Hinlopen Strait & Cape Fanshaw
In the land of the midnight sun, one’s sense of day and night is easily confused. Minutes after midnight, we were informed that a polar bear was ahead of the ship. It was as light as midday, the sky was overcast, and we were surrounded by countless shades of white and gray. Rotten pack ice surrounded the ship as we slowly moved forward towards the creamy white ice bear. It was lying down, occasionally lifting its head and sniffing the air with its black nose. We watched in silence. A few hundred yards away lay the bloody skeleton of a seal. Beautiful, pure white ivory gulls and glaucous gulls circled the bear, hoping to scavenge leftovers from his next meal. Eventually the polar bear walked across the ice, leaping over short gaps of water.
We had a close look at a large bearded seal resting on an ice floe, more distant bearded and ringed seals looked like tiny, dark slugs on the white landscape. Sharp eyes spotted 3 more bears in the vicinity. Captain Lempe skillfully navigated through ice towards another. We had emerged from sleep at midnight, yet it looked more like noontime on a cloudy day. At 2 AM the bright sun peeked through, casting beautiful blue shadows on snow-covered glaciers.
After some sleep and breakfast, we were again on deck to observe a polar bear. It walked across the ice floe, leaned forward and entered the water. How many miles will it swim in the 0.0 degrees C water?
At Cape Fanshaw the sky was speckled with flying, football-sized Brunnich’s guillemots. They are well-adapted for catching small fish, but taking flight is another matter; they beat their wings hard, bellies skidding for long distances across the surface. Once airborne their wings beat so quickly they look like wind-up toys. The sound of dozens of them trying to take flight was like the sound of rain drops on a roof. Nearly 100,000 of the birds were nesting on narrow ledges of the tremendously high cliffs. Birds flew quickly past our heads, returning with small fish to feed their chicks waiting on the cliffs. Every ledge was crowded with birds; thousands more dotted the water and air.
Late in the afternoon we explored Arctic desert on shore. A strong wind blew from the nearby glacier. The scene appeared lonely and bleak - flat land covered by small rocks and stretches of mud, in the distance a snow-covered slope. In this harsh habitat, plants survived, in spite of a growing season of just 40 days. Colorful little flowers were just starting to emerge from scattered, 2 cm tall plants. The mud revealed tracks of geese, Svalbard reindeer, Arctic fox and polar bear.
In the late evening we arrived at the edge of the world’s 3rd largest ice cap. Waterfalls rushed down the face of the 50-100 foot high wall of ice. This portion of the Austfonna ice cap extends for 100 miles; tonight it faded into thin white fog.
In the land of the midnight sun, one’s sense of day and night is easily confused. Minutes after midnight, we were informed that a polar bear was ahead of the ship. It was as light as midday, the sky was overcast, and we were surrounded by countless shades of white and gray. Rotten pack ice surrounded the ship as we slowly moved forward towards the creamy white ice bear. It was lying down, occasionally lifting its head and sniffing the air with its black nose. We watched in silence. A few hundred yards away lay the bloody skeleton of a seal. Beautiful, pure white ivory gulls and glaucous gulls circled the bear, hoping to scavenge leftovers from his next meal. Eventually the polar bear walked across the ice, leaping over short gaps of water.
We had a close look at a large bearded seal resting on an ice floe, more distant bearded and ringed seals looked like tiny, dark slugs on the white landscape. Sharp eyes spotted 3 more bears in the vicinity. Captain Lempe skillfully navigated through ice towards another. We had emerged from sleep at midnight, yet it looked more like noontime on a cloudy day. At 2 AM the bright sun peeked through, casting beautiful blue shadows on snow-covered glaciers.
After some sleep and breakfast, we were again on deck to observe a polar bear. It walked across the ice floe, leaned forward and entered the water. How many miles will it swim in the 0.0 degrees C water?
At Cape Fanshaw the sky was speckled with flying, football-sized Brunnich’s guillemots. They are well-adapted for catching small fish, but taking flight is another matter; they beat their wings hard, bellies skidding for long distances across the surface. Once airborne their wings beat so quickly they look like wind-up toys. The sound of dozens of them trying to take flight was like the sound of rain drops on a roof. Nearly 100,000 of the birds were nesting on narrow ledges of the tremendously high cliffs. Birds flew quickly past our heads, returning with small fish to feed their chicks waiting on the cliffs. Every ledge was crowded with birds; thousands more dotted the water and air.
Late in the afternoon we explored Arctic desert on shore. A strong wind blew from the nearby glacier. The scene appeared lonely and bleak - flat land covered by small rocks and stretches of mud, in the distance a snow-covered slope. In this harsh habitat, plants survived, in spite of a growing season of just 40 days. Colorful little flowers were just starting to emerge from scattered, 2 cm tall plants. The mud revealed tracks of geese, Svalbard reindeer, Arctic fox and polar bear.
In the late evening we arrived at the edge of the world’s 3rd largest ice cap. Waterfalls rushed down the face of the 50-100 foot high wall of ice. This portion of the Austfonna ice cap extends for 100 miles; tonight it faded into thin white fog.
