Category: Arctic Trip (page 1 of 2)

Iceland Highlight #1: The National Museum

August 21, 2017 / / 0 Comments

If your time in Reykjavik is limited, skip the Saga Museum, which is a funky-smelling waxworks, and go straight to The National Museum of Iceland.

The permanent exhibition takes you on a journey through the 1200 years of the country’s history. Remarkable artifacts help tell the story from Viking settlement through the Black Death to the country’s current leading role in renewable energy research.

It’s one of the stops on the Reykjavik Hop-On-Hop-Off Bus Tour, which gives a recorded commentary as it drives you on an overview of the city, stopping at other spots, such as the Harpa Concert Hall and the Harbor.

Crossing Denmark Strait

August 10, 2017 / / 0 Comments

Motoring south and east out of Greenland, we battened down our belongings and prepared to spend long hours in our bunks, since the Denmark Straight had a reputation for being full of storm-driven waves and stubborn icebergs.

But our crossing was flat and easy, with temperatures so warm we left the doors out onto the decks open for hours at a time. It took less than the projected 36 hours before we arrived in Iceland.

In between packing bags, exchanging contact information, and settling our bar tabs, we celebrated our first genuine sunset with a round of photographs, and drank in the increasing darkness of night with relish.

My Last Day in Greenland

August 9, 2017 / / 0 Comments

It’s taken me nearly a year of “digesting” the experience to figure out what to say about my last day in Greenland, and the trip in general. In the end, the day was a sort of miniature version of the trip as a whole: adventure, enlightenment, beauty, and disquiet.

A Private Yacht in Romer Fjord

A Private Yacht in Romer Fjord

Having motored south along the coast after poking around for several days in vast Scoresby Sound, we entered the tiny indentation of Romer Fjord planning to go ashore. Like so many ambitions this trip, those plans were scuttled when someone spotted the tiny white dot of a polar bear’s head swimming across the sound. I could barely make out the v-pattern of the bear’s wake through my telescopic lens, but sharper-eyed spotters watched the bear clamber ashore at just the spot where our Zodiacs were supposed to land…thus making it unsafe for us to disembark.

So into the Zodiacs we clambered, to slowly scour the shores of the fjord for almost two hours, straining our eyes for a glimpse of the polar bear. But the poor thing, terrified by the sound of our engines, had vanished inland, and there wasn’t another living animal in sight.

The crew kept a careful lookout for polar bear activity ashore during our lunch back aboard the ship. When the shoreline remained lifeless, we were allowed to land and walk along the beach to explore some thermal springs.

The first glimpse of geothermal activity was an odd-looking bump of rock that at first seemed to be a seeping boulder. It was in fact a mound of stone that had built up grain-by-grain around a small fountain of mineral-laden super-hot water that bubbled up from the earth. Damp with water percolating over its surface, it was like an artist’s pallet of “earth tones”: the black and gray and white of minerals streaked here and there with a brownish scum of algae.

As we made our way along the rocky shoreline, we found low-growing vegetation in a rainbow of colors that dazzled our eyes after days of dull tundra and basalt and blue-white ice. Magical little gardens of low-growing plants thrived around burbling streams and steaming pools of too-hot-to-touch mineral-laden water.

The climax of our excursion was a hillock of land built up by mineral deposition fifteen or so feet higher than the beach, where the water bubbling out of the highest mound was warm, but cool enough to touch. Someone had built up a low wall of small boulders to dam up the trickling water one larger pool.

Between these little vegetative oases bleached white bones stood out stark and haunting against the brick-red rocky shoreline: vertebrae and ribs, long bones and skulls, the remains of polar bears, musk ox, pinnipeds, and beluga whales. No wonder the polar bear had scrambled for the safety of the steep hills inland when he had sensed the presence of humans.

My boots crunched along as my mind reeled at the juxtaposition between the geologic wonder, the vegetative beauty, and the deathly brutality. The day seemed a fitting last stop, a rendering in miniature, a small-scale synopsis of the conflicting emotions provoked in me by my exploration of Greenland.

Ittoqqortoormiitt Visit: Part 3: Amazing Art

December 22, 2016 / / 0 Comments

Art seems to flourish in the tiny town. We had a wonderful conversation with the woman who runs the gift shop of the Piareersarfik art school that teaches Ittoqqortoormiit’s inhabitants a mix of traditional and modern crafting techniques. We assumed that the crafts on display were made by teenage students, but the school actually serves adult learners.

As our hostess explained it, Ittoqqortoormiit isn’t big enough to have a high school, so teenagers are sent away to state boarding schools. Overwhelmed by being away from their close-knit community, they don’t always do well in school, and many drop out. After they come home, the school gives them a second chance to learn, at whatever age they decide they are ready to try again.

