A piece of cake, so to speak

Svalbard – Greenland  |  Anno 2022

 

Tuesday 30 August | Ostend – Longyearbyen

Wednesday 31 August | Fram Strait

 

 

Tuesday 30 August | Ostend – Longyearbyen

Funny guys, those Vikings. Around 850, they stumbled upon an unknown island near the Arctic Circle, more or less by accident. Although the island had ice-free coasts all year round and a relatively mild climate, they gave it the rather unappealing name Snowland. Later, that name even became Iceland. Was it a marketing trick? Did they want to keep the island entirely for themselves by marketing it as inhospitable?

Greenland is a remarkable name for an island that is covered by a permanent ice cap for 80% of its surface

More than a century later, in 986, they pulled off that trick again, but in the opposite direction. This time, it was Erik the Red who, after being exiled from Iceland for murder, discovered an island he named Greenland. A remarkable name for an island that is covered by a permanent ice cap for 80% of its surface. But Erik knew what he was doing. Only if he could convince enough of his fellow countrymen to join him would the colonization of Greenland succeed. And it worked remarkably well. A masterstroke from a seasoned marketer, indeed.

That not-so-green Greenland is our destination for the next twelve days. To our right, the sun casts its golden glow over the calm waters of the North Sea. For now, we are flying straight north, leaving Greenland on our left. This is because the M/V Hondius, the expedition cruise ship with which we will explore the inhospitable coastal area of Northeast Greenland, is waiting for us in Svalbard.

After just under four hours, a mountainous landscape appears in the middle of the ocean. Deep erosion gullies mark the treeless slopes, and patches of snow lie here and there. A wide inlet extends deep into the interior. This must be Isfjord, the fjord where Longyearbyen is located, the capital of Spitsbergen.

At half-past eleven, we come to a stop at Svalbard Lufthavn Longyear. The surroundings look bleak, and the dense cloud cover seems to emphasize that. The thermometer reads 4 °C (39 °F), but the wind is colder than we are used to. We will soon learn that the perceived temperature here is generally significantly lower than what is measured. Puddles on the tarmac indicate that it rained fairly recently. But at the moment, it is dry.

Ikke rør isbjørnen, the sign says – Do not touch the polar bear

There he is, in the arrival hall. Our very first polar bear. A stuffed one, fortunately. Ikke rør isbjørnen, the sign says – Do not touch the polar bear. Outside, an imposing signpost points to all possible distances – London, Mexico City, Bangkok, Tokyo… you name it. What interests us most is Nordpolen, the geographic North Pole. It turns out to be only 1,309 km away from here.

 

Longyearbyen

An asphalt road leads us to Longyearbyen, almost five kilometres away from here. This gives us an immediate introduction to a full ten percent of the archipelago's road network, as Svalbard has no more than fifty kilometres of paved roads in total.

On the left, Longyearbyen's small harbour slides past the window. It's not large, as we will soon notice. 'Our' Hondius is already docked there. It's undoubtedly bustling inside, as the passengers from the previous cruise disembarked around nine o'clock this morning. Later, around four o'clock, we will eagerly arrive at the quay. In the meantime, the ship must be fully prepared for 160 new passengers.

 

Longyearbyen

We are dropped off at the Svalbard Museum close to the University Centre. Obediently, we slip the green plastic bags over our shoes, as is customary here, and shuffle through the excellent museum. We learn that we should actually refer to Spitsbergen as Svalbard. The Norwegians want to strengthen their claims to the archipelago, insisting that it was the Vikings who discovered Svalbard in the 12th century. However, not everyone is convinced of this. If the Vikings had indeed landed on the islands, there should be physical traces of their presence. But there aren't.

The east coast of Greenland is plagued year after year by the East Greenland Current. As a result, sea ice often makes access to this area impossible

Tame reindeer sheds velvety layer of new antlers

Snowproof bus stop

Of vital importance to Svalbard is the West Spitsbergen Current, which flows in from the southwest. This current is an offshoot of the Warm Gulf Stream and keeps the sea water on the west side of the archipelago ice-free for long periods. This gives Svalbard a unique position, as the area is much more accessible than other regions at 78° latitude. For example, the east coast of Greenland is plagued year after year by the East Greenland Current, a sea current that brings icy cold water from the polar regions. As a result, sea ice often makes access to this area impossible.

