There is no such thing as bad luck

Canada | Anno 2023

 

Friday, August 25 | Dundas Harbour – Croker Bay

Saturday, August 26 | Radstock Bay – Beechey Island

Sunday, August 27 | Port Leopold – Prince Regent Inlet

 

 

Friday, August 25 | Dundas Harbour – Croker Bay

Six twenty. An enthusiastic alarm rings out through the PA system. We don't hesitate for a second and jump straight out of bed. The Fram has entered the wide Lancaster Sound, close to the coast of Devon Island, and is now motionless, with its bow pointed northward toward the Cunningham Mountains. There, on the bare slopes of this steep coastal mountain range, a polar bear is supposed to be visible. Barely fifteen minutes later, the forward deck is crowded with about a hundred eager onlookers, binoculars, smartphones, or cameras at the ready.

There, on the bare slopes of this steep coastal mountain range, a polar bear is supposed to be visible

Lancaster Sound – Cunningham glacier

A pixel bear, that’s what we call the natural phenomenon we’re searching for. Due to the great distance, the polar bear is reduced to a tiny white speck on the dark slope. In a photo, it’s as if it occupies no more than a single pixel. It’s not easy to spot, and once you find it, you can lose track of it just as quickly. Nevertheless, we delight in observing it and follow the bear’s every movement as it searches for food on a slope where nothing edible seems to be. At least the bear appears well-fed enough to survive the winter.

At least the polar bear appears well-fed enough to survive the winter

Pixel bear

Then someone calls out that there’s a second polar bear. And a third. And even a fourth. Two of the four massive animals are lying motionless, asleep, and are hard to recognize. The other two are roaming the slope. Since they’re constantly moving, they’re easier to keep an eye on. For a moment, it seems like they might bump into each other, but then they each go their separate ways.

 

Morin Point

Just after seven, the Fram continues its journey through Lancaster Sound. Our German geologist, Steffen, was right when he described this area as polar bear territory last night. The presence of bears here is good news, as everyone wants to see the King of the Arctic up close. But it can also be bad news if this iconic animal makes its appearance too close to a planned landing site.

 

Dundas Harbour with polar bear

Skillfully, the Fram maneuvers around a few icebergs and positions itself just before eight near the beaches of Dundas Harbour. The temperature is 2 °C (35,6 °F), and the wind speed is 3 m/s, as we learn via the PA system. We can confirm with our own eyes that it’s drizzling outside.

 

Dundas Harbour

Meanwhile, the scouts have gone to explore. It doesn’t take long before they return to the ship. They had climbed to a cairn from which they could survey the entire peninsula. To their surprise, they found a polar bear on the other side of the hill. They got away as quickly as they could and had the landing cancelled. Our emotions waver between Hooray, a polar bear! and Damn, a polar bear!

Our emotions waver between ‘Hooray, a polar bear!’ and ‘Damn, a polar bear!’

Dundas Harbour

Shortly after nine, Plan B is put into action. The planned landing is replaced by a zodiac cruise. At a quarter to ten, we board the zodiac. Thick clouds hang over the bay, it’s raining, and it’s quite cold. Apparently, this was anticipated, as we’ve noticed that in the tender pit, the place where we will later climb back aboard the Fram, a few bottles of Baileys Irish Cream and matching cups are waiting for us.

 

Dundas Harbour

In this relatively sheltered bay, the sea is very calm. Enchanting icebergs float on the water at the entrance of the bay. No matter how many we have seen, they continue to fascinate us with the stately beauty of their whimsical shapes and their fascinating play of colours in white and azure blue.

 

 

We then head toward the beach where we had originally planned to land. By now, the polar bear has appeared there. Has it smelled us? Have all the strange sounds made it curious? The fact is, it is now wandering the slope, searching for food. And it desperately needs it because it’s painfully thin. Judging by its appearance, this polar bear will not survive the winter unless it manages, at the last minute, to catch a few seals with thick layers of blubber. But it won’t find those on this barren slope. This bear is clearly in a state of despair, and that makes it all the more dangerous for us.

 

Judging by its appearance, this polar bear will not survive the winter unless it manages, at the last minute, to catch a few seals with thick layers of blubber

 

At the front of our zodiac lies a rifle. We ask our zodiac driver, Benjamin, if it’s really necessary. His answer is both yes and no. The rifle is still in its packaging, so it would take some time to unpack and make it ready for use. But the rifle isn’t meant for shooting a bear that might threaten us while swimming. The Yamaha 60 hp engine of our zodiac is powerful enough to outmanoeuvre a swimming bear. However, should we experience engine trouble and find ourselves drifting toward a beach where a hungry polar bear is waiting for us, licking its chops, we’d be glad to have a rifle at hand.

The Yamaha 60 hp engine of our zodiac is powerful enough to outmanoeuvre a swimming bear

Morin Point

We sail around the corner from Morin Point Thule Site, where the remains of a settlement once inhabited by the Thule people between 1200 and 1600 are located. In 1924, a post was established here by the RCMP, the Royal Canadian Mounted Police. The goal was to prevent illegal whaling by other nations in Canadian waters. However, the RCMP’s presence also served to strengthen Canada's claim to Devon Island. Two birds with one stone, so to speak.

That things sometimes got heated here is evident from the graves of two RCMP officers who were shot in separate incidents

 

That things sometimes got heated here is evident from the graves of two RCMP officers who were shot in separate incidents. The post was eventually sold to the Hudson’s Bay Company. But that was no success either. If no one else can or wants to survive here, then the Inuit will have to do the job, the Canadian government must have thought. So, 52 Inuit were forcibly relocated to Morin Point. But even they couldn’t settle here. At that time, the climate was not as mild as it is today. All in all, a sad episode in Canadian history, Benjamin concludes.

If no one else can or wants to survive here, then the Inuit will have to do the job, the Canadian government must have thought

Back on board via the tender pit

As we board the Fram again, it turns out that the polar bear has reached the farthest point of the peninsula. There it stands, grazing, in the tragic realization that such food provides nowhere near enough calories to get it through the winter. Then we’re much better off, we muse, as we sip our hot chocolate with a splash of Baileys. Just before noon, the Fram continues its course through Lancaster Sound.

 

Harbour seals

Harbour seals! sounds from the bow. It’s Ellie, our British marine biologist, who first spots the group of harbour seals. And that’s not all. New groups of ten, twenty, and even sixty individuals keep appearing. They seem to be having a great time here at the entrance to Croker Bay. Like a playful crowd, they tumble and frolic in the water, a fountain of life in a calm, grey sea.

At the very next high tide – just hours after they’re born – they swim into the sea alongside their mother

Harbour seals

Yet they are homebodies, consistently returning to the same resting place. Often, that’s a harbour – hence their name. They usually stay there at low tide, while at high tide they go hunting. These playful swimmers are marine predators. They especially like herring and codfish, but they also search for food on the seabed, primarily going after crustaceans.

 

Croker Bay

From birth, the young seals can hold their own. At the very next high tide – just hours after they’re born – they swim into the sea alongside their mother. Pollution and the contamination of their food with heavy metals and other harmful substances haven’t been good for the species. And then there are the viruses. In 1988, as much as sixty percent of the total population in Northwest Europe was wiped out.

