, my stomach had almost no interest in food. At 3,400 m the effects of altitude are not too severe. Some people might get a headache. Most people will feel a bit breathless and tired. I have been at altitude many times and always found the best way to deal with it was to get plenty of sleep. Hurtigruten had other ideas and we were finding the schedule brutal. Judging from the look of everyone else in the minibus, so were a few other people. The trip to the train station at Ollantaytambo station was almost two hours. Our guide talked without a break for the whole trip.

We queued a while for the train and were then guided to our allocated seats. The train journey to Aguas Calientes was considerably more pleasant than the minibus. Relatively smooth and with some increasingly interesting scenery. We were served coffee and a bread roll. The servers, two of them, then put on national costumes and did a play. I think that is what it was. We were sat at the end of the carriage looking the wrong way. I was mostly aware of them running up and down the gangway behind me.

At Aguas Calientes we were led out of the train station, across the road, and put into another queue for another minibus. The road up to Machu Picchu is a steep track with 14 switchbacks. It is steep, up to 27%, narrow and challenging especially in the rain. The road is listed at dangerousroads.org. It was raining but we made it to the top and the small carpark where a sign announced that we had finally arrived at Machu Picchu.

The Lost City of the Incas is considered one of the wonders of the world. A mountain citadel built in the 15^th century on a mountain ridge at 2,400 m in the Eastern Cordillera of southern Peru. There is some uncertainty about why Machu Picchu was built. The Incas had no written language so records are sparse. The site was abandoned in the 16^th century, possibly because everyone died of smallpox brought by travellers. It remained unvisited by Europeans until the 19^th century. Currently the leading theory is that Machu Picchu was a private city for Incan royalty. A holiday home on a grand scale. Back in the day, there would have been up to 750 people here working the land and supporting royal activities.

Hiram Bingham, a Yale lecturer, could easily have been the original Indiana Jones. Right down to the hat. In 1911, he explored the area looking for the lost capital of the Neo-Inca state. He was led to Machu Picchu by a villager, Melchor Arteaga. Bingham found the name of the Peruvian explorer Agustín Lizárraga and the date 1902 written in charcoal on one of the walls of the Temple of the Three Windows. Despite this disappointment, he led an expedition to Machu Picchu the following year and spent four months clearing the site which was heavily overgrown. The full scale of the citadel started to become apparent and over the next few years was excavated multiple times. Many of the significant artifacts ended up back in Yale and in his final version of the story, Lost City of the Incas (1952), Bingham claimed to have found the site himself.

From the carpark you can see very little. However, after presenting a ticket, you walk a short way round the shoulder of a hill and the entire site becomes revealed. It is very impressive. Terraces and walls and buildings and steps all set in the most amazing steep mountain scenery. The place is a massive tourist attraction, very crowded and highly controlled. Over a million visitors each year. Not only do you need to have a guide but the route around the ruins, one of several, is pre-booked. It was spectacular and interesting. It was also a bit of an ordeal because we were both desperately tired. It was difficult to summon any energy or enthusiasm. If you are planning on visiting, then I strongly suggest you check the proposed schedule and avoid this sort of Hurtigruten ordeal. Frankly, it just spoiled the experience.

The weather was a bit dull but I quite enjoyed watching the clouds swirling round the surrounding mountains. It rained a bit as well. This added suitably to our sense of dejection as we trapsed round after our guide. As my old English literature teacher used to explain “sympathetic use of nature”. We had lunch in the restaurant next to the carpark. It was pretty good and restored a small amount of energy. The bus ride back down the steep, slippery and narrow track gave me an extra jolt of adrenaline to further wake me up. We spent an hour or so in the souvenir shops of Aguas Calientes before the long return trip. Back at the hotel, we ate a minimal supper before collapsing into bed ready for the 6am start.

Two flights later we were in Quito, Ecuador. The Mariott hotel there is lovely but we had very little time to enjoy it. Dinner and bed was all we cared about. In the morning, which seemed to arrive far too early, we were bundled into a coach for a tour of the city. A succession of churches and old buildings went past my rather glazed eyes. There was a bit of a pause while a street parade went past. No idea what it was about but it was very loud and colourful.