That icy cold water originates from the Arctic Ocean, the smallest of the five oceans on Earth. In reality, the Arctic region is an open sea covered by a thick layer of ice, very different from the Antarctic, where a true continent lies beneath the ice cap.

However, it would be a mistake to think that the seabed in the Arctic is flat. Deep beneath the sea, the Lomonosov Ridge stretches across the North Pole. This underwater mountain range is a continuation of a mountain range in Siberia – at least, that's the view in Moscow. The Russians base their geopolitical claims in the Arctic region on this belief.

 

Longyear Valley

On foot we start a small exploration of the town. Two parallel asphalt roads lead a short distance into the valley, perpendicular to the coast. That's about all there is to the topography of Longyearbyen, which is sufficient for a community of just over two thousand residents. Along the main street, you'll find all the amenities that both tourists and locals need – hospital, post office, hotel, supermarket, shopping centre, pubs, restaurants, and more.

All the buildings are raised on stilts. Otherwise, they might sink into the soggy ground

All the buildings are raised on stilts, allowing cold air to circulate freely beneath them in winter. Without this, the permanently frozen ground, known as permafrost, would thaw from the warmth of the house, potentially causing it to sink into the soggy ground.

All the buildings are raised on stilts. If they weren't, your house might sink into the soggy ground. The buildings are elevated to allow cold air to flow freely beneath them in winter. Without this, the permafrost – the permanently frozen ground – would thaw from the warmth of the building, causing the house to potentially sink into the soft soil.

Even so, the freeze-thaw cycle has curious effects. In this moist environment, the ground is always saturated with water. Like ice, this earth expands when it freezes. Solid objects like stones are pushed upward as a result. When the ground thaws, the rocks sink back down, but slightly less than they rose. This creates a net upward movement. It freezes rocks out of the ground, people then say.

Snowmobiles are everywhere, parked in clusters of a few dozen on pallets between houses. They are completely useless in the summer but absolutely essential during the winter months.

They proudly claim, and not without reason, that this is the northernmost church in the world

Church of Our Saviour

Across the river, a little higher up the mountainside, a wooden church overlooks the surroundings. This is the Church of Our Saviour, a Lutheran church that explicitly welcomes all denominations. They proudly claim, and not without reason, that this is the northernmost church in the world, thanks, of course, to the Warm Gulf Stream.

 

Old mine buildings with aerial tramway

The church turns out to be more than just a place of worship. In addition to the room where services are held, there is a fairly large gathering space with comfortable chairs, offering a cosy place to sit. The cloakroom is also prepared for a large influx of people. This makes sense, considering that those who winter in Longyearbyen face the darkness of the polar night for twenty-four hours a day from November to February. Social connections become a cherished commodity during that time.

 

The impressive Hondius is waiting for us in the middle of the Isfjord

As special as Spitsbergen is, it’s not our ultimate destination. So, just before four, we head down to the harbour. The Hondius had to make way for a cargo ship, which always has priority. Now, the impressive Hondius is waiting for us in the middle of the Isfjord. This will be our first encounter with the zodiacs and the life jackets, which turn out to be quite heavy – so heavy, in fact, that one might wonder if they are more likely to promote sinking rather than prevent it.

In groups of ten, we are transported to the ship by zodiac. We board via two shell doors just above the waterline. An hour later, all 160 passengers have been safely brought aboard.

For the next twelve days, we’ll have to learn to navigate a world that is partly vertical, as expedition leader Adam explains during the briefing. As the Hondius quietly sets off just after half-past five, we receive information about life aboard the ship.

 

M/V Hondius

Deck 7 is where the bridge is located, the domain of the captain and his officers. From here, they monitor the wide surroundings of the ship. Later, it will become clear that they keep a close watch on the zodiacs from the bridge, even when the zodiacs are kilometres away from the ship. The bridge operates under an open-bridge policy – the door is always open to passengers, except when it’s closed. So, a visit to the bridge and even a chat with the crew are always possible, unless the Closed sign is displayed on the door.

