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.
Puerto WilliamsBlack-browed AlbatrossCape Horn lighthouseSnowy sheathbill & chinstrap penguins
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.
Gentoo
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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 20th 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.
The night before we arrived in Arica, Nicky did some songs outside. Nicky is our onboard pianist. She also plays guitar. Twice a day, she plays in the corner of the bar on the top deck. This is very pleasant. Adding an outdoor spot while the weather is still warm was a great idea.
Later that day I spotted a whale. Might have been a sperm whale. Difficult to say but I grabbed a few photographs anyhow.
Arica is in the far north of Chile. It almost never rains here. The Atacama Desert is one of the driest in the world. Back it the day, I was a carefree, solo traveller with a rucksack on my back. I visited Aric as a starting point for seeing some of the Altiplano area that lies eastward towards Bolivia. Here you can find massive, snow covered volcanoes, lakes, llamas, rhea, vicunas and pink flamingos. The tour description, “Desert man” sounded very promising. Sadly, instead of majestic landscapes of the Lauca National Park, we got dancing girls and modern art. I should have read the description more carefully. We were driven up one of the valleys that cut into the desert from Arica. These are irrigated from a subterranean aquifer and are very fertile. Citrus and olives are the main crops. Above the valley are four sculptures that were made about twenty years ago. I do not really have a gene for modern art and often struggle to differentiate meaningfulness from rubbish in contemporary designs. These sculptures were particularly challenging. The flamboyantly dressed youths dancing to loud, distorted music did nothing to improve my sense of artistic appreciation. My disappointment was however, slightly offset by the glasses of a very nice pisco.
ArtGeoglyphs
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.
Chinchorro mummy
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.
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.
Paddington
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.
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 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.
Coconut sproutingBrown Pelican
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.
SandpiperLineated woodpecker
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.
FrigatebirdTurkey VultureGreat Kiskadee
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.
Western wood peweeGrackleRhode Island Chicken (Domesticated)American Pekin (Domesticated)Bare Throated Tiger Heron
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.
Line crewPanamax
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.
Neopanamax
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.
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.
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 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.
Frigate bird
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.
Brown pelicanDunbar Rock Hotel
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.
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 16th 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 18th 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.
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.
Cookery demonstration
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.
Inspecting the crew messDry dock
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.
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.
Amundsen’s two tenders
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.
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.
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.
Beluga
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.
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.
Beechey IslandPolar bear lookout
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.
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.
UlukhaktokTown electricity generator
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.
ECDIS Big but still rubbishCambridge Bay
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.
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, 7th October 1867 it became Friday. At the same time the date jumped from the 7th to the 18th 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 19th 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.
Cocktails with the captain
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.
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 19th 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.
Norwegian RatNomeSt Matthews
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.
Gold prospecting boat
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.
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.
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 20th century it created the Valley of Ten Thousand Smokes, a 100 km2 pyroclastic 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.
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 (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.
Not a jet boatFish measuring
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.
Big, bustling, busy, modern, shiny. In many ways Vancouver is everything that the rest of Canada, at least the part that we saw, is not. The taxi dropped us off at the towering tribute to glass that was our hotel. All very contemporary, efficient and soulless. Our room was on the 26th floor. Nowhere near the top of the hotel but plenty high enough for a good view and to make stepping onto the balcony slightly unnerving. We had a couple of nights here while we waited for the Hurtigruten vessel, the MS Roald Amundsen to arrive. On this ship we plan to literally sail from one end of the planet to the other. Our route initially goes north up the coast of Alaska and then east through the Northwest Passage that we did part of last year. Greenland then south along the eastern seaboard of the USA. Mexico, the Caribbean, through the Panama Canal and then south again past Ecuador, Peru and Chile. Finally, south through Drake’s Passage to the Antarctic Peninsula. Long trip. Over ninety days on board. We are looking forward to it immensely.
We had a couple of days to kill in Vancouver. I wasn’t feeling too great so mostly we just lazed around a bit. The Hurtigruten people arrived and after an early breakfast they took us on a coach tour of the city. This confirmed, to me anyhow, that we were not missing very much. The tour ended at the pier where we needed to go through security and passport control before joining the ship. We went through two sets of controls. One to do with leaving Canada and joining the ship, the other to do with entering Alaska -where we would be by the next time we got off the ship. Took a while but we made it. Nothing got confiscated, our documents were in order. I felt quite pleased. Mid-afternoon we arrived at our cabin.
There was a seagull sat on the balcony railing giving me the eye. I took my camera out and opened the door. It still did not move. I photographed it. A couple of times. The bird stretched its neck a bit and then did an enormous dump on the wooden rail before taking off and banking down, out of view. I was left with a nice, close-up photograph and a big bird shit.
The cabin is great. Small but well thought out. The bathroom, in particular, is very well designed. And we have a little balcony. When I chose the cabin, I deliberately went for one on the starboard side. Most of this trip we will be heading south. Diane and I are not morning people, so we don’t care about the sunrise to port. The starboard side sunset however might, on occasion, be worth sitting outside for. There may even be the odd sundowner cocktail. We are here for 94 days. Plenty of time for pictures of the cabin later.
Late afternoon we sailed. Setting off on a voyage is something I always find exciting. This one especially so. Vancouver is a working port as well as a tourist destination. As we moved out, we could see the arrays of cranes for cargo handling, bulk loaders and the other machinery of a modern dock. There was an immense pile of sulphur. This intrigued me. Surely it is an immense fire risk. In my youthful experimentation to try and create gunpowder, I managed to burn quite a lot of sulphur. It gives off some seriously nasty fumes. Definitely not the sort of thing you should do in your bedroom. I also wondered about what would happen when the rain came.
We slipped north past Vancouver Island through Queen Charlotte Sound and then into the Canadian Inside Passage where whales were spotted. I managed to catch one jumping out of the water. It is not a very good photograph but as an omen, in just the first couple of hours of our voyage, it was wonderfully auspicious.
Next day we arrived at Misty Fjords National Monument. This is a protected wilderness area famous for steep cliffs, deep fjords, coastal rainforest, glacier-carved valleys, and unique geological features like old lava flows and mineral springs. There are two common activities that guests on the Amundsen are invited to partake in: shore landings and boat cruising. Both involve the small fleet of RHIBs that the ship carries. Each is piloted by an experienced and qualified boatman. They are deployed by davit from large side door in the hull. Passengers are assigned to groups and invited, one group at a time, to the rather gloriously titled Expedition Lauch room. Here we get to board a RHIB through another side door and a docking platform. Typically, there are ten passengers to a RHIB. In the small boat we get to potter round the area for an hour or more. This is a great way to see some places, take a few photographs and generally get to experience an area.
The night after we finished the Dempster, we camped at Pelly Crossing. The council provide the campsite here, it is very pleasant, spacious and free. In the morning, we discovered a flat rear tyre. Very flat. The small electric pump we had bought in Inuvik was no use for this. I called Canadream to ask where the tools were and they told me not to attempt to change the wheel myself. I explained I was quite capable and willing but no, do not even think about it. What would happen, they said, if something went wrong further down the road as a consequence of me changing the wheel? Mid-afternoon a man arrived. Jacked the car up. Fitted the spare and then left. We could then press on to Whitehorse – nearest place with a tyre shop. In the morning, we arrived at the appointed tyre shop where they discovered that six of the eight wheels nuts were loose. Worse, the holes in the spare wheel were now oval shaped because of the way the wheel had been rattling around. We had only narrowly missed a nasty mishap because the spare wheel was on the verge of coming off. Now, we no longer had a usable spare wheel. Two days later, Canadream had us visiting a scrap yard to collect another wheel and then another tyre shop to fit the spare tyre to it. All this because they would not trust me to use a spanner.
