A new day and new opportunities. We sailed out of Claravågen and headed south to Murchisonfjorden, which is not far away. Here we know there are good opportunities to find shelter from the strong winds that the metre-high waves threaten to bring, and at the same time we want to find out more about the area, which is completely different from the coast on the west side.

Bare and exposed, yet beautiful. Raudstupet is located at the southernmost point of Wargentinfjellet, facing Murchisonfjorden.

We passed the old research station in Kinnvika, and since we had observed a huge bear on land in Claravågen, just north of Kinnvika, when we arrived the evening before, we did not think it appropriate to go ashore there this time. We continued past some small islands to the east of us and were busy checking out what it looked like southwards towards Indre Russøya when we suddenly saw something strange on the west side of Oscarøya, a few hundred metres away.

Hallucinations in broad daylight are actually possible. We both studied the "phenomenon" thoroughly and at length before concluding that, yes, there was a researcher digging in the sand with a wheelbarrow beside him... Right...?!? Yes, the wheelbarrow has red rims and black wheels, so it looked... Hmm, we had to find out, so we turned eastwards. The 'researcher' worked and dug, with his back to us, until he straightened up and turned around... Is it possible...? There, a couple of hundred metres in front of us, stands the teddy bear 'Oscar' (he was eventually christened that).

"Gyda" anchored where Faksebu was located, now also called "Flaksebu" after a storm took it. Mjølnerfjellet on the Lomfjord peninsula in the background. There is a completely different atmosphere here on the east side. There is almost no other boat traffic here, so in practice you have this beautiful area all to yourself. The landscape is bare and barren, yet incredibly beautiful, both when you look up and gaze outwards, or when you look down right in front of your bow.

Amongst the rocks and gravel stood a solitary, colourful Tråsildre.

An old boat vault near where Faksebu once stood. The area is known as the Arctic desert and normally receives very little precipitation. This means that wood lying on dry land lasts for an incredibly long time. We have seen similar wooden boats elsewhere on the islands that are over 100 years old. Here you can see Mjølnerfjellet with Frøybreen in the background.

Heading south in Hinlopen. The dark point jutting out is Kapp Fanshaw, and behind it you can see parts of the large Valhallfonna glacier. We are approaching Alkefjellet, a bird cliff that is quite special because it plunges straight into the sea, and the birds sit from the water's edge all the way up to the top. There is a huge swarm of birds there, and in one go we are passed by groups of polar loons on their way to or from the island.

Alkefjellet with its characteristic Nåla (the needle) peak. From a distance, you would never guess that so many birds live here, but it is estimated that around 60,000 breeding polar loons reside here. Now they have young, so there is constant traffic to and from the island to obtain enough food. Fish and crustaceans are usually caught at depths of up to 50 metres, but dives of more than 100 metres, and sometimes 200 metres, do occur.

The closer we get, the more deafening the cacophony of birds becomes. We slowly approach the mountain and are surrounded by birds on all sides, either clinging to tiny ledges in the rock face or flying back and forth in a single stream. Large flocks of birds are also gathered around us on the water.

Here on the east side, we really feel what it means to live in the moment... We are completely isolated from all the daily logins and hustle and bustle. The excitement of being completely left to our own devices, the magic of feeling that there are only the two of us in the whole world, and the fantastic spectacles offered by the wildlife and surroundings make the east side a truly unique experience. It takes a long time to get here, but once you finally arrive, you just have to surrender...

The Brünnich's Guillemot is a pelagic diving seabird and the second largest in the Alke family. The species thrives in the polar regions of the Atlantic and Pacific Oceans. In the northern hemisphere, the Brünnich's Guillemot is one of the most numerous seabirds. The polar guillemots from Svalbard winter in the waters off Iceland, Greenland and Newfoundland (Canada), although parts of the population probably spend the whole year in the Barents Sea. The polar guillemots leave their colonies when their young are able to swim, at the end of July and beginning of August. They return to their colonies again in April and May.

The weather here changes incredibly quickly. Yesterday there were howling winds and strong gales, today it is completely magical and calm. The rest of the day passes as we drift quietly past Alkefjellet. Eventually we have to resort to the diesel engine to get going again. The sea is waving like a huge jelly, or "Tranhav" as it is also called.

Here you can clearly see the big difference in the landscape between the steep west side and the rounded, gentle edges of the east side. Lovénberget with Reliktbreen on the right. We have set course for Von Otterøya, perhaps the safest anchorage on the entire east side.