 

Croker Bay – Glacier front

Meanwhile, the Fram has approached the impressively beautiful glacier front of Croker Bay. Zodiacs are being launched, and a short cruise is being prepared. The air temperature is 2,4 °C (36,3 °F), the wind speed is no more than 1 m/s, and yes, it’s raining. Some are opting out of the trip. But that doesn’t discourage us at all. Starting at four o’clock, the zodiacs head out toward the glacier.

 

If you don’t count the enormous ice caps of Antarctica and Greenland, Devon Island’s ice cap ranks among the largest in the world

Skua

Black-legged kittiwakes

The Croker Bay glacier is one of the many glaciers that originate from the ice cap of Devon Island. It is a dome-shaped ice cap, with its highest point located 1 921 meters above sea level. From there, the ice is pushed in all directions toward the edge of the island, where it emerges as glaciers through openings in the coastal mountain range. Linda, our French environmental scientist specializing in the Arctic, explained this to us this morning.

 

Croker Bay

With an area of 12 050 km², this ice cap is slightly smaller than Connecticut. If you don’t count the enormous ice caps of Antarctica and Greenland, Devon Island’s ice cap ranks among the largest in the world. Its thickness varies from 500 to 880 meters. Sadly, since 1985, this ice cap has only been shrinking. If it were to completely melt away, it would contribute about one centimetre to the rise in global sea levels.

Radar observations in 2018 revealed that there are two salt lakes beneath this ice cap

Croker Bay

What makes this ice cap particularly intriguing is the fact that radar observations in 2018 revealed that there are two salt lakes beneath it. Scientists refer to these as hypersaline subglacial lakes in rock troughs. The question then, according to Linda, is whether living organisms can survive there. This is not far-fetched, as some organisms manage to thrive in the most extreme conditions, even without sunlight or oxygen.

Meanwhile, Benjamin is steering our zodiac parallel to the glacier front from west to east – a journey of about a kilometre

 

But this opens up other perspectives. Because on Europa, one of Jupiter’s moons, conditions are similar to those of these salt lakes. Life could also have developed there. And that is precisely the main scientific mission of the Clipper that NASA will launch in October 2024 – to search for life on Europa. However, we will have to wait for the results, as the Clipper won’t arrive in orbit around Jupiter until April 2030.

 

 

Meanwhile, Benjamin is steering our zodiac parallel to the glacier front over the calm, velvety water surface – a journey of about a kilometre. The green meltwater from the glacier takes on a greyish hue under the dense cloud cover. To the left and right, the strongly stratified rock masses of the coastal mountain range rise up to five hundred meters above the inlet. The water here is 180 meters deep, Benjamin tells us, and for safety’s sake, he maintains a distance of four hundred meters from the glacier front. But the rugged shapes of those towering ice masses continue to impress, with their crumbling structure and fascinating gradations of blue and white, interspersed here and there with brown sediment.

Only at the extreme eastern end do we see how the glacier emerges like a pure white river, making a wide bend from behind the coastal mountain range. Strangely enough, the Shinkai, the ice-strengthened yacht we previously spotted in Pond Inlet, has also appeared. Fortunately, it quickly makes its way out of the area.

Only at the extreme eastern end do we see how the glacier emerges like a pure white river, making a wide bend from behind the coastal mountain range

Croker Bay

A quarter to five, we are back on board the Fram. Fog is gradually rolling in, limiting visibility. As we sail south to leave Croker Bay, the navigation officers need to be vigilant, as relatively many icebergs are drifting close to the shores.

When she disembarked during a previous expedition, it marked the beginning of the coldest day of her life, she adds with a grin

 

Tomorrow, neatly following in the footsteps of the Franklin Expedition, we will continue our way west through Lancaster Sound, we learn during the evening briefing. We will explore Radstock Bay, with its imposing Caswall Tower, but the highlight of the day will undoubtedly be the landing at Beechey Island. This is the iconic place where the Franklin expedition overwintered for the first time in 1845-1846.

 

 

As for the weather conditions, our Norwegian expedition leader Maria expects a relatively pleasant temperature of 4 to 5 °C (39 to 41 °F). However, with wind speeds of 6 to 10 m/s, it will be the wind that throws a wrench in the works. It will definitely be cold on the open terrain of Beechey Island, there’s no doubt about that. When Maria disembarked during a previous expedition, it marked the beginning of the coldest day of her life, she adds with a grin. That sounds promising.

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Saturday, August 26 | Radstock Bay – Beechey Island

Seven o'clock. At eight knots, we head towards Radstock Bay. The sky is cloudy but clear, and visibility is excellent. This is fortunate because a ship cruise is scheduled for this morning. This time, it won’t be about polar bears or other marine mammals that inhabit these remote areas, but rather about rock formations and impressive sediment layers. Radstock Bay is a prime example of what variable sea levels can do to a landscape, as earth scientist Maria explained to us last night.

Radstock Bay is a prime example of what variable sea levels can do to a landscape

Radstock Bay – Polar bear on fossil beach ridges

It’s well known that the sea level has not always been what it is now. About twelve thousand years ago, the sea level was so low that the Bering Strait was completely dry, allowing people and animals to walk from Asia to America without getting their feet wet. The Ice Age was responsible for this – much water was trapped in the ice caps on the mainland. The reverse, a rise in sea level, also occurred, for example, because tectonic plate movements gradually reduced the volume of some oceans.

Moreover, seawater in shallow coastal areas will always deposit sediments, but not all in the same place. Lighter sand grains tend to settle close to the shoreline, heavier mud particles prefer to sink a bit deeper in the sea, while limestone particles settle even further offshore. If the sea level rises, seawater pushes further inland. The areas where sediments are deposited then shift landward. The new mud layer settles over the old sand layer, and the new limestone layer settles over the old mud layer.

The new mud layer settles over the old sand layer, and the new limestone layer settles over the old mud layer

Radstock Bay

This process can continue for a while, but the reverse movement can also take place. The sea level drops, the coastline retreats, and sediment deposits shift along with it. Mud settles over the old limestone layer, and sand settles over the old mud layer. Such processes have been occurring for millions of years in Radstock Bay, specifically from the Cambrian to the Devonian, according to Maria, which means from 500 to 300 million years ago.

Over time, these sediment layers have hardened into rock layers under pressure. However, they are all buried underground. To expose it all, a substantial glacier is needed to patiently carve a valley through these rock layers. Once the glacier has finished its work and the glacial ice has melted due to warming, you are left with a vertical cross-section of the mountain, a lasagna of rock layers neatly arranged in a specific cyclical order.

A lasagna of rock layers neatly arranged in a specific cyclical order

Radstock Bay

As we approach Radstock Bay, the inlet reveals itself like a monumental theatre of coastal mountains. They are not particularly high – ranging from two to three hundred meters – but it’s the horizontal bands that are impressive. One of these formations stands out, both literally and figuratively. That is Caswall Tower, an enormous, free-standing rock mass about two hundred meters high.

At the top, it is completely flat, resembling a tabletop mountain. We can just make out the hut located there. Previously, it served as an observation hut from which the movements of polar bears were monitored. From that height, one would indeed have a perfect overview of the surroundings. It is a well-known fact that polar bears like to frequent this area. The Inuit were aware of this as well, as about thirty archaeological sites have been identified in the lowland behind Caswall Tower, including three winter dwellings and ten to fifteen tent rings.