Between punctures and the Dempster, we were running on a tight schedule now. We passed more forest fires. Some of them still burning. Also, areas where there had been fires in previous years. We could see how the forest was starting to grow back.
At 2.6 km2, Carcross desert is possibly one of the smallest deserts in the world. It is not really a desert, just a few sand dunes. The sand was formed during the last glacial period as sediment on a lake bottom. When the lake dried up the dunes were left and vegetation locked them into place. The dunes support some rare plants. The government tried to make it a protected area a few years ago but the locals objected because they like to use the dunes for sandboarding (like snowboarding but on sand).
We saw some more bears and managed to photograph one. Usually what happens is that we see a bear, stop the car and the bear vanishes into the forest. This is good bear behaviour. It is better all-round if bears are shy of humans. It is when they lose their nervousness and start getting too close to humans that they can become a problem – and that just leads to them being shot.
The rest of the route back to Vancouver was easy. Easy roads and comfortable campsites. We came through Whistler which is a big ski area. Unfortunately, there was not any time to explore. We found a monster car wash at one campsite. This was a lucky break because we had a lot of mud to remove. Even with both of us working at cleaning, it took most of the morning to get the RV back into a reasonable condition. Then most of the afternoon to clean out the inside and pack our stuff. We were quite pleased with the results and thought that the 10,000 km we had done did not really show. If the vehicle needs a lot of cleaning when you hand it back the company will charge quite a lot for this. The next day we dropped the RV off, picked up our bags and headed into Vancouver.
The Dempster Highway starts just south of Dawson City and runs north-east for 736 km to the Arctic Ocean at Tuktoyaktuk. It is mostly a dirt track and build on permafrost. To stop the permafrost melting there is an insulating layer of gravel up to 2.5 m deep. The first 115 km were built in the early sixties when there was a suspicion of oil to be found. The rest was built in the late seventies in response to the Americans finding oil in Prudhoe Bay. The road is quite well maintained. We saw several graders working. There is also significant traffic including large trucks.
Yukon River
As we set off, it was raining, again. The sky was grey and the road slippery. I was grateful we had 4WD. Muddy spray off the road coated the back of the truck and before long the lights and numberplate were quite indistinguishable. Despite the damp, the driving was quite fun. Just this one, long track winding its way through the wilderness. We passed a vehicle coming the other way every ten minutes or so. The first section is through dense forest. Then you start to climb up into some hills and the terrain becomes more open. Dropping down again we started following a series of river systems. The Blackstone River and then over to the Ogilvie River by way of Engineer Creek. The confluence was marked by the muddy waters of Engineer Creek swirling into the clear, dark waters of the larger Ogilvie River. Some of the tributaries had bright red rocks along the banks. I think this is caused by iron ore that is leaching out of the surrounding hills. We crossed the Arctic Circle as indicated by roadside sign.
The weather started to clear and while I don’t think it actually got as far as sunny, it did get a lot brighter. Drier weather brings its own problems though. First of all, there is the dust. In some ways not as unpleasant as mud spray but it has a remarkable ability to penetrate. Our plastic living unit ended up full of the stuff. We needed to shake the sheets out before we went to bed. The other problem is the mosquitoes. There are several basic campsites along the Dempster and come early evening, we stopped at one of these. Looked lovely until I opened the door and was met by a great cloud of mosquitoes rising up out of the grass. It did not need a second glance for me to shut the door and keep driving. Towards the border between Yukon and North West Territories (NWT), the road cuts through some bare mountains. We stopped on a pass where there was plenty of wind to keep the mosquitoes away and were entertained by a family of ground squirrels. They were running around being terribly busy. I think they were collecting nest material. Not really sure, but great fun to watch.
Next day we arrived at the ferry across the Peel River. By contrast to the previous day, it was sunny and warm. Mid-twenties. Probably as hot as it gets. The mosquitoes were making the best of it. Not just mosquitoes but also a large variety of that bite you in a large variety of ways. I noticed some birds had been building nests underneath the bridge of the ferry. This made sense given that, at these latitudes, there are very few trees and the insects that the birds eat seemed to really enjoy feasting on ferry passengers.
A short while later came the ferry across the Mackenzie River. Same arrangement. Free, government run ferry in the summer and an ice bridge in the winter. There then followed a very long, flat section until we arrived at the town of Inuvik. This is quite a modern, bustling place with gas stations, supermarkets and a shopping centre. We only paused briefly before pushing on to Tuktoyaktuk, a much smaller village on the edge of the Arctic Ocean that marks the northern limit of the Dempster Highway. This last section of the highway loops around numerous lakes that form the Mackenzie River Delta. As we drove into town, we noticed that many people had mosquito nets over their heads. This was a worrying sight. We found the tourist office and were directed to the campsite right at the end of the village overlooking the sea. A dozen or so other vehicles were there. It is not much of a campsite and the toilets are some of the most evil I have encountered in a while. But we were happy to have made it to the Arctic Ocean. A stiff sea breeze kept the flying insects and the smell from the toilets at bay.
Ibyuk Pingo
Next day began with a puncture. Fortunately, it was only slow. We found a garage to get the tyre pumped up and then headed back to Inuvik in the hope of getting it repaired. Before that, we wanted to check out the Pingo we had spotted when we arrived. We saw one in Svalbard earlier in the year. Pingos are intrapermafrost ice-cored hills, 3–70 m high and 30–1,000 m in diameter. They are typically conical in shape and grow and persist only in permafrost environments. Worldwide there are only about 11,000 pingos of which over 10% are in the Tuktoyaktuk area. There are a couple of mechanisms by which they are created. Both of these involve a core of frozen water which, over time, pushes the hill upwards. The Pingo was a pleasing shape and came with a notice board explaining how it had been formed. We were looking at Ibyuk, the largest pingo in Canada and the second largest in the world.
It was a Saturday and nobody was working. After determining that there were only two possible tyre shops we resigned ourselves to staying for a bit longer. At the small shopping mall, I managed to buy a small electric tyre inflator. This would at least buy us some more time. Fortunately, the campsite at Inuvik is lovely. Probably the best toilets in NWT and hot showers as well.
Sunday afternoon seemed unlikely for tyre repairs but we tried Polar Tyres anyhow. The man was in. He emerged from behind a fishing boat on a trailer. His arms were literally covered in blood up to his shoulders. Momentarily, I wondered if we had just stumbled on some hideous criminal activity. He explained that, with his brother, they had just been out harvesting Beluga whales. Now they were cutting them up for the freezer. Just occasionally when I am travelling something gives me the feeling of being a long way from home. This was one of them. We arranged to get the tyre repaired in the morning.
After three nights at the top of the Dempster we were properly back on the road again. The return trip was a simple unwinding of the trip up. The weather got damper again as we returned to the land of trees. We eventually arrived on the Yukon Highway in just the same sort of downpour as when we had left.
