A Vessel Named Petrozavodsk

Bjørnøya (Bear Island), Svalbard – Norway (july 2011)

[click here for the words]

Bjørnøya … Birds-a-Million

Tuesday, 5 July (Part II)

The most exciting part of our visit to Bjørnøya — an island named for a bear, but that has no bears — was the zodiac cruise we took to explore the base of the steep cliffs that host nesting birds.  And I mean lots, and lots, and lots of nesting birds.  (I wrote about everything about our day except our zodiac outing here.)

Bjørnøya from a distance; once we get closer and drop anchor, we’ll be exploring the cliffs
on the left side of this photograph.

Our group was called down to the gangway on Deck 3 shortly before 10:30a.  Dressed in the recommended layers, we waddled down to join the disembarkation queue.  Oddly, we had to show our ship’s card and have it swiped by the security guard.  Not sure where they thought we’d be disappearing to since the outing did not include a landing.

(For those interested, the layers of clothing included: long johns (thermal underwear); warm clothing (fleece is good); waterproof/windproof pants; waterproof/windproof Silversea parka; and the zodiac life vest.  The backpacks provided by Silversea to keep our hands free of any personal items, such as cameras, went on last and was optional — we used our own dry bags.  A hat; gloves — we used thin liners most of the time for ease of camera operations; and gumboots were also an essential part of our attire.)

Having noted earlier that the first couple of zodiacs to go out were larger and more crowded, we hung back a bit and let the debarkation rush pass us.  This strategy worked out quite nicely today (we had only 6 people on our boat) and we’ll likely employ it on future outings as well; especially those that don’t involve landings ashore.

Comfortably uncrowded in our zodiac, Kara takes us for a cruise along the cliffs.

The island’s geology is varied — partly basement rocks from the Silurian Period or older; partly sedimentary cover from the Devonian Period or younger.  Suffice to say, young and old are relative terms here since we’re talking about rocks that were formed hundreds of millions of years ago.  Sediments in the northern portion of the island include some of the oldest coal seams on earth.  In fact, there was an attempt to mine the coal, but it turned out to be a less than economical venture.

The narrow ledges and crevices of the steep cliffs are inhabited with birds-a-million.

Following the base of the sandstone cliffs provided amazing views of some of the largest seabird colonies of the North Atlantic.  Those that were high up on the cliffs were little more than tiny black and white dots.  Often, we had to strain to see them as they blended so well into the guano-painted cliffs.  This experience brought home to us Robin’s admonition not to venture anywhere without our binoculars.  (By the way, Silversea does provide two pairs of binos in the cabin, but we used our own auto-focus binos instead.)

Black-Legged Kittiwakes and Common Guillemots (Murres) share a ledge.

The Black-Legged Kittiwake is a medium sized gull that is named for its high, nasal call, which sounds something like “kitti-weeeik.”  Nesting in high cliffs, these birds winter at sea.  We saw a lot of Kittiwakes in Alaska last year, so quite honestly, we focused our attention more on the Guillemots since we had not seen them in the wild until this trip.

Common Guillemots (Murres) of the bridled variety (in reference to the white-line around
and extending from their eyes).

Guillemots (Murres) belong to the Auk family; a species I’ve heard referred to as the “Penguins of the Arctic.” They are not of the penguin family of course, but as a friend commented, they are the ecological counterpart of the flightless birds of the southern latitudes. We saw the Common (bridled and unbridled) as well as the Brünnich’s today.

The former is the larger of the two.  Compared to the Brünnich’s Guillemot, the Common Guillemot has a thinner bill, which is why it is sometimes referred to as the Thin-Billed Murre.  It also doesn’t have the distinguishing white stripe on the bill that the Brünnich’s has.  Nesting in high cliffs, they are tightly packed together on ledges (and I mean bodily-contact-close).  I use the word nesting figuratively since they don’t really build nests.  They lay a single egg and incubate it on bare rock.  An interesting factoid about the egg — it is pointed on one end instead of round in shape.  Thus, if disturbed, the egg rolls around its own axis instead of rolling off the edge of the cliff.