The door of the bridge is always open to passengers, except when it’s closed

Deck 5 is dedicated entirely to public facilities – a spacious observation lounge, a library, a bar, and a small auditorium that, due to its design, will soon earn the nickname the church. And not to be forgotten, this deck also houses a fully equipped coffee and tea station.

 

Outside on the aft deck, fourteen zodiacs and fifteen kayaks are waiting for adventure

Deck 4 is important for a different reason. Here, you'll find the kitchen and the restaurant, as well as the reception desk, the central spot where you can go with both major and minor issues. Outside on the aft deck, fourteen zodiacs and fifteen kayaks are waiting for adventure.

Deck 3 is where the zodiac boarding zone is located. Every time we head out with the zodiacs, this is where everyone gathers. Two staircases lead down to the zodiac platforms on Deck 2, which provide access to the shell doors. There’s also a setup for cleaning our boots when we return, along with the terminal where we check out and back in with our key cards. This is, of course, vital to ensure that no one is left behind on any of the islands.

All in all, from the captain to the engineers, from the receptionists to the cooks, and from the expedition staff to the stewards, there are more than seventy crew members on board. Even an experienced ship's doctor is permanently available.

 

Isfjord

This brings us to a crucial topic – safety and health. Hygiene on board is incredibly important. An outbreak of COVID is something we would rather avoid at all costs. The rule is to disinfect hands multiple times a day. Dispensers with disinfectant gel are mounted on walls throughout the ship. A safety video shows us what to do and what not to do.

That knowledge is immediately put into practice. The alarm signal blares loudly through the corridors – seven short blasts, followed by one long one. By now, we know what that means – the order to evacuate the ship. It's time for a lifeboat drill.

We quickly rush to our cabins, retrieve the orange life jackets from the closet – not to be confused with the red life vests from earlier – struggle to put them on, and waddle through the corridors like inflated Michelin men on our way to the muster point. Muster Station B, the observation lounge on Deck 5, turns out to be our destination. The crew is already there, waiting to register our key cards. Skipping this drill is not an option.

Reminded of scenes from Titanic, we clichédly associate lifeboats with wooden dinghies

Isfjord

From there, we head in a group to our lifeboat on Deck 6. Reminded of scenes from Titanic, we clichédly associate lifeboats with wooden dinghies. This, of course, is completely wrong. We stand somewhat puzzled before a cylindrical, enclosed vessel without windows, hanging like a giant orange eggplant against the side of the Hondius.

What intrigues us most is the text on the side: 8.50 m x 3.20 m x 1.20 m 100 p. Our initial surprise quickly turns to horror. This hyper-modern shoebox is supposed to accommodate a hundred passengers. A glance inside convinces us that this is impossible. And even if it were, it would be extremely uncomfortable.

Once the lifeboat is lowered into the water, everyone on board will feel terribly sick

Isfjord

Take my word for it, assistant expedition leader Marcel will reassure us later, once the lifeboat is lowered into the water, everyone on board will feel terribly sick. He emphasizes this with a broad grin, adding that even the strongest stomachs will be affected. Let’s hope our Hondius doesn’t meet a Titanic-like fate when we navigate among the Greenlandic icebergs in a few days.

For now, such misfortune is not to be feared. We sail westward into the open sea through the calm waters of the Isfjord. To our right, the southern tip of Prins Karls Forland gradually disappears from view, marking our permanent departure from Svalbard.

 

 

Before us stretches the Fram Strait, which separates Svalbard from Greenland. This sea strait is almost five hundred kilometres wide and at least 2.5 kilometres deep. It is the only significant connection between the Arctic Ocean and the other world oceans. At a speed of 11 knots, or twenty kilometres per hour, this crossing will take us nearly two days.

