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.

Saturday 10th June 2023

Up with a fairly thick head and a furry tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth, it was the traditional cure-all of bacon butties that helped. That and the six coffees I sent down to keep the butties company.

For the morning we had cruised through the night to another sound/fjord, anchoring near to the wall of a glacier. All around were small mini-icebergs and other shards of ice, making this feel really like the high arctic for the first time.

All zodiacs were launched, so we could all partake in a cruise through the ice flows and along the edge of the glacier. Jools and I got in the first one, so we also got to experience the day with perfect reflections which made it very special indeed.

Most ice was white or clear, but recently calved ice was deep blue, and these offering the only contrast to the monocolours of snow, ice and rocks.

We powered to the edge of the area of thicker ice flows, then weaved our way through and along the front of the glacier, never getting within 500m of it. Sometimes all boats would cut their engines, passengers wouldn’t talk, so we could hear the sound of the arctic: the gentle bobbing of the ice caused by small calvings from the glacier, and the sound of cracking, with just about every piece of ice adding to the chorus. It wasn’t loud, jut there. Common Eider males called and Artic Skuas cruised looking for the first eggs of the season.

There had been no wind, so there were perfect reflections for the bergs and other lumps of ice in the icy sea. We weaved in and out, a line of ten boats, chugging along, all mesmerised by the sights of the bay and the seven mile long ice wall of the glacier.

At one point, it did calf, but only a small piece, and there was only a small wave. But ten minutes later, the swell from that reached us, causing the reflections to be stretched and compressed like a fairground hall of mirrors.

After two hours we made our way back the ship. We were all getting pretty cold by then, and needed coffee followed by lunch. After taking off our life vests and boots, we went up to the lounge for some welcome coffee and to warm up.

We cruised to our next anchorage, 14th July Bay, where there would be two activities: 1, a cruise along the cliffs looking for nesting birds, then a walk under the shadow of the huge cliffs, on which tens of thousands of birds nest, their guano fertilising the lower slopes, to make a “hanging garden”.

Today was the first time my back really ached, and so painful I almost skipped the trip out. But we have two days on board now, so I thought I would brave it out.

Back in the zodiacs, and out to the island, where the cliffs towered at something like a thousand feet, people already on the shore looked like ants in its shadow. Our boat cruised along the shore, where first of all we saw an Artic Fox, in its summer pelt, except for its tail, which was still white. High above a huge colony of Kittiwakes squawked and flew around, having seen the fox further down the cliffs.

Along further we saw more Kittiwake nests, though much closer, and a few Puffins looking out of crevices in the rock where they nest. Not nesting in burrows is, I think, unique to the Svalbard population.

After an hour we landed on the beach, I swapped lenses, and we began a slow amble along the beach looking for flora which might be in flower. Not much more than we saw before, but two Snow Buntings were gathering fur from a reindeer to line their nest.

At half five we got back in the boats and they brought us back to ship, not as clod as this morning, but my back was glad to being rested for a few days.

A quick coffee, and then the daily debrief before another three course meal and coffee.

After the red wine and whisky excess of the night before, we went to the cabin straight after dinner, and soon went to bed.

Friday 9th June 2023

We woke up at about six, outside it was light, as it had been all night. We were nearly at 77 degrees north, high above the Arctic Circle. We could hear the ship waking up, though our neighbours had a “do not disturb” sign on their door.

Breakfast was called for half seven, we went down and found a table to have the usual: fruit, yogurt, followed by sausages and hash browns and lots and lots of coffee.

Plan for the morning was a landing by the inflatables, and a wander about to get used to walking in the artic. Climbing in and out of the zodiacs brings a little bit of concern, but there is crew around to help, and its fairly easy if inelegant.

Jools and I were on the last boat, we clambered in via the gangway and the helping hand of the crew in the boat. We took our place in sitting round the edge of the boat, the engine road and we turned for the shore. Getting out was a very inelegant roll, with another member of staff making sure you didn’t roll backwards, feet in the shallow water, grab your bag and over to the beach.