Caswall Tower is an enormous, free-standing rock mass about two hundred meters high

Caswall Tower with observation hut on top

As if to make it clear that this is indeed the territory of polar bears, one appears on the shore opposite Caswall Tower. It is likely a male. Calmly, he wanders along the beach, his nose close to the ground, searching for something edible. Occasionally, he lifts his head with a hint of suspicion in our direction, trying to make sense of the strange smells and sounds. He probably won't succeed, but he's quite confident about it – we pose no danger.

In fact, this is not an ordinary beach where the polar bear strolls but a series of fossil beach ridges. These manifest as a number of gently sloping, monumental steps that stretch like terraces across the entire width of the coastline. This phenomenon was not caused by the rising or falling of the sea water, but rather, strangely enough, by the rising of the land.

This phenomenon was not caused by the rising or falling of the sea water, but rather, strangely enough, by the rising of the land

Radstock Bay

The land masses we know are actually tectonic plates that float on a plastic substrate, known as the Earth’s mantle. When glaciers and ice caps form on these land masses, they are pressed down by the immense weight. When the ice melts, these land masses rebound. It’s similar to a cargo ship rising higher in the water when its load is discharged. In Arctic Canada, this results in a height difference of about twenty meters.

On shallow coasts, the waves of the sea create a ledge of deposited sediment just beyond the high tide line. When the land rises as described earlier, the seawater retreats and the process begins anew. This creates a new ledge. Ultimately, all these ledges lead to a terraced structure like the one we are observing now.

They are in the hundreds, the black-legged kittiwakes, soaring through the air or bobbing along with the swell on the water

Black-legged kittiwakes

Birds also seem to enjoy themselves here. In front of the vertical rock wall of Waldegrade Bluff, it is teeming with black-legged kittiwakes. They are in the hundreds, soaring through the air or bobbing along with the swell on the water. A few black guillemots and northern fulmars also make their presence known, along with three harbour seals swimming towards the rocky shore. Or no, wait, those aren’t the black heads of seals; those are... the white heads of polar bears. A wave of excitement sweeps over the Fram. It’s half past eight, the day is just about to begin, and we’ve already hit the jackpot.

 

Curiosity is what drives them – strange colours, strange sounds, strange smells

Radstock Bay – Polar bear female with cubs

As soon as they come ashore, it becomes clear what we are dealing with – a mother polar bear with two cubs, around two or maybe three years old. They parade along the narrow strip at the foot of the rocks as if they are walking down a catwalk, showing off their best side for our cameras.

 

 

Then, suddenly, they dive back into the water. Why, we’re not immediately sure. Our astonishment only grows when it turns out they are swimming straight toward us. With only their snouts above water and their gaze fixed on us, they steadily approach. There’s no threat from them; the Fram is just too large for them. Curiosity is what drives them – strange colours, strange sounds, strange smells. The two cubs lead the way, with the mother swimming cautiously behind. Then they lift their heads and necks above water, attentively gazing at the ship, as if they’ve taken their seats in an audience and want to quietly observe the spectacle. A water ballet of three polar bears.

 

Come, enough is enough, let's return, the mother polar bear seems to say after about a minute

Radstock Bay – Polar bears swimming back to shore

Come, enough is enough, let's return, the mother polar bear seems to say after about a minute. Obediently, the cubs turn back, and together the trio swims back to shore, continuing their journey at the foot of the rocks. We are left speechless.

 

 

Twenty minutes later, it’s excitement again. High up on the slope lies a polar bear dozing. A shapeless white mass on the dark rocks, a pixel bear that is barely visible to the naked eye. Until he lifts his head to take a look around. Then we get a better view of him.

 

Polar bear (probably male)

A dark spot full of ripples on the water; by now, we know what that means – just below the surface is a group of harbour seals. No, no, laughs marine biologist Ellie, those are harp seals. They are slightly larger than harbour seals. Ice is their favourite habitat. While harbour seals give birth to their young on land, saddle seals do so on the ice. This isn’t without danger, as polar bears also feel at home there.

While harbour seals give birth to their young on land, saddle seals do so on the ice. This isn’t without danger

Harp seals

Then there’s another alarm raised on the bow. A solitary polar bear has been spotted. Perhaps a male, but that’s not certain. From the middle of the bay he swims towards us. Again, it’s curiosity that drives the bear. With powerful strokes, he swims closer, his gaze fixed firmly on the boat. At a safe distance, he examines us attentively for half a minute and then seems to lose interest. He turns and swims in the direction of Caswall Tower, about four to five kilometres away.

These saddle seals don’t have to fear polar bears; in the water, they are always too quick for them

Harp seals

Despite the presence of polar bears, groups of saddle seals continue to appear here and there. They are not easy to spot, as they only briefly pop their heads above water before disappearing again. Still, Ellie estimates that one of those groups contains between forty and sixty individuals. These saddle seals don’t have to fear polar bears; in the water, they are always too quick for them.

Suddenly, there’s a striking demonstration of kleptoparasitism

Northern fulmar

Parasitic jaeger

Suddenly, there’s a striking demonstration of kleptoparasitism. Four aggressive birds are chasing another bird with a tasty morsel in its beak. This bird becomes so alarmed that it drops its lunch out of sheer fear. Effortlessly, one of the four bullies intercepts the morsel before it hits the water and takes off with it. This all happens so quickly that we only realize what we’ve seen afterward.

It was a group of parasitic jaegers we observed at work, Ellie explains. They belong to the skua family and are smaller than the great skuas. Lemmings, birds, and fish are on their menu. But if they see an opportunity to snatch another bird's meal, they won’t hesitate to take it.

From the middle of the bay he swims towards us

Radstock Bay – Polar bear approaching…

In the Arctic, whatever you plan, chances are it will turn out differently. No polar bears or other marine mammals were on the program, as Maria told us last night. So we came to Radstock Bay to admire sediment layers. And yet here we are, already two and a half hours captivated by the creatures that inhabit this bay. High time to learn more about this.

Our German marine biologist, Katrin, takes on that task. Using the gender-neutral phrasing King and queen of the Arctic, she describes the animal that scientists call Ursus maritimus, and that we know as the polar bear.

It may not be immediately obvious, but polar bears are marine mammals. That might seem odd since you often see them wandering on land or even napping there. Yet, it’s true because animals that mainly hunt for food beyond the low-tide line are classified as marine mammals. And that is precisely a polar bear’s favourite hunting ground – frozen sea ice, where they can catch seals and beluga whales.

Polar bears do not descend from brown bears, but both species do share a common ancestor

 

Polar bears didn’t descend from brown bears, but both species do share a common ancestor. Around 400 000 to 600 000 years ago, their paths diverged. While the ancestors of brown bears moved south during cold periods, the forebears of polar bears stayed and adapted to the Arctic environment. Their long, curved claws gave them better grip on ice, their wide, flat paws prevented them from sinking into the snow, and the webbing between their toes helped with swimming. Their digestive system became specialized to process the thick fat layers of their prey, and since seals are available year-round, they didn’t rely much on hibernation.

Don’t underestimate these seemingly slow-moving giants. Polar bears are the largest bear species. A male can weigh up to 800 kilograms. When standing upright, you're faced with a towering three-meter giant. Perhaps most impressive is their neck circumference – a massive 1,6 meters.