Finally, we were then taken to a rather strange monument to equator. A sort of theme park which had a sense of being abandoned several years ago. Diane and I found a quiet bar here were we sneaked a glass of wine. This was not was not only very pleasant but helped me doze off on the coach back. Next day we were up early, again, to fly to the Galapagos Islands.

Cusco

From Buenos Aires we flew to Lima. A couple of days later we joined up with another Hurtigruten trip. This time to the Galapagos Islands. The complete itinerary included a visit to Machu Pichu. The trip began with a silly early morning, before 6am, for a flight. Cusco, the ancient capital of the Inca Empire, is now listed as a UNESCO world heritage site. It took our breath away. Literally. At 3,400 m the altitude was a bit of a shock to the system. It is quite a place in many other ways as well. The centre is a crushed together hotch-potch of buildings. Some very old and others looking like they had been slapped together yesterday. Our hotel proved to be a rather lovely old building right in the heart of the city. Although we did not get much time to appreciate it.

After just enough time to drop our bags, we were off on a walking tour of some of the remains in the city centre. The Inca empire arose sometime in the 13^th century. It covered a vast tract of what is now Peru, Ecuador and Chile and ruled some 12 million people. In 1532 the empire came to a crashing end when the Spanish invaded. Cusco was the Inca capital. Today many remains of Inca buildings can be found. We wandered around a couple of the main sites. As usual, when looking at Inca ruins, I wondered about how they made the big blocks of stone fit together. It is not magic or aliens but it is an awful lot of hard work. The walls all lean in slightly and use rounded corners and trapezoidal doorways. The stone blocks are fitted together without mortar. The facing surfaces often have a hidden protrusion that fits into a corresponding hole. A little like Lego blocks. The result is incredibly earthquake proof. During a small or moderate earthquake, the masonry is stable. During strong earthquakes, stone blocks have been observed “dancing” and settling into their original positions afterwards. This is one reason so many of the ruins remain today. Some of the very best walls have blocks which are perfectly square and horizontal – remarkable.

Next, we were bundled into a coach and taken to a carpet shop. Not really a carpet shop but I was reminded of the way that in Morocco, any tour would inevitably take you to the guide’s brother’s carpet shop – “just for looking”. Here we were in a textile museum which also had a large shop of textile products adjacent to it. There were also some llamas and guinea pigs that I talked to for a while. I was reminded of the fact that in Peru, guinea pigs are not pets.

Another short drive took us to Sacsayhuamán. These are the remains of one or more fortresses on a hill (3,700 m) overlooking Cusco. After the Spanish invasion, much of the rock from these forts was taken to use as building material. Only the largest blocks, too large to move, remain. However, there are still an awful lot of these and entire site is very impressive. It was raining. Heavily at times. This did make for a rather soggy visit although some of the views with cloud and sun were quite dramatic.

Back at the hotel, we did a historic tour of the hotel That was very boring although a presentation of an Inca ceremonial routine was fun to watch. Then came a presentation of how to make Pisco Sour, the Peruvian national drink. Moderately interesting and we got to drink the cocktail when it was finished. Finally, to bed. Very early, breathless and tired knowing that we would be up at 4am.

Deception Island

Our last day in Antarctica. We had landed on some islands, landed on mainland Antarctica, landed on sea ice and cruised round icebergs in a RHIB. Some had camped out in Antarctica. All the boxes were ticked. For many this is the long and short of Antarctica. They have the t-shirt and in future travel conversations they will say that they have done Antarctica. Of course, they haven’t. Not even close. Antarctica is not a small island, not even a country, it is an immense continent. The world’s fifth largest continent. As big as the USA, bigger than Europe and twice as big as Australia. It is immense and complex with many different terrain types, weather systems and environments. Admittedly, most of the environments are cold by human standards but that does not detract from the diversity. For much of the year travel is impossible. The only way to get to know Antarctica is to go there and stay there. Possibly for years. So, while there are some people that can undoubtably say that they know Antarctica, a few that can honestly say that they have done it, they are very few and far between.