There were four groups: one for the sports billies, two medium and an easy pace one. We chose the latter so to assess our level. We walked out to a hunter’s cottage from about the war, it is preserved, and so is slowly falling apart, not helped by a polar bear a few years back, who thought it looked fine to sleep in, so tried to break into.

The ground was a mix of gravel and snow, the snow just beginning to melt, but also giving no indication of how deep it might be. Each step might make no indentation at all, but the next could see you sink in drifts up to your knee. I fell over twice, but in the snow, failing to bring a walking pole proved not to be our last mistake, but there you have it.

After 90 minutes, I had given up with the snow, so waited with some ladies for the rest of the group to look at the front edge of a glacier then return. Each group had two armed guides, who at the last resort would resort to lethal force, but mostly it would be about scaring a bear if we saw one.

We didn’t. The hope is to see a bear, but wither from the ship or zodiac. In the event of seeing on when we were on land, it would require us to evacuate.

No need for that, but after walking back along the beach, back to the boats, we waiting in line, to climb back in and be taken back to the ship, where it was nearly time for lunch.

Whilst we had lunch, the anchor was raised and we steamed to the next location, some two hour’s steaming away, an east facing beach of an island where a group of male walruses like to sleep and do what male walruses do.

Until we arrived, I updated this here blog, and read some of the book I bought back in London. Guests were slit into two groups: Germans, and then the rest, and after drawing lots the Germans went first, climbing into the zodiacs and then zooming to shore. From the boat we could see them, brightly coloured dots on the beach, walking towards slightly larger brown blobs, which were the walruses.

And hour later and it was our turn, no fears this time as we climbed into the boat, slid along the side, hung on as the skipper opened the throttle and we powered to shore. As we arrived, the Germans got in the boats, so soon there was just our half of the party left on the sand.

On a signal, we walked in line approaching the sleeping pile of blubber and ivory tusks until we were about 30m away. We stopped and took pictures and watched, as small arguments broke out, but mostly the males slept, scratched and grunted.

Two huge groups of walruses, all brown fur and skin, tusks and whiskers, mixed in with attitude, as the largest males pushed their way through the slumbering smaller males, because they could.

Two or three others watched from the shallows, one of them keeping two or three youngsters from even getting onto the beach.

Its what males do.

An hour quickly passed, and it was time to go back to the ship, we took it in turns to swing our legs into the zodiac, slide along until there was ten of us in, and then reverse out and power back to the ship. Even the weather was fantastic, clouds had cleared and we had bright sunshine.

With bottles of wine at only €20 a bottle, we had a Chardonnay with dinner before going up to the lounge to have coffee. There was some excitement as three Blue Whales were seen, within a few hundred metres of the ship, although you could really only see the blowholes, the Humpbacks with them showed better when they dived, waving their flukes in the air.

Kieran did buy some wine for the evening, and was very kind in sharing half with me. One bottle, two bottles, three bottles…….. It was midnight before we gave in, though it was still daylight outside, of course, looking it was mid-morning rather than midnight.

Thursday 8th June 2023

The first polar bear I saw, the only live polar bear I saw, was in 1967 when my parents took me to London Zoo to see the cub that had been born, Pipaluk. I have few if any memories of that trip, but the name I did remember. Sadly, for Pipaluk, he died just 22 years later in a zoo in Germany.

Pink polar bears were a drink consumed with great enthusiasm by us on 17 squadron in Germany. The drinking of these in the evening usually meant amnesia in the morning. These once did lead me to the only trouble I had in my 15 years’ service, but that’s for another time.

And then, in 2008, I had to join a ship in Hammerfest, and in the information centre there was a stuffed polar bear. I didn’t see one on my two voyages out of that port, which lies less than 72 degrees north, so far north that in the eight weeks that I was there, the amount of daylight between the beginning of February and the end of March meant we had eight hours more daylight by the time I left.

So, being so much further north now means 24 hours daylight, and trouble getting to sleep, I guess.

We are in Svalbard because our trip to Norway in January to see the Northern Lights was cancelled, and we were offered this with a 50% discount so we would not ask for our money back. We took the chance, but did find how far away Svalbard is, and how expensive flights from Oslo to here are. That being said, we could afford it, and here we are.