Their digestive system became specialized to process the thick fat layers of their prey

 

Polar bears can run at speeds of up to 40 kilometres per hour and swim at nine kilometres per hour. In comparison, the fastest human swimmer in the world only clocks in at 7,7 kilometres per hour in the 100-meter freestyle. Polar bears also cover astonishing distances – tagged bears have been recorded travelling up to 5 000 kilometres per year, the equivalent of crossing the Atlantic Ocean from Lisbon to Boston.

On infrared photos, only a polar bear’s eyes and snout are visible. The rest of their body emits no detectable heat, thanks to their superb thermal insulation. This is due to their thick layer of subcutaneous fat, combined with an insulating fur coat that traps air. Their hollow hairs help capture and reflect solar warmth inside, giving them their white appearance. But as Katrin chuckles, polar bears often appear yellowish. That’s due to microscopic algae they pick up while swimming, which thrive in the dense fur.

In the summer, polar bears are at risk of heat exhaustion

 

However, this superb insulation comes with a downside: overheating. In the summer, polar bears are at risk of heat exhaustion. If they run at high speeds for too long, they can't dissipate the heat generated by their metabolism quickly enough. Taking a dip in icy waters can help. Anyhow, wildlife filmmakers and researchers need to be mindful not to provoke them into a prolonged sprint by chasing them with helicopters – overheating can be fatal.

Lancaster Sound, home to 2 500 to 3 000 polar bears, is one of the most densely populated polar bear regions in the world. Males are solitary creatures, wandering alone, while females also travel solo but often with their cubs. Adult bears rarely seek out the company of other adults, except during the mating season.

Mating typically occurs in May, on sea ice. The male and female stay together for about a week, mating several times. Once that’s done, the male moves on, having fulfilled his role in ensuring the survival of the species, and leaves the female to raise the cubs alone.

When the embryo finally reaches the uterus, development pauses again

 

Once a female polar bear is fertilized, her biological clock starts ticking. She needs to time the birth of her cubs perfectly to maximize their chances of surviving their critical first year. After fertilization, the egg begins dividing, but implantation in the uterus is delayed until June. When the embryo finally reaches the uterus, development pauses again until September, when the pregnancy truly begins.

From five hundred to seven hundred kilograms in a few months. If she fails to do so, she will not hesitate to abort the embryos herself

Meanwhile, the mother continues to hunt alone in order to gain as much strength as possible. In order to survive the winter – including giving birth and feeding the young – she must gain at least two hundred kilograms in weight. From five hundred to seven hundred kilograms in a few months. If she fails to do so, she will not hesitate to abort the embryos herself.

October marks the time when the mother heads to land to find a den, where she enters a light hibernation. It’s in late December when the cubs are born – usually two or three. Unlike brown bears, polar bear cubs always share the same father. The cubs remain in the den until early April, at which point they venture outside for the first time. They have an entire summer ahead to grow strong and prepare for their first challenging winter.

 

Polar bear on its way to Caswall Tower

The survival of the cubs will now depend on the mother's hunting skills and her ability to teach them how to hunt effectively. Polar bears are carnivores, primarily feeding on ringed seals, but also on bearded and harp seals. They tend to avoid walruses, as these animals can defend themselves dangerously with their tusks.

Polar bears rely mainly on their incredible sense of smell to locate prey. In open air, they can detect scents from up to thirty kilometres away, and they can even sniff through a meter of ice. This ability helps them locate seal dens, either by smelling the animals or by hearing the playful noises of seal pups.

Once a polar bear catches a seal, it only consumes the blubber, as the rest of the animal does not provide enough nutrition

Seals, being mammals, also need to surface regularly to breathe. Polar bears often wait patiently by a breathing hole, ready to strike with a powerful swipe as soon as a seal emerges. Once a polar bear catches a seal, it only consumes the blubber, as the rest of the animal does not provide enough nutrition. The remains are left on the ice, offering scavengers like arctic foxes and gulls a free meal. However, due to climate change, the sea ice is steadily decreasing, making it increasingly difficult for polar bears to catch their prey.

 

Beechey Island

Meanwhile, the Fram continues its journey through Lancaster Sound. Soon, Beechey Island comes into view, the iconic location where the 129 crew members of the Franklin Expedition spent their first winter in 1845-1846. The weather is sunny, the wind mild, and visibility almost unlimited – perfect conditions for an outdoor barbecue, as we learn over the PA system shortly after noon. A quarter of an hour later, we find ourselves on deck 7, with a warm hamburger in one hand and a glass of red wine in the other, reflecting on both the past and the present. What would John Franklin and his crew think if they could see us here now?

What would John Franklin and his crew think if they could see us here now?

Beechey Island

Beechey Island is indeed a very special place, one of the most famous sites in Arctic Canada, as archaeologist Emma reminded us last night. Remnants of the ill-fated expedition are still present here. The most striking are, of course, the three graves – John Torrington, 20 years old, who died on New Year's Day 1846, John Hartnell, 25, who died three days later, and William Braine, 32, who passed away on April 1 of that same year.

There's also a fourth grave, that of Thomas Morgan, a man who was part of a rescue mission sent to find the Franklin Expedition members but succumbed to scurvy himself in 1854.

Further south on the island lies the cenotaph of Franklin, the symbolic tomb of the expedition leader whose body was never found

John Franklin

Beechey Island – Franklin's Cenotaph, Ruins of Northumberland House

Further south on the island lies the cenotaph of Franklin, the symbolic tomb of the expedition leader whose body was never found. You can also find the ruins of Northumberland House, a structure built from the wood and masts of a wrecked whaling ship. It was constructed by members of a search expedition in 1852-1853, in the vain hope that the missing Franklin crew might somehow return to Beechey Island, despite the fact that the expedition had been missing for seven years by then.

In the meantime, our scouts are preparing to explore the island. The terrain is open and it's clear that no danger lurks. Disembarkation starts at two, with the zodiacs smoothly depositing their groups one by one onto the pebble beach.

We, however, have other plans. We get the chance to join Betty and Vivi in their Science Boat – a euphemism for a zodiac with a number of measuring instruments on board. We've heard them talk often about taking water samples, and now we get to see firsthand how it's done.

Science Boat is a euphemism for a zodiac with a number of measuring instruments on board

Erebus and Terror Bay – Science Boat

Niskin bottle

The zodiac driver steers our Science Boat toward the middle of the bay, aptly named Erebus and Terror Bay after the two ships of the Franklin Expedition. The water here is about eighteen meters deep, while further in Lancaster Sound, it reaches a depth of around a hundred meters, explains guest scientist Betty from the British Antarctic Survey.

Her favourite instrument is the Niskin bottle – reliable, easy to use, and does exactly what it’s supposed to, says Betty. Originally designed in 1894 by Fridtjof Nansen, the bottle was improved in 1966 by Shale Niskin, who patented the enhancements. This tool allows you to collect water samples at any desired depth. You can then determine the DNA of organisms found in that water sample. Most invasive species that travel as stowaways on ships like ours fail to survive here due to the cold. However, with global warming, some organisms are starting to succeed. That’s why it’s important to detect this vanguard early and combat them before they can spread in this ecosystem.

