North to the Pole (well, almost!)

Most sailors in the northern latitudes are out sailing by the beginning of June. We were still in Tromsø studying ice reports and contemplating our planned voyage north to the Svalbard archipelago, about 600 miles north from the Norwegian mainland. To make it worse, there had been one or two really lovely spring days in town and we were getting antsy to leave. Svalbard weather reports didn’t look that promising, some of the fjords were still blocked with ice and the temperature was hovering around 0-2C with snow showers. After a long, dark winter we were relishing some summer weather, not more winter. We started to second-guess our decision to head north. After all, when we’d arrived in Tromsø last fall, we hadn’t intended to travel any further north. We’d heard about Svalbard, but, thought it would be far beyond the capabilities of both us and our fibreglass boat. In addition, there seemed to be a high degree of regulation and bureaucracy involved as well.

This is an ice report from May 23. Most of the fjords are ‘fast ice’ with ‘drift ice’ all along the western coastline. Note the ‘?’ just north of the island at the bottom, this really instilled a lot of confidence!

After doing some more study and talking to others about it, it seemed that it would be ok to go in a fibreglass boat, as long as we stayed on the west coast of Spitsbergen, the main island, paid attention to the ice charts and didn’t put ourselves in any places where there was a good likelihood of being trapped by ice. The other caveat was to keep a good watch to avoid hitting any floating ice which would be quite likely to punch a good-sized hole in our hull. After reflecting on our crossing of the North Atlantic and North Sea last year, we thought sea conditions and the actual sailing couldn’t be much worse than we’d already experienced, so, we decided to head north. However, this decision came with a string attached, we promised ourselves we could go as long as it didn’t impede our decision to be somewhere warmer for next winter. This put a time constraint on our visit as we wanted to be entering Sweden and the Baltic around the beginning of August. To get north and back again required leaving Tromsø around mid-June.

The days dragged along and a week of grey skies came back to Tromsø adding to our dismal mood. Should we go, or, shouldn’t we, it was constantly on our minds. Finally, a weather window opened up, a whole week of sunshine and fair winds was forecast and we were off. A busy final few days ensued, closing up our affairs, doing last-minute provisioning and saying sad farewells to the good friends we had met over the winter. I had heard that constantly having to say goodbye is one of the hardest parts of cruising and that has proven to be the case for us as well. We departed on Thursday, June 9, to do a three day mini shakedown cruise prior to leaving the security of the mainland for the voyage north.

Leaving Tromsø gave us a fine view of the oil rig that had been towed in for repairs.

The warm, sunny weather arrived on schedule and we had a delightful three days cruising east to Skjervøy, the small town where Nansen’s ship Fram returned in 1896 after her polar circuit. The town has a stunning setting with a well-sheltered natural harbour surrounded by tall, snow-covered peaks. We thoroughly enjoyed sitting outside in the sunny cockpit for the first time this year, watching the fishing boats come and go. G casually waved at a fisherman in a nice-looking boat. Later, the fisherman came over to chat and brought us a gift of about two kilos of freshly caught shrimp! Fresh shrimp (‘ferske reker’) are sold off the back of fishing boats all over Norway and are usually consumed with a mayonnaise-like dressing for dipping. To be honest, I’m sounding ungrateful, but, as much as we appreciated the gift, we didn’t appreciate all the head, leg and tail peeling prior to eating. Also, the shrimp are cooked on the boat already and we found them way too salty, they must have been cooked in salt water. Anyway, it was a lovely gesture and much-appreciated, in spite of our squeamishness.

After visiting Skjervøy, we made a short side-trip to the Jokelfjord glacier, the only remaining glacier in mainland Europe to calve into the sea. We experienced our first taste of sailing with ice in the water here, it was exciting at the time but proved rather tame with what was to come later.