The river ferry at Dawson City operates 24 hours a day. In the winter, the river freezes and traffic drives on the ice. The ferry is paid for by the government. There is no booking, no reservations. You just turn up and wait until you can get on. It takes less than ten minutes to cross the river and this brings you to the start of the Top of the World Highway. This is mostly a dirt track and gains its name from the way the road links the top of several hills such that for most of the route you are looking down into valleys. It is 127 km long and only open in the summer.
At about the highest point of the road, 100 km in, you arrive at the USA border. Previously, we had both applied for ETAC (Electronic Travel something or other) but we still needed to be finger printed and photographed before we could be allowed in. In my experience, border guards do not have a sense of humour. Never. Not even a hint. Surgically removed or something. Trying to joke with a border guard is like trying to play tennis with a jelly fish. It just won’t work. This time however, I was standing in front of the camera with my best serious but clearly innocent face when the guard told me I could smile. I was taken aback. Passport photographs are strictly no-smile zones. But, as the guard went on to explain, this was America, land of the free, where you can do anything. He then told us that Independence Day (July 4th) was the one day of the year that English were not allowed into USA. He then went on to regale us with stories of bear hunting, the bear steak he’d had for breakfast and what to do if a bear came in the door. I suggested running away but no, he was clear that he would stare it down. I pointed out that my apparent lack of bravery was because he was carrying an exceptionally large revolver whereas I was armed with only a smile. Never saw the final ID photograph but I suspect I mostly looked puzzled.
Top of the WorldAlaska
Just round the corner from the border post is an immense “Welcome to Alska” sign and our first view across the Alaskan scenery. A few miles further on the road descends through a valley system and comes out at the gloriously named town of Chicken. They appear enormously proud of the name and just about every signpost has a chicken theme. We also saw a moose. It stepped into the woods and disappeared long before I could get my camera out. They do that. Very frustrating animals to try and photograph. Remarkable how, despite their size, they seem able to completely vanish in just a few steps.
The weather was consistently terrible. Rain and thick grey clouds and fog, several types of mist and more rain. We seemed to spend quite a lot of time driving without seeing very much. Arriving at Fairbanks, we turned south towards Anchorage. I would have liked to go north here, to Prudoe Bay and the Arctic Ocean, but the hire company had put the Dalton Highway out of bounds. Instead, we went through the Denali National Park where we drove past the highest mountain in North America without seeing even a hint of it. At Wasilla, we began heading east back towards Canada and at last the clouds lifted a little so we could see the mountains and glaciers of Chugach National Park.
We completed our soggy circuit of Alaska at Tok quite a few days earlier than planned. We might have taken a leisurely drive back to Vancouver but instead decided to try another route to the Arctic Ocean along the Dempster Highway in Yukon. By late afternoon we were back on the Top of the World Highway and the road to Dawson City.
From Dawson Creek we had been following the Alaska Highway. This was built in the second world war to connect Alaska to the rest of the USA as part of a response to the Japanese threat. Back in the day it was a dirt track and considered to be a long, difficult and, in places, dangerous route. These days it is a fast, easy road supporting a lot of traffic. I reckoned that well over half the vehicles we saw were RVs. Many of these are American so that means an RV based on a full-sized coach towing a family car. The Canadians tend to favour an equally large RV that is towed by a pick-up truck using a fifth wheel bolted into the flat bed. The rest of the traffic is commercial trucks often pulling two full sized trailers.
At Watson Lake we left the Alaska Highway and headed up the far less travelled Robert Campbell Highway. This took us north, roughly following the Pelly River and deep into Yukon. A few short sections of this route are sealed but most of it is a dirt track. Throughout the rest of the afternoon, we only saw two more vehicles. We enjoyed two quiet days on quiet roads with quiet campsites. Rather disappointingly we saw very little wildlife. We had hoped there might be more on a quieter road but obviously this is not always the case. At Carmacks, we joined the Klondike Highway which would take us north to Dawson City. We also followed the Yukon River for a short while. At the height of the Klondike gold rush Dawson City had a population of over 16,000. Much of the food and supplies needed to support so many people came in on paddle steamers that navigated their way up and down the Yukon River. Today Dawson City is a tenth the size and there is a well-made road.
North from Pelly Crossing we passed through a large area of forest fires. The air still smelled smoky and we drove past several miles of blackened trees. A few days earlier the road had been closed. Canada experiences a lot of forest fires in the summer. Most of these have a natural cause and are so far away as to not cause many problems. Occasionally fires are caused by negligence. These are often much more of a problem because they are usually closer to habited areas. There is some suggestion that climate change is exacerbating the situation. In the last few years there have been some quite extreme heatwaves leaving the forests tinder dry.
Dawson City still manages to feel like a bit of a frontier town. Some of the shop fronts and wooden buildings have been deliberately left looking a little like a wild west film set. There is an old paddle steamer by the side of the road and pretty much every sign appears to reference gold. We stocked up on a few essentials and prepared ourselves for the ferry in the morning.
From Banff we got a shuttle to Calgary where we collected our Recreation Vehicle (RV) for the next few weeks. This came from the Canadream company, who appear to have a virtual monopoly on Canadian RV hire. We dealt with them last year and it all worked out well. So we came back. This time however, the RV we chose was a bit more rugged. Essentially it is a plastic box, the living unit, on the back of a standard 4×4 pickup truck. A Ford F350 with a 6.7l powerstroke diesel engine. The complete unit is a bit cosy but we could take it down a few dirt tracks. Initial leg of the trip, to Watson Lake, is all sealed roads, easy.
The first thing we did was drive to the local supermarket and buy a load of food and wine. Also, some of the stuff we wanted in the RV that is not normally supplied. A sharp knife and cutting board, small food processor, fire-lighters, mosquito coils, extra bedding and so on. Then the vehicle would not start. It uses keyless ignition. I am always a bit suspicious of this. You have to close the door, put your foot on the service brake, select Park, make sure the key hob is close enough (to something), press the button and hope. Nothing happened. It was a bit embarrassing. I imagined that there was some part of the arcane starting spell that I was doing wrong. So, I was sure that when the spotty youth turned up to help us, that he would do something simple while making vaguely condescending remarks and the engine would burst into life. It was gratifying, in an odd way, that he was not spotty, or condescending and he could not start the engine. None of this helped solve the problem but it did make me feel better. Eventually it was decided that our almost brand new 4×4 Ford F360 was broken and would have to go back to Ford.
A replacement vehicle was found. A blue truck that looked almost identical to the original red one. I was however assured, that being blue, it would be slightly faster. An hour later we had moved all our gear into the new RV and set off into the evening traffic. Fortunately, it was not far to the campsite. I had planned that we should not have far to drive and also that we would stay there for a couple of nights. It is at least a day’s work to get all our gear organised in the truck. There is not much space so you need to think about what goes where quite carefully. Getting this bit wrong can easily lead to arguments further down the road. The few things that we don’t need for this part of the trip go in the small case. The one we use as hand luggage on a plane. This fits inside the medium sized case which in turn goes into the big suitcase. I think this is quite clever and it saves a lot of space.
