Author Archives: Steve Walker

About Steve Walker

Once a tech in-house PR type, now professional photo/videographer and recreational drone pilot. Violinist. Flautist. Occasional conductor. Oenophile.

Day 6 – Seals and larks

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Thursday 4 September 2025 – We emerged, blinking, to the wonderful surroundings in Tinayrebukten.

Mirror-smooth, calm water (therefore no wind) and mild temperatures were the order of the day.

Kuba had given the guests an option – a Zodiac cruise or a hike. Even without a deciding factor, I think I would have gone for the cruise, on the basis that hiking in wellies is not that rewarding. But the possibility of seeing puffins sealed the deal, so the cruise it was for us. Kuba was careful to explain that we were past peak puffin season, but he expected there to be some around.

As we started out in the Zodiac, we got a great view back of Kinfish.

Kuba told us that there were harbour seals on the shores near us. As usual for me, I had difficulty picking them out, but patient explaining from Jane and the Big Lens helped; and anyway we got really quite close to them. Kuba counted 13 seals, and they, like the walruses, watched us incuriously as we drifted almost silently by.

It wasn’t exactly difficult to get good close-ups, so photographically these seals weren’t too much of a challenge.  However, I invite captions for this picture:

I don’t know what these seals are thinking, but in my mind it would be with a northern English accent

The folk in the other Zodiac had made land and started their hike.

We kept an eye on them as they worked their way up the hillside.

The glacier at the far end of our fjord had some great light playing over it.

Before long, we spotted our first puffins.

There were a handful on the water, and if we got too close, they took off.  Annoyingly (but unsurprisingly) they tended to fly away from us, which made getting a photo of a puffin flight quite challenging, but after a few hundred attempts I got one halfway decent shot.

I hadn’t appreciated that both puffins and guillemots are species of auk, and the similarities are clear when you see them flying – neither bird takes off or lands elegantly.

We approached a couple of caves,

and the colours of the rock formations in the roof were very striking.

Meanwhile, on the opposite side of the fjord, the hiking team were steadily making their way up the hill.

On our side, there was an even steeper hill, and, amazingly, reindeer were cavorting up and down it. See if you can spot one in this picture.

As you can guess, I had difficulty spotting them,

but eventually got the Big Lens to pick them up.

There were probably half a dozen in all, and we watched as they picked their way around the hillside.

On the other side, the hiking team had made it to the ridge at the top of their hill.

They’d been out for an hour by this stage, so had clearly been working quite hard.

Our geology continued to present some wonderful palettes – glacial water, coloured rocks and moss.

We even encountered a ledge which has been christened “the hanging gardens of Tinareybukta”.

Further along the fjord was a glacier, which we went to explore.

You can tell from the blue colour that it’s a fairly active one; blue means fresh ice, which means bits are falling off it.

It was instructional (for me, anyway) to compare the different colours that different cameras saw.  The phone saw the ice as very blue, but my little Sony had a much greener cast. I corrected it a bit, but there’s still a noticeable difference.

Phone

Sony

I think the Sony’s version is a bit truer to the scene as I recall it – but the blue was very striking.  Although the glacier made some rumbling noises, it didn’t oblige us with a calving, so after a while, we made our way back to Kinfish where the crew had prepared a surprise for us:

A barbecue lunch!

Annie, our stewardess, was doing her usual job of making sure we were well looked after,

dispensing a rhubarb-flavoured cocktail to those who wanted it, as well as G&T to the discerning passenger.

After lunch, the boat moved to a different point in the fjord, called Lilliehöökbreen, where we were close to the glacier that was to be the subject of the afternoon’s Zodiac cruise.  It was clear that it was a somewhat more active glacier, as we could see as we looked back at Kinfish.

Lots of brash ice made for interesting progress, but Kuba swore that the Zodiac would be robust enough to withstand it. We approached the active edge of the glacier – it’s very long, some 5km – and maybe as tall as 60m high.

Among the clutter floating about there were some chunks of black ice, i.e. ice containing no air bubbles, thus perfectly clear and almost invisible in the water. Rolf retrieved a very, erm, chunky chunk

bits of which I’m sure will be gracing our G&Ts before long.

Kuba took us as close to the glacier as the brash ice would allow,

which gave us some great scenery.

A 5km glacier cliff sounds wonderful, but it makes trying to be somewhere near a calving rather challenging. We saw a couple of chunks falling off, one of which made a huge splash, but none of these was considerate enough to happen when I (or anyone) was pointing a camera in its direction. Kind of frustrating, but very much to be expected.  The noise of being near a glacier like this is amazing – every so often there’s a “boom!” as something somewhere collapses; and a few minutes later a wave reaches you in the brash ice.

