SaltersTravels - Salter's travels

Rockies

In Calgary we traded in our compact RV for a larger model. The smaller one had proved fine, with the possible exception of the shower. It was a bit narrow. l found I could clean one side of myself but then had to step out and turn around to clean the other side. We had a problem with the generator which is why we had called at the Calgary depot. While discussing this, it occurred to us that we could try a different RV for the remainder of our trip. We ended up with a considerably larger model. It had slide-out sections. The whole vehicle could expand when we parked up. Gave us loads of space inside. Much bigger than Baloo ever was although the base vehicle was much smaller. Also, we had a proper oven thus expanding the range of culinary possibilities.

One aspect of Canada that takes a bit of getting used to is that you never pay the advertised price. It does not matter what you are buying, the displayed cost is only ever a starting point. On top of that will come at least one tax, often two and then sometimes a tip. I have a receipt which includes ECOFRAIS, TPS and T.V.P. – no idea what any of these are although they add 15% to the bill before tips. Tipping in Canada is not just encouraged but virtually mandatory. When you are handed a credit card payment machine it will not simply display the amount you will be charged. First you will need to choose the level of tipping – typically 15%, 20% or 25%. In a move that seems strangely unfair to me, the tip is calculated as a percentage after tax. So, you pay a tip on the tax as well. It is also difficult to know when you are going to pay a tip. Supermarkets, no. Liquor store, yes. The shop keeper hands you a bottle of wine and then expects to be tipped for this. It is all a bit baffling and disturbing. Feels like having a little mouse in your pocket that keeps nibbling away at your money.

We spent a night in an exceedingly popular RV camp just outside of Calgary. It was not great. Busy and expensive. Next day we stumbled across an almost deserted campsite a few miles off the road. As we were driving down the track, a grey wolf ran across in front of us. This was much nicer. We spent a couple of nights there. Had a few walks. Saw another wolf and got to find our way around the new, enormous, RV. Eventually, we arrived in Banff. We had definitely arrived in the Rocky Mountains. On the downside, the weather started to be quite wet and we discovered that Banff was just about to close for the season. We had arrived just on the awkward gap between summer and winter. Last time we were in Banff was back in the winter of 2009. It appears to have changed enormously since then. Such is the power of the tourism industry. We had a potter around time. It was not too crowded, but we could sense that it must be heaving at times. Found a lovely vegetarian restaurant and a specialist chocolate shop that was irresistible to Diane. Next day the campsite closed. This RV site on the hills overlooking Banff is truly massive. We are talking a thousand or more pitches. Even so, it closes at the end of the season.

We moved on to the rather scarily named Radium Hot Springs. I have no idea if the waters there really glow in the dark but there was a quiet and pleasant campsite. Next day we drove up to the town of Golden. Another slightly odd name but naturally lends itself to naming local features, Golden Road, Golden Bridge and so on. Here we paid extra for a campsite pitch with a view (Golden view). It was lovely so we stayed two nights. Then we climbed over Rogers Pass and through the Glacier National Park. You need a permit to drive within a national park. Fortunately, we had bought a multi-park pass when we hired the RV. We stopped in a small car park by the side of the road and discovered that we were supposed to have a permit for that. And another, special winter permit if we wanted to park there in the cold. We hoped we could get away with our 30 minute pause while Diane made lunch and I tried to photograph the chipmunks running around the tarmac.

After a very pleasant and relaxed few days crossing the Rockies, we arrived in Vancouver and gave the RV back. This left us a day spare, so we went to look around the downtown area on the rather excellent mass transportation system called SkyTrain. This proved to be a bit of a shock. We had come to expect Canada to be generally clean and pleasant. Downtown Vancouver has a bit of a social problem. Not only were there many derelict and run down areas but also a lot of derelict and run down people. In fact, some of the park areas were festooned with people who appeared to be very much down on their luck and either unconscious or begging for money. We kept our visit fairly short before heading back to our hotel and preparing for the trip to Winnipeg.

Montreal

After leaving the Fram, we were flown to Montreal. Following six weeks in remote Arctic places, we were back in a big, bustling, modern city. In general, we are not too keen on cities, but Montreal feels clean and friendly, so we did not mind spending a few days exploring. The weather was warm and sunny. We looked at a few buildings, walked in some parks and found a couple of nice places to eat. Eventually it was time to move on.

We got a taxi out to the north of the city, to where we had arranged to collect a small motor home, a recreation vehicle or RV as they are commonly referred to. Diane and I have spent quite a lot of time in motor homes of diverse types. These have ranged from cheap and small to the 22-ton monster that was Baloo. This one was definitely on the smaller side. A converted Ford Transit van. Although quite small, it was well equipped. The back turned into a reasonable bed. There was a small cooking area with a sink, gas hob and microwave. We had a small shower and a toilet, gas heating and even an air conditioning unit in the roof. A generator meant we could even stand a few days wild camping. Underneath there was a very neat combined grey and black water drain valve – something that would have saved an awful lot of time and trouble in Baloo. The hire company claimed that the RV could be used in winter down to -30°C – this was probably true and quite impressive – the Canadians know a thing or two about cold winters.