With global warming, some invasive species are gradually succeeding in surviving in this cold habitat

Niskin bottle

Transferring water sample

So much for the theory – now the practice. The Niskin bottle turns out to be an opaque tube, open at both the top and bottom. It's weighted with ballast and then lowered into the water. Betty knows when it has reached the desired depth of ten meters by markings on the rope. She then releases the messenger, a solid block of copper that quickly slides down the rope, triggering a mechanism that snaps the bottle shut at both ends. The bottle is hauled up, and its contents – 1,7 litres of water from a depth of ten meters – are poured into an opaque aluminium bag. Betty repeats this process two more times to obtain three water samples.

Next, Vivi, our Finnish conservation biologist, brings out a CTD device. This more sophisticated instrument, as the name suggests, measures Conductivity, Temperature, and Depth. In this context, conductivity is used as a measure of the water’s salinity. Additionally, there’s a sensor that measures chlorophyll fluorescence, which is an indicator of the photosynthesis happening in algae. This gives an idea of the concentration of phytoplankton in the water.

As soon as the CTD is back above the surface, we can see the results displayed in a graph

CTD

CTD

Carefully, Vivi lowers the CTD into the water, and the measurements are transmitted in real-time to her tablet. As soon as the CTD is back above the surface, we can see the results displayed in a graph. While the probe descended to a depth of fourteen meters, the water temperature dropped from 2,7 °C to 2,2 °C (36,9 °F to 36,0 °F). The salinity turns out to be 30 ‰. For comparison, the average salinity of the oceans is 35 ‰, and that of the Dead Sea is 250 ‰. The slightly lower salinity in this bay is undoubtedly due to the fresh water from melting glaciers.

 

Collecting phytoplankton

Finally, a funnel-shaped net is lowered into the water – not too deep, as the goal is to collect plankton from just below the surface. Betty plans to determine the DNA of the organisms collected, identifying the species present and checking for any exotic ones. She invites us to smell the catch – the scent of shrimp is overwhelming.

At three thirty, we are dropped off on the shores of Beechey Island. At 74° 43' 15", this is the northernmost point where we will set foot. For comparison, Longyearbyen, the capital of Svalbard, is at 78° 13'.

It's haunting to think that 129 crew members braved the polar winter here for months

Beechey Island – Graves of the Franklin expedition

As we climb toward the four graves, we become aware of how strange, otherworldly, and even hostile this place feels. All we see, as far as the eye can reach, are pebbles and shale. The many shallow pits and trenches are a result of permafrost – the eternal cycle of freezing and thawing that shifts the stones.

Here and there, a brave little plant pokes its head up, but that's the rare exception. This land is barren; nothing grows here. Don't forget to look at the ground, our Canadian biologist Christian had said last night in a moment of optimism, you’ll probably spot some beautifully fossilized corals.

It's haunting to think that 129 crew members braved the polar winter here for months. We can hardly imagine what it must have been like to wait in this freezing, pitch-black environment, fearing that silent killers like pneumonia, tuberculosis, or scurvy might strike before spring. The men didn’t even know that lead poisoning was a real threat.

These three men, Emma concludes, almost certainly died a very slow, very hungry, and very cold death

John Torrington

William Braine

John Hartnell

Thomas Morgan

These are not the original headstones, notes archaeologist Emma, those were taken to the Prince of Wales Northern Heritage Centre in Yellowknife and replaced with fiberglass replicas. However, the replicas couldn’t withstand the harsh climate, so in 1993, they were replaced with the current oak versions, featuring bronze plaques.

It was here, in 1984, that Owen Beattie, a forensic anthropologist from the University of Alberta, excavated the three bodies from the permafrost and examined them, using mobile X-ray equipment among other tools. His research revealed that pneumonia and tuberculosis were the primary causes of death, but lead poisoning and vitamin C deficiency likely exacerbated their conditions. Additionally, the deterioration of the skeletons indicated a prolonged illness or starvation. These three men, Emma concludes, almost certainly died a very slow, very hungry, and very cold death.

Nowhere else is the landscape so deeply infused with the heroic history of the early adventurers who sought the Northwest Passage

Beechey Island – Cairn of Joseph René Bellot

Further ahead stands a simple, somewhat disordered cairn that commemorates the fate of Joseph René Bellot, a French naval officer who participated in one of the search expeditions in 1853, but tragically lost his life when he suddenly disappeared into an opening between the ice masses in the Wellington Channel. Unavoidably, we now think of Dixie Dansercoer, the famous Belgian explorer who met a similar fate in Greenland in 2021.

While the graves remind us of death, the tent rings symbolize life, she philosophically concludes

Tent rings

Inuit also once stayed on this island, as evidenced by the well-preserved tent rings. In summer, Inuit hunters would set up temporary camps with skin tents, which were secured with stones around the base. These stones still lie in perfect circular form, standing against the test of time, with the tent entrance facing the sea. These tent rings definitely date from after Franklin's expedition and the subsequent search expeditions, as among the artefacts lies worked wood, which could only have come from European expeditions. Emma takes this opportunity to end on an optimistic note. While the graves remind us of death, the tent rings symbolize life, she philosophically concludes.

 

Round depressions and long trenches caused by permafrost

We climb further over terrain that consists of nothing but loose shale and pebbles. Everywhere, we can see the effects of permafrost – round depressions and long trenches. A large rectangular pit, at least ten by ten meters, appears to have been man-made. Emma suspects this was where the Franklin expedition stored its supplies.

Occasionally, we find fossilized ‘corals’ among the stones – rocks with tiny ring-like structures on the surface, resembling craters on the moon

Fossilised ‘corals’

Occasionally, we find fossilized ‘corals’ among the stones – rocks with tiny ring-like structures on the surface, resembling craters on the moon. Strictly speaking, it's not the corals themselves that are fossilized, but the limestone apartments that these tiny sea creatures – known as polyps – built for themselves.

At the top of the hill, we have a fine view of the surroundings. Fine, but not spectacular. In fact, there’s little or nothing to see on this barren, windswept island – at least not if you’re looking for imposing glaciers, impressive rock formations, or abundant tundra vegetation. Yet, this is a highlight of the journey. Nowhere else is the landscape so deeply infused with the heroic history of the early adventurers who sought the Northwest Passage. And for those who look closely, there is much to see – the mysterious depressions caused by permafrost, the tiny fragments of a coral reef, the historic graves, the cenotaphs, and more.

 

Tundra vegetation

And the belugas. To our surprise, three belugas are circling around Union Bay, the bay just north of Beechey Island. Occasionally, they surface in a graceful movement with their white backs showing above the water, but from this distance, they are hard to spot.

White whales, these beautiful creatures are sometimes called. In fact, they are toothed whales, like orcas and dolphins, but together with narwhals, they belong to the Monodontidae, being the only two species in that small family. Males can grow up to 5,5 meters, making them larger than dolphins but smaller than ‘true’ whales.

 

Union Bay – Belugas

They no longer have a dorsal fin, as it would only cause problems when swimming under the ice. Thanks to echolocation, they can easily find breathing holes in the sea ice. After all, they are mammals and need to breathe. But that’s also where danger lies. Near such a hole, a polar bear may be lurking, eager for beluga meat, particularly their thick layer of subcutaneous fat. With its powerful front paws, an adult male polar bear can easily swipe a beluga out of the water. And then there are the orcas, who also enjoy having a beluga on their menu.