The colour of some of the icebergs was simply fantastic.

I promise I haven’t emphasised the blue colour you see when processing the photo.

After an hour or so of failing to witness a calving, we headed back to Kinfish to find that the crew had organised yet another surprise for us – the opportunity to jump into the water again! This time, however, you were allowed to wear the immersion suits that the ship carries for real emergencies – the sort where you have to abandon ship. They’re basically (rather comical, bright orange) drysuits, and many of the guests opted to clamber into them

and be taken out to a convenient berg in the ice archipelago surrounding us

so they could fool around.

Haavard showed that he was rather good at wakeboarding

and a few people had a go at swinging from a rope dangling from the ship’s crane before plunging – more or less elegantly – into the water.

Expedition cruising can be about the wild life as well as the wildlife, it seems.

We ended the day at anchor amid scenery of great beauty

with the prospect of a night’s sleep undisturbed by pitching, rolling or creaking.

Tomorrow’s excursion should be a mine of interesting information. Stay tuned to find out more!

Day 5 – Not as originally planned

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Wednesday 3 September 2025 – Mother Nature played a few games with Kuba’s plans today. The idea had been to do a landing and walk to a glacier. This one, actually,

but keen eyes on the bridge had spotted a polar bear nearby.

Yes, there really is a polar bear in this picture, which gives a good idea of how keen are the eyes of the crew. Here’s a closer view.

This meant that we couldn’t land, mainly for the polar bear’s benefit, since it would have been shot if it had started to make a nuisance of itself.  So we cruised around in Zodiacs instead. On the shores of the fjord, which is called Wijderfjord (I’ll let you guess why) there was an abandoned trapper’s cabin from the days when that sort of thing was permitted.

There was plenty of bird life to be seen – the ubiquitous kittiwakes and other gulls, who found the various islets very convenient scouting posts for any possible picking on other species they could consider.

On the shore line, we saw a gang of purple sandpipers fossicking around and feasting on the region’s delicious seaweed.

There were arctic terns flitting about,

and every so often coming over to check us out.

The geology was fascinating: close-to, layers of different coloured rock made some lovely patterns;

and, far-off, we had some wonderful landscapes.

Specifically, there was a canyon for us to explore.

This river flows from Five Mile Lake; but we could only go a short distance up because there was quite a considerable current flowing out of it into the fjord. You can see what looks like rapids further up the stream in this picture.

Having cruised the canyon, we then made a landing, which I hadn’t expected,

and took a short, but somewhat exhilarating hike

up to a viewpoint,

where we got a different perspective over the canyon

and the wonderful scenery.

Kuba (left) and Gunnar are the guides that drive the Zodiacs and lead the excursions.

They are both armed and dangerous, mainly to any importunate polar bears.

On the hike, we saw some interestingly split rocks,

and some of the local vegetation.

Then we headed back to the ship.

Kuba explained that his original plan had been to do the canyon and associated landing in the afternoon, with a somewhat longer hike to Five Mile Lake.  But it wasn’t that far from where we couldn’t land earlier because of the polar bear; the bear could easily have covered the distance to the second site during the morning, so we couldn’t risk an afternoon hike there, hence the abbreviated morning walk.

Instead, for the afternoon, we moved around the corner into Woodfjorden and did a landing at Jakobsenbukta. Again, the scenery was awesome.

The shore was basically a glacier river delta, with lots of water (and driftwood).

The weather was incredibly mild, possibly as warm as 8°C, so most of us were wearing (relatively) light clothing and carrying very little.  The exception was Doina and Denis, who live and breathe (and make a living from) online content, so they were fully kitted up.

The site was not one that Kuba or Gunnar had ever visited before – they had taken a look at maps and decided that it looked promising for a short hike; having landed, they then discussed which direction we should go.

The direction they chose wasn’t a problem for most of us; we’d followed instructions to wear our rubber boots. Not everyone had, though, so there was a bit of a hold-up whilst people worked out how to cross a water-filled channel – not deeper than wellie boots, but deeper than hiking shoes!

The delta had areas of still, calm water, which made it a fantastic source of my favourite kind of image – reflections!

The view back to the ship was quite impressive, too.

Jane spotted a footprint,

which we assume came from a reindeer, as did a small pile of droppings we passed. We also passed some Campion moss

which has evolved a survival defence against being eaten by reindeer, which is one of the few animals which can digest normal moss. Thus, it being slow-growing, this clump could be quite old. (Campion, The Wonder Moss?) We were enjoined to take care and avoid walking on it and others like it.

Our walk took us towards the near ridge you can see below, with Kuba leading and Gunnar behind (so he was the rear Gunnar at this point).