A couple of days later, we were ready to set off properly. There are not many roads in Canada. This is especially true around the Rocky Mountains. Our plan, approximately, was to drive north up the eastern side of the Rockies to Alaska and then back down on the western side. Travel by motorhome is easy in Canada. For many it is by far the best way to travel. Campsites are abundant and, once you are away from the city, booking is rarely needed. Facilities range from full-service (water, sewage, electricity) to, well, nothing really. For $20 on a national park campsite you get a pitch in the woods with a table, firepit and firewood.
On the very first day we set off properly, we saw a bear. Not a glimpse of a bear in the woods but a full-grown black bear just ambling down the road. We had stopped for second breakfast in a layby and he wandered down the far side of the road. Caused a big queue of traffic. A short while later he had his fill of attention, hopped up the bank and vanished into the woods.
MooseMountain Sheep
One aspect of travelling that I love is the serendipitous way that things can happen. A few days later, a Saturday, we arrived at the Liard River Hot Springs Park. This is a very popular area and the campsite was full. It was the only time in the whole trip that we found a full campsite. They suggested we could camp in the car park across the road and walk over to use the campsite facilities. This did not impress us much so, despite the late hour, we pushed on. In the next half hour we saw our second bear, a whole heard of bison and moose with a calf. Brilliant. We then found a lovely little quiet campsite close to a remarkable waterfall.
BisonBaby Bison
Our route followed the Liard River as it wound north and west until we arrived at Watson Lake. This is a small town whose only claim to fame appears to be a strange forest of signs. A bunch of poles that visitors have been nailing stolen road signs to. For us it was significant because here we would leave the main road and strike off on to what we hoped was a slightly more remote and adventurous road.
The Rocky Mountaineer train company operate tourist trains along four routes mostly from Vancouver. This is train travel for its own sake. It is not a good way to get around because it is expensive and does not run to schedule. The passenger trains have to give way to freight trains so on each leg of the journey you can never be quite sure when you will arrive. It is intended to be a train where you can relax and enjoy the scenery while being wined and dined. There are two classes of comfort. In Gold you get an upstairs viewing area where you spend most of your time in your seat watching the world go past and being served drinks. Downstairs is a dining area where lunch and diner are served. The Silver class is more basic and food is served at the seat.
This all sounded quite fun, so at 6am we were sat in the lobby of a Vancouver hotel waiting for a transfer to the station. One thing they did not tell us about this two day trip to Banff was that it would involve some very early mornings. Our luggage was whisked away on a truck while we travelled by bus to the station. Here we were literally given the red carpet treatment as we boarded the train. The train trundled out of Vancouver. Then we were served breakfast and at around 10am the free bar opened.
The first part of the journey, out though the suburbs of Vancouver was only mildly interesting. As the morning rolled on the scenery began to open out and we passed through forests and hills. An early highlight was a black bear trotting through a field by the track. Free drinks all day sounds like a recipe for a wild party but the reality was that drinks were served at your seat and the service was very slow. We did of course thoroughly enjoy having another glass of wine put in front of us every so often. The food was heavily meat/fish orientated. The vegetarian fare felt like an afterthought. Too many times there appears to be an assumption that vegetarians prefer their food completely bland and lacking in texture. There was plenty enough to eat and snacks so we did not go hungry.
A big selling point of this trip is the scenery. The route through the Rocky Mountains is certainly interesting but in a gentle, peaceful way. None of the excitement that you can get with some of the world’s great train journeys. There were a lot of trees. If you don’t like tress then don’t come to Canada. The crew in the car told us stories about the different places we were passing through. This was done in quite an informative and interesting way. Definitely added to the trip. The seats were very good too. Large and comfortable. To Diane’s delight she found that the seats were heated via a little control panel by the arm.
We arrived in Kamloops quite late. By the time we were dropped of at our hotel it was well after 9pm. We had to be up again at 5pm. It is hard work being a tourist sometimes. We skipped dinner and went straight to bed. A nice touch was that our luggage had been delivered to our room We could leave it there for collection in the morning as well.
Next morning I probably did not wake up until halfway through breakfast on the train. That was only just before the bar opened. The countryside was becoming more mountainous. Occasionally we could see snowy peaks. We also saw several freight trains. Seriously long trains of tankers, shipping containers stacked two high or open cars containing loose gravel, sand, cement or sulphur. Apparently the top surface of these is sprayed with some sort of plastic which seals them against the weather and stops the contents simply blowing away. Day two was a lot like day one. Pleasant rather than exciting. A brown bear and two bald eagles later we arrived in Banff. This was the end of the line for us. We got to the Banff Inn quite late again and then set about preparing for the next phase of our Canadian trip
Last year we spent a couple of weeks in Iceland. Fabulous trip but we missed out on seeing an active volcano because it had stopped erupting a couple of weeks before we arrived. Now we had the opportunity. We were on our way to Canada and flying via Reykjavik. This is quite a cost-effective route. So, we arranged to stop over for a few nights. Our accommodation was the Viking Hotel in Hafnarfjordur, a little way outside Reyjavik. This is an interesting hotel. Quite comfortable and reasonably priced. It is also great fun if you have any interest in Vikings. Some of my Danish friends, who claim direct descendance from the berserkers of a thousand years ago, would undoubtedly relish this place and bring their own axes.
Our helicopter trip for the next day got pushed back a day because of uncertainty about the weather. Instead, we tried booking on a whale watching trip for the next day but this was cancelled because it was too windy. Such things are not an unusual occurrence, and the company were very good about refunding our money. Later that day we met up with Jón, our pilot friend from Iceland. He showed us round a few interesting places local to Reykjavik. We ended up having a pleasant meal in a restaurant overlooking a bay with a beach.
Next afternoon we all met up at the Reykjavík Helicopters office at the city airport. This is not Keflavík International Airport, located around 40km southwest of Reykjavík, but a much smaller facility just south of the city centre. Once again, our pilot was the very cool Solveig flying an Airbus H125. We felt safe hands. If you are going to fly around an active volcano then you really should pick a good pilot.
Fagradalsfjall is a an active tuya volcano volcano formed in the last glacial period on the Reykjanes Peninsula to the south of Reykjavík. Tuya are created when a volcano emerges through an ice sheet. They typically have steep sides and flattened tops. After sleeping for 815 years, it burst into life in 2021 and has erupted every year since. Being close to Reykjavík it has become a bit of a tourist attraction. Walking there will take four or five hours. This is a problematic way to see the volcano. Apart from the long walk, it is difficult to get anywhere for an unobstructed view and there are dangers. The current eruption is emitting a variety of poisonous gases so a sudden change in wind could cause a lot of problems. The broad valley where all recent activity has occurred is completely uninhabited and considered extremely dangerous. New erupting fissures and craters can open up anywhere without any notice. Much better then is the helicopter approach.
After a briefing we took off and tracked along the coast for a short way. An old volcanic cone acts as marker for the route. Helicopters fly out on one side of it and back on the other. A roundabout for aircraft. Getting closer to Fagradalsfjall you can see vast expanses of black lava. The remains of flows that have cooled. We spotted a place where a large bank has been built to try and control an earlier flow. These have been used quite successfully at times. If you are lucky the initial lava flow cools along the levee, cools and reinforces it. Sometimes it just gets washed away.