Jokelfjord glacier

We made our final preparations for sea and left the mainland on Sunday, June 12 to head north out into the Norwegian Sea. Almost immediately, all the bad memories of our North Atlantic crossing came back with a vengeance. First, our choice of exit point could have been better. We exited through an area of the coastline known to have potential for severe wind over current turbulence. The last remaining vestiges of the North American Gulf Stream run along the north coast of Norway, known as the Norwegian Current in this location. There had been a near gale the night before and although the wind was now only about twenty knots, the sea was still very confused. We were getting thrown around in what can only be described as what it must feel like to be in a washing machine. We know it’s bad when the crockery starts breaking and we lost a souvenir coffee mug we’d only just purchased. We tried sailing until the wind eventually died, we tried motoring, that was worse. In the end, we basically just hung on as we pounded into the head seas. Then, things started to fail. We went to put the Monitor windvane air paddle on and the handle broke off and fell into the sea. The Windex monitor at the top of the mast broke in half and fell off. G noticed the new bilge pump seemed to be on all the time. He didn’t want it to burn out, so, he turned it off. Within ten minutes the bilge was full and there was water over the cabin sole (and over our newly installed propane gas monitor sensor). We madly started hand-bailing into the galley sinks and pumping it overboard from there. Once we’d cleared the water, it didn’t come back. We can’t figure this out. We thought originally it was being caused by excessive wave action over the bow and maybe coming in through the hawse pipes and/or chain locker somehow, but, there is just nowhere for it to get in. A clue from this recurrence was that it seems to stop when we slow the boat down and lessen the amount of heel. So, now we think it might be some kind of back-siphon via a through-hull, but, we’re not sure where or how. This is a mystery that may never get solved. At least having experienced it once before, this time didn’t induce quite the same level of panic as the first time!

Next was the near collision with a freighter. At ten minutes to CPA (closest point of approach), I called the other boat to find out their intentions for passing. The first words I spoke on the VHF blew a fuse and the radio went dead! After a mad scrabble through the ditch bag, I pulled out the handheld VHF and made contact to ask whether he was planning to pass us ahead or astern. He said ‘ahead’ and then added ‘I think’, very confidence-inspiring. It was ahead, but, so close we could almost see the whites of his eyes on the bridge. We have never passed so close to a boat before. Normally, we try and stay out of their way and would have taken evading action much earlier, but, in the severe waves we were in, we were afraid of a broach, or, a knockdown and as we were the stand-on boat, thought it better to maintain our course and speed and let him make the minor adjustment required to pass astern of us. At this point, we had one of those moments where you question ‘why am I doing this’ and almost turned back.

By the next day, the waves had reduced in size by ½ and were generally now all coming from the same direction. We were far enough offshore to be away from the confused seas and all the local shipping. What a relief. It was grey, cloudy and cool, but, we had winds from just the right direction and we sailed for almost three days, on the rhumb line, between 5-6 knots without having to touch the sails, or, the windvane, the entire time. We made the best day’s mileage ever and it was great. More of the same please! The skies cleared off just enough for us to spot Bjørnøya (Bear Island) on the way. This is a bird sanctuary island located conveniently ½ way to Spitsbergen. We had originally planned to stop here, but, due to the uncertainty surrounding the location of the pack ice to the east, we thought it was better to stay well west and we passed it about thirty-five miles off. We were unable to see Sørkapp (South Cape) on Spitsbergen due to poor visibility. When land finally hove into view, it was a most peculiar sight with a low, horizontal band of cloud cutting off the tops of the mountains from the mid-way point, but, with the light underneath the clouds somehow still glowing and reflecting off the bands of snow cover.

first view of Spitsbergen

At this point, our favourable wind started to fail and we were into the ‘normal’ wind pattern for Svalbard at this time of year, light and variable. We fiddled about with the sails a bit, then, decided to start the motor and get into Longyearbyen, the main town and administrative centre for Svalbard.

Svalbard is located at the junction of three seas: the Greenland Sea, Norwegian Sea and Barents Sea. It is an island archipelago and is the nearest it is possible to sail to the North Pole, just 600M further north from its north coast. 60% of it is glacier and only 6-7% can support any plant life due to permafrost. In 1920, sovereignty over Svalbard was granted to Norway and Norwegian law is followed. However, Svalbard has its own Governor (Sysselman) and is a duty-free area. The year-round population is approximately 3,000 with about ½ being Norwegian, the other ½ are Russian/Ukrainian. Russia still has mining interests and the town (one of only three) of Barentsburg is almost totally Russian in population.