Many years ago, I experienced a little of Antarctica. It affected me profoundly and left me with a persistent urge to see more. I enjoyed my time with the British Antarctic Survey (BAS). I worked on some interesting projects and really liked the international spirit of cooperation in science. Despite this, I never had the right attitude or willingness to conform needed to be a long-term employee. This came to a head when I asked for three months unpaid leave. My friend Rik and I had been planning a climbing trip to Nepal for over a year. When I approached my boss about this, he said no. He had been looking for an excuse to get rid of me. Somehow, I always thought I would go back to Antarctica but not as a tourist. That route never appealed to me. The years rolled on, I built a company, sold it, retired and it dawned on me that being a tourist was my only route back. Our trip to Antarctica with Hurtigruten was similar to most tourist trips. A day or more sailing across Drake’s passage, a few days pottering around the peninsula and then back to Ushuaia. It was fun and scratched the itch. But only a little. I saw some parts of Antarctica that were new to me and it made me think about just how much more there was. Enough ruminating. This was our last day and we a job to do.

Deception Island is an active volcano in the South Shetland Islands. Its unique landscape comprises barren volcanic slopes, steaming beaches and ash-layered glaciers. It has a distinctive horse-shoe shape with a large flooded caldera. This opens to the sea through a narrow channel called Neptunes Bellows, forming a natural sheltered harbour. It is one of the only places in the world where vessels can sail directly into the centre of a restless volcano. We arrived at the Bellows mid-morning. The weather had not improved at all and remained stubbornly overcast. The Bellows is an imposing entrance named after the way the wind can funnel between the rocks. We slipped through without problems and anchored in the bay.

The remains of several bases are spread along the shore. Whalers put up the first buildings later followed several scientific bases. BAS had quite a substantial base there for a while which included an airstrip and large hanger. In the years before 1970 there was substantial volcanic activity which led to the island only being used during the summer months. The Argentinians and Spanish still retain a presence although the main use for the island these days is tourism.

We were landed on the black beach and allowed to walk along the shore. In places the sand steams with geothermal activity. There were a few gentoo penguins and some very sleepy fur seals. At the end of the beach was a track across a snow field to shallow saddle. Queues of people were plodding up here and we joined the lines. At one point I stepped up higher to an easier looking trail and promptly got told off by one of the many expedition crew guarding the route. This was one of those times I had to try really hard to not say what going though my head. One reason to not cause a fuss what that, in keeping with the islands name, we had our own bit of deception to do in memory of my mother. She visited this area in 2018 with Diane. It is a long story but essentially mum wanted to come and see where I used to work and understand a little of why I talked about it so much. At the time, she did not like Diane and clearly felt that Diane and I should not be together. Practicalities dominated however and Diane was the only available travel companion. Fortunately, they came back the best of friends and burbling about penguins. They remained firm friends until Polly passed away last year. The ridge overlooking the ocean in one direction and the beach in the other seemed an appropriate place to take a moment to remember her. A vista of mountains, glaciers, icebergs, seals and penguins. Helen, you would have approved.

Back to the beach. Back to the RHIB. Back to the ship and two days later, back to Ushuaia. It was a jolt. After 94 days on the Amundsen, we were suddenly standing in a queue at the airport with our suitcases. It had been a good trip. Some parts were fantastic. Other parts less so but overall, terrific. What next?

Booth Island

The Lemaire Channel was blocked by icebergs, so we needed to back-track a short distance before turning into French Cove at Booth Island. Next morning I found it had been snowing through the night. The decks were closed for safety reasons. Snow and ice can be slippery. I recklessly sneaked out to get a couple of photos. It was quite nice to see the deck looking like we were actually in the southern oceans. The weather remained stubbornly dull and overcast. The scenery, however, was spectacular. Mountains, glaciers, sea ice, icebergs – I never get tired of this stuff. There was great excitement amongst the expedition team about the possibility of an ice landing. That is, a landing on the sea ice.