However, Rolf’s footwear developed a technical problem

and so Kuba and Gunnar had another planning session and decided to split the party. Kuba led a few of the party, including Rolf, obvs, back to the landing site, where (I think he had to spill the beans on a surprise, here) they could help the ship’s crew, who were planning a bonfire.  Gunnar took charge of the rest of us and we walked on to the ridge. It’s important for the man with the gun to go first in order to be able to protect the rest of the group if need be, so Gunnar was now our forward Gunnar.

We got to the top of the ridge, which gave us a chance to take in the fantastic scenery. Kuba had explained that the triangular rock was caused (as can clearly be seen here) by two converging glacier flows.  Geologists call this shape a “horn”

and I guess the most familiar to Europeans is the Matterhorn. The other famous one is Artesonraju in Peru. You may never have heard of it (I hadn’t), but you’d recognise it as the mountain which inspired the Paramount logo. To the left of the horn above is a cirque – a circular ice field with a glacier emerging from it.  The light was great for landscape photography.

After some moments for people to take in the view

we headed back down the way we came.  Agnese, the other Italian lass, found a fossil

which Gunnar told us was strictly not to be taken away from the scene. Apparently there is a chance that baggage will be scanned to check for illicit stone or fossil removal, with fines as a penalty, so no-one took the risk. No, they didn’t. Really, officer.

We could smell the bonfire before we could see it, and then there it was,

brilliantly setup by the ship’s crew, who were doing the environment a favour by consuming some of that driftwood.

Someone had even had the idea of using driftwood to create a bridge over that awkward water-filled channel.

Everything was beautifully set up, with Anni manning the bar

 

so quite quickly we had a relaxed, party vibe going on the beach.

Russell the Viking, together with Chief Officer Morten and AB Rasmus

Gunnar and AB Malte doing competitive seesaw

Proof that two females are the equal of one male?

The evening sun gave us a marvellous backdrop.

Once back on the boat, we had yet another splendid dinner from Roger, our Swedish chef (but no muppet, he), who had cooked fish that had been caught from the boat the previous evening. And timing allowed another fishing session for those who wished to join in.

As backdrop for this, we had a rainbow

and a fabulous sunset

which I think made a fittingly splendid end to another splendid day. It may not have been as originally planned, but Kuba and the skipper between them hatched up a good plan B (and then C) so that everyone had a great day.

Kuba has a plan for the morrow, too, of course – he always has a plan. Let’s see whether circumstances allow it to proceed in its original form, eh?

Day 4 – Wet Out

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Tuesday 2 September 2025 – In his evening briefing yesterday, Kuba had told us about Bråsvellbreen, which, at 160km, is the longest glacier cliff edge in northern Europe.  We would cruise from Kvitøya along the length of this cliff edge.

(It shows as rocky in places in the image above, but it’s all glacier, actually.)  To whet our appetites, he pointed us at a photo on the wall of the bar.

As a devoted reader of this blog, you’ll of course remember that Jane and I had seen something similar before, in Antarctica – the enormous tabular glacier A23a. At the time*, at 3,800 sq km – twice the size of Greater London – it would have had edges approximately 200km in  length and up to 40m in height, so even longer than this glacier cliff. That was spectacular, and so we wondered how the two would compare.

At first, the prospects of even seeing it looked a bit on the scant side, as it was very foggy.

You can see the small icebergs that have calved off the cliff. So Jesper had to navigate with care once we got to the cliff.

When I took a brisk walk outside, you could see the huge wall of ice disappearing into the distant fog.

Like A23a, it had ice caves, as the sea melted it from beneath.

I took a hyperlapse of our progress alongside the glacier, which I hope gives some idea of the scene.

Kuba announced that those that wanted could go up the mast to get a look from a higher viewpoint.  To do this, one needed to get harnessed up

A.B. Malte helps Rolf into the harness

and good cold weather gear was recommended.  Initially, I declined the opportunity, but Jane didn’t.

Having made the decision not to go up, immediately after I took these photos of Jane, I looked to starboard and saw this,

at which point I changed my mind about climbing the mast, as it now seemed like a really good idea. To be honest, I was underdressed for the endeavour,

but it was worth the relative faff of getting the harness on and climbing up.  Between us, Jane and I got some great photos.

As we reached towards the end of the glacial cliff, Kuba announced that we all had an opportunity for an experience we would not forget.

A polar plunge.

Yes, an opportunity to leave a perfectly safe, warm boat and jump into water at a temperature that science describes as “fucking freezing”. Astonishingly, several of the guests were up for this. Less astonishingly, Jane and I were not among them. We watched as the preparations were made: some you would expect, like towels for afterwards

And drinks to warm the lunatics participants;

some less expected, but perfectly sensible given the environment – an armed guard keeping watch.