After a couple of days on a pleasant campsite just outside of Montreal, we set off westwards. It was lovely to be back on the road again. The fine details of what type of RV you are in or how it is equipped really makes little difference to the basic pleasure of moving through the landscape, seeing something new each day and never being quite sure where you are going to end up. For the first week we travelled through forest. East Canada is one immense forest. A vast extent of gently rolling hills and trees. We chanced across a few interesting sights such as Canada’s longest rope bridge, but for the most part, each day was pleasantly quiet roads and endless trees. Not boring but not notably exciting either. Canada is a wonderful place for RVs. Lots of space and well organised campsites. We were travelling close to the end of the season so there was never any need to book ahead. Most campsites come with electric and water hook up plus a little drain that you can connect the waste water outlet to. Usually there was a fire pit. For a few dollars you can buy a sack of logs and then have a campfire to sit around.

Round about this time, my mother died. This was not unexpected. We knew she was seriously ill before we left for Iceland. We had talked. She was content, she had made peace with her God and when I said goodbye at the end of July neither of us expected to meet again. That said, losing your mother is a big thing and for a few weeks we both felt decidedly low. Quietly travelling and sitting around campfires suited us just perfectly.

Passing Winipeg we arrived at the wonderful little town of Eyebrow. The small RV site appeared deserted but not long after we settled in, a local woman turned up in a pickup truck to bring us firewood and welcome us to the Eyebrow RV site. Next day, to my delight, we went through the town of Elbow, just a short way from Eyebrow. Aside from towns named after bodily parts, this part of the trip also marked the transition from forests to plains. Vast plains of wheat. Many things in Canada appear to be vast. Vast and flat. One local, a fruit seller just outside Eyebrow, explained that it was so flat you could watch you dog running away for four days.

On we drove, along dead straight roads, past wheat fields the size of small counties, past grain silos, farms and harvesting machines as big as family homes. We passed several salt lakes and oil pumps, nodding donkeys, pulling oil up from deep underground. Slowly, slowly the totally flat fields gave way to undulations and then, rather suddenly, we dropped off the edge of a plateau and into some deep ravines. After nearly three weeks and over 4,000 km we had reached the edge of the plains. Next stop Calgary and the Rocky Mountains.

Uqsuqtuuq

The town of Uqsuqtuuq is the only settlement on King William Island. The name means “lots of fat” and refers to the abundance of sea mammals in the nearby waters.

Roald Amundsen named the place Gjoa Haven in 1903 after his ship Gjøa. It was during his expedition to be the first to travel the Northwest Passage. Amundsen arrived here and declared it to be “the finest little harbour in the world”. The vessel was moored for nearly two years while Amundsen and his crew learned from the local Inuit about living off the land and traveling in extreme conditions. It was these skills that stood him in good stead later when tacking the South Pole. They also plotted changes in the Northern Magnetic Pole which, rather surprisingly, moves quite a lot. Today some locals claim descendancy from Amundsen, or his crew.

The mist had come down, the sea was calm and the land, what we could see of it, was flat and featureless. Not ideal for photographs. I could slip a couple of pictures of Saddleworth moor on a foggy day in here and you would not spot the difference. Despite the “lots of fat” name, we saw nothing more than a couple of sea birds.

The settlement was interesting and gave us a bit more insight into life in the high arctic. A little museum hosted a rather excellent bronze bust of Amundsen. Turns out he had a large and prominent nose. In the community centre my attention was caught by some public information signs about travelling on the sea ice. It reminded me of the posters you might see in the Peak District reminding walkers to take a waterproof with them. Of course, this is a far more extreme environment, so the advice made refence to such things as rifles, harpoons, satellite phones and recognising sea ice features. I also spotted a poster concerning the Erebus and Terror. You will recall that these were Franklin’s ships. Both now found in the relatively shallow waters not far from Gjoa Haven. Erebus was discovered in 2014 and Terror in 2016. The cold, arctic ocean has preserved both vessels well and they have given up some of the last pieces of the puzzle of Franklin’s expedition. Both are now preserved as historic sites and strictly off limits.

The cultural demonstration proved to be genuinely entertaining. We knew to expect throat singing and drum dancing. I was somewhat surprised when the event was rounded off by square dancing, something I think I had last experienced in Texas.

The next day we arrived at Cambridge Bay and the end of our trip. We left the Fram for the last time on the RHIBs to spend a few hours looking around. Off to one end of the town is the Canadian High Arctic Research Station. A marvellous looking building with two very interesting hovercraft parked outside. Unfortunately, no one was there. I guess they were all out doing research. Just out from the other side of town are some geodesic domes that looked to enclose radars. These are part of the Distant Early Warning (DEW) line established during the cold war. as protection from incoming soviet bombers. I asked our guide about the radar station, and he asserted that it was so secret that it was best to not mention it at all. Mid-afternoon we flew in a small charter plane to Montreal.

Bellot Strait

Next day we were heading south. We crossed Viscount Melville Sound and by daybreak passed Prince Leopold Island, an important bird sanctuary, before arriving at the northeast corner of Somerset Island. Here are the remains of another HBC trading post and the opportunity for another landing. Standing by the hut, we tried to imagine what it might have been like back in the day. Two people, a pile of provisions and a stove. Occasionally, local hunters would turn up with furs which were then compressed into 90 lb bales. Once a year a ship would arrive to take the furs and drop off more provisions.