The Fram Strait is the only significant connection between the Arctic Ocean and the other world oceans

Fin whales

Barely have we entered the open sea when the first whales appear on the scene. In the shimmering light of the low evening sun, they spray their water fountains ten to twenty meters high. These are fin whales, their characteristic curved dorsal fins leaving little doubt about their identity. They can grow up to 27 meters long and weigh over 70 tons, making them the second-largest living species on Earth, surpassed only by the blue whale. Their long, slender bodies allow fin whales to move swiftly through the water, faster than the fastest ocean-going vessels.

Their long, slender bodies allow fin whales to move swiftly through the water, faster than the fastest ocean-going vessels

Fin whale

As if that weren't enough, a pod of white-beaked dolphins also makes an appearance. Playfully, they swim alongside us, curiously keeping an eye on the boat, and boldly approach the bow of the Hondius. There, they treat themselves to a bit of bow riding – surfing on the ship’s bow wave. Without even needing to use their tails, they effortlessly propel themselves forward through the pressure wave.

Meanwhile, Captain Tony keeps the helm of the Hondius firmly directed toward the distant Île-de-France, an island off the coast of Greenland, with an area of about 246 km². It was the Belgian explorer Adrien de Gerlache who discovered this island and mapped its coastline for the first time.

The white-beaked dolphins they treat themselves to a bit of bow riding

How that came to be is a story in itself. It all began with Philip of Orléans, Duke of Orléans and great-grandson of Louis-Philippe II, the last king of France. His great hobby was hunting, or more accurately, collecting hunting trophies. This sometimes got him into tight spots, such as the time he was attacked by a tiger in India, but it didn’t deter him. After all, his trophy collection was still lacking some notable animals – polar bears, walruses, musk oxen, and narwhals, to name a few.

For his expedition to the Arctic, the duke had set his sights on the Fram, the ship that Amundsen used to successfully complete his famous South Pole expedition. However, he couldn't reach an agreement with the Norwegian government regarding the terms. So he opted for the Belgica, the ship with which Adrien de Gerlache had been the first to overwinter in Antarctica and map the strait that would bear his name. Two birds with one stone, then – a ship that had proven its worth and a captain with invaluable experience. The fact that de Gerlache spoke French was an added bonus for the duke. The scientific nature that de Gerlache also gave to the expedition was something the duke could live with.

The scientific nature that de Gerlache gave to the expedition was something the duke could live with

On 24 May 1905, the Belgica departed from the Norwegian city of Bergen. While waiting for the pack ice around Greenland to become accessible, Svalbard was explored. The duke accomplished what he had come for. He shot nine polar bears and two narwhals, but the animals sank to the seabed before the trophy hunter could recover them. That was not the intention.

The breakthrough came on 21 July. An opening in the pack ice allowed the Belgica to reach the coast of Greenland, at Kap Bismarck, the northernmost point reached by a German expedition in 1870. By sailing even further north, the duke could add another trophy to his collection: the most northerly expedition. They reached Île de France on 28 July, where they landed at Kap Philippe. They built two cairns there – one 195 meters high on a mountain and one down by the coast. In the latter, they even left a message in a bottle. Rediscovering that cairn is one of our objectives, for which we have received special permission from the Danish and Greenlandic authorities.

It was no easy feat for Adrien de Gerlache to push so far north and map a coastline spanning nearly two degrees of latitude. His Belgica was merely a wooden three-masted ship with a 40-horsepower diesel engine. Even the zodiacs on the back deck of our Hondius have outboard motors of 60 horsepower.

Of course, the situation for us is completely different. The Hondius is an ice-strengthened ship of Polar Class 6 on a scale of 1 (high) to 7 (low). So it’s not an icebreaker, but it does have a hull designed to withstand a low thickness of one-year sea ice. As for the engines, they generate a combined power of more than 5,700 horsepower. Moreover, our expedition takes place not in July, but in September, when the sea ice is at its minimum. Finally, add climate change, which is causing the amount of sea ice to decrease, and the conclusion is clear. Compared to the monumental feat that de Gerlache achieved more than a century ago, our journey is going to be a breeze. A piece of cake, so to speak.