Items crafted from sealskin.

Items crafted from sealskin.

Many of the crafts on display at the school and the Tourist Office gift shop used traditional materials: walrus tusks, narwhal “horn,” sealskin, musk ox wool and leather, animal furs, bones, teeth, and sinews. These materials are actually easier for the local artists to get than are the glass beads, metal, wood, and plastic that were used in some of the artwork!

Viewing the pillows, mukluks, and other admittedly beautiful wares crafted from sealskin was much more than an aesthetic experience for me.

Coming from the U.S., where marine mammals of all types are protected at the federal level, I was appalled to see their skins being used as crafting material.

 

I must not have been the first tourist to react that way, because a note on the display informed me that at 12 million, the seal population of Greenland far outnumbers the approximately 50,000 humans who call the place home.

It also noted that the sealskin is a mere byproduct of seal hunting, which is done primarily for food. The artists take pride in being able to use the whole animal after its death.

Although there were no sealskin crafts among the souvenirs I purchased, I appreciated the change of perspective. The abundance of seals versus the number of potential human consumers of them made me realize that some resources have to be considered regionally, not globally. And such changes in perspective are, of course, one of the reasons I travel.

For more information, contact ittartshop@yahoo.com

Ittoqqortoormiitt Visit: Part 2: Puppies!

December 21, 2016 / / 0 Comments

The ground is covered with snow from October until mid-June, and there were still big banks of it all over when we arrived in mid-August. Young sled dogs wander at will and we were greeted at the boat launch where our Zodiacs arrived by an enthusiastic pup who enjoyed belly rubs. One of the highlights was going to a “dog yard” where we got to handle the still-nursing puppies of two very relaxed mama dogs.

I hadn’t heard of Greenland Dogs until this trip. Draft animals with a lineage that stretches back thousands of years, these sled dogs are highly prized possessions, able to work in conditions with which mechanical snow machines just cannot cope. They are not tied to the sled in joined harnesses like the dogs that run the Iditarod, but instead each is attached by it’s own long lead. This makes it easier for the sled driver to release all the dogs if there’s come kind of emergency — falling into a crack in the pack ice, for example — or to release selected dogs to keep a polar bear at bay.

I was surprised to learn that no dogs can be imported to Greenland to protect the breed from having its characteristics watered down. In fact, if a Greenland Dog has to be taken abroad for medical treatment, it is not allowed to return. That’s a big problem in an isolated community that doesn’t have a vet, let alone the kind of veterinary specialists my dog Boomer is all too familiar with! (If you know of a vet interested in making a volunteer visit to Ittoqqortoormiit, have them contact ittartshop@yahoo.com.)

Ittoqqortoormiitt Visit: Part 1

December 20, 2016 / / 0 Comments

After leaving Svalbard on August 7, our only contact with humans not associated with the Polar Pioneer was a few hours of exploring a tiny town with a big name: Ittoqqortoormiit. (It’s not as hard to pronounce as it looks if you say it quickly: i-tok-a-tor-mit.)

It’s the youngest town I’ve ever set foot in, having been founded in 1924. Tourist ships visit two or three times in summer, and passengers come ashore to learn about local history and the traditional Greenlandic ways of life.

On the east coast of Greenland, overlooking the mouth of the Scoresby Sund system of fjords, this hamlet of less than 500 inhabitants is about as far off the grid as you can get. The Greenlanders who live here have electricity and satellite service including Internet connectivity.

But they have no running water or sewage system — the permafrost penetrates so deep into the ground that such infrastructure is impossible to construct. Dirt roads connect the colorful little houses and commercial buildings that climb up several hills in photogenic ranks.

Let Them Explore…Cake?

December 19, 2016 / / 0 Comments

One of my favorite excursions in Greenland was what the Polar Pioneer‘s crew called “Gateau Point,” although I think the formal name for the place is Segelsällskapet Fjord.

The nickname was apt, since the definition for the French term gateau is “a rich cake, typically one containing layers of cream or fruit,” and the geological formations we explored were a visual feast.

They were also almost a BILLION years old! This was not the only stop where I wished we had had a geologist aboard who could have given us more information about these amazing structures.

Dressing for Success on an Arctic Excursion

November 12, 2016 / / 0 Comments

The interior of Polar Pioneer was so warm that I regretted bringing just one tee shirt, and ended up buying two Aurora Expeditions tees for lounging around in. On board I wore polyester knit slacks and a pair of slip-on Sketchers. Going out on deck for air or photos I would don my water-and-wind-proof hooded parka. Although I’m basking in the sun in the photo below, I always had a pair of gloves (thin enough so that I could handle my camera) in one pocket and a knitted watch cap in the other.