The town of Longyearbyen, the main settlement, is quite industrial-looking and has the character of a frontier town. All the buildings are on stilts, due to the permafrost. The people are a varied mix: tourists, scientists, students, mine workers and a few frontiersman, who were easily identifiable with their weatherbeaten faces and heavy outdoor clothing. A number of people were walking around with rifles over their shoulders. It’s not required in Longyearbyen, but, everywhere else it is a requirement to carry a rifle, due to the polar bear risk. This includes yachtsmen and we thought we’d have to rent a rifle for our visit. We were reluctant to do this and as we were only staying a week, the easiest solution was to just not go ashore and hope that bears don’t climb onto sailboats.

As it was, we didn’t see any polar bears although many other boats did see a number of mothers and cubs. Those boats, though, were either larger and/or made of steel/aluminium and therefore able to go to areas where there was still ice where most of the bears live. A couple of other boats had close encounters with whales. We saw quite a few spouting off in the distance, but, didn’t have any close encounters, maybe a good thing. It was still a thrill to hear them breathing and sense their massive presence nearby.

photo courtesy of Rudi Caeyers . We didn’t see any bears, but, G’s friend Rudi shot this photo just a couple of weeks ago. For more of his great photos, see www.rudicaeyers.com

The wildlife highlight for us was seeing walrus in their natural habitat. The walrus colony at Poolepynten can easily be seen from a boat. We approached the shore carefully and there they were. Huge mountains of flesh piled up together in a large, brown heap. Many were on their backs with their tusks in the air. We got close enough to smell them, very fishy and they barely seemed aware of our presence. A couple of them were in the water feeding. We watched one giant lumber down to the beachfront via his jiggling flesh, what an effort. Once in the water though, he was very graceful despite his size and shape.

the walrus colony at Poolepynten

the walrus colony at Poolepynten

On arrival in Longyearbyen, the weather had been grey and cool. As we started our week’s cruise north to Magdalenfjord, the weather changed to an unbelievable stretch of sunny, warm, cloudless weather. The air temperature was only 4-7C, but, the warm sun made up for it. We were able to just wear light jackets and forego the long underwear for a while. All our worries about having no heat on the boat while sailing, or, at anchor went away. We have a heater while motoring and as the high pressure that brought sunny skies also brought a lack of wind, we motored a lot and were quite toasty.

Cruising to Magdalenfjord took us as far north as latitude 79 degrees and 34 minutes. It was hard to imagine we were just 626 miles from the North Pole at this point. We were also less than fifty miles from the permanent ice cap where the sailing stops rather abruptly. The last sunny day, of our run of five, was when we sailed into Magdalenfjord. It was about 11 p.m. and we were just heading into the anchorage. The sea was absolutely flat with that oily motion it gets in a calm. The sun was still high in the sky. There was a very light mist in the air reflecting a brilliant white light from the sun. The sea was like molten gold on which we were floating with a gentle motion. I now know where the term ‘white night’ comes from and it is an image not soon forgotten.

Here’s proof, just 626 miles from the North Pole!

In the morning we had a surprise to see that another boat had come into the anchorage during the night. It was more of a surprise that we knew the boat and its captain. It was ‘Ulla Rinman’ from Tromsø, a converted lifeboat that now takes charter guests on Arctic adventures. G had met Geir, the captain, in Tromsø over the winter and had helped him move the boat across town. We chatted with him on VHF prior to departure.

‘Ulla Rinman’ at Magdalenfjord

The scenery throughout the cruise was spectacular. The Arctic mountain landscape doesn’t have the verdant green forests and turquoise-tinged glacial lakes of mountain ranges to the south. However, it is still beautiful in its own way. The basic elements are water, rock, ice, snow and sky and the beauty comes with the interplay of light and shade on the various surfaces. The terrain is almost totally vertical. Each valley seemed to have a glacier in it, many calving directly into the sea.

Our first anchorage at Trygghamna, near Longyearbyen

 An exception to the rule of a barren landscape were these beautiful Arctic flowers seen an Ny Ålesund.

