Tales of the beautiful everyday from the North
Birding at Bear Island, and meeting the midnight sun
The state of the sea ice and current state of the weather gave us a unique opportunity to make a special little detour on our way to Svalbard - heading off east to Bjørnøya, or Bear Island.
While I was in the middle of some morning yoga, announcements were made about whales and dolphins being spotted, and I cannot tell you how cold it is running out to the exterior deck barefoot in shorts and a t-shirt at 74°N in May. Despite the wildlife and scenic sea ice, the ocean was so calm this morning, I wasn’t going to pass up an opportunity to go from standing crane to warrior 3 without being thrown sideways onto the floor as we rolled through 5 metre swells.
After yoga, it was the perfect morning for a second slow coffee in the panorama lounge while we slowly forged our way through the ice to the island. Once there, we again jumped into zodiacs for some scenic cruising along the cliffs.
A humpback whale
White beaked dolphins
Squeezing through the pearly gates
Through all of my travels, for all of the time spent in polar regions over the last 20 years, so little of it has been in the summer, let alone outside the darkest depths of the winter.
Even living in Yellowknife, and for a few years the Yukon, I was always just a little south of meeting the midnight sun and 24 hours of sunlight. And then halfway through this cruise, the sun would just no longer set. I was excited, it was something I really looked forward to. I dreamt of staying up all night on deck bathed in low orange sunlight as we cruised past snowy mountains. There was a little of that, but our days were so full and I was so exhausted, there was just no hope of the all-nighters I was fantasizing about. But that was okay. These special moments of waking through the night and seeing sunlight on the curtains at 1am and 2am, and just taking some minutes alone out on the bow of the ship were enough. It was magical, and for a reason I don’t understand, the midnight sun just meant so much to me. I’ll never forget it.
The midnight sun
Jan Mayen - a glacier covered volcano
Our first views of Jan Mayen were a mostly white mass of snow and ice far in the distance, kind of lost against a grey sky and darker grey ocean. Huge flocks of birds danced in unison just above the horizon far away. It felt kind of surreal.
We’d once again need to zodiac to shore, after just the night before, getting permission from the Norwegian military to visit, so as we approached a protected cove, we got the word that conditions were “workable” and out we went to the island.
We were sort of restricted to a smaller area, but I felt again like I didn’t have enough time. I spent so much time bird watching at the top of a cliff that I didn’t have all the time I wished I could have had to explore other areas. Everything just felt sort of intoxicating, I lost track of time and was obsessively interested in everything. There was just too much to see, too much to photograph, too much to breathe in.
Killer whales cruising the coast of Jan Mayen with us
Whooper swan
At the end of our day on Jan Mayen, I joined the last zodiac back to the ship (because of course I did) with a few others, and we took a little detour cruising up the coast to where some puffins were hanging out on the water and on the cliffs. Our guide was so thoughtful, manouvering us around the puffins so the sun would be at our back for photography, so we’d drift in closer to them. It was just the best, it was so special being so close and at almost eye level with them, watching them disappear between swells. And then it was here we ran out of gas (oh no, how terrible), and it took some time while we switched tanks. Finally we did get fuel flowing from the backup tank and we were back at the ship, all of us even happier for the extra time out, obviously.
Then during dinner, as we continued to sail the coast, gorgeous blue skies opened up over the volcano peaks. It was just like magic, truly. There was an energy you could feel, everyone was so happy and completely amazed.
Northern bottlenose whales
Dinner views
Deeper into the Faroes
It was the breakfast with the most beautiful view of my life. I could feel my heart in my chest. Half of me couldn’t run out to the bow of the ship fast enough while the other half could stay with my hot coffee, breathing it all in from breakfast for ever.
We were sailing up from Tórshavn to the small village of Funningur, on the island of Eysturoy toward the north of the Faroes.
On this morning, I had this anxious feeling that I couldn’t waste a moment. I wanted to see every grass covered hill, every stream and waterfall, every sliver of sunlight on a mountain or the ocean. In reality, there was no panic. We were going to have all day - all day to hike, take in a guided tour around town, and time to explore. It just hadn’t even really begun and I already couldn’t stand having to leave.
It reminded me of when I picked up my rental car in Iceland. The rental agent confirming my reservation out loud to me ‘5 weeks… Okay… And what do you plan to do in Iceland for 5 weeks?’
And to me, he was the crazy one. 5 lifetimes would not be enough, never mind 5 weeks.
And the Faroes just felt the same, and I knew it would be that way. The heart being ripped out of my chest feeling when it was time to leave — and it was definitely that.
The village of Funningur
After a little quiet time with some sheep up at the top of town - a waterfall above me, a stream cutting just in front of me, and the ‘pier’ down below me, I knew I should probably be getting back down to return to the ship, but I had that sinking feeling in my stomach.