Jenna on top deck

The view from the very top deck was spectacular, but the wind generated by the boat’s own motion usually made it too cold to stay for long. Here I am enjoying the sun while the captain picks our way v-e-r-y slowly through a fjord full of icebergs.

Excursions always involved riding in a Zodiac. Some excursions were nothing but boat rides which took us along the faces of calving glaciers, through iceberg lagoons or fields of sea ice, or along the barren, rocky coast. On other excursions we were in the Zodiacs only briefly, to get from ship to shore, where we explored on foot. We generally had two excursions per day, one of each flavor, and I learned to dress slightly differently for each.

Zodiac Excursion Along the Coast

Some excursions were boat-based tours, while others landed us to explore on foot

Zodiac tours involved sitting still, with our butts on rubber pontoons just a couple feet above the near-freezing saltwater we navigated, for up to almost three hours. Although riding in the Zodiac was more comfortable than I expected, our temperatures dropped steadily. We didn’t generate much body heat just sitting and taking photos, and the cold breeze created by the boat’s motion carried away what little we did. My nose usually got uncomfortably cool first, followed by my toes, then my fingers, and finally my ears. What we were seeing was usually so fascinating, though, that while the boat’s driver would ask us every half hour or so if everyone was still comfortable, everyone held out as long as possible before admitting we were ready to return to the ship!

Riding a Zodiac

Riding in the Zodiacs was comfortable in spite of our butts being just feet above nearly frozen saltwater

For our Zodiac tours I wore two pairs of thick hiking socks under knee-high rubber-and-neoprene boots; my warmest long underwear; a pair of knit slacks and long-sleeved knit top; a thin fleece pullover; insulated and waterproof snow pants; the down liner of our expedition parka; the waterproof and windproof hooded shell of our expedition parka; a fleece neck warmer; a fleece-lined water-repellent trapper-style hat with ear flaps that fastened under my chin; wind-proof insulated ski gloves (which made it pretty much impossible to handle a camera!); and, on top of it all, the mandatory life vest.

By the time I was fully suited up, I was about as flexible and graceful as The Michelin Man! Just opening the cabin door was nearly impossible, and going down the flight of stairs to the boat deck felt downright dangerous, although by Day 3 I realized I was so well-padded I probably wouldn’t even get hurt in a fall!

Beach Walk

Land excursions gave us a chance to stretch our legs as well as admire scenery

On our first landing I wore the same layers I had for our maiden Zodiac tour. I nearly passed out from heat prostration as we took a slow, gentle stroll along a flat, firm beach.

Over the next couple landings I figured out that the best layering for anything involving activity was: two pairs of thick hiking socks under knee-high rubber-and-neoprene boots; my lighter long underwear; a thin fleece pullover; rain pants instead of snow pants; my brought-from home light hooded parka; a fleece neck warmer; a knitted watch cap; thin knitted gloves; and, on top of it all, the mandatory life vest.

Warm Weather Walking

We got surprisingly warm on some excursions, removing layers as walked along

I still felt like The Michelin Man, but once we were ashore, I could strip off the life vest, and then could easily remove and replace, as needed, my neck warmer, watch cap, and gloves. On longer walks I often stripped off my light parka and tied it around my waist, slipping it back on if the breeze came up.

Walking across the Arctic tundra in approximately the same outfit I use for winter walks at home along the beaches of Puget Sound made the concept of global warming feel frighteningly real.

Trish models our expedition parka

Trish models our expedition parka

Gearing up for these excursions alongside Trish in our narrow cabin was quite a production. Getting the base layers on was pretty easy, but each layer required a bit more effort and more “elbow room” to keep from accidentally whacking each other, but we gradually figured out how to keep out of each others’ way while also being close enough to lend a hand when needed. Even though we left our gloves for last, with our arms and torsos so layered up we couldn’t bend very well, we almost always had to help each other with the zippers on our parkas and life vests. We were overheating uncomfortably before we even got out the cabin door!

Although we were given a general idea at breakfast or lunch of when our next excursion would be, the plan often changed, and we were given only twenty minutes notice to be out on the bow ready to board the Zodiacs. The first couple of days, as we were still sorting out not only which layers we really needed, but also where in the cabin to keep each item of clothing so it could dry and air between excursions — there were drawers under our bunks, hangers in two lockers, shelves in a third, hooks by the door — it took us closer to half an hour to get out on deck, and we despaired that the last Zodiac would depart without us! They didn’t, of course, and over time gearing up got easier and we got more efficient. By the last few days of our 13-day cruise, we were dressed and on the bow within 10 minutes of the “Zodiacs will be reading in 20 minutes” announcement over the P.A. system.