In the evening we pressed on south. This is probably not the route that Franklin took. He went west of Somerset Island. Our route took us past Fort Ross and through the Bellot Strait. Fort Ross was the last ever trading post for HBC. Built in 1937 and operated for 11 years it was eventually abandoned when two successive resupply attempts failed because of the sea ice. The three HBC employees were eventually airlifted out in a daring rescue that involved the first high arctic parachute jump. The Bellot Straight separates Somerset Island from mainland North America. It is a narrow channel and a significant challenge to navigation. Part way through is a large cairn marking Zenith Point, the most northerly point on the American mainland. The channel is 25 km long, narrow and steep sided. Currents can reach 8 kts and there are often small icebergs creating a significant danger to shipping. In the event, our traversal went very smoothly. Sadly, the mist closed in and although we got a glimpse of Zenith point that was about our lot. We finally emerged into open ocean at Franklin Straight. So, you may guess who sailed past here once.

Before we picked up the Franklin trail again, there was one last chance for a trip out in the RHIBs. A couple of polar bears had been spotted in Peel Sound. We took turns in using the RHIBs to get a little closer to them. Not too close obviously. We did not want to scare them or ourselves. That done, the Fram turned south again. Next stop Gjoa Haven.

Polar Bears

We were at the start of the Northwest Passage (NWP). For centuries this was a much sort after, almost mythical, route between the Atlantic and the Pacific. Before the Panama Canal, vessels needed to either risk the infamous Cape Horn or sail south of Africa and India to get to the far east. Renowned polar explorer, Roald Amundsen found a route in 1903. It took him three years, two winters in the ice. In 2007 the Norwegian Polar Institute announced that the passage was clear for the first time since records began in 1972. It is generally acknowledged that the declining ice is caused by climate change. Since 2009 the winter pack ice has cleared, albeit for a fleeting time, each year. Now it is possible, for just a few weeks annually, for the right type of ship following the right route to slip through.

The tale of the NWP is many stories of courage, endeavour, and mystery. Prominent amongst these is the well-funded, well-equipped British Royal Navy expedition led by John Franklin. His two ships, the Erebus and Terror, were hailed by whalers in Baffin Bay, July 1845 and then never seen again. We were following part of his route, along Lancaster Sound and the coast of Devon Island. Specifically, we were heading towards Beechey Island, a small piece of land just to the south of Devon Island. Here some of the first clues about Franklin’s expedition were found in 1850. However, hours before we arrived, before breakfast in fact, the ship’s PA system announced another polar bear.

I went out to look. Fully expecting to see a little white bear in the far distance. This was exactly what we saw. But then, just as I was about to go back into the warmth, someone shouted that there was a bear in the water. There were three bears, a mother and her cubs. The shipped slowed right down and we watched as the bears clambered out of the water onto the rocky land. For ten minutes or so they made their way along the difficult and steep coastline. Faced with even steeper cliffs, they eventually gave up on this and hopped back into the water. To our complete delight, they then set off swimming towards the Fram. Maybe they could smell food or maybe they were just curious. Either way they came remarkably close, while the decks resonated with the sound of camera shutters. A few minutes later, Mum appeared to decide that was enough and led her cubs away. Brilliant. A once in lifetime encounter. Well, so I thought.

Five minutes later came another shout. “Bear in the water!”. Again, the ship slowed right down and again we all watched in awe as the bear came right up to us. This time it was a single male. A big one. Clearly, he was well fed and happy. He bobbed around for a while watching us watching him. Then he turned and headed off towards the now distant shore. Incredibly. Two amazing bear encounters and we not even had breakfast yet.

After breakfast, we arrived for a landing at Beechey Island. In all, around thirty expeditions set forth to discover the fate of Franklin and his crew. The whole story was only pieced together in the last decade. Early evidence showed that Erebus and Terror spent their first winter beset in the pack ice off Beechey Island. They were prepared for this, and the ships were built to survive the ice. It would not have been a problem to over-winter there. In later years, the bodies of three of the crew were buried there along with a French Naval officer who died falling overboard on one of the search expeditions. Amundsen too stopped here to pay his respects on his successful 1903 expedition. Since 1975, Beechey Island has been designated a Territorial Historic Site by the government of the Northwest Territories. Beechey Island is a bleak and forbidding place. The land is virtually bare and pock-marked by curious depressions caused by permafrost. We wandered around a little, paid our respects at the graves and spotted some beluga whales off in the far distance. As the day ended, we were safely back on board the Fram and sailed out past Northumberland House. This is the remains of a Hudson Bay Trading Company trading post. There is also a memorial, a cenotaph in the shape of a hexagonal pillar, commemorating Franklin and some of the other brave explorers that died in the quest for the North West Passage.

Pond Inlet

For a day and a night, we sailed west across Baffin Bay. In the morning we were holding station outside Pond Inlet. Population 1,500. Mostly Inuit. Largest community on Baffin Island in the Nunavut area. Known to the Inuit as Mittimatalik. This is the traditional start of the NW Passage and our entry point to Canada. Border control formalities needed to be observed and an official came aboard to stamp our passports. A couple of other ships were hanging around similarly waiting for clearance. A big old tramp steamer called Kitimeot looked like she had a tough life. By contrast a strangely shaped super-yacht called Shinkai looked to be dedicated to easy living. Hard to work out who owned this remarkably expensive vessel, but our best guess was a Russian oligarch.