And back to the blog.

We woke at half six, having had eight hours sleep, or should have, but thanks to the made design of the bed in the room, it did manage to tip me out onto the floor early into the night, though I was unharmed.

“Man injured by bed”

We got dressed and packed, went down for breakfast, which had the usual mix of fruit, cold cuts, bread, cooked foods, pickles and so on. And coffee.

Once we had been fed and watered, we checked out, walked to the terminal and up to the departure hall, where we were taught how to print our boarding passes, then use them to check in our bags. Our tickets allowed us to use the fast track through security and also had access to the lounge, where we could have had a second and maybe third breakfast.

There we met Kieran again, who we had spoken to briefly at immigration the day before. He was also on the tour with us, and being a West Ham fan, was happy with the Happy Hammers winning the EUFA Conference final. He watched it in another Irish bar in Oslo, we slept through it, however.

Once it was nine, we walked to the gate where the flight was boarding, but the usual crowd of people were trying to all get on the flight at the same time, most with multiple cases and bags, so they could claim overhead locker space, I guess.

We hung back, but once on we had a row to ourselves again, and room in the locker for my cameras. So all good news.

The plane was ready for the first leg to Tromso, where many years back I caught that flight to Hammerfest, but this time it would be daylight when I arrived and possibly even sunny. SAS sold three classes of tickets, but we all got the same deal: hot drink, cold drink, small roll and a snack. Even Kieran, who had a business class ticket, had to pay for a second (and third beer).

Norway was hidden under a blanket of cloud for the most part, until we approached Tromso, dropped under the cloud and were presented with the expected snowy vistas of fjords and mountains.

Tromso is in a stunning location, in the lea of mountains and strung out along the edge of the fjord, but we wouldn’t have time to visit, because once landed we had to go to immigration to have our passports stamped once again, then get back on board the plane. Which was full to bursting this time. As there were at least four ships waiting for passengers, as we would find out later.

Again, the view was of clouds, and I had my head buried in a book, Jools nudged me and said to look out the window, as the snowy expanse of Svalbard was below. Proper artic snow and landscaped, made and carved by the harsh weather up here. Drifts of snow, hundreds of feet high, formed between peaks of adjoining mountains, and the same over and over again to the horizon.

But it was sunny.

Gloriously sunny.

The plane dropped down, the pilot weaving the plane between mountains and down valleys until we saw Longyearbyen, in about the only snow-free area.

We landed, waited to get off, then gathered in the tiny terminal for our bags, after which we could meet the representative to find where to take the cases and then board the bus for town.

It was very much like Mount Pleasant in the Falklands, a busy, hard working town, with steel buildings like warehouses, bright painted houses and condos: sturdy but functional. It reminded me of Mount Pleasant in the Falklands, all very much a working town, or place, if not a pretty or military one.

We were given an hour and a quarter, so I went to find the church. Which I did find, or see, but the bridge to it had been washed away and the detour would have been too long. So, I made do with a distant shot and then we went to find Kieran in one of the two bars in town.

He had demolished half a huge plate of burger and fries and was halfway down a pint of Weiss bier, which he insisted I join him with. And who am I to refuse such a command?

We whiled away half an hour or so, making two pints disappear, but by then it was time to go to pick up the buss for the short run to the quay, where we were to board the zodiacs to take us out to the ship.

Yes, you read that right.

So, in groups of ten, we clamber and stumble aboard the rubber boat, then hang on for dear life as they whisk us over the sound to the waiting ship, where we climb up to the landing platform, and then up the steps to deck.

We were shown to our cabin, where our cases were waiting, time to unpack before the opening briefing, where we were told there would be an emergency drill. So, a few minutes later, the siren sounded and we met in the lounge, then made our way to the aft deck and be shown the escape craft. Even with a jumper on, it were chilly on deck, so glad when we were allowed back down.

We sailed, and as we left the fjord, the phone signal got weaker and weaker until it faded away, which is how it will be for the next six days or so. Anything might happen and we wouldn’t know.