Lunatics Potential participants gathered to check out the possibilities

And, amazingly, still decided to jump in. One of them, Doina, even did it twice because Denis, her expert videographer boyfriend, didn’t get the footage he wanted first time around!

Rolf went first
Even Roger the Chef joined in!

Magnificent idiocy, rewarded by a shot of Fernet Branca and a re-heat session in the ship’s new sauna. Jane and I (not the only non-participants, I hasten to add) went for a cup of tea to calm down.

There had been a plan for a landing a little further in to the archipelago, but the fog kyboshed that one; it’s not safe to go ashore if you can’t first establish that there are no dangerous creatures around. So we cruised on. Kuba arranged a viewing of a film called “Polar Bears on the Field of Bones”, an extraordinary documentary made single-handedly by Nikita Ovsyanikov, a lunatic researcher who spent several consecutive summers among polar bears on Wrangel Island with only a large stick as a defensive weapon.

Plan B was a Zodiac cruise in Alkefjellet, with the attraction of majestic scenery, some bird life and possibly even arctic foxes, and with dinner brought forward to 6pm so we could go out at 7.30pm into the light arctic evening for the cruise.

The cruise started in a very unusual manner – the skipper grounded the boat. Intentionally, I mean.  We’d been warned, and so thought it might be great to go on to the bow and join the throng who would doubtless be there to record this unusual event.

Actually, a couple of people did eventually join us as, out of the mist, the land loomed

and loomed a bit more.

In due course we grounded, very gently, into the sandy shallows, with quite a spectacular view over the cove – and the mist lifted obligingly.

We went out on the Zodiacs along the coast, past basalt cliffs which are the nesting site, in the right season, for tens of thousands of guillemots, both of the common and Brünnich’s persuasion. The cliffs are perfect in providing nesting sites for the birds.  By this time of year most have left, having hatched and fledged their young, leaving only a cliff face full of guillemot shit.

The red on the snow, by the way, is not what you might think – it’s actually algae which flourish here.

There were still some guillemots here, some solitary,

others in gangs,

and some still with chicks who haven’t yet left the safety of their perch.

Leaving the nesting site is perilous for the chicks, because of kittiwakes and glaucous gulls swarming in the cliffs above in great numbers,

making a great racket and waiting for the chance to pounce on a chick in the water if it appears to be in difficulties.  We actually witnessed one poor chick being taken by a gull, and saw another gull being chased away by an adult guillemot – a surprise to me, since the gulls are big bully bastards compared with the smaller birds.

As well as guillemots on the cliffs, there were several in the water

making a wonderful noise (sorry, not my classiest video, here).

I had a go at taking some shots of the birds in flight

and coming in to land on the water, something they don’t do very elegantly.

They also appear to be able to move across the surface quite rapidly in a manner similar to penguins porpoising.  I think that’s what’s happening here…

Either that, or it couldn’t quite get airborne – they’re not the world’s most natural fliers.

In places the lower reaches of the guillemot cliffs change from sheer rock to gentler grassy slopes,

inhabited by a different sort of wildlife.

There’s an arctic fox in the picture above.  Yes, there is. There, look.

We had been told that this area had good potential for sighting them, but I hadn’t held out much hope; I guess I was influenced by Jakob in Dovrefjell, who said that they were very rare and shy. Not in this area of Spitzbergen, they aren’t – we saw at least half a dozen of them over the next hour or so, and I was delighted; they’re such pretty creatures. They were in a variety of coats as they morphed from their summer grey into their winter white.

They’re elegant and catlike in their movement – lovely to watch.

They too are on the lookout for any scraps, which might include vulnerable chicks falling from the nesting ledges onto the slopes rather than directly into the sea; this one has made a catch.

The general scenery was pretty striking, too.

On top of one of the towers was a rock formation that looked like a polar bear, watching us.

Right at the end of the Zodiac cruise was a very dramatic glacier.

The scene reveals some interesting geology, too (for those that notice this stuff). On the right-hand side, there’s a very marked demarcation line between basalt (the upper layer) and marble (the lower layer). Basalt is an igneous rock, typically volcanic in origin; marble is sedimentary (my dear Watson). How the one came to lay on top of the other is a mystery to me.

So, this was a pretty varied day, and included some pretty creatures. I was really delighted to see the foxes – an unexpected pleasure. We were very lucky to see them in such numbers, apparently.

The morrow holds in store some opportunities to see some more great scenery, but who knows what the weather will bring? Stay tuned to find out.

 

 

* The BBC has a post describing A23a roughly as we saw it. It once weighed a trillion tons. But its situation is now very different. Because it is now free floating, it is breaking up, according to The News. It’s now half the size it was, at 1,770 sq. km.