HINLOPEN

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After rounding Verlegenhuken and passing Verlegenbukta and Lagunepynten, we can turn south towards Hinlopen and the entrance to Sorgfjorden. The waters are shallow here, so we must keep well away from land, but eventually we can glimpse Elousneset with the famous Krosshaugen.

The cross on top of the hill was erected by Skipper C. Holmgren on the schooner Eolus of Bergen, which was trapped in ice here in 1855.

According to the inscription on the cross, it is dedicated to the memory of the fallen whalers after the sea battle that took place in Sorgfjorden in 1693. There is a burial ground just below the cross, a cemetery for whalers from the 1600s and 1700s.

Not far from Krosshaugen, on the opposite side of the inlet to Sorgfjorden, lies Crozierpynten. We turn in behind the point and anchor in what is called Heclahamna.

Nearby is the mountain Heclahuken. On land, we see the remains of the Swedish degree measurement station from 1899. The station once consisted of a farmhouse, outbuildings and observatories. The facility was funded by the Swedish government, and in the winter of 1899-1900, 12 men spent the winter here. Swedish and Russian experts joined forces and created a large-scale research project based on the question of the exact shape of the Earth. They wanted to prove the hypothesis that the Earth is flattened at the poles.

When the Swedes left the station in 1900, nature immediately began its destructive work, and the facility and all its buildings slowly fell into ruin. However, one of the houses is still standing, although it will probably not be long before it collapses.

The favourable harbour conditions in Sorgfjorden were already well known in the 17th century when whalers sailed these waters, but Sorgfjorden also became known early on for its difficult ice conditions. The fjord mouth is wide and faces Nordporten in Hinlopenstretet. Drifting ice can suddenly appear, pushing in and trapping ships and crews with no possibility of escape.

We were sitting outside relaxing after the sail when we noticed that the county governor's helicopter was calling "Nordyssel" on the VHF radio, which was anchored at the innermost part of the fjord. The governor's waste collection team was on its annual round, and now they was in Sorgfjorden. They trawl the beaches and collect all the rubbish that has washed ashore, mostly plastic products from fishing boats in the Barents Sea.

Now they have come across a polar bear stuck in the remains of a huge net on the other side of the fjord from where we are. The governor's helicopter with a veterinarian who will anaesthetise the bear so that it can be freed arrives from Longyearbyen. This is happening quite a distance away from us, but through our binoculars we can clearly see the bear dragging the huge net around.

Just as the helicopter is about to circle over the bear, it manages to break free and runs south towards the Dunèrbreen glacier, where it disappears from view. The governor's staff search the area, the helicopter transports the net to Nordsyssel before returning to Longyearbyen, and peace can once again descend.

Afterwards, we read in the "Svalbardposten" newspaper that the net, which had become stuck in the bear's ear tag, weighed a full 170 kg.

Foto: Christian Nicolai Bjørke, Svalbardposten

With calm winds and flat seas, we had high hopes for a smooth crossing of Hinlopen the next day. In Heclahamna, we woke up to another calm day. The trip across Hinlopen takes no more than an hour, so we went ashore and looked at the rest of the station. We eventually ended up at Flaggstonghaugen. Here we had a good view of the vast plain towards Fosterneset and Basisodden, but we could also see far out into Hinlopenrenna and Nordporten, and what we saw there was not good. Large amounts of drift ice were thundering northwards and the sea inside the drift ice was white. We experienced the weather phenomenon that makes Sorgfjorden such a good harbour. The wind and sea can be raging from the south, but in Sorgfjorden it is completely calm. We had to stay put and wait for better weather, and just hope that the drift ice did not come this way.

The next day, there was still no wind in Sorgfjorden, but now the fog had settled and there was snow in the air. We decided to give it a try, so we hauled up the hook and set course directly for Kinnvika, located at the northern mouth of Murchinsonfjorden on Nordaustlandet.

Now there wasn't much ice to be seen. This may, of course, have been due to the visibility, which was poor at times, but we reached Kinnvika without any problems. We turned into Murchinson Bay and anchored off Bolinderodden at the old Swedish-Finnish research station.

Kinnvika was one of the few places where we had some trouble getting the anchor to set. We were a little too abrupt when we reversed into the loose gravel, so a lot of thick seaweed got tangled in the anchor and prevented it from digging in when we reversed hard. It held well enough in the light wind, but we don't want to be careless with our anchoring because when the wind suddenly picks up, we need to know that it will hold. It took several attempts before we were satisfied.

The buildings were solidly constructed and are generally in good condition even after 50 years, while the machinery clearly shows the ravages of time. Since the buildings in Kinnvika date from 1957, they are not automatically protected as cultural heritage sites. However, they are cultural heritage sites, and the buildings are considered worthy of preservation due to their location, unique character and history. Some of the houses are open, so we slipped in for a quick look.

The county governor's clean-up crew has just been here collecting rubbish. Mostly plastic and debris washed ashore from fishing vessels.