Formalities over, we were ferried ashore to be shown around the town in small groups. Wikipedia states: As a tourist destination, Pond Inlet is considered one of Canada’s “Jewels of the North”. It is one of the most picturesque communities with mountain ranges visible in all directions. Far be it for me to contradict this but, my first impressions were that it was a bit of dump. Life here is harsh. It is one of Canada’s most inhospitable climates. Long, dark winters and temperatures averaging −35 °C. Trust me, that is properly cold. Your eyelids freeze together, and the snot turns to ice in your nose. In those conditions tidying the place is possibly a low priority. Today it probably did not help that the cloud was thick and low making visibility poor. We were shown round a few places in town and asked not to visit the supermarket. Provisions were low and they did not want us wandering off with anything. We ended up in the community centre for a cultural presentation. Diane and I have seen a few of these now but this one was better than most. We passed on the fish and caribou soup but enjoyed the drum dancing, the throat singing and the demonstration of winter games. That is, competitive Inuit games, including jumping on one foot to kick a small, suspended stuffed mouse.

Next day, after leaving Pond Inlet, we sailed north back into Baffin Bay, then through Lancaster Sound and up to Devon Island where we saw a polar bear. First bear since we had been in East Greenland several weeks ago. He was far in the distance making his way along the coastline. Even with a long lens he was just a little white blob in the distance but still exciting to see. Later in the day we turned into Dundas Harbour for a possible landing but then another polar bear was spotted. This put paid to the landing. Too dangerous. So instead, we got the RHIBs out and went to look at the glacier snout. Pottering around glaciers and icebergs is always quite good fun. A few brave souls went out in kayaks. I have tried kayaks at various times in my life and never really seen the appeal. Diane reckoned that if she got in one then she would never be able to get out again. Either way, we left the kayaks to others.

Early evening, everyone was back onboard, and we were heading back out to Lancaster Sound when we came across the second bear again. He was closer to the shore now and I could get a slightly better photograph. Sadly, he did not look a very happy bear. Through the summer, the bears typically do not eat. They need to wait until the sea ice comes so that they can hunt seals. This guy really looked like he could do with a couple of seals.

Ilulissat

Our last port of call, in western Greenland, was Ilulissat. Third city of Greenland. With a population of just 4,500, there are almost as many sledge dogs here as people. The harbour area is quite small, so the Fram anchored off and we were ferried ashore on the RHIBs. No bus tour, but there was a shuttle service up to a visitor centre. Ilulissat is the most popular tourist destination in Greenland. These days it is tourism, not fishing, that is the town’s principle industry. Part of the attraction is the nearby Ilulissat Icefjord. This is a spectacular fjord into which calve enormous icebergs from Sermeq Kujalleq, the most productive glacier in the northern hemisphere. This is one of the few glaciers where the Greenland icecap directly reaches the sea, and it is moving fast. Up to 40 m per day. Listed as a UNESCO World Heritage Site, it is described as a dramatic and awe-inspiring natural phenomenon. Seemed like it might be worth a look.

The bus took us through the main town and out past another dog town to the Ilulissat visitor centre. We chose to save the centre for later and went off for a walk. A wooden walkway helps in crossing a boggy area on the way to the coast at the outlet of the fjord. I think there must be some sort of bar at the exit because many icebergs were jammed here. This makes the rest of the brash fill the fjord in a very spectacular and satisfying way. Despite being 250 km north of the Arctic Circle, it was quite a warm and sunny day. Perfect for a hike. We could make a loop by walking back along the rocky side of the fjord then cutting over a hill back to the visitor centre. It was a slow walk with many stops to gaze across the constantly moving ice. If we stopped for more than a couple of minutes the mosquitoes found us.

We walked for three hours or so, but I think, if you had the time, there must be days of fabulous hiking around here. The visitor centre is an interesting building shaped like the wingspan of a snowy owl when it is in flight, apparently. There are numerous displays about how people have lived in the area, the geological history of the glacier and how studying the ice is helping develop the current scientific understanding of anthropogenic climate change. Visitors are required to remove their boots before entering. It is possible to walk across the roof which gives some nice views. We poked around for a little while and then hopped on the shuttle back to the ship. In the evening we sailed out into the fabulously named Disko Bay where I glimpsed a whale. Then it was north past Disko Island and finally west across Baffin Bay to Canada and the entrance to the North West Passage.

Sisimiut

Overnight we sailed 320 km further north. We crossed the arctic circle and arrived in Greenland’s second city, Sisimiut. Population 5,500. Sisimiut means “the people living in a place where there are fox dens”. Originally established to support the whaling industry, fishing is now the principal industry in Sisimiut. Shrimps, salmon, halibut and cod. The Royal Greenland fish processing plant at the port is the largest within Greenland and is amongst the most modern shrimp-shelling factories in the world. 20,000 tonnes of shrimp a year. The city is very striking. Brightly painted houses and a busy port all surrounded by picturesque mountains.

Once again, we set off on a bus tour but this time the trip proved to be much more interesting. There were dogs. First, we looked at a local bronze of a fisherman catching a fish. A few shops of interest were pointed out. Then we got to the dogs. Lots of dogs. About a thousand of them all living in an area well outside the main conurbation know locally as “Dog Town”. There is only one type of dog in Greenland, the Greenlandic Sledge Dog. Other breeds are not allowed and dogs that ever leave Greenland are not allowed back. The dogs live outside, year-round, in an assortment of kennels and shelters. Each dog owner has a designated area in Dog Town and it is strictly forbidden to interfere with dogs that are not your own. Fortunately, our guide explained, she had her own dogs so we could go to see them. She had about a dozen dogs. These were used for pulling sledges in the winter. Greenlandic Sledge Dogs are big strong animals with a thick, insulating fur. They can sleep outside quite comfortably even when the temperature is well below freezing. In the summer they can easily overheat so mostly they just laze around. Fortunately, everyone on our small tour was much more interested in dogs than shops and schools so we spent quite a while with them. Also, there were puppies. One pair were several weeks old. The other two were just a few days old so their eyes had not opened yet.

