Today’s Daily Program:
We awaken to more stellar weather, and an even better view:
It’s hard to believe that we’ve already crested the halfway mark of this trip, if not of this particular cruise. It’s equally difficult to believe that we’ve only been aboard the ship for four nights. I can’t think of any cruise that’s managed to compress quite this much into such a short period of time, including the go-go Galapagos.
We’re just about ready for the upcoming sea days – but not quite yet, because we have Samarinbreen glacier to hike.
Usual breakfast routine, with the addition of us ordering a banana:
And then it’s time to get our gear on and be on our way:
Ponant is offering two options today. For those not taking the hike, a zodiac cruise is also available.
The terrain is mostly schist, though there are patches of snow and ice – many passengers have brought their hiking poles, though there’s enough schist ground into the snow to provide extra grip.
While the glacier seems solid and unmoving from a distance, up close it feels more like a living being.
A thousand tiny rivulets flow down her into the fjord below, tinkling like an orchestra of tiny bells.
We keep going – up, up, up – going upwards of a full kilometer onto the glacier, and gaining roughly 100 metres in altitude.
The views from here are remarkable:
Suddenly, there’ s a deep echoing, rumble – the glacier is calving:
It’s the wrong angle to catch the ice falling into the water, though I do catch the splash – and some of the debris:
A huge wave follows:
This is why zodiacs don’t get too close to a glacier
The bay is soon filled with ice:
Eventually we reach the point where the glacier starts to open up into crevasses, so it’s time for a few last photos:
Then we double back.
In the distance, the zodiac cruises also start heading back to the ship:
It’s the perfect swan song to a remarkable stint in Svalbard:
On the way back, we hear another rumble – this time from an avalanche of snow cascading down the glacier next to the zodiacs.
My wife asks whether the guides have any concerns, and they say that we’re almost a kilometre away. My wife notes that avalanches can travel more than a kilometre.
(For anyone wondering – in the event of an avalanche – don’t try to dash down to the zodiacs. Instead, try to move sideways out of the avalanche’s path. You can also try to climb to the top of any nearby large ridgelines or other high features. With luck, the avalanche will flow around the higher feature instead of over it. But if in doubt, take the shortest lateral route toward the edge of the avalanche path.)
Back down to the zodiac we go, then back aboard.
Farewell, Samarinbreen!
Another lunch at the Grill – pork belly and swordfish today:
There were rumours circulating that we might attempt additional expedition activities this afternoon, but instead we are setting sail for Jan Mayen. I’m fine with this – we’ve had an epic first few days aboard, but we are all ready for a break at this stage.
After lunch, we head back up to observation for sail away:
Along the way, we apparently pass the shack that belonged to Wanny Wolstead:
Despite my best efforts, I cannot find the cabin on the cliffside
From the Norwegian Polar Institute:
“Wanny was a taxi-driver in Tromsø, in mainland Norway, in the 1930s. She often listened to stories told by the trappers who returned from Svalbard with a profit. They liked to spend some of it going to Ølhallen, the Mack brewery’s bar, by taxi.
In 1932 she was asked to join an expedition to Svalbard with Anders Sæterdal and she immediately accepted. “In two-three days I was converted from a taxi-driver in Tromsø to a female trapper on the way to Svalbard onboard Maiblomsten”.
In the beginning many of the experienced trappers were sceptical to her participation and abilities as a trapper in the harsh conditions. At 157 cm tall, she was a small woman, but she showed great drive and eagerness to learn and proved that this lifestyle was right for her. The following two years she brought her two sons to Hornsund – Alf and Bjørvik Jacobsen – who later became experienced trappers in Svalbard.
Wanny used Hyttevika as her main station. Isbjørnhamna, close to the site of today’s Polish Research Station, was the closest satellite station – it was near here that Wanny shot her first bear, on 12 December 1932. Fuglefjell (Gnålodden) was her second satellite station.”
We also pass Polish Polar Station Hornsund:
From Polarin.eu:
“The research station is operated by the Institute of Geophysics, Polish Academy of Sciences. The station focuses on climate, glaciology, monitoring of geophysical fields (seismology, geomagnetism, atmospheric electricity), permafrost and geomorphic processes. Monitoring programmes aiming at improving the understanding of the functioning of Arctic ecosystems are also carried out in Hornsund.”
We get a last glimpse of this stunning, rugged landscape:
And then we enter the open ocean.
My son and I then head down to the theatre for the “Between Earth and Space” lecture by Claudie Haigneré, the first French woman to go to space:
Claudie was inspired to become an astronaut by the Apollo landings, which she saw on television when she was 12 years old. She’s had a remarkable career, and spent more than 10 years in Star City and almost a month in space across two missions. She highlights competence, team building and coordination as the key aspects of any successful space mission, and notes that some experiments are only possible in space – particularly those that involve crystalization.
I’m fascinated to learn that astronauts spend upward of two hours per day exercising, and yet many are too weak to walk after spending extended periods in zero gravity. She comments on that incredible first feeling of returning from space: ‘The air, the wind, the smell of earth – you are back home.”
She makes several remarks that stick with me:
“This is just earth, and earth is our spaceship.”
“Everything we know as life exists within a remarkably thin layer of atmosphere.”
She also highlights the importance of education, noting that we often ask what kind of planet we are leaving our children, when we should also be asking what sort of children we are leaving our planet.
While the lecture is ongoing, some fin and humpback whales are spotted near the vessel. I dash out with my smaller lens but I still manage to catch them at a distance:
Off to dinner – where our daughter manages to get one of the few remaining steaks on board!
The head chef has very kindly been saving some for her – as well as for a handful of other passengers who are similarly horrified about the lack of beef
A mille-feuille for dessert:
Then it’s time for bed, while the leaden sky churns in the distance.
We’re all quite ready for our two upcoming sea days – with fingers firmly crossed for a landing at the remote and elusive Jan Mayen island.