Compared to the monumental feat that de Gerlache achieved more than a century ago, our journey is going to be a breeze

Evening sun over the Fram Strait

We set our watches back one hour before going to sleep. Next Tuesday we will do that again. This way, we gradually bridge the time difference of two hours between Svalbard and Greenland.

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Wednesday 31 August | Fram Strait

Good morning. The sea is calm, visibility is good, and we can see the horizon. The air temperature is 3 °C (37 °F), and the water temperature is 9 °C (48 °F). This is how the voice of assistant expedition leader Marcel sounds over the intercom at 7:15 am. We rub our eyes and find that the view of the open sea indeed seems to stretch into infinity. Behind the boat, a dozen northern fulmars swarm, and at the front, puffins occasionally dart by at lightning speed.

No matter how calm the sea seems, no matter how insignificant the waves, our sense of balance still registers movement in all directions. We resolve to always stay within arm's reach of a wall or sturdy piece of furniture. It will soon become apparent that about twenty passengers remain sick in bed.

Sadly, one person who is not present is Dixie Dansercoer, the famous Belgian polar explorer

Shortly after nine, we head down to the lounge for our second mandatory safety briefing. But first, the expedition staff from Oceanwide and Asteria Expeditions are introduced. A selection of experts in geography, biology, climate ecology, geology, ornithology, hydrography, nature photography, and even archaeology and Eskimology are presented. They will also handle various logistical operations, such as piloting the zodiacs and securing the perimeter when we go ashore.

Sadly, one person who is not present is Dixie Dansercoer, the famous Belgian polar explorer. During one of his awe-inspiring long-distance expeditions in West Greenland last year, he did not survive a fall into a crevasse.

However, Hélène de Gerlache, granddaughter of Adrien de Gerlache and just as passionate about the polar regions as her grandfather, is with us. She can even communicate in the Inuit language.

Meanwhile, Adam and his team have been studying the ice crust and its movements over the past few days, and the outlook is not good. For accurate weather predictions in the Arctic region, the best source is the Norwegian Meteorological Institute. Their Ice Service in Tromsø regularly produces reliable and detailed maps of the pack ice.

The ice map from 29 August 2022, at 3:00 pm UTC reveals quite clearly that in the area we are heading towards there is Very Close Drift ice

Ice map from 29 August 2022, at 3:00 pm UTC

This reveals quite clearly that the ice map from 29 August 2022, at 3:00 pm UTC is coloured dark red in the area we are heading towards. In this context, dark red doesn't mean that it's alarmingly warm – quite the opposite. It indicates that there is Very Close Drift ice, meaning that the sea surface is covered with ice between 90% and 100%. For the Hondius, this is simply unmanageable. However, Adam is quick to add that satellite images generally take about fifteen to twenty hours to reach us. The situation may have changed somewhat since then, but not enough to make a significant improvement.

The northernmost destination on our provisional itinerary, the Franske Øer (or French Islands), is promptly off the table. But the more southerly locations, such as Île-de-France and Kap Amélie, are also out of reach, as are the Rosio Ø and Maroussia Ø islands. Danmarkshavn is theoretically accessible, but we would have to sail very slowly – about two kilometres per hour – and we would also risk getting stuck. Essentially, that destination is also unfeasible. In the blink of an eye, the program for the next four days of travel collapsed like a house of cards. Who said our journey was going to be a breeze? A piece of cake, so to speak?

In the blink of an eye, the program for the next four days of travel collapsed like a house of cards

Fram Strait

The unpredictable forces of nature have caught us off guard. Just as the Warm Gulf Stream from the south keeps Svalbard ice-free, the cold East Greenland Current from the north holds this area in its icy grip. The feat that Adrien de Gerlache accomplished with such bravado now becomes an unattainable dream for us. This setback only deepens our admiration for the pioneer from Hasselt in Belgium. It’s not pleasant, but we can't let it get us down. Without the natural elements that are now obstructing us, this inhospitable yet beautiful region wouldn’t even exist. You can't expect these natural forces to pause their work just because we happen to be visiting.