And then there are the orcas, who also enjoy having a beluga on their menu

Of course, humans are also part of this list of beluga enemies – indirectly through ocean pollution and climate change, and directly by hunting and killing belugas. Belugas are also kept in captivity. With their perpetual smile, they are popular in aquariums and dolphinariums, especially because they are easy to train and charm audiences with their smooth, graceful movements.

At four thirty, we are back on board the Fram. We learn during the evening briefing that our westward course through Lancaster Sound has now come to an end. Over the next three days, we will primarily head south towards King William Island – yet another iconic site in the dramatic history of exploring the Northwest Passage. The eternal light of the polar day will gradually fade, and we will once again spend our nights in darkness.

But we're not there yet. First, we will sail into Prince Regent Inlet, a wide waterway that will take us due south between Baffin Island and Somerset Island. To the first explorers, this seemed like the Holy Grail. This sea strait is between sixty to one hundred kilometres wide and deep, with no small islands to hinder passage – ideal for navigation.

When John Ross tried his luck in 1829, he got stuck in the ice for four consecutive years and was forced to winter there each time

However, despite their efforts, they could not find a way westward. When John Ross tried his luck in 1829, he got stuck in the ice for four consecutive years and was forced to winter there each time. It must have been an ordeal for his crew. What they didn’t know, and we do, is that the narrow Bellot Strait offers a way out. It was only discovered in 1852, but even that didn’t provide much relief, as the strait was blocked by ice and was impassable. However, that is hardly a problem these days.

Our first destination tomorrow will be Port Leopold, a small inlet on Somerset Island, located at the northern tip of Prince Regent Inlet. There, we will find an abandoned Hudson’s Bay Company trading post, winter houses, and tent rings from the Thule people, as well as remains from the James Ross expedition that overwintered here in 1848 while searching for Franklin. And, let's not forget, we are still in polar bear territory.

Sounds promising.

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Sunday, August 27 | Port Leopold – Prince Regent Inlet

Six forty. We round Whaler Point with a wide arc, entering the bay of Port Leopold. To the east, Cape Clarence rises like a failed tabletop mountain, standing guard over the bay. On the western side, the layered coastal mountains of Somerset Island dominate the landscape. But between these two ranges, the wind has free rein from the north – and we’ll feel it. The sky is clear, no fog in sight, but there’s a light drizzle. We’re informed that the temperature is 3 °C (37,4 °F), and the wind is blowing at a brisk 10 meters per second.

To the east, Cape Clarence rises like a failed tabletop mountain, standing guard over the bay

Port Leopold – Cape Clarence, Whaler Point

The preparations for landing proceed smoothly, and shortly after nine, the first zodiacs head towards the pebbled beach. In line with AECO guidelines, the second group won’t depart until ten thirty, once the first shift is back on board, since no more than 100 people are allowed onshore at the same time in the Arctic.

 

Somerset Island

The zodiac ride to the beach is bumpy, thanks to the strong winds ripping across the water without hindrance. Our zodiac driver is bundled up like a Tuareg expecting a desert storm. Yet, the sun seems determined to break through, and the rain has stopped.

 

Port Leopold – Trading post of Hudson’s Bay Company

Port Leopold – Trading post of Hudson’s Bay Company

We disembark near the remains of the old Hudson's Bay Company trading post. It’s a ramshackle wooden structure, barely standing after all these years. Entering the hut is out of the question. Besides, the trading post was only in operation for about a year before the Inuit secured hunting rights, quickly bringing the Company’s activities to an end.

 

Port Leopold, Somerset Island

Just like on Beechey Island, the beach here is predominantly made up of slate stones. They crunch and slide over one another with each step we take, leaving tiny pits behind. Occasionally, the rock fragments are arranged in a neat row with narrow gaps in between, as a result of the eternal process of freezing and thawing. As if they were slices of a fresh loaf of bread that has just been through the bread slicer.

As if they were slices of a fresh loaf of bread that has just been through the bread slicer

Result of the eternal process of freezing and thawing

Although the landscape here does not appear as inhospitable as Beechey Island, it would be an exaggeration to call the tundra vegetation lush. Nevertheless, it is clear that the tiny plants here find it easier to take root. The bleached fragments of what seems to be a solid thigh bone or a vertebra also suggest that the local fauna frequents this area.

 

 

 

 

Here and there are objects that we would normally call junk, but in this historical context have gained the status of artefacts. Most striking are the rusty cast iron stove rings that have each taken on a life of their own in a bizarre way. A disordered cairn from 1974 reminds us of Franklin’s expedition and the many search efforts for potential survivors. A row of gasoline barrels stands ready on the beach, prepared to assist any helicopters in distress.

Here and there are objects that we would normally call junk, but in this historical context have gained the status of artefacts

Cultural artefacts

A little further, there are three Inuit graves. They are hard to recognize as such because there are few stones and barely any noticeable mound of earth. Each grave has a cross, made of worked wood, which suggests that these graves date from after the Franklin expedition and the search missions. Perhaps it was Inuit who came here to trade their products, according to Emma

 

Three Inuit graves

Shortly after noon, we are back on board the Fram and continue our journey through Prince Regent Inlet. In fact, this marks the beginning of the final phase of our expedition through the Northwest Passage – the area where Franklin met his downfall, and which only Roald Amundsen eventually was able to open up.

We are approaching the area where Franklin met his downfall, and which only Roald Amundsen was eventually able to open up

Arctic skua

However, our route will slightly deviate from the path those early explorers followed. While they travelled southward through Peel Sound to the west of Somerset Island, we are opting for the route via Prince Regent Inlet to the east of the island. And we have a good reason for this. Peel Sound is a relatively shallow waterway that can sometimes still be partially frozen during the summer. So, we prefer to head south through Prince Regent Inlet. From there, we’ll pass through Bellot Strait, south of Somerset Island, to once again follow in Amundsen's footsteps for the rest of our journey.

Early explorers travelled southward through Peel Sound to the west of Somerset Island, but we will not. And we have a good reason for this

Somerset Island

In the meantime, the Fram is cruising steadily southward at just over eleven knots, following a straight course parallel to the perfectly vertical cliffs of Somerset Island’s coastline. It's impressive how the sediment layers are stacked, two or three hundred meters high, in a perfectly orderly structure, vertically intersected by erosion channels. At the top, a layer of eternal snow covers the brown rocks. Here and there, a tongue of snow winds its way down through one of the channels. They will never grow into glaciers, these white ice formations, but they do add some colour to the landscape.

Imagine the spectacle during the Paleozoic Era, hundreds of millions of years ago, when these sediment layers spread over such a vast area

Prince Regent Inlet – Somerset Island – Cliff coast stretching for twenty-five kilometres

This scenery stretches endlessly, with the same geological formations extending for 25 kilometres off the starboard side. Imagine the spectacle during the Paleozoic Era, hundreds of millions of years ago, when these sediment layers spread over such a vast area.

After lunch, we head down to the Science Centre on Deck 4. We’re curious to see how the water samples we collected yesterday from Erebus and Terror Bay are coming along. Our German marine biologist, Katrin, is the person to ask. She’s already hard at work with the Zeiss Stereo Discovery V8, an impressive optical microscope. As soon as she places a petri dish containing a sample of the water under the lens, the results appear on a screen on the wall. If you look through the two eyepieces of the microscope, you get the same amazing view, but in three dimensions. Strange-looking white dots, filaments, strands, and objects seem to float against a black background.