The RHIBs were launched and disappeared around a shallow headland. We were near the bottom of the list to go ashore. This meant waiting nearly two hours before we finally got off. Amongst the many strict regulations concerning tourist behaviour in the area is a limit to how many people can go ashore at one time. In this case it was not totally clear what ‘ashore’ meant. We arrived at the landing point and it was indeed onto sea ice. But this was sea ice literally right next to the edge of the land. I mean, you could easily have stepped from the ice onto the snow covered land. We were not allowed to do that. We were hemmed in by a cordon of cones marking and area about the size of a football pitch. This was the limit of our exploration. I have been on sea ice many times and can honestly say this was the most boring. It was nice to get off the ship, get a breath of fresh air and see some more penguins. But that was about it. Nonetheless, the expedition team were doing their best to talk up the first sea ice landing of the year. To some people I guess it was a novelty and something special. For me, it once again underlined the massive difference between living and working in Antarctica and the fleeting touch that tourists are allowed.

We explored the football pitch for an hour. Well, we wandered around, chatted and took a few pictures. That sort of exploring. Then it was back to the ship for coffee and cakes in the Explorer Lounge. Life on the rugged edge of exploration.

Kodak Gap

Back in the day, when men were real men and cameras needed film, the Lemaire Channel was known as Kodak Gap. It has been famous amongst tourists since tourists first discovered its picturesque allure and pointed their Kodak Box Brownies at it. First traversed in 1898 by the Belgiums it was named after Charles Lemaire, a great explorer of the Congo. The Congo is in Africa. Equatorial Africa where it is always hot. The coldest place Charles ever explored was probably Brussels where they have the occasional frosty morning. In the early 20^th century, Charles was accused of abuse towards the native soldiers, and found guilty of mistreatment of the civilian population. He was demoted and retired in disgrace. Sailing up his channel is maybe not such an honour.

A far more worthy geographic naming came to my attention just a few weeks ago. Mike Rose joined the British Antarctic Survey about the same time that I did in the late 80s. We worked together for a few years and wintered at Halley Base. Unlike me, he stayed with BAS and recently, coincident with his retirement, had a mountain named after him. Mount Rose is in the South Shackleton range. Horribly inaccessible but a nice looking mountain and genuine honour. Congratulations Mike.

The weather perked up as we entered the Lemaire Channel. This narrow strait is almost compulsory for Antarctic tourist ships. Not only is it extraordinarily picturesque but also nicely sheltered from the generally agitated southern oceans. The strait is 11 km long, 600 m at the narrowest point and surrounded by steep rocky cliffs and precipitously hanging glaciers. The main navigation issue is that it can become blocked by icebergs. Especially early in the season. And this is exactly what happened. This did not detract from us spending several hours exploring the channel. Nearly everyone was up on deck. Some armed with cameras and binoculars. Other just gawping at the surrounding scenery. It was quite remarkable. In at least a few places, I think, if some of the hanging ice blocks or cornices had come loose then they might have hit the superstructure. Everywhere it was steep, snowy, icy, rocky and spectacular.

Several sea birds were around including the ubiquitous Cape Petrels and Kelp Gulls. A big, fat lazy Fur Seal was spotted draped over a bergy bit. Near the narrowest part of the channel, we came across two Orcas. I always find the Killer Whales amazing to watch. Such power and grace. They seemed completely unimpressed by our presence and made their way steadily along the channel. A couple of cormorants flew past. In the water a handful of Gentoo penguins frolicked. There were a few small penguin colonies. The sides of the channel are all a bit steep, so the colonies tended to consist of a landing place and line of penguins to a flatter area.

Paradise Bay

Brown Station is an Argentine base on the peninsular in a bay known as Paradise Harbour. It is a very pretty place with surrounding peaks and glaciers into the water. The base was established in 1951. It was a permanent base until 1984 when the doctor burned it down. He had been ordered to stay another winter and was not keen on the idea. The USS Hero rescued the base staff and took them to the US Palmer Station. Since then, the base has been used in the summer. This location is very popular with visiting tourist ships as it is one of the very few places they can command a landing on mainland Antarctic.

