Cape Tegethoff
Wow! What an incredible day. We moved to the Southern end of Hall Island during the night and awakened in thick fog, anchored off Cape Tegethoff. Time for a leisurely breakfast followed by Stephan’s eagerly anticipated photographs and talk on Ursus maritimus, the Ice Bear, more commonly known as the Polar Bear.
The fog began to lift allowing us an occasional glimpse of the ragged ridges above Cape Tegethoff and an opportunity to reflect on Julius Payer of the 1872 Weyprecht and Payer Expedition. “On August 30, 1873, toward the midday we were standing on the deck, leaning on the ships board and staring aimlessly at the mist that had begun to dissipate in some spots… In a few minutes we caught an astonishing sight of a majestic mountainous landscape and glaciers that dazzled us in the sunshine. For a few seconds we stood stunned and couldn’t believe our eyes. Then, overwhelmed by emotions, we burst out crying ‘Land! Land!’ And we named this unknown land after the Austrian Emperor Franz Joseph Land.”
As the fog slowly lifted, we began the day’s adventure with a Zodiac ride among the troll-like bergy bits grounded along the coast. The landscape continued to clear, revealing it’s starkly majestic topography of rocky spires, ridges and flowing glaciers.
After lunch, we embarked on an exhilarating new adventure, a first for Lindblad expeditions. The helicopter pilots took all of us flight-seeing around the cape, with close-up aerial views of the glaciers, the ship, and the toothy spine of Cape Tegethoff marching into the sea, with the wooden remnants of the Wellman Expedition buildings (1889) scattered on its flanks.
As everyone relaxed back on board awaiting recap, the call rang out of “bear on a kill,” quickly followed by “more bears on another kill.” A repeated frenzied assault of the foredeck with cameras and binoculars for an hour of watching, not one, but four bears of different ages interact around the kill. Alas, confusion reigned and cameras clicked, finally confirming we were looking at one and probably two huge adult males, with a pair of newly independent two year olds. As a gentle snow began to fall, the Kapitan Dranitsyn sailed northward while we finally retreated to dinner.
Wow! What an incredible day. We moved to the Southern end of Hall Island during the night and awakened in thick fog, anchored off Cape Tegethoff. Time for a leisurely breakfast followed by Stephan’s eagerly anticipated photographs and talk on Ursus maritimus, the Ice Bear, more commonly known as the Polar Bear.
The fog began to lift allowing us an occasional glimpse of the ragged ridges above Cape Tegethoff and an opportunity to reflect on Julius Payer of the 1872 Weyprecht and Payer Expedition. “On August 30, 1873, toward the midday we were standing on the deck, leaning on the ships board and staring aimlessly at the mist that had begun to dissipate in some spots… In a few minutes we caught an astonishing sight of a majestic mountainous landscape and glaciers that dazzled us in the sunshine. For a few seconds we stood stunned and couldn’t believe our eyes. Then, overwhelmed by emotions, we burst out crying ‘Land! Land!’ And we named this unknown land after the Austrian Emperor Franz Joseph Land.”
As the fog slowly lifted, we began the day’s adventure with a Zodiac ride among the troll-like bergy bits grounded along the coast. The landscape continued to clear, revealing it’s starkly majestic topography of rocky spires, ridges and flowing glaciers.
After lunch, we embarked on an exhilarating new adventure, a first for Lindblad expeditions. The helicopter pilots took all of us flight-seeing around the cape, with close-up aerial views of the glaciers, the ship, and the toothy spine of Cape Tegethoff marching into the sea, with the wooden remnants of the Wellman Expedition buildings (1889) scattered on its flanks.
As everyone relaxed back on board awaiting recap, the call rang out of “bear on a kill,” quickly followed by “more bears on another kill.” A repeated frenzied assault of the foredeck with cameras and binoculars for an hour of watching, not one, but four bears of different ages interact around the kill. Alas, confusion reigned and cameras clicked, finally confirming we were looking at one and probably two huge adult males, with a pair of newly independent two year olds. As a gentle snow began to fall, the Kapitan Dranitsyn sailed northward while we finally retreated to dinner.