We headed straight for where the smoke was rising and then circled around the cone. From our perfect vantage point, we could see directly down at the boiling lava. It is a quite incredible thing to see rock boiling up close and personal. The lava boiled like a cauldron of thick porridge, spitting red hot gobs of molten rock into the air. A thick, viscous and slowly moving river of lava moved down one side. Absolutely fascinating to watch. We spent quite a few minutes there. I wished it could have been longer. Then we circled round the eruption site of the last two years and then, to my surprise, we landed.
Solveig put us down on a reasonably flat area of lava flow. Amazing. We landed on some of the newest rock in the world. It was still warm and smoke was rising through cracks. Sulphur collected on the edges of the rock and the air smelt of fire and brimstone. We were somewhere that Dante might have recognised. The rotor blades slowed to a halt and we got out for a wander round. Very strange place. It was quite a privilege just to be in such an unusual place. Just a few years ago it simply did not exist. I did wonder a little about safety. Was it possible that the ground could just give way and drop us into a fiery pool of lava? An immense eruption was busily going on not far from us. The rock seemed solid enough. After a few hesitant steps I decided it was probably alright and tried to look casual as I walked away from the aircraft.
After photographs and some time pondering, we clambered back on board for the short flight back. Quite an amazing experience. It is difficult to do justice to describing things like this without sounding all flowery. I am not a natural writer. Look and the pictures instead. Jón drove us out to a picturesque park and light house. Here we could reflect on the experience while looking at the many ducklings.
In the morning, we continued our journey to Canada. The aircraft was a bit cramped but this is not such a long haul and we did get some amazing views over Greenland.
We thoroughly enjoyed our time sledging with the dogs but so far as practical travelling is concerned, dog sleds are a relic of another age. These days, if you want to get around in snowy places then a snowmobile, or ski-doo, is the tool of choice. Longyearbyn is stuffed to bursting with them. Back when I worked in Antarctica, the snowmobiles were quite basic. The manual pull-cord made them energetic to start, exhausting at times. They were awkward to steer, slow, noisy and uncomfortable. All this with the great smell of two stroke oil. The modern machine has a powerful four-stroke engine with an electric starter, full suspension, soft seats and heated handlebars. The sitting position and technology have some similarities to a motorbike but otherwise there is surprisingly little in the comparison. Riding a motorbike requires a level of precision and balance. The snow mobile however, just launches off across the snow bouncing and skittering around while heading in only the general direction that you point it. None the less this is great fun. You can easily reach speeds of 50 km/h or more which feels much faster and can be remarkably exhilarating in a sort of hanging on to a wild rampaging beast sort of way.
Our first trip out was north to the top of some cliffs overlooking Tempelfjorden. We each had our own snowmobile and were part of a group of ten riders. The day began with a briefing and introduction to the machines. We got togged up in warm, one-piece suits, mitts and a helmet before walking down a short slope to where the snowmobiles were all ready for us. The group leader was towing a small sledge with safety equipment. He we also equipped with a rifle and a flare gun in case of polar bears. We never got to see any bears on Svalbard but we were regularly assured that there are plenty around. Travelling single file, we set off along some very dirty and well used snow up the main valley. After about fifteen minutes we took a left and headed up into the mountains. Soon we had left all traces of civilisation behind. Just us, the snow, the mountains and the odd reindeer. Over the course of a couple of hours we followed a series of linked valleys until eventually emerging at the top of the cliffs. The view was spectacular. A wide-open stretch of sea with mountains at the far side and a glacier in the distance. Coffee and biscuits appeared from the survival sledge and we spent a good twenty minutes just taking in the scenery and watching a few sea birds. The journey back was uneventful but still great fun. Everyone was getting a bit more comfortable on the snowmobiles so we could pick up the pace a bit.
The next day we went down a mine. Svalbard was a very quiet place for just a handful of trappers and whalers until the start of the 20th century. Coal was discovered and the mining companies moved in. For while the archipelago was all about mining. Some of the best quality coal in world could be mined here. Mostly found in horizontal seams that were accessed by drift mines cut straight into the valley walls. Today all but one of the Norwegian mines are closed and the last of the Russian mines has almost stopped production. Tourism is the main industry now so quite reasonably, one of the old mines has been turned into a museum. This is not the sort of museum with glass cased displays and little information cards, it is a mine where they stopped working a few years ago. The passages have been made safe, or at least safer, but otherwise things are pretty much as they were on the day production stopped. It is quite dirty inside. We were given overalls to wear and headtorches, so the small group soon started to look like miners. After looking around the workshops and the topside coal handling facilities, we were led down one of the main passages. The coal seam was about two feet thick. From the access passage, the miners would dig into this with coal cutting machines creating a narrow crawl way which was supported by multiple props jacked into the roof. Then they would cut another segment of the seam next to it and then another. Imagine trying to remove the cream layer from the centre of a cake by cutting successive pencil shaped pieces out and working your way across the cake. By the fourth cut they would need to start removing the props from the original cut otherwise they would run out of props. This was the dangerous part because the roof would eventually collapse once enough props were removed. The trick was to not be there when this happened. Apparently, the skilled miners could listen to noise the mountain made as they took the props out and tell from this when it was becoming unsafe. I crawled into one of these seams, hand and knees for about 100m, to get a feel for what it was like. I left with a whole new level of respect for the bravery of miners. And with much coal dust firmly embedded under my finger nails and many other places.
On our last day we took another, longer, trip on snow mobiles. Different company but the basics, a briefing, clothing and the machines, were similar. One major difference, when we set off, was the light was very flat. When the sky is completely clouded over there are no shadows and it can become difficult to judge the lie of the snow-covered land. It all just looks white and a bit featureless. These conditions can be tricky skiing and on a snowmobile because it is hard to anticipate how the land is sloping and changing. We set off a lot faster than the previous trip and I found I had to really concentrate. Diane had chosen to ride pillion with me and this made balancing a little more difficult. For the first hour I think all I did was focus on the snow mobile in front of me, watching to see the shape of the hills and the valleys. Later, as the sun started to break through, it became much easier and far less disconcerting.
We drove eastwards for a good couple of hours before dropping down into a wide valley. At first, I thought this might be a frozen lake. It looked like one, but fact was just a flat and safe valley bottom. Across at the far side of the valley we followed another small valley before emerging at the coast by a hunter’s lodge. Over coffee and biscuits, we were told tales of the trapper that lived there for most of his life along with his wife. The route back involved a short stop at a gully which was fun to climb up and slide back down. We also went up to the top of hill for some lovely views.
Getting up at 4am next day for the flight was not much fun. At Tromsø , everyone needed to leave the plane, with their luggage. We then went through security and passport control to re-enter Schengen before getting back onto the same plane, in the same seats, with the same luggage. I found someone had taken the overhead space that my luggage had previously occupied. Somehow this seemed rather rude. Back in Oslo we collected the car and over the next few days made our way back to the UK.