The weather was a bit dull and snowing when we arrived. Our group got to cruise in a RHIB while the first groups went ashore. Many, many rules apply to visitors in Antarctica. One of them is that only 100 people can be ashore at any one time. So, the first one hundred people desperate to say they had genuinely stood on Antarctica got to it, while we cruised around some icebergs. A snowy sheathbill landed on the front of the boat. It did not seem nervous at all and spent the rest of the trip trying to eat various parts of the RHIB. A few giant petrels were sat on the sea ice along with some cape petrels that got quite agitated when we got close to them.

Back onboard the Amundsen we did not have much time before we were off for the shore landing. Here there were many penguins. I don’t know how much of the summer Brown base is used for but just now, early in the summer, the penguins appear to have taken it over. These w gentoo penguins. Hundreds of them. They are terrific to watch. I keep saying this because it is hard to overstate just how much fun it is watch penguins. Their antics always seem a bit comic. On land they are ungainly little things that waddle around and fall over a lot. There is also sometime about their appearance that lends itself to anthropomorphism. If you see them in the ocean however, it is a very different story. They are like little missiles. Incredibly fast and manoeuvrable. Eventually we had to go back. Not because we had got bored but because we were told we needed to go back. The expedition team had laid out a 300 m trail that we had to stay on, and I don ‘t think I could have walked around it much slower.

That night, a few people wanted to not only get the ‘stepped foot on Antarctica’ t-shirt but also the one about sleeping there. So, they went ashore, with tents, and spent the night there. Did mention rules and tourists? One of them is that you should leave nothing. Really, nothing. So, the participants were all urged to use the toilet before they left the ship and given a pee-bottle each. They were also not allowed to eat. Dinner needed to be completed early, on the ship. And breakfast would also be taken on the ship. With the rules fully understood, the small group went ashore with tents, sleeping bags and water bottles. At 4am they were woken up and taken back to the ship. Somehow this all reminded me of when I used to find it exciting to sleep in a tent in the garden when I was 12. Although I was never charged €500 per person for the privilege.

Video by kind permission of Jessica Daniels

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 in 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.

Alaska

Leaving Nome was the start of a long haul. North through the Bering Straits then east across the Beaufort Sea to the start of the North-West Passage. There are, I imagine, many interesting places to visit along the route but rules and regulations, as ever, get in the way. To land at any other places in Alaska we would need special permits and a pilot. The pilot would then need to fly back to Nome. All this is possible but extremely expensive. Trust me, if a Norwegian company turns round and says something is too expensive then it really is extortionately priced.

We crossed the international date line. Albeit briefly. This meant, technically, that we sailed into tomorrow and then came back again. Of course, the international dateline is purely imaginary. A cartographical convenience. So, what actually happened was absolutely nothing. However, if we had continued to sail west, if we went all the way round the world, then we would have lost a day. This happened to Magellan’s expedition of 1522 when they arrived at Cape Verde on Wednesday, 9 July 1522 (ship’s time) to discover that it was Thursday. Alaska used to belong to Russia and was considered to be west of the dateline until it was sold to the US. At the ceremony, 3:30 pm Saturday, 7^th October 1867 it became Friday. At the same time the date jumped from the 7^th to the 18^th as they changed from the Julian calendar (Russia) to the Gregorian calendar (US).

Off Point Barrow we hove to for a few hours for helicopter operations. This is right at the top lefthand corner of Alaska where unfortunately someone that had joined in Nome became seriously ill and needed to be evacuated. It is not possible to land a helicopter on the Amundsen so the patient had to be winched from the top deck.

We sailed on past Prudhoe Bay, crossed into Canadian waters and eventually made landfall at Herchel Island. A rather grim and desolate place, this is where whalers used to overwinter their ships. Named by Franklin (the man who ate his boots) in 1826, the island became a haven for the large whaling ships of the late 19^th century. By then, the Beaufort Sea was one of the last refuges of the extremely profitable Bowhead Whale. The Arctic whaling season was very short making over-wintering necessary. A small settlement was built although most sailors stayed onboard their vessels. Today the remains of some of the buildings are still there. The harbour area is under threat from rising sea levels. The main part of the island is endangered by coastal erosion (up to 3 m/year) and the melting permafrost causing active slumps.