The bridling is a polymorphism that becomes more common the further north the common guillemot breeds.  It may be a character displacement of the white bill-stripe seen in the Brünnich’s Guillemot.

Admittedly, the zodiac was not the most stable platform for bird photography.  Not with the choppy water bobbing it up and down; not with the strong currents moving it along even when the engine was idling; and certainly not with us craning our necks to look up from the base to the high reaches of the steep cliffs.  Still we made a credible effort at photographing the birdlife and came away with some nice images I think.

Can you spot the Brünnich's Guillemots in this photograph?

Of course, we saw other birds as well — some more easily photographed than others.  While most of the birds were on ledges on the cliffs, some were on the water, skittering away as the zodiac approached; some were on rocks sticking out of the water; some were on the narrowest of ledges in the dark caves.

Gull chicks — glaucous I believe.

Curious Herring Gull? …

… or perhaps, looking for an opportunity to steal a kill from this gull.

This photo of Common Guillemots (unbridled) is one of my favorites from today.

With the sea constantly crashing against and eroding the sandstone cliffs, several caves have formed at the base.  Over time, some of these have become tunnels.  Kara took us through several of them.  The dark interior was not conducive to photography, but there was enough light to see that the walls inside were filled with birdlife too.

At the southern tip of the island was an arch reminiscent of El Arco at Land’s End in Cabo San Lucas, Mexico.  Would love to have gone ashore at the narrow, black-sand beach here, but it’s not allowed so as not to disturb the nesting birds.  Since 2002, the entire island, except for a small portion around the meteorological station located in the north, is a nature reserve.  (Expanded in 2008 to include 12 nautical miles [22 km] of coastal waters.)

Like El Arco, but in an Arctic setting rather than a tropical one.

Of course, the primary purpose of our zodiac cruise was to see the birds.  But there was a surprise sight that was interesting as well — a shipwreck!  Not the ship of a yesteryear explorer, mind you.  A vessel — specifically a Russian freezer ship — from modern times.  The Petrozavodsk ran aground near the southern tip of the island on 11 May 2009.

Nestled into the cliff, the Petrozavodsk  is a broken down rust bucket.

Vessels longer than 40 feet (12 m) are not allowed to enter the protected waters within a nautical mile of the coastline.  This ship obviously exceeded that criteria, so only an accident or gross negligence could have put the ship inside the limits.  It turns out that it was the latter — when tested soon after the accident, both the Captain and the First Officer had alcohol in their blood; and the First Mate, who was on watch, was thought to be sleeping when the ship ran aground!  As a friend of mine would say, “I J I O T S.”

Look at how neatly the ship fit into the cove when it first ran aground; now it’s broken into two pieces by the pounding surf and storms.
[compiled from pictures on the website shown above; click photo to go to the website]

On that note, our outing came to an end.  A shame really as the sun had burned off the fog and there were patchy blue skies and sunshine to add to the natural beauty around us.

We say goodbye to Mother Nature’s majesty …

… and follow in the path of another zodiac  ....

... to arrive all too soon back at our home base.

Onward we go further north in search of more adventure.

Bjørnøya: aka Bear Island

Tuesday, 5 July
Latitude at Wake Up: 74°10’57” N
temperature at wake up: 38.5F (3.6C)

We found overcast conditions again when we raised the blackout shades at 6:00a. The scenery from our window didn’t look much different from yesterday — with one exception: there were a lot more birds flying around … Northern Fulmars in particular. Eleven minutes later — by latitude measure, that is — the ship was dropping anchor off the southern tip of Bjørnøya, a small island that is part of the Svalbard Archipelago.