Eventually we had to leave the dogs and got dropped off by a museum not far from the port. Diane and I stuck our head in a couple of the buildings but did not find much of interest. We are not good museum people. Instead, we wandered back to the Fram. Our coats were shedding dog fur for several days and probably carried a canine whiff with them, but we did not mind.

Paamiut and Nuuk

Further up the western coast of Greenland we approached the little town of Paamiut. Population 1,300, it is the tenth largest settlement in Greenland. We sailed straight past Paamiut and up the fjord to the east. Here was another magnificent glacier emptying directly into the sea. Also, there was a chance to go ashore. As usual, the expedition team landed first to check for polar bears and set up the armed guards. Then we got ferried ashore in the RHIBs. At the start of the voyage, we were allocated to a boat group. The order in which boat groups go ashore is rotated. This time we were in the last RHIB to land. A short walk up the hillside brought us to a fabulous viewpoint. Mountains, glaciers and the fjord. Someone saw an arctic fox earlier, but it was long gone by the time we got there. Superficially, these landings can seem like a lot of effort for a short walk. For me, they are completely worth the trouble just to stand on such a remote place as Greenland. To take in some of the terrific and rare sights. Just a short walk but a special one.

Next day we arrived in Nuuk. The population, 19,600, is about a third the entire population of Greenland. Nuuk is the capital city. There are a few roads but none of them go anywhere outside the city. The Nuummioq (citizens of Nuuk) are well served for education with a university and several other establishments of higher learning. There is also a good healthcare provision and a cultural centre.

We began our visit with a tour on a bus. This did not take very long. We stopped outside the Royal Greenland fish processing plant, a major source of income derived from an awful lot of frozen shrimp. We also looked at the university and a large graveyard where the locals like to be buried with a view. Finally, we were dropped off at the city cultural centre for a short presentation. A couple of songs, some drum dancing, and ten minutes of crazy mask dancing later we queued to taste some local delicacies. Dried fish high on the menu along with a few other things that did not bear close inspection. Diane and I slipped out of the queue and took a wander round the shopping centre instead. The sky was getting dark and ominous as we took the bus back to the harbour and rejoined the Fram.

Prince Christian Sound

We spent the night and the following day sailing north towards Greenland. I amused myself by trying to photograph the sea birds following us. These are Northen Fulmars, they have a reputation for flying after ships. Everything I read suggests that they are opportunistic feeders hoping to find something tasty from the vessel. However, watching them swoop, glide, dive and generally mess around behind us, I could not help feeling that they were just having a good time. Photographing them was tricky because they move so fast. Fortunately, I had time to take many, many out of focus pictures and then throw most of them away.

In the morning we had arrived at Prince Christian Sound, gateway to a series of magnificent fjords in the very southernmost tip of Greenland. The sound is 100 km long and narrow, just 500m wide in places. Steep, bare rock walls rise up to 2,000 m above it. Several glaciers calve directly into the fjord and numerous waterfalls cascade down the precipitous cliffs. We got the RHIBs out to have a closer look at one of the glaciers. I always find it fascinating to peer into the dark blue recesses and caves in a glacier. Not too close though. These glaciers are quite active, towers of ice regularly collapse into the water and would be extremely dangerous to a small boat. There were many small ice bergs and lumps of ice floating around and this gave us an idea. After a bit of messing around we managed to retrieve a piece of ice from the water and took it back to the ship with us.

RHIB trips done, we pushed on through the sound. Diane tested the ice and found it to be pure, fresh water. Perfect. We left it in a bucket and hoped it would not melt too quickly. Much of the rest of the day was spent on deck, camera at the ready, watching cliffs, glaciers and waterfalls drift past. Quite remarkably there is a settlement here, called Aappilattoq, where the tough people live off hunting and fishing. The handful of colourful houses nestle on bare rock underneath a steep and forbidding mountain. Access by land is probably quite impossible. We spotted a small helipad but even so it is an incredibly isolated outpost.

I set up a small time-lapse camera to capture part of the passage.

As we reached the far end of the fjord the mist arrived. The Fram was enveloped in a thickening fog. Fortunately, this did not seem to upset the navigation at all, but it did mean there was very little more to see on deck. We retreated inside, collected our piece of glacier ice, and headed for the bar. Here, the very obliging barman mixed a gin and tonic for using our carefully collected ice. Apparently it was very hard and difficult to break. It did however make and excellent cocktail and seemed a very appropriate way to end the day.

Reykjavík

We had a day in Reykjavík . The Fram was extraordinarily busy disgorging passengers, collecting fresh ones, bunkering fuel, and loading victuals. We, on the other hand, needed to do a little shopping but otherwise had an empty day. Diane’s birthday was fast approaching so a helicopter trip seemed in order. She has always been excited by helicopters and, as we discovered, a flight in Iceland is something special. With a little help from Jón, our friend in Reykjavík , we booked a trip. The weather was perfect and ideal for the half-hour stroll from the harbour to the airport. We even managed to get the necessary shopping done on the way.