The two distinctive bays on the west side of Von Otterøya are completely sheltered from currents, and the shallow entrance to the bays prevents ice drifting in Hinlopen from entering. The seabed consists of sand and clay, providing good holding, so you can safely anchor here if the wind changes direction.

It is only a couple of years since depth measurements in and around the bays were published in the nautical charts, but part of the area is still not properly surveyed (Unsurveyed area).

During the night, "Revenge", the second of the two sailing boats we had close contact with on the trip, came alongside us. We saw them in Ny-Ålesund and caught a glimpse of them at Sjuøyane when they set off around Nordaustlandet. There were two grown men from Scotland (with an American-flagged boat) who were on a trip. They came over to us on their way ashore and told us that they had spent almost three days on the trip around Nordaustlandet. They had been surprised by a lot of ice in the sea off Austfonna. There are no anchorages in that area, so they were now very tired after sailing non-stop and having headwinds for the last 24 hours.

As you can see, the entrance to the bay is very narrow and shallow, which means that regardless of the wind direction, there will be no swell or large ice inside the bay.

From a distance, the island may look barren, but that is only until you set foot on land.

Amongst the gravel and rocks, we find small tufts of Knoppsildre, Rødsildre, Svalbard poppy and Bergrublom.

We also find clear traces of a drama that has unfolded here... Two reindeer bucks have become entangled in the remains of a net, sealing their fate.

The constant littering of plastic is a significant problem, and we have seen an incredible amount of it on our trip. One can only hope that one day it will be possible to put an end to this disgrace.

Once again, the weather is playing tricks on us. Due to the calm weather that has lasted for a day, fog has formed over the sea between Von Otterøya and the land around Balderfonna on Spitsbergen. When we went ashore on the island, the sun was shining from a cloudless sky, but we could clearly see the fog out in the fjord. Suddenly it was upon us, and visibility became extremely poor.

In conditions like these, it's not much fun being on land. It's impossible to see if a bear is approaching, and these guys can smell tempting food from many kilometres away, so we found our way down to the shore and back to the dinghy. It turned out that the fog was so thick that it was impossible to find our way back to the mother ship just like that. Fortunately, before we went ashore, we had entered the position on a portable GPS that we keep in our "emergency bag" that we always carry with us, and with the help of that, we had no trouble finding our way home.

Fortunately, it is just as light during the day as it is at night, so when the fog lifted in the evening, we continued south towards Pesceløya, which is part of the Bastianøyane just south of Willhelmsøya. We found a reasonably good anchorage here the last time we were here in 2014. It is very nice to go ashore on the island, so you can easily spend a day here looking for details. As it turned out, that was not to be...

As we approach the island, the wind picks up from the south. This means that the bay we were in last time, which is open to the south and therefore offers no shelter, cannot be used. However, on the east side there is a bay that looks promising, so we turn in there. The bay has good sandy bottom at a depth of about 10 metres, and is just big enough for us to have enough room to lay out 6:1 (60 metres) of chain in case the wind picks up, which it did. No sooner had we started to rig up to anchor than a huge bear came strolling along.

He probably imagined that the floating tin can would offer some tasty treats, so he lay down on top of the pile and took it very easy while we dropped anchor. He had all the time in the world and barely lifted an eyelid while we stood in line brushing our teeth and preparing for the night. It was a little strange to crawl under the duvet with a guy like that just a stone's throw away, but at least we were safe from pirate attacks from land, or so we thought...

Early in the morning, the captain woke up with a start... What on earth? Strange voices? An invasion...?

"Ding-dong...!!"

"Good morning, ladies and gentlemen, please find your way to your boat stations..."

The cruise ship "Le Boreal" was travelling north in Hinlopen and had spotted the bear we were keeping company with, and moored on the opposite side of the island. Since the island is low and there were only a few hundred metres between us, the sound carried well. Not long after, Zodiacs full of tourists swarmed around us. Of course, they also wanted to see the bear and get their money's worth. They had every right to do so. We just had to accept that our "wilderness experience" was somewhat different than we had hoped, so we enjoyed their experience.

The ship sent out a scout who lay still and reported where the bear was. Eventually, the other boats with tourists arrived, but they kept a safe distance and clearly had a system in place where they took turns deciding which boat could get closest, so that everyone could see. The bear was completely unfazed and just wandered around calmly before eventually settling down by some large rocks a little further away from the beach.