You can't expect these natural forces to pause their work just because we happen to be visiting

So, onto plan B. Adam rolls out new destinations for the next ten days – Bass Rock, Shannon Island, Dødemandsbugten, Clavering Ø, Myggbukta, Blomsterbugten, Ymer Ø, Noa Dal, Ella Ø, Segelsällskapetfjord, Antarctic Havn, Hurry Inlet, Ittoqqortoormiit, Sydkap, Hall Bredning, Danmark Ø, Vikingebugt... In short, a whole series of names that don’t mean much to us yet, but that’s okay. Greenland has a lot to offer. Keep in mind, Adam adds, this is just an adapted version of the original plan. More changes are certainly not out of the question. Because this isn't a Nile cruise, he concludes with a wink, this is an expedition cruise.

 

Northern fulmar

Safety is of paramount importance, especially during the transports with the zodiacs. Disembarking takes place via the shell doors on deck 3. There, we check out with our key card, a routine procedure that we must meticulously adhere to. There must not be the slightest ambiguity about our whereabouts. Of course, checking in is the first thing we do afterward upon our return.

A clever mechanism ensures that the life jacket will automatically inflate if necessary

Boatmen and the zodiac master will help us aboard the zodiac with the so-called sailor’s grip, where each person grabs the other’s wrist with their hand. Once aboard the zodiac, the rule is to remain seated. Except during the landing, of course. But even that is done strictly according to the prescribed procedure – facing the engine, you swing your legs ashore.

 

 

On board the zodiacs, life jackets are obviously a must. The ones we are given are not inflated. Convenient, as it prevents you from looking like a little Michelin man. This allows for more freedom of movement. A clever mechanism ensures that the life jacket will automatically inflate if necessary. Should we accidentally fall into the water, a salt tablet inside will dissolve, triggering a firing pin. This pin will pierce a cylinder of compressed CO₂ gas, inflating the life jacket. If something goes wrong, you can still inflate the life jacket yourself by pulling the cord. However, Adam warns, this will result in a loud, painful bang.

Muck boots are also part of the mandatory equipment. We will be picking them up soon. We’ll need them when wading ashore through the water. Apart from that, Adam doesn’t concern himself with our clothing. However, he does mention that it's best to dress in layers, as being cold is not ideal, but neither is sweating. And the outer layer should definitely be waterproof.

 

Northern fulmar

Once ashore, the classic guidelines apply – take nothing, touch nothing, leave nothing behind. Do not build stone cairns, do not pick or trample plants, do not approach or disturb animals, and do not urinate in the wild. Transporting organic material between islands is also prohibited. Therefore, upon our return aboard the Hondius, a disinfectant bath will be ready to clean our boots.

Polar bears are top predators; they are at the very top of the food chain. And Homo sapiens are on their menu.

When it comes to our safety, marine biologist Ben Fredriks takes a very different approach. Polar Bear Safety is his main concern. This is not Antarctica; here, you can indeed encounter polar bears. In 1970, there were around 6,000 polar bears worldwide, but now there are 30,000. You might think that the polar bear is doing well. But nothing could be further from the truth. We’ll learn more about this tomorrow.

 

Northern fulmar

Before every landing, scouts will first explore the area. If a polar bear is spotted, it's a no-go. If we do go ashore, all guides will carry a loaded carbine. Additionally, they will have a flare gun, a type of large-calibre alarm pistol. With this, they will first try to scare off the polar bear if it develops an unhealthy appetite. Make no mistake – polar bears are very dangerous. They are top predators, standing at the very top of the food chain. Moreover, you can be sure that they are hungry and that Homo sapiens is on their menu. They've probably never had a Belgian to eat, Ben adds teasingly, but if given the chance, they would certainly want to try.

The basic rule when we are on land is to stay in a group, never walk alone, and never walk ahead of the first guide or behind the last one. Keeping a distance of at least thirty meters from the polar bear is an absolute minimum. That’s not far, just the length of the lounge we are currently in. If a polar bear threatens to come closer, we stay in a group and put away our cameras. No matter how exciting, this is not the time for taking pictures. We remain calm and listen to the guide.