Our captain was the incredibly cool Solveig and our aircraft was a six seater Airbus H125. I do not know anything much about helicopters, so I looked this up. We shared the trip with a very pleasant American couple who were visiting from one of the big cruise ships. We compared notes about sharing a vessel with 6,000 passengers as against the 200 onboard little Fram. We walked out to the helicopter, settled in and, after a very short brief, took off. First, we flew south towards the coast. Reykjavík looked very neat and tidy from the air. I caught a brief glimpse of the Fram in the distance. Then we were flying over part of the great divide. The line where Iceland is pulling apart at a few millimetres each year. From our vantage point we could clearly see the fault lines and volcanoes. As Solveig explain, in Iceland, if it looks like a volcano, then it probably is. I asked about living with volcanoes and the possibility that your house might suddenly get destroyed. Solveig said that people just get used to it. Apparently, whenever there is a new eruption, everyone packs up their trucks, not in preparation for escape but to drive out and get a good look at it. We also passed over some oddly coloured lakes and a massive steam vent.

Reaching the coast, we flew along the cliff edge for a while and then turned inland along the the Reykjanes Peninsula. Iceland is an extraordinary country. There is so much volcanic activity that the ground seems alive. From our viewpoint we could see many volcanic cones (if it looks like a volcano, it probably is a volcano) and vents emitting sulphurous steam. Solveig took us in to land at what appeared to be a small car park right next to one of these cones that was dotted with fumaroles venting steam. Closer inspection revealed that we had genuinely landed on a small car parking area – an ideal place to park your helicopter. I did notice that Solveig followed standard car park protocol in carefully locking the doors of the vehicle before we left. A short climb got us to the crater rim for a round of photographs then back to our aircraft. I could not help thinking that this was an incredibly cool way to explore volcanoes.

We flew over the Blue Lagoon, a man-made geothermal spa. The water is a byproduct from the nearby geothermal power plant Svartsengi. Superheated water is vented from the ground near a lava flow and used to run turbines that generate electricity. After going through the turbines, the steam and hot water passes through a heat exchanger to provide heat for a municipal water heating system. Then the water, rich in salts and algae is fed into the lagoon. A remarkably high silica content accounts for the milky blue colour and forms a soft white mud on the bottom of the pool. Bathers like to wallow, hippopotamus like, in the pool while smearing the mud liberally about themselves.

Then we circled round the new volcano a couple of times. The cooling craters of Litli-Hrútur are the newest landscape of Iceland. The area, known as the Fagradalsfjall volcano, has erupted three times since 2021 and remains a top attraction in Iceland’s southwest corner. The broad valley where all recent activity has occurred is completely uninhabited and considered very dangerous. New erupting fissures and craters can open up anywhere without any notice. However, it is only 35 km from Reykjavík and glow was visible from Iceland’s capital. Litli-Hrútur was still emitting lava, smoke and steam when we first arrived in Iceland. Sadly, for us, it stopped while we were exploring the fjords of eastern in Greenland. None the less it was still fascinating. You could clearly see where the fresh lava had flowed to merge with slightly older rock and fumaroles were everywhere. Brand new rock was laid out underneath in complex swirls and patterns. We looped past one of the earlier calderas., a fearsome looking carbuncle of cooling lava and vents, then turned for home. I could very happily spend days flying around an incredible country like Iceland and I would strongly recommend a flight. But be warned, this is Iceland, so the cost is fearsome. Even our short trip cost around €1,000.

We calmed down a little on our walk back to the harbour. Although even when we stopped for a beer all we talked about was how fantastic the flight had been. Eventually we arrived back at the Fram to a pleasant surprise. There were fewer passengers on this next leg of the trip, so we were offered a free cabin upgrade. This new cabin had a balcony. We did not hesitate for a moment and so ended a particularly good day drinking wine on our balcony as the ship set sail for West Greenland and the North-West passage.

Sirius Dog Sled Patrol

Siriuspatruljen (the Sirius Patrol) is an elite Danish naval unit that conducts long-range reconnaissance. Set up during the advent of the cold war in 1950, they patrol and enforce Danish sovereignty in NE Greenland. Soldiers patrol in pairs, using dog sleds. They travel independently for months at a time in the winter and cover a combined distance of 20,000 km. Volunteers sign up for this duty but need to satisfy a gruelling qualifying course before the elite, few, are chosen. These are properly hard men and are truly maintaining the Viking spirit. Women are allowed to apply – but so far nobody has. The name, Sirius, comes from the main star in the Canis Major constellation, also known as the Dog Star. Ironically, although Sirius is the brightest star in the night sky and is visible across most of the world, it is not visible at latitudes above 73°N – the location of the patrol’s main operational area.

We landed at their base but did not encounter any active Sirius solders. Instead, we had a pleasant walk up a hill to a view over the next fjord. We also saw a few dogs tied up outside but were warned to give them a wide berth. On the way back from our stroll we met a couple of “old dog men” as they introduced themselves to us. They had sailed up to the base in a small red boat just as they had been doing for years since they retired. We chatted a little about the old times and they reflected that this was probably their last trip up here.

By early afternoon everyone was back onboard, and we set sail for Reykjavik. There was no rush. We still had a long and spectacular trip back out along the fjord. Plenty of time to take in more of the austere rocky magnificence of the awesome cliffs and powerful glaciers. At the mouth of one wide valley that opened into the main fjord we spotted muskox. The name derives from the strong odour emitted by males during the seasonal rut. However, despite the name, muskox are more closely related to sheep or goats rather than oxen. Big, hairy things, they are up to 1.5 m at the withers and weigh up to 400 kg. Native to Greenland and Arctic Canada, they are well equipped for the conditions with thick, dark hair overlaying a lighter layer called qiviut that is prized for its softness and insulation value. Sadly, we could only see them from what seemed to be a great distance. Even with my best camera lens the animals can only be discerned as little dark blobs.