With the bear on the island, we had nothing to do ashore, so we decided that the time had come to leave Sørporten in Hinlopen and set course for Storfjorden. To get there, we either had to go around the east side of Barentsøya and then through Freemansundet, or take the notorious Heleysundet. After some consideration and checking the weather, we decided on the maelstrom in Heleysundet. To best meet the tidal current, which can reach over 11 knots, we left Pesceløya as evening approached.

The evening light is magically beautiful tonight, and it looks like we will have a great trip south to Heleysundet, but once again the weather gods have other plans. As we pass Kapp Payer, the wind picks up, and when we pass Hannbreen, a northerly gale blows in. At first, it looks like it is a downdraft from the glacier we are passing, but it persists all the way until we reach the maelstrom in Heleysundet.

With the wind came increasingly lower fog clouds and lashing rain. Visibility gradually became minimal. Fog and a gale that gradually veered westward with rain lashing down made conditions miserable and visibility was practically zero. Without radar, you are quite helpless in such weather conditions. The diesel engines have to work hard as we sail close to land to get shelter from the rough seas. Even though we are sheltered from the seas, the wind catches the rigging and the ship heels heavily. The wind howls in the rigging, the rain lashes down and the fog means that we can only occasionally glimpse the outline of the rocks at the water's edge. However, the radar clearly shows where land is, and we have been here before, so we know that there is good depth close to land.

No precise tidal calculations have been made for this area, so we have to assume that the current will change approximately 1.5 to 2 hours after high tide in Longyearbyen. As we pass Kapp Muhry, it turns out that we have misjudged the timing slightly and encounter a 6-knot current as we round Heleysundet. The conditions here are very unusual, with a very short period between high and low tide, which we experienced for the first time. We now considered for a moment whether we should cross the sound to the south and wait for the current to change behind Kykenthalvøya, but we would probably only have time to cross the sound before the current changed.

Quite right, two hours after high tide in Longyearbyen, the current suddenly slackened and we were able to continue close to land on the north side. As we enter the narrowest part, where the current is usually strongest, we only have a knot or two against us, and it is easy to turn right at the "roundabout" and enter the long, narrow bay that ends in the safe anchorage at the far end.

We calculate that the current will turn south at 11 o'clock the next morning, so we prepare ourselves with a better meal and enjoy a long and good night's sleep, followed by a slow start the next day.

The next day, the wind and rain have subsided, but the fog is still thick. We carefully leave our hiding place and as the bow enters the "roundabout", the current takes hold and there is no turning back. Visibility is still zero, so we are completely dependent on radar and chartplotters to know where we are going. We stay in the middle of the sound on our way south, and as we reach Ginevrabotnen, the current slows down considerably. Unfortunately, the fog persists throughout the day, so even though we occasionally glimpse blue sky above us, we miss the view of Barenstøya on our journey south in Storfjorden.

In the afternoon, we are just outside Anderssonbukta, located on the south-west side of Barentsøya, and we consider staying here for the night. We still can't see anything, but as we are about to turn towards land, we are hailed by "Eliot", who has spotted us on the AIS. They tell us that they are in Sundbukta on the south side of Baretsøya, towards Freemansundet, and that the sun is shining as far as the eye can see, so we quickly decide to set course for there.

As we round Ureinskagen and turn east towards Sundbukta in Freemansundet, we are hailed by the Governor deputy, who was out on inspection. There are four of them, speeding along in a Polar Circle boat, and two of them ask to come on board, which is very nice. There is always good advice and relevant news to be had from that quarter. They quickly finish their mandatory check of weapons and papers, and are otherwise interested in hearing about how our trip has been and whether we have seen many polar bears or other special wildlife. When they saw the plastic waste we had collected along the way, they praised the skipper for his initiative and immediately offered to take it with them.

While two were on board inspecting the Gyda, the other two followed close behind in the Munin. The mother ship Polarsyssel was further east in Freemansundet. Here you can see Kapp Lee on Edgeøya in the background.

What makes Svalbard so exciting is that there can often be a fine line between idyll and drama. The Eliot had arrived at Sundbukta a few hours before us, so they had taken advantage of the fine weather here on the south side of the island to take a stroll ashore. We anchored next to them and enjoyed the fine weather on deck when we saw them in the dinghy on their way back. As they returned to the ship, we saw a bear walking steadily along the shore (picture above). It was quite clear that it had caught the scent of something.