Polar bears have poor eyesight, but they have a good sense of smell and excellent hearing. Therefore, it’s advisable to speak quietly during observations and avoid letting metal strike metal, as that startles them and causes them to run away. And that’s not the intention. Because that’s the eternal dilemma of the polar tourist – you want to approach polar bears as closely as possible, but not too close.

What we are seeing are actually the stragglers. These puffins belong to the last of their kind to escape the Arctic winter

Puffins

Enough talking, it's time to get some fresh air outside. Puffins often fly by. These funny little birds with their large, brightly coloured beaks are incredibly fast. You see them coming from a distance, recognizable by their rapid wing beats, but before you know it, they've already disappeared on the horizon. What we are seeing are actually the stragglers, belonging to the last of their kind to escape the Arctic winter. Most of their fellow species have already migrated to the warmer south.

Northern fulmars, on the other hand, still feel at home in this environment. They sail gracefully past the Hondius on their long, outstretched wings. They effortlessly glide above the ship's wake, skilfully riding the wind with their wingtips skimming the water, hoping that the ship's engines stir up some tasty morsels.

Because that’s the eternal dilemma of the polar tourist – you want to approach polar bears as closely as possible, but not too close

 

They are true seabirds, spending most of their lives on the open sea. They only come to land to breed. That’s when they lay a single egg on a ledge on an inaccessible rocky coast, far out of reach of predators. If a predator gets too close, they squirt a stream of stomach oil onto its wings. Not only does this substance smell terrible, but it also seriously damages the predator’s wings, which can be fatal for the attacker.

Ornithologist Hans knows everything about seabirds of the North Atlantic Ocean. Like albatrosses and the smaller storm petrels, northern fulmars belong to the tube-nosed birds, he tells us. Their nostrils have evolved into two tubes that run along their beak, greatly enhancing their sense of smell. This allows them to easily detect dimethyl sulphide, a gas released by plankton. Without this phenomenal sense of smell, finding food in the vast ocean would be like searching for a needle in a haystack.

Almost as if the bird has a permanent nasal cold

Northern fulmar

Moreover, these tubes are very useful for expelling excess salt. A northern fulmar ingests quite a bit of seawater, and a salt gland at the base of its beak extracts the excess salt, which is continuously expelled through the nostrils in the form of a saline solution, almost as if the bird has a permanent nasal cold.

Don’t underestimate these seabirds, Hans warns, because there are some real giants among them. Take, for example, the wandering albatross. It doesn’t hesitate to fly 2,500 kilometres to fetch food and then return to its nest. Puffins, on the other hand, dive up to 200 meters deep to find their food. Arctic terns manage to breed in Greenland and spend the winter in Western Australia – a journey of 22,000 kilometres, following the West African coast to the Cape of Good Hope before flying eastward. They take three months for this journey, averaging 240 km per day. And who has heard of Wilson's storm petrel? Few know about it, and even fewer have seen it. Yet, their global population is estimated at 30 to 50 million, making them one of the most numerous bird species in the world. But no one sees them because they live permanently at sea.

 

Puffin

Meanwhile, around half past two, the Hondius has crossed the prime meridian. This means we are roughly halfway between Svalbard and Greenland. We are gradually leaving the influence of the Warm Gulf Stream and entering that of the East Greenland Current. In plain language – it’s going to get colder.

The waves are a bit higher now, the sea is rougher, but the horizon remains visible. The fact that paper vomit bags have appeared on the railings in the corridors and on the stairs every meter and a half is telling. Apparently, the crew isn’t confident that we will digest our lunch properly.

While the North and South Poles seem very similar, they are actually two completely different worlds

Why it’s so cold at the North Pole is something climate scientist Pieter Beyens knows all about. But it’s not a simple story he has to tell. The Arctic, as we call the northern counterpart of Antarctica, is a complex system. And while the North and South Poles seem very similar, they are actually two completely different worlds. In Antarctica, there is a continent hidden beneath the ice, whereas at the North Pole, it’s an ocean.