Bjørnøya is halfway between mainland Norway and Spitsbergen in the Svalbard Archipelago.
[maps from Wikipedia]

Though this rarely-visited island was more than likely known to the Vikings who roamed these waters, it’s documented history doesn’t begin until 1596. It was then that Dutch explorers Willem Barents and Jacob van Heemskerk sighted the island. Seeing a polar bear swimming nearby, the expedition named it Bjørnøya (Bear Island). Ironically, there are no bears on the island, and likely there never were. Considering that the island’s steep, jagged cliffs are home to over a million nesting birds, a more appropriate name would have been “Fugløya” (Bird Island)!

Land ahoy!

Zodiac Group 3 was scheduled to go out at 10:30a, so we had plenty of time to eat breakfast in The Restaurant and enjoy free time on deck. The skies were filled with thousands of black dots flying high above us. So high, in fact, that it was impossible to identify them.

As we watched the birdlife and enjoyed the quiet scenery along the southern end of the island, the fog rolled in and out, softening the jagged outlines of the steep cliffs, which changed color as the sun added a warm glow from behind the thick clouds overhead. Then, just as quickly, the overcast thickened and the cliffs once again looked cold and foreboding.

The jagged cliffs are softened by the mist.

Roaming about the outside decks, we watched as the first zodiac was lowered. One by one, the expedition team went down the pilot’s ladder and boarded the boat. Then, with the sound of the revved up engine rending the quiet morning, the zodiac zipped away to deliver the drivers to their assigned boats so that the day’s adventure could begin.

The black dots in the sky above the zodiac are not from a dirty lens; they're birds.

Each Zodiac aboard the ship is named for an explorer.

Despite the chill in the air, we were comfortably bundled up to enjoy the action about us. The zodiacs one by one filled up with passengers excited to see something other than the endless ocean. Watching them speed off, we patiently waited our turn — hoping all the while that the fog would not thicken so much as to cause our zodiac cruise to be cancelled for safety reasons.

The zodiacs provide good size-perspective for those cliffs.

“Two to Travel” poses for a “we’re at Bjørnøya” photo op.
(check out my homemade camera raincape; thanks mui!)

Not to worry, we did get our chance to go out and explore the cliffs from a mobile platform. I have plenty of photographs to share from our zodiac cruise, so I’ll leave that portion of the day for a separate post and skip ahead to the rest of the day.

Returning to the ship shortly after noon, we washed up and headed to The Restaurant for lunch. From our table alongside the windows lining the stern of the ship, we enjoyed another good meal — this time with a view.

Join me for lunch, won’t you?

Lunch with an Arctic view.

By the time we were done with lunch, the ship was on the move — destination: the southernmost fjord in Spitsbergen … weather and ice conditions permitting. Bundling up once again, we headed to the outside decks to enjoy the blue skies and sunshine that had replaced the overcast. That the coast was hidden behind a thick layer of fog was of no concern since the entertainment was close by — hundreds upon hundreds of birds following the ship.

I’m thankful that I brought my long lens on this trip, but can’t help but wish that the 100-400L was faster (talking f-stops/shutter speeds here). A long prime lens would have been ideal for an afternoon of birds-in-flight photography, but that’s not in the cards (nor in the budget) anytime soon. So, as always, I made do with what I have. (I shouldn’t complain since I seem to be the only passenger aboard that has any kind of a long lens.) Hefting and moving that big lens to track fast-flying birds was a challenge, and my arms were aching by the time I called it quits — but it sure was worth it!

who are those red-jacketed people photographing the birds?

Northern Fulmar (left) and Glaucous Gull

The Northern Fulmar is a tubenose related to the albatross. It’s name is believed to come from Old Norse — full, meaning foul; and mar, meaning gull. The “Foul Gull” is in reference to its stomach oil, which the bird not only ejects as a defense against predators, but also uses as an energy-rich food source for chicks and adults during their long flights.

This is a white-morph Northern Fulmar, easily identified by the tube-like nostrils attached to the upper bill (hence the tubenose designation).

Of the several gull species that can be found in the Arctic, one is the Glaucous Gull. It is a large gull, and an active predator at seabird colonies, raiding eggs and chicks that are left unprotected in nests. It’s not above scavenging fish and carrion, or even human refuse. In other words, it’s not your average, love-able bird.