On the next day we met the Nansen. This is the sister ship to Roald Amundsen named after the other famous Norwegian polar explorer Fridtjof Nansen. Built at the same time, the two ships look like identical twins. We paused for a few minutes, bow to bow, while everyone came out on deck to wave like demented gibbons. Nansen has just completed the Northwest Passage (NWP) and is heading west. We are going east and will shortly enter the NWP.

The following afternoon we passed north of Tuktoyaktuk, scene of our earlier adventures with a puncture. Unfortunately, we were so far offshore that we could see nothing. By the evening, we arrived at the Smoking Hills. I had noticed this on the itinerary but rather naively imagined it to be an island with clouds on it. What we actually found were genuine burning cliffs. The land was literally on fire. The fires result from autoignition of sulphur-rich lignite deposits says Wikipedia. Definitely one of the more remarkable sights either of us have ever seen. We cruised slowly along the cliffs allowing us to have a good look and take many photographs. Later I learned that typically the area is shrouded in fog and the smoking hills are barely visible. From the Smoking Hills we steamed north a little, rounded Cape Parry and set a course east in to the NWP proper.

Nome

Further on into the Gulf of Alaska, we came across the ruined village of Unga. A ghost town on the Aleutian Island also called Unga. This place was abandoned in the 60s but used to support a population of a hundred or so since the late 19^th century. Fishing and a small mine were the primary sources of income. The weather was awful. Overcast, windy and raining in squally bursts. Diane was not in the slightest bit interested in getting wet, so I went ashore on my own. A few battered buildings are all that remain. Not the most exciting island I have ever landed on but, even so, it was a small, interesting island in a very remote place. I really liked that. Coming back on the RHIB we had to push into the wind and the waves. It was quite exciting but I got completely soaked and Diane was not impressed when I left wet patches on the cabin floor.

Heading even further west, out into the Bering Sea, we cleared the Aleutian Islands and reached the Unalaska Islands. The wind had become fierce and the ship was moving a lot. The Amundsen has a very sea-worthy hull. I like the way it moves. A steady and predictable rolling. Many of the ships I have sailed on crashed around in ways that inevitably surprised you and could easily catch you off balance. A considerable proportion of the passengers were far less enthusiastic about the how the ship rolled and had retreated to their cabins. Diane was starting to look a little green around the gills when we steamed into the calm waters of Dutch Harbour. Fortunately, motion sickness disappears very quickly once the movement disappears.

Dutch Harbor has been a busy centre of commerce for many years. As well as serving several major shipping routes, it also supports a sizeable fishing fleet. This is one of the richest fishing areas in the world. During WW2 the Japanese bombed the harbour. Along with Pearl Harbour it was one of the few places in the United States to be bombed by the Japanese. There is little war museum. When we arrived, it was packed with people from another cruise ship. When I say packed, what I mean is that the museum had reached its fifty-person capacity. We are not really museum people, so we moved on, bought some crisps in the supermarket and ended up in a bar. This was the magnificently named “Norwegian Rat Saloon”. Apparently named after rodents that first arrived in the town from a Norwegian trawler. Our new friends from the ship were here. Hello Francis and Clint. So, we settled down for a few beers and some chat with the locals. One oddity about Dutch Harbor is that although the area is famous for Red King Crab, it is rarely sold locally. They are only allowed to sell the crab once it has been sent off for cleaning and sanitising and packaging and taxing. It can then be shipped back to the island in impressive, shrink wrap packaging, but it is very expensive. However, if you did want to find locally caught crab that had maybe been removed from the system (not that I am suggesting there is a black market, but just in case) you might want to start at the Norwegian Rat Saloon.