At quarter to eight, we went down for our buffet dinner. Vegetables, salad and other nice freshly cooked stuff. We sat next to a nice Turkish couple and we had a pleasant meal talking about travel and trips we had taken, also the political issues our respective countries are going through.

As we ate and relaxed, the ship cruised to St Johnsfjord, where after arriving at half ten, we dropped anchor for the night. Meanwhile, in the bar, Kieran and myself drank whisky as we scanned the slopes of the fjord for signs of polar bears.

None seen yet.

Wednesday 7th June 2023

Dateline: Heathrow airport.

Or a modern hotel just down the road. The road being the A4.

It was at least light, once we had got up, got dressed and let the car parking people we were on our way.

A short drive to Terminal 3, and the guy wasn't there to collect the car, and they didn't return our calls.

We stood, then sat, waiting, and a guy rolled up twenty minutes later saying he didn't have our phone number.

We filled in a form, he too the key and drove off, while we wheeled the trolley and our luggage to the departure hall, where there was no wait at the BA desk, and in 5 minutes our cases were checked in, and another 5 minutes and we were through security.

Five past six.

And being so early, there places in the restaurants and other places to eat, so we went to the pub, ordered a hash and coffee.

And relaxed.

Food came, and was quite spicy for that time of the day.

That felt better.

We finished, and found the gate had been announced, a short two minute walk away, where we found the flight being boarded.

We had been given the wing exit seats, so had extra legroom, and three seats between the two of us, was like being in First Class!

The left on time, and took off into low heavy cloud, emerging into bright sunlight. I put the blind down and slept for an hour, so wake up when the pilot announced that we were just 20 minutes from Oslo.

All was going well until we were just about to touch down, and the pilot fired the engines and aborted the landing.

That alarmed everyone!

Why was the landing scrubbed?

The pilot cam on the tannoy: wind changed direction, we have to try again from the other direction. Nothing to worry about.

He said.

We went round again, came in from the other direction and he executed a perfect landing. There were cheers and applause.

Through immigration, collect the bags, and we found our hotel was a short walk away, we couldn't check in, but we could leave our bags.

So we did.

I grab a camera, and we walk back to the terminal, so we could catch the express into the centre of town.

Before we caught the train, we had a snack: a roll and coffee each: £27.

Eeeek indeed.

The tickets were thirty quid each, return, so already the costs racking up.

But the train was well designed, modern and had good air conditioning. And in 19 minutes we were at central station.

After wandering around, we go to tourist information and ask about a bus tour, were told to go outside the Opera House and pick up one there.

So we did.

Outside, it was 25 degrees, and sunny.

So war. Hot even.

Which is how I cam to be on a bus behind the rudest man in Europe.

This I know, as a guy from New Zealand came to sit next to me, and we chatted, but rude bloke turned turned round and told us to be quiet.

He got off at the next stop, with his mates, and the bus was a happier place.

The bus went round to the cruise terminal, then the driver told us he had to have half an hour's break, so we walked back into town, along a canal or inlet, can't decide what it was. But it was lined with modern housing, flats or condos.

Did I mention it was hot?

We had an ice cream.

Watched some people, then walked round the marina, heading towards the station a mile away, and then we were waylaid by an Irish bar.

It forced us in, poured Guinness and cider down our throats, then served us fine ribs and more Guinness.

A fine end to the afternoon.

I could have stayed there all evening, but we had to get back to the hotel, so walked back to the Opera and across the busy road to the station, where a train was due to leave in two minutes.

And here we are, back in the room, had a brew and now going for a shower. 18,000 steps done.

And shattered.

But on holiday.

Tuesday 6th June 2023

Dateline: Norfolk.

I woke at six, and looking out the window I saw endless cloud. And the thing about Swallowtail butterflies is they like sunshine. And light winds.

But the BBC suggested it should brighten up in the afternoon.

Here's hoping.

I have a shower and get dressed, then walk over to the garage to buy a huge coffee and a breakfast bap, d some stuff online before it was time to head to the meeting point, a supermarket car park a 20 minute drive away.

On the way, it began to drizzle, and in fact was very much like the last time I tried to snap the buggers.