“Of course it’s Sean!”
Coming around the corner of a building and down to the zodiac landing site, all our expedition guides and staff are lined up and one sees me and says with a smile and a laugh “Of course it’s Sean!”
I smirked, seeing that I was obviously the last one back joining a few others lingering around… “I know, I know - but I don’t want to, I don’t want to, I don’t want to!”, I say with a laugh back.
Getting to and around Tórshavn, Faroe Islands
Following our departure from North Ronaldsay, there were a few of us crazies up in the panorama lounge loving life being thrown around by the ocean. Most of the ship was far less thrilled than we were though. The dining room at dinner was kind of laughably empty, and I chuckled with the dining room staff every time the ship got a good jolt. They had just come up from Antarctica and a season crossing the Drake, so this was all still childs play to them. But for me, the thrill of the waves rocking the ship made me feel like a child again. I loved it.
North of North Ronaldsay enroute to the Faroes
Some quiet time in the panorama lounge after dinner, culling bird photos, way too many bird photos, to the soothing motion of the ocean and a deepening twilight sky after sunset finally gave way to bed. Tórshavn would be in the morning, and the alarm for breakfast always comes way too early.
The night was… a little rough. But just how rough? My Apple Watch detected enough motion through the night to award me with standing hours while I was lying in bed sleeping.
Every so often I would be jolted awake to the thunderous boom of a wave hitting especially hard. I could feel myself smile and go immediately back to sleep.
My first puffins right alongside the ship as we slowed nearing the harbour of Tórshavn!
We had all day in Tórshavn, and started with a hike from the outskirts of town over to Kirkjubøur - a small community just over the mountains. It was more breathtaking than I could ever tell you or show you. The weather changed every 5 minutes, and our guide bumped into a farmer he knew so we stopped to gush over all his beautiful sheep. The views of dramatic mountainsides rising and falling into the sea, covered in grass and the most beautiful rock were just perfect. I loved the town, I loved the culture, I loved the nature, and it had been all of about 3 minutes.
For the rest of the day back in Tórshavn now, I walked the coast, criss-crossed through town, and of course, took the opportunity to seek out wool sweaters which was both overwhelmingly expensive and successful. A few of us showed up to dinner back onboard the ship that night in our distinctly Faroese hand knit sweaters.
It was the best, most magical day ever.
Trial by fire; zodiac edition
I was sitting in Abbotsford International Airport, about 20 minutes before boarding my first of 3 flights, wrapping up a call with Scotiabank to finalize my mortgage for Yellowknife. Possession day was 5 weeks away, and in 24 hours, I’d be touching down in Aberdeen, Scotland. From there, a couple days later, boarding the Quark Expedition Ultramarine for almost 2 weeks to sail further north than I’d ever been in my life.
I didn’t know what to expect of Scotland, or this entire cruise. I’d barely had time to think about it. For the week before flying out, I was sleeping on yoga mats on the floor of my dad’s place, painting, cleaning and packing the final few boxes of his life before he’d leave forever for the Philippines.
Retirement, at last.
My flights over took me through sunset, the northern lights, sunrise, way too much time in Heathrow, and a second sunset. I fell in love with Aberdeen. European grocery stores, twilight walks, daytime walks - accidentally to the next village down the coast in one instance. Grassy cliffs and fields blowing in the wind, hills of yellow flowers and charming neighbourhoods at every turn. Dolphins and seals visible from the harbour and cliffs. It was heavenly. I loved every second.
“Everyone’s a birder. Some of you just don’t know you are yet.”
Our first night on board the Ultramarine started with, of course, endless safety briefings, but also some news that a little storm was headed to us which gave such little hope of being able to go ashore to Fair Isle, we were instead making a last minute decision to try North Ronaldsay instead, where we ultimately were able to anchor down, zodiac to shore, and spend as much of the day as the weather would allow us.
I chose the long bird walk, because as Mark, our amazing, amazing bird expert expedition guide on board said to us our first night, “Everyone’s a birder. Some of you just don’t know you are yet.” And I loved it. I needed little convincing. I was hooked. Ready to give up a life of aurora chasing for birding, until he told me there’s no money in it either.
So instead of heading back to the ship via the zodiacs over increasingly rough seas we were warned about the night before, I and one other, literally, ran over to the 173 year old lighthouse to climb the couple hundred steps inside up to it’s balcony. That was one of the coolest experiences I think of my life. The wind up there made it nearly impossible to get all the way around the deck, but the views were breathtaking. But finally, windburnt, sweaty and out of breath, I ran back to the shore to begin what would become a trip long habit of being on the last zodiac back to the ship. Waves crashed up over the bow of the zodiac and over our heads. I understood without a doubt why waterproof clothing, head to toe, was mandatory, and not just recommended.