Juvenile Glaucous Gull — as indicated by the black-tipped pink bill and juvenal plumage.

Another gull that was following the ship was the Herring Gull. It is part of a complex of large, white-headed gulls. It regularly drinks freshwater if available. If not, it will drink seawater and excrete the salt through special glands. It will capture prey while walking or swimming, and will dip food from surface water as well as steal from other birds. It drops large, hard food items on rock or sand to break them open.

One of the identifying features of the Herring Gull are its bright yellow eyes.

At 2:30p, we attended the first of two lectures scheduled for our afternoon at sea. The first one was presented by Christian Walter — or Rapa Nui as his team members call him. (Born in Switzerland and raised in Germany, and a resident of Easter Island … hence the nickname.) One of two historians aboard, he talked to us about Svalbard and Spitsbergen, the largest island in the archipelago. I’m going to keep my notes from this lecture for a later post after we arrive in the main part of the archipelago. Suffice to say that with over 60% of the landmass of Svalbard covered by glaciation, there’s no doubt that I’ll be seeing what I came here to see — ice, ice, and more ice.

After a break for afternoon tea in the Panorama Lounge, we gathered again in the Theater at 5:00p to listen to Juan Carlos Restrepo’s lecture entitled Geology Rocks! That Juan loves his subject was apparent as he took us through the basic terminology and concepts needed to understand the geological features of the places we will be exploring on this voyage. I won’t get into the details, but I will say that most of the rocks in Svalbard date back to the Paleozoic Era — which began 542 million years ago (MYA) and lasted until 251 MYA. That’s a long time ago by anyone’s standards!

(You can click the photo to the left to learn more about the various eras of time.)

Following the lecture, we stayed in the Theater, chatting with fellow passengers and sipping beverages of our choice. (Drinks — alcoholic and non-alcoholic — are all inclusive on Silver Explorer, and they flow freely. In fact, the waiters seem almost insulted if you turn down a drink offer around here.) By 6:45p, the Theater was again filled and Robin was leading the daily recap — which included Kara’s overview about sperm whales (sighted yesterday); and Hans Peter’s overview about the plant species on Bjørnøya (54 species, including scurvy grass, which is rich in vitamin C).

Next, Robin discussed plans for tomorrow. We’re supposed to go to Hornsund, the southernmost fjord of Spitsbergen, but the current charts indicate that ice might be blocking the entrance. Conditions may change in the time it takes us to get there, but in the meantime, Captain Stahlberg has put on speed in case we need to skip Hornsund and travel further north to another fjord instead.

(The ice chart to the right is the same one Robin shared with us; I downloaded it from the Polar View website after we returned to the US. From what I understand, we can't get into areas shown in dark grey, red or orange, and green and yellow [drift ice] can be problematic under the right [wrong may be a more accurate word] conditions.)

Tonight we continued the tradition of a multi-national dinner with a German couple living in Switzerland and an Australian couple. Although we had a good time again, I have to admit that following “Sir Jim’s” conversation was at times a challenge due to his heavy Australian accent. We’d better start taking lessons in “Aussie” if we hope to get along when we visit our seventh and last continent someday.

The menu offered an excellent variety of options. I enjoyed my spaghetti Alfredo starter and the Atlantic Pollock over risotto main course very much. Mui had the same fish dish as his main course, and opted for an orange-raspberry garnished salad as his starter. Dessert for me was ice cream (again) — vanilla with a light drizzle of chocolate sauce. For Mui, the meal’s sweet ending was an excellent raspberry cheesecake.

For once, we left the dining room early — if you can call 10:00p early. No surprises when we returned to the cabin tonight, but we still have our balloons and our towel bunny from last night to enjoy. Alas, the swans did not survive the heavier chop we’ve been experiencing since rounding the tip of the island on our way further north. As a precaution, we broke out the Scopolamine patches, but hope to remove them if conditions improve when we reach Spitsbergen tomorrow. For now, goodnight from our cradle at sea.