Strange-looking white dots, filaments, strands, and objects seem to float against a black background

Water samples

What we are mostly seeing are diatoms. These are single-celled organisms found worldwide in both salt and freshwater. They use photosynthesis and collectively produce 20 to 50 % of the oxygen on Earth. So, there’s a good chance that the oxygen we’re breathing right now comes from diatoms.

However, what excites Katrin most is that she can bring into focus a specimen of dinoflagellates. These are also single-celled organisms, but they aren’t classified as animals, plants, or fungi. Taxonomically, they belong to their own supergroup. According to Katrin, they are strange creatures. Some subspecies aren’t afraid to eat one another or act like vampires. Some even have a kind of harpoon to kill other organisms.

A beautiful sight is that of a calanus hyperboreus, a transparent, bluish copepod about 4 to 5 mm long

Zeiss Stereo Discovery V8

Calanus hyperboreus (tail not visible on the left)

A beautiful sight is that of a Calanus hyperboreus, a transparent, bluish copepod about 4 to 5 mm long. These creatures can be found near the water's surface but also at depths of up to 5 000 meters. To reproduce, females release a batch of 50 to 150 unfertilized eggs between October and March, during the polar winter, at depths of 200 to 500 meters. The males then know their role.

We can also clearly see fibres on the screen. What happens with those? Guest scientist Betty explains that her goal isn’t to identify all these microplastics. Instead, she will conduct a quantitative analysis and monitor the changes over time. Incidentally, this is the first year this study is being conducted.

Can we do anything to avoid microplastics in the ocean if they are so widespread, even in the purest drinking water?

Can we do anything to avoid microplastics in the ocean if they are so widespread, even in the purest drinking water? Well, Betty suggests, we can take precautions – wear clothing made from natural materials, wash clothes less frequently, use a washing bag that traps fibres, and avoid using plastic bags when shopping.

In the west, the horizon turns a reddish-orange under a nearly cloudless sky. Slowly, the sun dips behind the coastal mountains of Somerset Island. Soon, it will disappear entirely, and night will blanket these waters. It reminds us that we’ve travelled quite far south and that the regular rhythm of day and night has returned.

By early tomorrow morning, we’ll arrive at the eastern entrance of Bellot Strait, expedition leader Maria explains during the evening briefing. This is the strait Franklin didn’t even know existed, and Amundsen couldn’t use because it was frozen. We will pass through it, but with caution. Navigating Bellot Strait is delicate, as it’s very narrow – only 700 meters wide. The tidal currents that rush through this narrow passage can reach very high speeds – up to 8 knots or 15 km/h. If your ship has a cruising speed of 12 knots, you need to account for this.

Navigating Bellot Strait is delicate, as it’s very narrow – only 700 meters wide

Experienced navigation officers know how to handle this, though. You just have to time it right with nature. At high tide, seawater flows in one direction, and at low tide, it flows out in the opposite direction. There is a turning point, a moment when the tidal current changes direction, and at that time, the net water speed is zero.

 

Prince Regent Inlet – Somerset Island

The Fram will take advantage of this timing tomorrow morning. The tide table shows that high tide will occur at 7:51 a.m. The Fram will be ready, and around a quarter to eight, we will enter Bellot Strait. About an hour and a half later, we will reach Franklin Strait at the western end of the channel. From there, it’s more than 200 nautical miles, or 370 kilometres, southward to Gjøa Havn, our next destination. Meteorologists expect the air temperature to be around 5 °C (41 °F), with wind speeds of 5 m/s. And, Maria adds with a smile, we might even see belugas or narwhals along the way.

Amundsen was simply of a different calibre, according to Benjamin, standing head and shoulders above other explorers

This puts us back on the trail of Roald Amundsen, the man who finally succeeded in navigating the full Northwest Passage in 1906. After John Cabot, Henry Hudson, and John Franklin, Amundsen is the fourth and final explorer whose remarkable feats our historian Benjamin will share with us in his captivating style.

It took four centuries. Four centuries of explorers searching for a route from the Atlantic Ocean to the Bering Strait. That it was Roald Amundsen who finally claimed this achievement was no coincidence. Amundsen was simply of a different calibre, according to Benjamin, standing head and shoulders above other explorers.

Born in 1872 as the fourth son of a wealthy Norwegian family, Amundsen grew up in a country that, in fact, didn’t exist at the time. Norway was part of the United Kingdom of Sweden and Norway, a union in which Sweden held all the power, leaving Norwegians with little influence. Many Norwegians actively sought independence.

What captivated Amundsen were the exploits of John Franklin. He devoured Franklin's travel journals and even wrote a letter to the world-famous explorer

Amundsen’s father, Jens, was a shipping magnate and owned a fleet of ships. Money wasn’t an issue, and Roald received the best education, although he wasn’t particularly remarkable in school. What captivated him were the exploits of John Franklin. He devoured Franklin's travel journals and even wrote a letter to the world-famous explorer. At night, he always slept with the window open, no matter how cold it was outside.

A turning point in his life came when his father died when Roald was fourteen. This event deeply affected the young Amundsen, making him more resilient and independent. Despite his own desires, he enrolled in medical school – not for himself, but to fulfil his mother’s wishes. His father had died aboard a ship, and his mother was determined to prevent her youngest son from meeting the same fate at all costs.

 

Prince Regent Inlet – Somerset Island

But Amundsen’s fascination with the Northwest Passage remained undiminished. By then, after twenty years of searching for remnants of the Franklin expedition, people had a fairly good idea of where the passage might be found, but no one had yet managed to prove it. For the young Amundsen, this remained a challenge.

It was Cook who saved the crew from scurvy by insisting they eat raw seal and penguin meat

When his mother passed away in 1893, Roald did not hesitate. He hung up his stethoscope, completed his military service, and in the summer of 1894, he joined the sailing ship Magdalena as a sailor. In 1897, he embarked on the Belgica as First Mate, second in command, for Adrien de Gerlache’s Belgian expedition to the Antarctic Peninsula. It was a unique and unparalleled learning experience, as the ship became trapped in the ice for over a year.

During the long, dark polar night, Amundsen gained invaluable knowledge. The American explorer and physician Frederick Cook played a crucial role, saving the crew from scurvy by insisting they eat raw seal and penguin meat, especially the liver, which is rich in vitamin C. He also pioneered a form of light therapy avant la lettre to combat winter depression, having the men sit bare-chested in front of a glowing stove.

He also pioneered a form of light therapy avant la lettre to combat winter depression

Amundsen was now ready to lead his own expedition, and he had set his sights on the Northwest Passage. With the help of the renowned explorer Fridtjof Nansen, he sought out a ship. It had to be strong, yet affordable, as Amundsen would be funding it with his modest inheritance. The ship he found was the Gjøa, an old herring boat of only 46 tons, built the same year Amundsen was born. He installed a 13-horsepower diesel engine – a stark contrast to the 60-horsepower motors of today’s modest zodiacs.