Sea cave near Blomstrandhamna, we saw people go right into this cave in a dinghy.

 It was easy to get blasé about glaciers because there were so many, but, they were fascinating. At a number of anchorages, we were able to get quite close. Our favourite was at Dahlbebrukta. This anchorage looked marginal on the chart and we were nervous going in as there was quite a bit of large ice in the water. It was late, around 1:30 a.m. and we just wanted to get stopped, anchored and into our bunks. As we expected, there were a few bumps on the hull in the night from ice hitting us. We awoke to what sounded like pouring rain, but, the brilliant sunshine coming through the portlights showed that was impossible. What on earth could it be? Emerging into the cockpit we soon saw that a large berg must have calved in the night and the bay was now filled with splinters of it all around us. I’d heard that glacial ice makes a popping noise in the water, but, this was incredible. It sounded like the sea was alive with the snap, crackle and pop of the air coming out of the ice. It was very weird and exciting at the same time. There was a lot of glacial ‘blue ice’ (the very dense older ice) in the water as well, very scenic.

Dahlbrebukta glacier. This photo was taken at midnight!

One of the beautiful bergs at Dahlbrebukta

Waggonbreem glacier at Magdalenfjord

Another interesting stop was to the smallest of the three settlements on Spitsbergen, Ny Ålesund. It’s a research station with about 25 year-round residents. In the summer, about 200 scientists and students come to do research from all over the world. China, Korea, France, Germany, India and of course, Norway, all have research stations here. The Poles also have a large presence on Spitsbergen, but, their research station is based in the south of the island. Ny Ålesund is the place where Amundsen launched his airship, ‘Norge’, on its historic crossing of the Arctic in the 1920’s. The tower used to tether Norge still stands.

World’s most northerly post office at Ny Ålesund.

mini-train used at Ny Ålesund for coal transport

After completing our cruise, we are now back in Longyearbyen for a couple of days. We are getting caught up with showers, laundry, diesel, water etc. and will be provisioning for our voyage south. We expect to leave by July 1, be at sea for about three weeks, travel about 1200 miles and hope to make landfall in South Norway, somewhere south of Bergen.

Black Sheep II at the dock in Ny Ålesund

CRUISING NOTES
For the sailors reading this, our trip to Svalbard was a great success and highly recommended, if travel in the northern latitudes appeals to you. Any well-found boat with an experienced crew should be able to make the trip to the west coast of Spitsbergen, with the right weather and ice conditions. High pressure, when it arrives, tends to remain stationary and the weather settled, more so than in latitudes further south. The winds tend to be light and variable, so, expect to motor and purchase a lot of diesel. Northbound progress up Spitsbergen may be slow as the prevailing winds are usually from the north.

Navigation aids are few and far between. The only real navigational challenge is the ice potential and one tricky bit of navigation in the strait between Spitsbergen and Prins Karls Forland (island), Forlandsrevet, where there is a 0.5m narrows with 3meter depth. We never did identify the transit for getting through here (lining up a point with a rock buttress) as there was cloud hanging over the mountain tops both when we were northbound and southbound. Our CMAP electronic charts seemed to be accurate and our chartplotter got us through easily with no problems.

A permit is required from the Governor’s office to visit Svalbard, SAR insurance is required, landing fees must be paid and a rifle rented, if you are going ashore. Although it sounds onerous, the whole process was basically effortless, just filling out the application form with proof of insurance and sending it in. Our insurance broker was able to provide the SAR insurance for only an additional $100 on our premium. When we were out cruising, we twice met RIBs with Sysselman officials aboard and they knew our names and that we were on the approved ‘list’, so, make sure your paperwork is in order before arriving.

Postscript: We had an email from Mark and Jane, who stayed in Svalbard for a few weeks after we left at the end of June. Apparently, there was an ‘ice event’ in July where ice was swept into Longyearbyen harbour and filled it overnight. Even cruise ships were unable to enter the harbour. The dock we were tied up to, along with the boats attached to it, was broken away and pushed down the shoreline with damage to the boats. I’m really glad we missed that!