Approaching the entrance to open water we came across drifting sea ice. Although well broken up, this was still thick and dense in places. Possibly strong enough to cause the Fram a few problems. We slowed right down and worked our way forward using the excellent manoeuvrability of the ship to dance round the larger icefloes and bergy bits. The sunset provided a perfect backdrop to the scene, and we enjoyed some spectacular dusk views while sitting out on deck with a glass of wine.

Next day we made our way serenely down the coast of Greenland. The captain kept a course close to the coast in case we might sight anything. All was peaceful on the Fram so we got to have a tour of the bridge. I could, at this stage, go off on a rant about the terrible state of digital chart systems in the over-regulated marine world. However, I could see that nothing much has changed, and I got bored of this rant fifteen or more years ago. Suffice it to say that the bridge was loaded with official, type approved navigation displays that were largely being ignored in favour of a small, cheap system designed for yachts. Diane got to sit in the captain’s chair. Late afternoon, the tannoy barked into life to announce polar bears. This was true but, again, they were far, far away. So, try as I might, I could only add little white blobs to my collection of animal pictures. That evening there was a little party in the bar. The following day we crossed the Denmark Straight ready to arrive back in Reyjavik early the next morning.

Keiser Franz Josephs Fjord

Northeast Greenland National Park is the world’s largest national park and largest terrestrial protected area in the world. At almost a million square kilometres it covers the whole of the top, righthand part of Greenland. Nobody permanently lives there. Typically, the wintering population, a mix of scientists and military, amounts to about thirty people. We had permission to visit a small part of the park.

Two days later, early in the morning, we sailed into Keiser Franz Josephs Fjord. The sky was dark and overcast. Fog clung to the mountains. The steep, dark and imposing fjord walls loomed over us. The place was dead. Usually, at sea, there is always some life around you. Sea birds, especially near land, things swimming in the water, occasionally animals on land. Here there was nothing. The land was steep, rocky, barren and almost lifeless. Just the occasional patches of rough grass and stunted plants. There was not a bird to be seen and the water remained still, dark, and deep. All felt a bit sinister. We stopped a couple of kilometres short of the snout of the massive Waltershausen Glacier. This is fed directly from the main Greenland ice sheet and is around 10 km wide.

The Fram has a Dynamic Positioning (DP) system. This keeps the vessel on station without needing to tie up or drop the anchor. It is rather clever while being extremely easy to use. Once the ship is in the required position and orientation, the skipper presses a button, and she simply stays there. Under the covers is a sophisticated process that monitors the ships position and orientation then uses the bow thrusters and azimuth pods to keep her there. This is an enormous benefit and allows the Fram to stop and deploy the RHIBs from a position that might be impossible to maintain otherwise. In front of the glacier the bottom is several hundreds of metres deep, far too deep to use an anchor. Elsewhere, it means that the seabed is not damaged unnecessarily. In the RHIBs we could get right up close to the glacier and see some of the very dark, old ice formed deep inside – ice that is possibly hundreds of years old.

In the afternoon we went for a walk. This is Greenland, it is not so simple to just go for a walk. First the “Expedition Team” go ashore and secure the area. They check for polar bears and set up sentries. They also unload a great pile of survival gear, food, shelter, and water, just in case we inadvertently get stuck ashore for a while. Then we can be ferried ashore by RHIB in small groups. One of the conditions of visiting the national park is that only a few people can go ashore at a time. We all keep our life jackets on in case we need to return to the boats in a hurry. This time, we also slapped on extra mosquito repellent. It was a pleasant walk and nice to get off the ship for a while. We climbed a small hill to take in a view of some lakes and the surrounding area. That done, and in the spirit of all great expeditions, we headed back to the Fram for diner, a glass of wine, and an early night. Next morning, we would find out about the Sirius dog patrol.

Ittoqqortoormiit

In the morning we were out messing around in boats. Small groups in each RHIB. Up close with the icebergs, getting a feel for the place from water level. This is a lot more fun that it might sound. The weather was warm and sunny. The sky was clear, the water was incredibly clear. Most of the ice we were looking at are lumps that have calved off the many glaciers flowing into Scoresbysund. The shapes of icebergs can be fascinating although you must treat them with a little caution. They are melting and can occasionally roll over or break into pieces. The wave caused by this could easily swamp a small boat and this is not a good place to go swimming.

Next day we moved further up the fjord for another landing. At our first landing, mosquitoes had savaged us. A few poor souls quite serious swellings. This put many people off, so they skipped the next trip ashore. Fortunately, the airborne molestation was not repeated and by the third landing we were back up to full numbers. In general, there are few insects in Greenland. It is all a matter choosing areas that do not have any swamps. If there is no stagnant water for the larvae to hatch, then then will not be any mosquitoes. In many ways, there is not much to do on these shore trips. Walk up a hill, admire the view, spot a few plants, take a few photographs, and enjoy the fresh air. At the same time, it was great to walk somewhere that hardly anyone else had ever been. To actually step foot on Greenland and try to connect with the place a little.