We had signed up for a three-day dog trip. Next morning, we were standing outside the Coal Miners Cabin, again, waiting to be picked up. Marcel, our guide, met us in a rather battered van then we collected the two other couples doing the trip. There are only a handful of hotels in Longyearbyen and it seems to be normal that excursions include hotel transfers. A couple of miles outside of town we arrived at the dog kennels. The dogs were already keen and excited. Each dog has its own kennel and is chained up so that it cannot quite get to any of the dogs around it. They jumped up and barked a lot. Small when compared to the Greenlandic dogs we met a few months ago. Maybe 25 kg max. They are a cross between several breeds including Greenlandic and Serbian Huskies. Somewhat to my surprise, they were very friendly to humans. Sledge dogs are not pets, they are work dogs and can sometimes be a bit aggressive. These dogs, however, were clearly well acclimatised to being handled.
First job was to get changed into warm padded overalls and insulated boots. Then we had a short briefing about dogs and sledges. Then we were shown how to harness the dogs. The main thing is to keep hold of the dog. They are so excited that if you let one slip it will run off. It will come back eventually but only once it has run round the other dogs, started a few fights and generally caused mischief. Best to hang on to them. Diane and I had our own team of six dogs. Each had its place in front of the sledge. The harness fits around the dog’s shoulders so you must help them step into it. Then there is webbing to help even out the load and fit comfortably across the back. From the front of the sledge there is a long gangline, the cable that all the dogs are attached to. A tugline connects the rear of the dog harness to the gangline. This is what takes the load when the dogs are running. A neckline is attached from the dog’s collar to the gangline. This does not take and load but helps keeps the dog organised.
In much less than an hour we were all ready to go. Marcel set off with his team. We were next. Diane sat on the sledge and I stood on the back to control the brake. One of the helpers released the rope at the back of the sledge and we were off. The only control I had was the brake. A claw like affair at the rear of the sledge that you variously stand on or even jump on to control the speed. The dogs simply followed Marcel’s sledge. I did not really have any control over that.
We started off easy. A flat, wide trail that led up a shallow valley and back down the other side. In the thirty minutes it took to do this the dogs settled down a bit, we settled down a bit, everything started to get a bit easier. Then we turned eastwards and set off for a cabin somewhere in the mountains. Both of us started to get into the rhythm of dog sledding, which is really rather lovely. It is very quiet compared to snowmobile. The dogs trot along happily. They really are happy; it is easy to tell that they just love pulling the sledge. It is all they want to do. Even ten minutes or so Marcel would stop to give the dogs a breather and make sure everyone was keeping up. I had to stop our sledge before our dogs got to Marcel’s dogs. Sometimes this would mean really jumping hard on the brake. Once stopped, I deployed the snowhook. This is an anchor to hold the dog team back when the musher decides to stop. It is like a parking break for the dog team — although somewhat less reliable. Looks and works like a ship’s anchor. Theoretically, the harder the team pulls on the snowhook the more the hook digs into the ground. In reality, the team may occasionally pull hard enough that the snowhook will pop free.
A couple of hours into the trip and we were starting to settle into dog sledging. The dogs trot along. It is not very fast although you would struggle to keep up by running. Feels like a nice pace for enjoying the surroundings, spotting a few reindeer and thinking about the explorers of old. Every 15 or 20 minutes we would have a short break. One of us would always have to stay with the sledge and keep a foot on the brake. If the dogs managed to run of with the sledge they could quite possibly go for many miles. They don’t care if the musher is on board, they just want to run with the sledge. Marcel would always set off first. Immediately I had to jump hard on the brake. My dogs would see the lead team leaving and want to be straight off after them. Then I had to reach down and pull up the snowhook. The dogs are ready for this. They are keen to go. They can sense as soon as you reach down and start pulling hard again. Keeping the brake hard on, I stow the snowhook just below the handlebars and then we are properly ready to go. In keeping with tradition, I would shout “mush” at the dogs when I released the brake. This was a bit superfluous; the dogs knew the moment the brake came off and were already pulling hard.
After four remarkably enjoyable hours travelling up a broad, open valley we rounded a corner and spotted the cabin. Diane and I had no idea what to expect and were pleasantly surprised. From a distance it looked modern and comfortable. First, we had to park the dogs. Marcel had tied up his sledge when we arrived. He grabbed our lead dogs and then tied the rear of the sledge off to a large wooden post. Lines were already laid out with a place for each dog so Diane and I could unhook them from the sledge and tie them up for the night. The dogs sleep directly on the snow. They are well used to this and seemed thoroughly comfortable. Dogs sorted we went to explore the cabin.
It was basic. No running water. Heating from a wood pellet stove and small generator powering the lights. Each couple had their own bedroom. The rooms were very snug and had a curtain for a door. Diane and I shared a bed that looked, to me, to be small for a single bed. Fortunately, no-one was put off by this and we all sat round the table for a late lunch. Food was a packet of freeze-dried something. I had a Thai curry which, when I had the patience to let it rehydrate properly, was not too bad. We even had some wine. It came from a box and tasted a little rough but nobody minded. We could sit out on the terrace, enjoy the sunshine, enjoy the view and reflect on the day.
Once the dogs had rested for a good hour, we fed them. It is important to give them this resting time before eating. Also, in the morning, they needed an hour after breakfast before they could start running. Same applies to all dogs. Mixing feeding with exercise can cause twisted gut and other ailments. Food for these dogs was high protein kibble with water from melted snow. Looked awful but the dogs loved it and gobbled it down like it was the best food ever. Then they simply curled up in the snow and went to sleep.
Our evening meal was bags of frozen Elk stew. Marcel and his assistant, Rebecca, defrosted this in a large pan of boiling water. Each person got a bag of hot stew, a bowl and a spoon. Diane and I are vegetarian and we each got a bag of vegetable stew. This was ok but I had to remind Diane that we had not come for the food. The rest of the evening was given over to playing cards, talking and reading. The day was as bright as it had been in the morning but come 10pm we retired to bed and I discovered that I was really quite tired after a day of mushing.
Next morning, I went downstairs to make some coffee. Fortunately, I found some ground coffee and a cafetière. I don’t mind basic food but instant coffee would be a step too far. I was so pleased that I made Diane a cup of tea to have in bed. As the coffee slowly did its morning magic, I was also pleased that no-one was complaining about my snoring. Seems there were a few other snorers there so nobody wanted to start pointing fingers. First job, after a second cup of coffee, was to feed the dogs. Same kibble as last night. They wolfed it down and then settled down again. After a night in the snow they each had a comfortable depression that they could curl up in. Our breakfast was something dried in a packet again. One option was dried egg and bacon. Nobody went for that. I opted for muesli with strawberry washed down with more strong coffee.
Day two. The plan was to head out in a big loop and come back to the cabin. Here is how to set off on a dog sledge. First make sure that the sledge is securely tied to the large wood post. Lay out the gangline. Fetch the first lead dog, fit his harness and attach the tugline. Leave Diane to hold the lead dog. Fetch dog number two, fit his harness and attach next to the lead dog. Connect the neckline between the two dogs. Now Diane needs to be firmly braced and holding the lead dogs while I fetch, harness and attach the remaining four dogs. Dog number six cannot contain his excitement, so he starts fighting with number five. I break them up but this only lasts a few seconds. We are nearly ready, so I take my place at the back of the sledge and stand on the brake. Loosen the knot on the wooden post and take a turn round it so that I can hold the sledge. Marcel has set off, so I signal Diane and she runs round the sledge and jumps on. The dogs try and follow her which adds to the confusion a bit. I let slip the rope, shout “mush” and we are off. Fights and other distractions completely forgotten the dogs are now set on chasing Marcel’s dogs down. After ten minutes things start to settle down a bit and by twenty minutes we are into a nice steady trot. Dog number five still has the odd nip at number six.