Small-scale exploration was Amundsen’s principle. A small boat would allow him to easily approach the coast in search of food. He recruited only six highly experienced crew members – a far cry from Franklin's expedition, which consisted of two large ships and 134 mostly inexperienced men.

For two years, Amundsen meticulously prepared for the expedition, assembling his crew and stockpiling food. His preparation was nothing short of perfectionist. He would later famously say that there is no such thing as bad luck, only bad preparation.

Like a thief in the night, he quietly left the port of Kristiania, present day Oslo, just after midnight on June 17, 1903

Amundsen’s inheritance was no longer enough to finance the venture. Reluctantly, he had to seek sponsorship, despite his deep dislike for publicity. He avoided sharing much information about his plans in advance, which made securing funds even harder. It got to the point where his creditors threatened to seize his ship. Seeing his cherished project fall apart like that was out of the question for Amundsen. So, like a thief in the night, he quietly left the port of Kristiania, today’s Oslo, just after midnight on June 17, 1903.

In Godthåb, today’s Nuuk, the capital of Greenland, Amundsen bought twenty sled dogs and related equipment – sleds, whips, and copper harnesses. Instead of crossing Baffin Bay at its widest point like Franklin had, he carefully followed the Greenland coast northward. Sailing through Melville Bay, one of the roughest waters in the world, he reached Cape York, Greenland. On the tiny rock island of Dalrymple Rock, he picked up 105 crates of provisions left for him by Scottish whalers. It’s almost unimaginable – seven men, twenty dogs, and 105 crates on a ship just 21,3 meters long and less than six meters wide.

Not only did the geomagnetic North Pole not align with the geographic North Pole, but it also appeared to be shifting

The expeditions of John Franklin (1845 – ?) and Roald Amundsen (1903 – 1905)

The heavily loaded Gjøa then crossed Baffin Bay and followed Lancaster Sound westward. On August 22, the crew landed on Beechey Island, where Franklin had wintered nearly sixty years earlier – a deeply emotional moment for Roald Amundsen. In his diary he referred to it as a sanctuary for polar exploration. He would spent the evening in meditation.

Amundsen had a greater ambition than simply being the first to conquer the Northwest Passage

From there, the expedition continued south through Peel Sound. At that point, Amundsen could have sailed west through ice-free waters, achieving his goal of being the first to navigate the Northwest Passage. But, as Benjamin explained, he had a greater ambition than simply being the first to conquer the passage.

One of the major scientific questions of the time was the position of the geomagnetic North Pole. Not only did it not align with the geographic North Pole, but it also appeared to be shifting. In 1904, the geomagnetic pole was located on the west coast of the Boothia Peninsula, and Amundsen was perfectly positioned to study it. This had been part of his plan from the beginning. Before leaving Kristiania, Amundsen had met with Professor Georg von Neumayer in Hamburg, a world expert in geomagnetism, to receive a crash course in the field.

Now the task was to find a suitable place to overwinter. On September 9, they arrived at a bay on the south coast of King William Island. Nearby, there were rivers with fresh water, as well as an abundance of wildlife like ptarmigans, geese, and reindeer. Food wouldn't be an issue. There were also remnants of an Inuit camp, which reassured Amundsen that this was a safe place to settle. Today, we know this location as Gjøa Haven, a small settlement with about 1 300 inhabitants.

Over time, Amundsen learned how to build a four-person igloo in just two hours

Not just one, but two full winters Amundsen stayed in Gjøa Haven to study the movement of the geomagnetic North Pole. During that time, he also immersed himself in learning everything he could from the local Inuit. This tribe, the Netsilik, was one of the most isolated groups in the Canadian Arctic. For generations they had been entirely self-sufficient, and Amundsen knew that if anyone could teach him how to survive in the harsh polar climate, it would be them.

One key lesson was about clothing. European clothes were useless once they got wet. But with caribou or seal skins, it was a different story. Fur was warmer, more comfortable, self-cleaning, and half the weight of European clothing. For warm feet, the Inuit stuffed their boots with reindeer-hide socks lined with grass.

Tents were also inadequate at temperatures of –40 °C (–40 °F), as the wind would blow right through them. Igloos, on the other hand, were far more effective. Over time, Amundsen learned how to build a four-person igloo in just two hours – a feat that took the Netsilik only thirty minutes.

Instead of hitching the dogs in pairs, as was common in Scandinavia, the Inuit used a fan-shaped arrangement

Dog sleds were the ideal mode of transportation in the Arctic, something Amundsen already knew. However, instead of hitching the dogs in pairs, as was common in Scandinavia, the Inuit used a fan-shaped arrangement. This was safer if a dog suddenly fell through thin ice, and it allowed for quickly releasing the dogs if they spotted prey. Rubbing a thin layer of water on the sled runners before departure, this water would immediately freeze and make the sled glide more smoothly.

 

Prince Regent Inlet – Somerset Island

When Amundsen decided to spend a second winter in Gjøa Haven, it did not sit well with the six other crew members. His strict prohibition of sexual contact with Inuit women had also caused dissatisfaction. Nonetheless, they endured. Finally, on August 13, 1905, nearly two years after arriving, they continued their journey westward.

33-year-old Amundsen asked them to guess his age. They estimated between 59 and 77 years, reflecting the toll the journey had taken on him

Simpson Strait, a shallow 64-kilometer waterway filled with small islands and drifting ice, was their first challenge. Dense fog limited visibility, making navigation treacherous. For four days, Amundsen remained constantly alert, barely sleeping. On August 17, they reached Cambridge Bay, the settlement on Victoria Island which will be our final destination next Thursday.

The breakthrough came on August 26, when the Gjøa reached open water in what is now called the Amundsen Gulf. When they spotted the whaling ship Charles Hansson from San Francisco in the distance, they knew they had successfully navigated the Northwest Passage. Upon meeting the crew of the Charles Hansson, the 33-year-old Amundsen asked them to guess his age. They estimated between 59 and 77 years, reflecting the toll the journey had taken on him.

Reaching Nome on the Bering Strait coast now seemed like a final easy leg of the trip. But it was not. Advancing sea ice blocked their path. On September 1, they were forced to make landfall at King Point and spend a third winter there, alongside the crews of twelve other ships.

Amundsen, however, was restless. The fact that he had completed the Northwest Passage had to be made public immediately. The nearest telegraph station was in Fort Yukon, about 500 kilometres south, through the snowy wilderness. This daunting challenge did not deter him. A month later, he arrived in Fort Yukon, only to learn that there was no telegraph station there. He had to continue to Eagle City, over 250 kilometres upstream along the Yukon River. Again he was not discouraged. It is the man's hallmark – his ambition, his perseverance, his fearlessness.

Amundsen was penniless and could not afford to send the telegram

Finally, on December 5, he managed to send his message. Even that was a close call – Amundsen was penniless and could not afford to send the telegram. However, the telegraph operator, recognizing the significance of the news, agreed to send it for free. Norway, which had just gained its independence, erupted in celebration. The nation could now boast a world-class achievement, and the new king had every reason to be proud. In a gesture of goodwill, Amundsen’s creditors even forgave his debts.

 

Prince Regent Inlet – Sunset over Somerset Island (72° 35’ N)

For the sixth and final time, we have to turn the clock back an hour – three o’clock becomes two o’clock. That means we are already eight hours behind Belgium.

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Jaak Palmans
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