Pushing north-by-north-west way out into the Bering Sea we passed by St Paul Island. The weather was too bad for a landing. The ship was rolling again. There were not so many people in the bar in the evening. Fortunately, next day, the wind eased. We reached St. Matthew Island, the furthest point from human settlement in Alaska. This is a very rarely visited island. We felt quite privileged to be able to go ashore. Diane was not impressed by the rain and the sea state. The fog did not help. By the time we reached the shore, the Amundsen could no longer be seen. We pottered around on the beach for a while. I completely missed the opportunity to photograph the very rare McKay’s bunting. I saw a group of much better informed “bird nerds” gathered round a very boring looking white bird. I thought nothing much of it and plodded on in search of something more interesting. On the way back to ship we took a detour round a tall, bird covered rock. Here I took photographs of several types of bird new to me. Including Tufted Puffins which, like all puffins, are ridiculously cute.

Next morning we arrived in Nome. We are doing a long trip on the Amundsen. This is made up of a number of shorter trips that have been stitched together. We had just completed the first of these, Vancouver to Nome. This meant many people leaving the ship to go home. Then, later in the day, many more people arriving for the next leg, Nome to Halifax via the north-west passage. We stayed in our cabin while the chaos of disembarkation settled. Then we wandered into town. This is another of those wild west towns. Not very pretty but interesting. Nome is a gold town. There is still gold to be found. All the easily accessible gold is gone but there is still plenty in the gravel just offshore. People build their own boats with suction tubes and panning equipment. When the weather is good, they take these just a short way offshore. A diver handles the suction tube underwater while the gravel gets sifted and panned on the boat. I have no idea if there is still a good living to be made like this but there are certainly a lot of people giving it a go.

We got back to the ship early. The wind was picking up again and squalls of rain were making it unpleasant to be outside. The Amundsen was having problems staying moored. We watched from our little balcony as several mooring lines snapped. Down on the pier a group of workers were struggling to attach new ropes. The ship started up its main engines and then used these to push the vessel again the dock wall to hold it in place. We found out later that five of these massive, thick mooring lines got broken. I noticed an interesting safety feature. Each thick rope has a small central core that does not break. I guess that this is more elastic than the main rope. Possibly it is longer and coiled inside the central core. Whatever, because it does not break, it helps prevent the broken rope ends flying off dangerously. There is an awful lot of energy in the rope when it breaks. If it hits something, or someone, it can cause a lot of damage. This is one way to help mitigate the risk.

In the evening, the wind dropped, and we managed to get the rest of the passengers onboard. Next morning we had set a course westward. Deeper into the Bering Sea. Later we would turn north and navigate the Bering Straights between Russia and the United States. In the meantime there were whales. A lot of whales. I spent a very happy couple of hours on deck trying to photograph them.

Geographic Harbour

The area around Kodiak Island was proving to be one of the highlights of this part of the trip. We were quite happy to stay there another day. In the evening there were whales and the next day, more bears.

Photographing whales can be a bit tricky. You see a spout, grab the camera, point it in the correct general direction and then get to photograph the splash as the whale disappears under the water. Humpbacks can be a little bit easier. They surface briefly after blowing and then flip their tails up before diving. This is just about enough time to get the camera onto the whale. This is also why most of my whale photographs are the tails of Humpbacks. Fortunately, it is often possible to identify a whale from its tail. This is what a group called HappyWhale do. They use the patterns on the fluke of a whale to identify it and then maintain a database of where and when each animal has been spotted. People can submit their photographs and then every time one of your whales gets spotted you get a notification. Meanwhile, the database is fast becoming a valuable resource for studying whale behaviour.

The next morning was spent in Geographic Harbour on the south side of Kodiak Island. The weather stayed good and the bears were numerous. We floated about in the RHIB keeping a good distance from the bears. The bears took very little notice of us and were generally very occupied with the business of catching salmon. All too soon it was time to leave. The RHIBs were stowed and we set off along the Aleutian Island chain.

Kodiak

The next day was entirely dedicated to watching wildlife. We were in the area around Kodiak Island some 500 km south-west of Anchorage. The weather was perfect and the wildlife was prolific. Bears everywhere.