When the bear arrived at the same spot where Frèderic and Bèrènice had left their dinghy while they were ashore, it dragged out the carcass of a dead seal and began to eat it. I wonder how it would have reacted if they had still been ashore and then stumbled upon it on their way back to the dinghy...

But the drama did not end there. After dinner, Frèderic and Bèrènice rowed over to the Gyda, and we looked forward to a long and pleasant evening together. There is always plenty to talk about when you meet like this; that is one of the best things about cruising. King Solomon or Jørgen Hattemaker, we always have common interests.

Unfortunately, the evening was far too short. Out of nowhere, the wind picked up. It quickly picked up and made the sea very rough. It soon became clear that they had to return to their own boat, but the challenge was that with the wind as it was now, it was impossible to row. The wind continued to increase in strength and it was only a matter of time before it would be completely impossible to get back with a dinghy. We quickly agreed that they could borrow our outboard motor, so with Gydas' Suzuki on the stern, they set off. With a light and reliable motor, it was easy to manoeuvre the dinghy against the wind, and they made it safely back on board Eliot, although they were very wet and cold after all the sea spray they had been subjected to.

The weather forecast for the next few days was bleak for Edgeøya and Storfjorden. South-westerly gales and rain. Our allotted time was also starting to run out, so we began to keep an eye on the weather forecast for the crossing back to the mainland.

The weather was supposed to turn west in three days and stay that way for another two or three days, which would give us good conditions for the journey home. After that, there would be several days with little wind. We were not keen on motoring all the way home, so we decided to wait and see if the forecast held for another day or two.

Along the west side of Edgeøya, there are few good anchorages that provide shelter from west-southwest winds. We had been told that Habenichtbukta near Årdalstangen would be a good spot. The last time we were in the area, we sailed past without really noticing it. Now we wanted to find out more, but the area has not been mapped. We headed south and passed Hassensteinbukta about 1 nm from land until we were level with the entrance to Habenichtbukta, and then turned straight into the bay. Here we anchored on sand at a depth of 4 m. The Eliot, which arrived after us later in the evening, held a slightly more oblique course towards the opening of the bay and "found" a rock at a depth of 1 m northwest of the opening (red arrow).

The Gyda has forward-looking sonar and was therefore able to sneak in a little further than the Eliot dared to go after encountering the rock. Although the bay opens to the west, we noticed little of the sea that the south-westerly wind was building up outside.

The area on the north side of the bay, between where you can see the masts of the "Gyda" and "Eliot", is protected and off-limits. We therefore took the dinghy further into the bay and went for a nice walk in the grassy area from Årdalstangen towards Hassensteinbukta. As usual, the reindeer were curious and eventually came very close to where we were sitting and resting.

The same was true of a polar fox that was prowling around us. Perhaps it was the culprit, because the beautiful pair of smew we spotted in a small pond nearby had only one chick with them. They usually lay two, sometimes three eggs. Growing conditions are harsh here, and the fox also needs food to feed its cubs.

The weather gradually became unpleasant, and we have never experienced so much rain on our previous trips to Svalbard. It turned out that this was one of the wettest summers on the archipelago, but with good clothing there is no reason not to be outdoors, and we had a nice trip ashore.

It turned out that the weather forecast for the crossing was accurate, and we decided that we would set course for home the next day. The weather conditions were calm, so Frèderic and Bèrènice came over in the dinghy and delivered the Suzuki. Bèrènice brought homemade pancakes, which she had learned to make from her grandmother. With brown sugar and a squeeze of lemon, they tasted delicious.

We had so much to talk about, as the previous meeting had been far too short, that we had to use much of the night to catch up. As always when sailors get together, a lot of time was spent discussing future plans, weather forecasts and prospects for the best possible crossing. They wanted to spend a couple of days at Pontongen on Andrètangen at the southern tip of Edgeøya before setting course for the mainland, while we were leaving the next day.

Fréderic has become a good friend, and with his plans for more sailing in the north, we know that we will definitely meet him again. Bèrènice was a very pleasant encounter. She had never sailed like this before and was very enthusiastic about her experience, so who knows, maybe we will meet her again at a later date.

The trip home turned out to be quite brisk, even though the first 12 hours were rather slow. As soon as we cleared Sørkapp on Spitsbergen, a gale came in from the west, so with two reefs in the mainsail, 1/2 genoa and storm jib set, we raced southwards. Three days after we weighed anchor in Habenichtbukta, we were able to moor at the guest jetty in Skjervøy, and we both agreed that it had been a fantastic trip.