 

Northern fulmar

The Arctic Ocean is almost entirely surrounded by land. You can see this clearly if you look at the globe from above the North Pole. It almost looks like an inland sea, but a very large one, with an area of 14 million square kilometres – one and a half times the size of the United States. In September, at the end of summer, about 6.34 million square kilometres of this area is covered with ice, and in March, the ice sheet spans 15.55 million square kilometres. At least, that’s how it was at the end of the last century. Needless to say, the ice sheet has been shrinking rather than growing in recent years.

With the sun always low on the horizon and completely absent during the long polar night, you can’t expect much warmth. The North Pole receives 40% less radiant energy per square meter than the equator, where the sun is almost always directly overhead. Furthermore, the white ice is an excellent reflector, bouncing 90% of that heat radiation straight back into space. The result is obvious – it’s incredibly cold in the Arctic.

Sometimes, such a bulge from the jet stream reaches as far as Europe, and when that happens, all of Europe shivers from the cold

This gives us a globe with a very warm equator, very cold poles, and a temperate zone in between – these are our climate belts. But nature doesn’t like temperature differences, Pieter explains. Nature will stubbornly strive to restore balance, partly through the air and partly through the water.

 

Northern fulmar

Warm air rising at the equator is drawn toward the low pressure over the poles, but it will never reach them. Near the Arctic Circle, it encounters an impenetrable front of icy air. This results in a jet stream, a whirlwind racing around the North Pole at speeds of up to 300 km per hour. This doesn't create a neat circular path around the pole but rather a winding rollercoaster with bulges extending north and south. Sometimes, such a bulge reaches as far as Europe, and when that happens, all of Europe shivers from the cold.

Not only does warm air flow northward, but warm seawater does as well. The Warm Gulf Stream is the most well-known example of this. It is part of a global system of currents known as the great ocean conveyor belt. However, it's not just temperature that drives these currents; the salt content of the water also plays a significant role. Scientists refer to this as thermohaline circulation. But it is only through the Fram Strait, the sea passage where we are currently located, that warm water can penetrate the Arctic Ocean. Therefore, the effect is not significant – at least, not for now, Pieter warns.

The Arctic has two climate zones, and we will experience both

What’s important for us is that the Arctic has two climate zones, and we will experience both. On the one hand, there is the ice cap climate, which prevails where the average monthly temperature never rises above 0 °C (32 °F) throughout the year. The Greenland ice sheet is a phenomenal example of this, with an area of 1.7 million square kilometres and a thickness that varies between two and three kilometres. We won’t see this enormous ice sheet itself, but we will see its extensions – the glaciers.

On the other hand, there is the tundra climate. In the coldest month, the temperature drops below –3 °C (27 °F), and in the warmest month, it rises above freezing, but never above 10 °C (50 °F). In such an environment, a modest but fascinating plant life can survive. We will get to know this extensively during our landings and hikes.

 

Hondius – Forecastle

Outside, the sea has become a bit rougher again. A wind with a force of 7 on the Beaufort scale is whipping around the ship. There's even foam appearing on the wave tops, and fog is rolling in from the north. It’s not too bad, but it’s enough for the captain to deploy the stabilizers of the Hondius. These are horizontal metal fins, about 3.5 meters long. They counteract the rolling of the ship, meaning they limit the ship's swaying motion around its longitudinal axis. When you sit down for dinner, you certainly appreciate such measures. Incidentally, the Hondius can tilt up to 43° without capsizing, while the legally required safety standard is only 33.9°. If we want to know how far the Hondius has tilted, we can always check a gauge on the bridge that shows this tilt, grins assistant expedition leader Mathieu.

The sea has become a bit rougher again. It’s enough for the captain to deploy the stabilizers of the Hondius

Hondius – Bridge

Both the captain and the first mate are of Finnish descent, we learn during the captain’s cocktail. He has ten years of experience with expeditions in polar regions, and yet Captain Tony still calls this an exceptional trip. Back during his first journey in the polar regions, he took thousands of photos. Don’t do that, he explicitly asks us. Take photos, but also write something down every day – your observations, your feelings, your experiences. We will take this good advice to heart, as our readers will know by now.

Tomorrow, we will reach the ice edge, the edge of the sea ice off the northeast coast of Greenland. We are looking forward to it.

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Jaak Palmans
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