Following morning we woke to see the town of Ittoqqortoormiit outside our window. Ittoqqortoormiit means “the place with the big houses” in the East Greenlandic dialect. Despite several attempts I have not been able to pronounce it. The houses are quite large and certainly very colourful. There are very few settlements at all in east Greenland and this one, population 345, has been described as one of the most remote settlements on earth. We arrived the day after a cargo ship had turned up. Only a few vessels visit because sea ice closes off maritime access for much of the year. This meant the town was unusually busy with loading and mostly, unloading cargo. Everything came off in standard shipping containers. These were craned off the cargo ship one at a time to a small ferry that delivered them to the quayside. Here, they were collected by one of the towns two trucks and, I assume, delivered to their final recipient. The whole process seemed perfectly organised, so we stayed well out of the way. We did go ashore however and wandered around for a while. I know what it is like to live in an extremely remote place, so I had a small sense of what life might be like here. There are, however, some very striking differences between Ittoqqortoormiit and my old base in Antarctica. For a start, we only went there for two years. Importantly, we had everything provided for us. We were not trying to earn a living and raise a family. I think that fundamentally breaks the comparison even though there are similarities in terms of weather and isolation. We never needed to worry about polar bears in Antarctica and we never needed to go on hunting trips. There is good hunting in the area around Ittoqqortoormiit. Seals, walruses, narwhals, polar bears and Arctic foxes. This still forms the backbone of the economy although there is a slowly increasing income from tourism. Fishing is important during the summer months but becomes increasingly difficult when the sea ice forms.

In the evening, the Fram pulled out of the harbour area, and we set a course for the Greenland National Park. Only the Danish Sirius patrol and a small number of hunters from Ittoqqortoormiit are allowed to enter the North-east national park without special permission. We had no idea what the Sirius patrol was, but we had just received permission for a visit. I amused myself for a while trying to photograph the Black Guillemots hanging around on lumps of sea ice. These are ridiculously cute birds. Eventually I gave up and went to check out the cocktail of the day in the bar.

Scoresbysund Fjord

Just after lunch, we joined the Hurtigruten ship, the Fram, in Reykjavik and easily settled into our cabin. The ship slipped her moorings early evening. By the time we had finished dinner, Iceland was receding far into the distance. Next day we spent the morning catching up on some sleep before wandering out on deck to discover that whales had been seen while we still in bed. Never mind, we had plenty of time on the Fram and hopefully there would be much more to see. We spent the rest of the day finding our way around the ship and enjoying the sense of anticipation. The next two weeks would be about exploring East Greenland. New places ahead.

Next morning we awoke in time for breakfast and there was sea ice. This was quite exciting and, for me, brought back many memories of the last time I had been in sea ice some thirty years earlier. The ship had come to a dead halt. It was explained to us that we had to get past this ice before we could get into Scoresbysund Fjord, the first of two large fjord systems we hoped to visit. We bobbed around there for the rest of the day and by the next morning we were still bobbing around in pretty much the same place. Back in the day, on my old BAS ship, the Bransfield, we would have easily smashed through this small ice floe. The Fram however, is a much more delicate vessel. She has a bulbous bow. Great for stability when cruising but hopeless in ice. She also uses azimuth pods, again, great for manoeuvring but a bit fragile for ice work. The Fram is ice strengthened and rated for polar operations – but anything other than very thin ice needs to be avoided. In the evening a shore lead finally opened and next morning we were in Scoresbysund ready to go ashore.

To a good approximation, we are in the middle of nowhere here. There are no facilities, no landing stages, no roads or tracks. Just wilderness and the odd polar bear. Everyone had been issued with heavy duty neoprene wellington boots called muckboots. We also had waterproof jackets and inflatable life jackets. Thus prepared we were ready to be ferried ashore in RHIBs. First an armed party needed to secure the area. Polar Bears are not common but they are very, very dangerous. So the first people ashore carry rifles and flare guns. Their job is to scout the area and then to stand guard. When the passengers land we are instructed to stay within a marked trail. On the hillsides around us stand people with rifles. Gives the place a slight sense of a day out from prison. We had a pleasant walk, took in some views, looked at some flowers and got eaten alive by mosquitoes. I have encountered mosquitoes many times before and can confidently assert that these are the worst ever. They are quite capable of biting though thick trousers and socks. Later I discovered that some people had reacted very badly to them and needed treatment. Diane and I were prepared with insect repellent from Finland (strong stuff) but even so I got nasty bites on my legs and chest. It was several days before the swelling went down.

With everyone back on the ship, we could continue along the fjord. Scoresbysund branches like a tree. The main trunk is 110 km long before it branches into multiple channels up to 350 km long. This makes it possibly the largest fjord system in the world. It is deep too. From 600 m down to 1,450 m in places. The walls are steep and imposing. They rise to 2,000 m and are punctuated by many glaciers. This rock is old, very, very old. Whereas, Iceland is geologically brand new at a mere 16 million years, Greenland rock dates back over 3 billion years. Almost to the birth of the planet. In Iceland the strata was simple and mostly flat, here the rocks are bent and twisted. Geological forces, the collision of continents, intense heat from deep underground and time, an awful lot of time, have shaped and reshaped the rock. Folding and twisting. Cracking it open and filling the gaps with molten rock. Then folding and twisting it again. Finally, ice sheets and glaciers carve great fissures deep into the strata, laying it bare and exposing the great metamorphic complexity to the world. There is so much raw history in the walls of these fjords as to be breath-taking at times. Dark, austere, imposing and powerful like some hallowed monument celebrating the dawn of planet earth. That day and much of the next, we made our way slowly through this amazing network of channels. I saw very little life. There is some here but it is sparse. Patches of grasses growing in flat areas near the water was the most of it. Very occasionally there was a bird. Of animals on the land or in the sea we saw nothing.