We head east off into the arctic wilderness. This really is a brilliant way to travel and feels like a perfectly natural fit to the environment. This time we have brought a few snacks, some biscuits to nibble on the way and a flask of water. The weather is enormously better than when we first arrived. Sunshine and blue skies. It is not cold. Probably hovering a little below freezing but the padded overalls keep us snug. Even Diane was comfortably warm. We crossed a massive, shallow valley. Feels like we are on a frozen lake but in fact it was just flat ground. Then we turned up a narrow gorge to look at a frozen waterfall. First obstacle was a short slope. The dogs could not quite pull the sledge up, so I hopped off the back to run and push. The moment the sledge crested the top, the dogs accelerated downwards and I had to leap back on the sledge while jumping on the brake so as not to overrun the dogs. Diane whooped and thought this was great fun. I wondered briefly how she would have felt had I missed my leap and abandoned her and the sledge to vanish into the distance. At the top of the gorge we took turns holding the sledges and inspecting the waterfall. Turning all the dog teams round, in a narrow gorge, was fun. The trick is to keep the teams apart otherwise they fight. Probably took about 20 minutes to get everyone sorted and then we were off again. Back over the little slope. I was ready for it this time. Then a loop to the north that took us round a mountain and back to the cabin.
The evening was pretty much a repeat. More wine was drunk and there was some singing. Not by me I would stress. A construction that looked a little like a large barrel by the side of the cabin was in fact a sauna. Several of the guests took advantage of this. I gave it a miss. Tried a sauna once but for the life of me could not understand why anyone would want to sit around and get hot. Makes me uncomfortable and sweaty for no apparent benefit at all. Each to their own.
Day three. Last day. I could happily have carried on. We still had a good four or five hour run with the dogs. Came back a different route to the way out over some slightly more challenging terrain. It has been a long time since I ran so much in one day. All too soon we were back and saying goodbye to our dogs. The final highlight of the trip was puppies. We visited a separate area of the kennels where there were puppies. Unbearably cute little bundles of fur that we had to give back. One day, I thought, one day…
Svalbard is an archipelago to the north of Norway. Way, way north. The capital, Longyearbyen, at 78°N, is the world’s most northerly settlement (>1,000), approximately halfway between Norway and the North Pole. It is also the furthest north either of us have been and indeed, the highest latitude I have ever been to. From Denmark we took the ferry to Gothenburg and then drove to Oslo airport. Parking here, if booked well in advance, is remarkably cheap, for Norway.
We flew to Tromsø in the north of Norway. On arrival we had to leave the aircraft, taking all our hand luggage, and then go through security checks. After this came passport control. Then we were herded back to the original plane where we could pack our hand luggage back in the overhead lockers and retake our earlier seats. Svalbard, formerly known as Spitzbergen, was established in the early twentieth century, when the high quality coal reserves became important. While the whole archipelago, annexed by the Svalbard Act 1925, has Norwegian sovereignty, it remains outside of Schengen and the EEA. Hence the passport and security checks. No visas are required to visit or work here and this appears to attract a wide variety of people from around the world. The main island is now known as Spitzbergen while the whole archipelago is called Svalbard.
It took nearly two hours to fly from Tromsø to Longyearbyn. We dropped out of the clouds to an expanse of glacier covered islands and snowy tundra. As we landed, snow was drifting across the runway. The sun never sets here. Not in the summer. It just goes around in a circle in the sky. In the winter it sets for three months but while we were there it was complete daylight. Longyearbyn airport is small. Just one luggage carousel and just one bus outside. The bus calls at all the hotels. Our hotel, the “Coal Miner’s Cabin” was basic but comfortable. The room was just big enough for two single beds and the shared bathrooms were a short walk down the corridor.
Less than an hour after arriving at our hotel, we were standing outside it waiting for the snowcat. Roads on Svalbard are limited to the town. There are very few cars. To get elsewhere needs something more capable. The Volvo snowcat is a very capable rough terrain vehicle. We were soon bouncing up the track out of town to visit an ice cave along with a guide and two other aspirant glacio-speleologists.
This particular cave had formed underneath a glacier. During the summer meltwater works its way through cracks in the ice and runs down the valley underneath the glacier making a cave. Arriving at a rather windy and bleak part of what was otherwise plain, snow covered hillside, we were taken to a door. A door in a snow bank. Inside a small tunnel angled sharply downwards. We switched on our headtorches and dived in. There was a rope to hang on to. This was essential because blowing snow had filled in the steps previously cut into the hard snow. After a bit of lowering, sliding and generally scrabbling around we arrived inside the cave on a rock floor with ice all around us.
The passageway was, for the most part, quite narrow. For about forty minutes we worked our way downwards. Once section involved a bit of crawling. Eventually we got to a large chamber with handprints on the wall. Not ancient cave art but prints made by the warm hands of previous visitors. In the roof were ice crystals. Given the right circumstances, water can freeze directly out of the air and makes incredibly delicate angular crystals. The walls of the cave were smoothed off by the water revealing layers in the glacial ice. Remnant of how it has formed over the years. There we also a variety of stones and pebbles shaped by the water and ice. After pondering the 40m or so of ice above our heads, we made our way back. Exiting the small tunnel proved even more interesting than getting in. A fair amount of grunting and heaving was required.
Heading back down the valley the wind dropped a bit. We stopped on top of a moraine hill overlooking the town for a quick brew and a biscuit. The wind may have dropped but the whole view was still grey and sombre. We hoped it would improve for the next day when we were embarking on a dog sledding trip.
We were heading north, to Svalbard, but on the way, we dropped in to visit the incorrigible Lars and his lovely wife Inge. It was nine months or so since we had seen them in Normandy so there was some important catching up to do and wine to be drunk. We drove to an old farmhouse near Aalborg owned by Lars and Inge’s daughter Lea and her husband Theis. They have set up home in a collection of buildings on a large plot of land. So, far, they only really use one of the buildings as a home. We set up camp in another one and this proved to be a very comfortable base for exploring some of Northern Denmark.
First day out we drove up the beach. For the most part, in Europe, driving on the beach is frowned upon or simply not allowed. In contrast, there is a section of coastline in NW Denmark where driving on the sand is both allowed and quite popular. It was a fun thing to do on a dull and overcast afternoon. We waded a couple of streams and avoided getting stuck. The day was rounded off with a bite to eat and beer at one of the many coastal cafes. Then back to the farmhouse ready for when the cows come out.