We hung around until the other members of the tour came along, and then the two mini buses driven by the guides, and if anything they were even more downbeat about our chances than we were.

Sigh.

We said we would drive behind the buses, because if we struck out in the morning, we might leave for Kent early.

Gary and I were here because I got a surprise gift of two places from Jools, at short notice as they had spaces to fill, so Gary and I said we'd go.

And here we were, parked outside Strumpshaw Fen, gentle drizzle in the air and a temperature of just 13 degrees.

And there was a keen north easterly blowing.

Again.

We set off round the reserve, a walk of some 12,000 steps, to all the best sites for Swallowtails, and we saw none.

In fact we saw just one butterfly, a female Red Admiral sheltering in a bush, and an Azure Damselfly and that was pretty much all we had to show for a three ramble.

We saw several interesting plants, but that was it.

Back at the car park we decided to cut our losses, as the next site would be more exposed than this, so less chance of a butterfly.

That's life.

We bid them farewell, and we made our way back to the A47 then along to the top of the A11, and turned south.

We stopped at Thetford for lunch, but had light traffic pretty much the whole way, with Gary dropping me off home at five.

Just time to feed the fox and make a brew for when Jools came back, as we were off to the airport to stay at a hotel for the night, before our flight to Norway in the morning.

Jools had packed the cases, downloaded the documents, so all we had to do was load the cases into the car and drive.

We did go to the Water Sports centre for dinner, we had to eat, so had fish and chips whilst looking out over the harbour at the ferries coming and going.

This also meant that rush hour traffic would have died down, and we had a clear run up the M20 and along the M25 to the airport, arriving at the Premier Inn at half nine, just as darkness fell.

We checked in and that was it really, we were both pooped, and just wanted to get our heads down, as we were to be up at half four as our flight was half seven.

Monday 5th June 2023

And so, to Monday.

My back a little bit better, so slept a little better, even with Cleo nestling my legs.

However, this was the morning of the cat roundup. Jools was up and about and caged three of them in in various rooms of the house, we then put each in a box, so by quarter past six the deed was done.

Only for Poppy to somehow bust out of the box she was in, I heard the crack as the mesh door snapped shut, and together we caught her a second time.

Jools dropped them off at a new place in Hawkinge on her way to work, leaving me with an empty house in which to work the final day before yet another holiday.

And it was a holiday in Denmark, so not many people in, so I had no excuse not to do travel expenses.

Sigh.

I photographed reciepts, mailed them to my work account and assigned them to credit card bills.

Never as bad as you tell yourself it'll be.

And so it was done.

No e mails to answer. Hardly anyone to call.

Silence.

Lovely.

At one, I am done. I pack the case, though Jools will bring it tomorrow, I check my cameras, pack an overnight bag and wait for Gary to arrive. We are heading to East Anglia for a trip to see a rare butterfly, a Swallowtail, and meet a tour in the morning. To make it easier, we are driving up the day before.

I load my stuff in our old car, Gary turns the engine on, and off we go, driving north, steadily, as we have the rest of the day. The only problem would be getting across, or under the river, at Dartford.

We were held up for 20 minutes, but got through, back into the Essex sunshine, round to the M11 and north again.

Traffic was fairly light, and I had the odd experience of looking out the windows the whole way. I usually drive, so have a fine old time looking at churches and trains as we motor through Essex into Suffolk and finally into Norfolk.

We drive round Norwich to our motel next to a filling station, check in. Functional and clean.

A quick walk showed the village pub closed

The pub may have been closed, but even at half six, the village church was open, if a little dark inside. I apologied to Gary for the diversion to a church, which was never my intention, but I knew there was a fine font inside, so we went in.

I rushed round so not to delay us too much, so photographed the font frm all angles, and the geberal views of the church. This was a real bonus. I hhave only found churches open at such a time once before, in nearly Coltishall a decade previously. NFN.

so we walked back to the car, drove three minutes and found another. This one being open, if not very picturesque.

A slap up meal of nachos and a pint of hophead, and I was set for an early night and an early start in the morning.