Sunday 11th June 2023

We woke up at seven, after some ten hours sleep, which we must have needed. Outside it was blowing twenty knots, and as we headed east, the edge of the pack ice was on the port side. Overnight we has crossed the 80th parallel, and were now in the top ten degrees of the globe.

Breakfast was called at eight, so as we dined on smoked sausages and porridge, the ship turned north into the ice.

Ice as far as the horizon, broken into smaller flows, the swell at the edge making them knock into each other and break up further. A few hundred yards in, and the swell had died, though the wind hadn’t, and the ship moved forward at walking pace, pushing the ice to either side as me moved further north.

But the ice was denser and thicker than expected, and progress was slow, too slow if we were to reach the location where a bear was seen last week, so the decision was made to leave the pack ice and follow the edge of it northeast. So, at then in the morning we cleared the last of the ice, waves breaking over the flows at the edge, and we sailed back into open waters, engines driving us forward more quickly.

An hour later we entered the pack ice again, but the strong southerly made the pack ice more tightly packed, and our forward progress slowed to a crawl once again before stopping. The ship sat still in the ocean of pack ice, with just the dark like on the horizon showing where the open water was.

We scoured the ice for signs of a bear, or any movement at all. A few fulmars have followed us, and they swoop and wheel around, maybe thinking we’re a fishing boat and might soon throw buckets of chum out. But we don’t.

Meanwhile, some passengers prowl the decks outside with either binoculars or cameras glued to their eyes, scanning the ice for the tell-tale mayonnaise yellow that would indicate a bear, while others sit in the lounge, looking out of the large windows at the same scene, and the rest either read or play games as the time ticks away towards lunch.

We entered the pack ice again, hoping to get far enough in so the ice would be thick enough for bears to be able to walk on it, but again we stopped making forward progress. The ice is so powerful, at times it feels when it pushes from the side it might tip the ship over, instead we linger for a time at ten degrees either to port or starboard, before the ship rights itself.

Between the pack ice, the sea water can appear to be white and thick like glue as it freezes, but in other places is dark blue. But the strong southerly pushes the ice together and we made slow progress back to open water. Sometimes we don’t move forward in half an hour, drift back then use the momentum to press forward a hundred yards or so.

Over and over again the process is repeated, until suddenly the ice changes, it more like rocks floating on the surface, were rubbing against each other means we can get a good speed up, and the bridge announces we will be in clear water by half three. And so we were.

We will head north again before settling somewhere for the night, where we are going to have an “arctic meal” out on deck before we turn in. All the time looking for bears.

The arctic meal was served out under the awning on deck three, steak, ribs, sausages and chicken cooked in the kitchen, but served in the open air. Music played and people sat at picnic tables to eat, trying to finish before the food went stone cold. We braved it for ten minutes, but we went back inside for more free wine and chatting to people.

Despite not doing much all day, we were tired, and were in bed at quarter past nine again.