Beach drivingExcited cowsInge & BirkLea & Birk
Next day there was a buzz of excitement in the otherwise quiet rural area. Today was the day that the cows come out. A lot of people turned up. Several hundreds of people turned up and brought their children. There were traffic jams and queues to par by the roadside. We ended up with quite a long walk before we finally got to the cause of all the excitement. The cows in question are mostly dairy cows that spend winter in covered sheds. In the middle of April, they are let out into the fields for the summer. As you might imagine, for a cow, the first time into a field for six months is the cause of great celebration and no little giddiness. The locals like to share in this and turn the whole day into a big party. We got to wander round the sheds where the pre-release cows were biding their time. We saw brand new calves and various displays of farm machinery. There were dairy themed games for children and cow shaped space hoppers. We tasted free samples of milk, cheese and several yoghurt-like foods that are somewhere in between. Eventually the moment came. Everyone wandered out into the field and jostled for an unobstructed view. The cows, possibly as many as a hundred, were released and skipped cheerfully round the field. The crowd cheered, there were shouts of encouragement and some of the younger children burst into tears. I don’t think cows can stay overly excited for long. Within a few minutes most of the had done with the minor stampedes and chasing round the field. Instead, they settled down to some steady grazing. Chewing the cud does not hold the public’s attention so much as a mad stampede and people began to disperse. Rural bovine excitement over for another year.
Who let the cows out?StampedeSituation normal
To the east of the farmhouse in Lille Vildmose. A wildlife and nature preserve where, it was rumoured, there were Moose. We went for a short walk around and saw some ducklings. All very pleasant but there were no Moose. We visited several look-out towers and hides. We walked along wooden walkways above the bogs. Still no hint of moose.
In the morning Lars and I put the car through its paces. We were given use of a old gravel quarry by a friend of Lars’. Here we tried out some of the Range Rover’s off-road features. Turns out that it is very capable. The Serbian winter tyres that we bought in Slovakia gave good grip on the muddy surface. After that the traction management with two automatically locking differentials did its magic and the car made easy work of most of the tracks. I was especially impressed by the descent control. Even on a very steep and loose hill the automatic combination of engine retardation and ABS brakes meant a steady and controllable ride down the slope with my feet on the floor. A steep bank of loose sand proved impassible. Possibly we could have reduced the tyre pressure to handle this. Overall though we were very happy with the results. I now have a much better feeling for the limits of the vehicle, and this should help keep us out of trouble in the future.
The northern tip of Denmark’s Jutland peninsula, where the North Sea and the Kattegat meet, is a surprisingly popular tourist destination. North of Skagen, a shallow sandbank running northwards, called Skagen’s Odde, exacerbates the impression of two seas colliding. Opposing currents in the shallow water whip up crashing waves. The spit of drifting sand grows by about 10m a year towards Sweden. The whole area is a nature reserve and a lovely place for a walk. There are also some WW2 bunkers to keep the history buffs happy. After a light lunch in the tourist orientated town of Skagen we out to the beach south which was famously buried in sand. It is not buried now. It got buried and could no longer be used. Sand in the pews is a terrible thing. So it was mostly dismantled and sold leaving just the tower which, these days, is no longer buried. I did find this a little confusing. The tower, however, is quite interesting. You can climb to the top for a view out across the dunes. Finally, we went to the big dune. The biggest in Denmark. In fact, with an area of about 2 km², Råbjerg Mile, is the largest sand dune in Northern Europe. We walked to the top and were rewarded with a view from the North Sea to the Kattegat.
On our last day with Lars and Inge we went off in search Moose again. There is an approximately circular walk near the visitor centre at Vildmose. In the car park, I was changing into my walking boots when I realised that the surrounding sounds of birds was not coming from birds. In fact, there were very few birds around at all. No. The bird song was coming from speakers mounted in the trees around the car park. I will admit this created a nice ambiance, but at the same time it seemed a little like cheating for a nature reserve. We were out walking for several hours, and we came across moose spoor, some droppings, and a few tracks. Even so the prospect of moose remained a bit of a joke. We walked through some woods by a lake and through open area that seemed more like farmland than nature reserve to me. Finally, we started closing in on the final leg bag to the visitor centre when we saw two moose. They were way away in the distance but were moose. I have included a picture which, I realise, constitutes no proof of moose presence at all you will just have to trust me.
Råbjerg MileThe great moose huntDiane explains mooseMoose eggsMoose!
The quickest way from Bormio to Champoluc is to head to Milan on the autostrada. Bit boring though. We stayed close to the Swiss border which ended up being a great drive although it took us two days. We passed through Livigno on the way where we spotted yellow snow. Traditionally, you are warned not to eat yellow snow, but this was a different type of yellow. This discoloured snow was caused by Saharan dust picked up by the wind, in particular the Foehn wind, and carried high over Europe before being dumped on the alps. I pondered all the times we had driven in the Sahara kicking up the dust and wondered if there might be a connection. The dust makes the ski slopes look a bit of a mess and is probably illegal in Switzerland.
Halfway point was by Lake Maggiore, another of the great northern Italian lakes. Just as we arrived the downpour began. Rain such as is rarely seen along with thunder, lightning and all the trimmings. We had a perfect covered balcony so we could look out across the water and enjoy the show. For the best part of two hours, rain was bouncing off the road while lightning sparked all around the lake and the air was filled with the sound of deep, rolling thunder. We ate our take-away pizza, drank some wine, and relished the ambience of our small, sheltered corner.
Next morning, further south on Lake Maggiore, we hopped on a ferry. There was no good reason for this. We drove into Laveno-Mombello, saw the ferry boat, and decided to give it a go. We enjoy a ferry, lends a little sense of adventure to the day. Fortunately, this crossing did not take us out of our way, as happens sometimes. In fact, it may have helped reduce the drive a little.
A series of minor roads took us into the Aosta Valley while avoiding the autostrada. Finally, a right hand turn and we were winding up the small road towards Champoluc. and the Monte Rosa ski area. This is quite a popular ski area for Brits. Especially now when it is one of the few areas that still has snow. The lifts can carry you through three valley systems to the south of Monte Rosa. This provides ample scope for a wide range of skiing. You can pay extra for one additional cable car to get access to the “free-ride” area. In other words, open, un-pisted and essentially uncontrolled mountainside. Snow conditions were such that no-one was skiing up here. Repeated freeze-thaw had made the snow hard and crusty. Nasty stuff. Best avoided.
Meanwhile, back on the prepared slopes, conditions were not too bad. I had several good days of skiing. By the afternoons all the slopes were turning to slush. The sort of stuff that grabs at your skis and is tiring work. Mornings were best and although the slopes were quite crowded, many of the skiers were having lessons. Once I had found the slopes that were not used for ski school, I could get on with enjoying myself and the mountains. Diane came up to take in the scenery on a couple of days. The warm sun might not have been ideal for the snow slopes, but it was great for sitting out on a deck chair. With a grinding inevitability, our last day arrived. I took one last schuss around the slopes and met Diane for a lazy lunch. We took the lift down together – this seemed the safer option that risking the wet, heavy and difficult melting snow on the lower slopes again.
Next day we set off for Denmark. First part of the trip was the top end of the Aosta Valley and then through the Mont Blanc tunnel. The autostrada runs up to the tunnel and provides a fast, straightforward way to get to France. However, there are many tunnels so if you actually want to see the top end of the valley you need to take the slow road. This is my preferred route. It takes more time but the views are terrific. Some of Europe’s greatest mountains crowned by Mont Blanc which towers over the end of the valley. Then we were through Chamonix and over the Montets pass to Martigny in Switzerland. The evening found us in an excellent apartment overlooking Lake Leman. Next day we drove through Geneve and then aimed north over the wonderful Jura mountains. We paused briefly in Luxembourg and then plodded on through Germany. Two days later we crossed the Keil canal and arrived in Denmark.