Katmai National Park, opposite Kodiak Island, was first designated a national monument in 1918 to protect the area around the Novarupta volcano. This was formed during the eruption of 1912. The biggest eruption of the 20^th century it created the Valley of Ten Thousand Smokes, a 100 km²pyroclastic flow up to 200 m deep. The park hosts 18 volcanoes of which 7 have been active since 1900 including the centre-piece Katmai stratovolcano. Since the initial establishment of the park, it has become increasingly well known for its abundance of wildlife. This includes many brown bears that feed off the sockeye salmon.

Our first trip out in the morning was mostly about watching a single brown bear. This was at Kukak Bay in the Katmai National Park. He was catching salmon in one of the many small rivers emptying into the bay. Watching from the RHIBs seemed ideal. The animals took truly little notice of us so we could easily get quite close.

In the afternoon we went round to the other side of Kodiak Island. The island is big. Second largest in the United States and bigger than Cyprus. Two thirds of the island is designated as the Kodiak National Wildlife Refuge – home to the Kodiak bear and all five types of Pacific Ocean Salmon. We saw more bears there. Also, a Sitka deer, enormous star fish, a fox, loads of seals and a Bald Eagle with two youngsters.

Icy Bay

Going further north we arrived at Icy Bay. The ship nosed its way into Tsaa Fjord and they launched the RHIBs. The Amundsen cannot sensibly drop anchor here because the water is too deep. Instead, they use a clever Dynamic Positioning (DP) system. Multiple GPS receivers are used to accurately determine the position and orientation of the vessel. The DP uses the ship propellers and bow thrusters to keep it in exactly the same place. In effect, they can just park the ship anywhere. We spent the afternoon pottering around in the RHIBs. A group of canoeists went out. There were no shore landings. I don’t think that is allowed here by the park rules.

Several glacier tongues drop down into Icy Bay making for a spectacular scene of ice and cliffs. The amount of meltwater was phenomenal. I have never seen anything like it. It is normal, in the summer, for meltwater to permeate through the glaciers and run out at the bottom. In Svalbard, we explored an ice cave that was made in just this way. Here, there were thundering great torrents of water coming out from under the ice. It was impressive and noisy. Huge waterfalls were gushing out. The water was heavily sediment laden making it a dirty grey colour.

The next day we continued making our way north along the Alaskan panhandle. Wonderful little islands and small settlements. We passed many more glaciers and at one point, paused to watch a distant bear on the shore.

Wrangell

Wrangell (pop ~2,000) was founded by the Russians in 1834 when they built a fort. This makes it one of the oldest non-native settlements in Alaska. The British Hudson Bay Company leased the fort and eventually Wrangell became American when the United States bought Alaska from Russia in 1867. Today the main industries are fishing, logging and tourism. Wrangell is close to the River Stikine delta. The Stikine is a major river flowing from British Columbia. Historically, it has always been important for fishing, hunting and trade. Now it is also important for tourism and as a recreational area.

We joined a group in a jet boat to explore part of the river. The boat was very fast and also very noisy. Talking was near enough impossible. So, the day was made up of short, relatively peaceful intervals in between high-speed dashes along the river. We travelled through the delta and then a short way up the main river. A left turn took us onto Shakes Slough, a tributary. We followed this all the way up to a Shakes Lake which ended at a glacier.

There was some wildlife on the route. Mostly birds. We got quite close to a pair of Bald Eagles. One was guarding a nest while the other was eating by the river. We also came across a government boat measuring fish. Fishing is tightly controlled after several incidents of overfishing nearly wiped out the salmon completely.

In the lower reaches of the river, we came across several houses that were floating. Not house boats but normal looking wooden houses built on floating pontoons. For some reason, the river and the surrounding land are managed by different authorities. Locals are not allowed to build weekend accommodation on land but they can have a semi-permanent structure if it is floating.

Arriving at the lake, we drifted right up close the glacier and enjoyed some wine and snacks. A cool breeze coming off the ice made it at least ten degrees colder than back down at the delta. Twenty minutes later we began the trip back down. This seemed faster than ever. This time we were not stopping for sightseeing. My ears were ringing by the time we got back to the dock.