Cabin 505

October 13, 2016 / / 0 Comments

Our cabin, number 505, was on deck five. It was a quiet deck and very convenient: we went up one flight of stairs to access the bridge on deck six, and went down one flight of stairs to deck four to access the bar or go out onto the bow deck and load into Zodiacs. It was also easy to step out onto the stern deck for a quick photo opp or breath of fresh air.

Cabin 505

Our cabin was long and narrow but efficiently laid out with lots of built-in storage. I spent a lot of time sitting in my bunk reading and updating my journal, since the bridge was the only indoors public space with a good view.

Life aboard a moving boat is noisy. There’s engine noise, and sometimes noise from the crew or passengers moving around doing things, but also just a lot of creaking and rattling and groaning from the decks and bulkheads. Between the noise and the midnight sun, we were pretty sleep deprived by the end of the trip!

iceberg through porthole

Our window, or porthole, sometimes framed a lovely peek-a-boo view, but it was hard to see anything other than sky unless you were standing right by it. It didn’t open, but it sure let in a lot of light.

To the left in the photo below are two hanging lockers for our jackets and the life vests we had to wear whenever we went out in the Zodiacs. The built-in desk and some small shelves above were lined with green stuff you put under area rugs to keep items we put there from moving around as the boat swayed. We kept our rubber boots and outermost rain gear, which we always wore in the Zodiacs, in the corner by the door. The glinty things mounted on the wall in the right third of the photo are glass tumblers for toothbrushing etc mounted in a custom rack; we hung our name badges on them to remind us which to use. Out of sight to the right is a locker with a bunch of shelves where we stored electronics, camera equipment, hats and gloves, etc. There were two chairs that stacked up for storage that I sometimes pulled out when I got tired of sitting in my bunk.

Cabin Interior

Here is the interior of Cabin 505 as seen from the padded bench near the window.

I never sat at the desk to write, although I probably would have used it if it had been under the porthole instead of staring at a blank wall.

Cabin 505 bathroom

The bathroom was small but the layout was efficient. The bright orange pipe is the hot water for the shower — the orange served to remind us not to touch that pipe it was so hot! The shower drain is in the middle of the floor, and you pulled a shower curtain around you and the shower pipes to keep everything else in the room dry when the shower was in use.

Shipboard Life

October 13, 2016 / / Comments Off on Shipboard Life
Polar Pioneer

Polar Pioneer was our home for 13 nights and days. Our cabin was on deck 5, just below the bridge.

Our days usually started at 6:30 or 7:00 am with expedition leader Henrick’s cheerful greeting over the PA system:  “Good morning, good people.” Trish and I rolled out of our bunks groaning most mornings; a ship underway is noisy, and neither of us could get enough sleep most nights.

Our Deck 5 Cabin

Trish and I had a double cabin with two lower bunks and a private bathroom. There were drawers for storage under each of our beds and under the padded bench seat in between them. We had curtains around each of our bunks, plus a blind to pull across the porthole, and sometimes we needed all of that to escape the 24-hour light!

The schedule for the rest of the day went something like this:

7-8 breakfast buffet

8:30 on deck to get into Zodiacs for an outing

12 back from our outing in time for a delicious hot lunch

1-2 find a spot in the bridge to enjoy the view, get out onto the bow for some sun, or curl up in your bunk or the bar with a book or to edit your photos

2:30 back on deck for another Zodiac outing

6:30 squeeze into the bar for a re-cap of the day, often including a mini-lecture by one of our experts on some highlight we saw

7:30 dinner

8:30 wander from bridge to bar to observation decks taking photos and talking to fellow passengers

MIDNIGHT belatedly remember that the sun doesn’t set here at this time of year and it’s time to try to get some sleep

dining room

Meals were served in two dining rooms that mirrored each other on port and starboard with the serving galley in between. Seats were not assigned, so we chose different dining companions for every meal. During and between meals, coffee and hot water for tea or cocoa was always available, and we could help ourselves to cookies and fresh fruit at all times.

The food, including the vegetarian fare that I ate most days, was excellent.

view from the bridge

The bridge had the best view through these amazing large windows. It was open to us at all times, but we weren’t allowed to take pictures of the interior, and we had to stay quiet so that the helmsman and other crew could concentrate on their work. There was limited space in the bridge, but most passengers were good about taking turns and letting other people take their stations.

the bow deck

The bow deck was a popular spot to catch some rays and look for wildlife when we weren’t moving very fast.

lifeboat muster station

The muster station for the lifeboat on the stern deck made a nice outdoor viewing area protected from the wind, although there was no place to sit.

Jenna on top deck

The view from the very top deck was spectacular, but the wind generated by the boat’s own motion usually made it too cold to stay for long. Here I am enjoying the sun while the captain picks our way v-e-r-y slowly through a fjord full of icebergs.

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