As we continue southwards, we can clearly see the large inland ice sheet on the Gotia Peninsula, which covers most of Gustav V Land in the north-western part of Nordaustlandet.

A snow-covered land with high, pointed mountains was discovered in June 1596 by the Dutch navigator Willem Barentsz. The high, pointed mountain formations to the west gave rise to the name Spits-bergen. Here on the east side, however, there is little to remind us of pointed formations. Helge Ingstad's description "Landet med de kalde kyster" (The land of cold coasts) is, however, very apt. The photo above shows parts of Valhallfonna on Ny Friesland, northeast of Spitsbergen.

Although the landscape is considerably more barren and desolate here than on the west side, there are many fascinating things to see. Like here, just south of Kap Fanshawe on the east side of Spitsbergen, where the rock layers are sharply divided between loose limestone and dolomite and the hard, dark igneous rock dolerite (a basalt that has solidified inside the earth's crust) as characteristic features.

But then, just as you are wondering how there can be life here in this barren and inhospitable landscape, Alkefjellet appears. Here, life is so incredibly abundant that you cannot help but be completely captivated. The mountainsides are teeming with life, and thousands of polar guillemots swim in the sea just outside. Alkefjellet is the largest bird cliff in the area, and normally there are several hundred thousand black guillemots and a similar number of polar guillemots.

The sound of the bird cliff and the birds hovering above us is infernal. It is hard to comprehend that the population of polar loons in Svalbard has halved since the 1990s. The polar loon is now one of the most endangered seabird species.

The fog gradually rolls in, so we have to leave the bird cliffs and continue south towards Von Otterøya. There are not many good anchorages on this side of Hinlopen, and there are long stretches of steep and inhospitable coastline with glaciers and mountains plunging straight into the sea.

Von Otterøya is one of the very best harbour locations in Hinlopen, with a well-protected lagoon. The challenge, however, is that it is poorly mapped, and without forward-looking sonar, you just have to raise the keel and sneak in. The fog settled quickly, but we could just about make out the shore a couple of boat lengths away and managed to drop anchor before we were completely enveloped.

Later in the evening, the cloud cover above the fog breaks up, and the midnight sun creates a magical atmosphere inside the lagoon.

The next day, the fog has lifted and the sea is like a mirror as we set out from the lagoon. But we mustn't be fooled. The weather forecast is clear: a north-westerly gale is expected to pick up in the afternoon, so we set course directly for Pesceløyane, south of Willhelmøya. It looks like we might find shelter from the wind there.

Beautiful and wild nature. Here you can see Eremitten in the middle between Emblafjellet on the right and Vaigattbreen on the left. We are heading towards the sound between Wilhelmøya and the east side of Spitsbergen. We pass Bjørnsundet and Binnebukta, but there are no bears to be seen. The current is strong here in the narrow sound and we quickly pass through.

We know that bears are often spotted in this area, and indeed we are right. On the beach at Bjørnbogen, south on Wilhelmøya, we see a female bear with a cub. The waters where the bears are are shallow and murky, so without the sonar we don't dare to approach them. Fortunately, we have good binoculars, so we can watch the two of them for a while as we glide quietly past.

Then suddenly something happens with the weather. It is clear that something is coming from the north. Fortunately, we are not far from Pescheløya, and now we have to trust that the bay, which on the map appears to provide shelter from the north and north-west, is deep enough for us to anchor here. Sailing in this area is challenging as there are very few depth indications on the map. Outside, the sea is starting to turn white, but fortunately the bay is deep enough and we are safe. The anchor is firmly in place, so we goes inside and enjoy the warmth of the stove.

The weather changed quickly, and by the next day the storm had passed and we could enjoy the fantastic surroundings.

We enjoyed our morning coffee in the cockpit before taking the dinghy ashore and setting out to explore the island. The beach has beautiful black volcanic sand. At first glance, the island may seem barren and desolate, but tracks in the sand quickly reveal that it is far from deserted. A flock of barnacle geese was staying on the east side, but they had chicks and were very shy. What surprises us more are the traces of reindeer. After all, Pescheløya is 3-4 km from Wilhelmøya and the mainland, but the reindeer probably cross the ice in winter in search of food and then strand here in the spring. We did not see any here now, and since this is an area where you can encounter bears when you least expect it, and with little room to escape, this is probably an unsafe place to stay for both reindeer and... humans.

This was experienced by people from a vessel conducting sea mapping here in 1995. During a landing on Kiepertøya, just south of where we are, two people were attacked by a young bear. Armed only with a .22 calibre pistol (saloon calibre), they had nothing to protect themselves with. The polar bear attacked and injured one of them so severely that he died from his injuries. Polar bears like this have very limited access to food and can become unpredictable and relatively desperate.

The bay on the west side of Pescheløya provides shelter from winds and waves coming from the north and east, but is completely exposed to southerly winds.

The weather is clearing up and we are setting course further south. As things stand now, we plan to go via Heleysundet, which lies between Barentsøya and the east side of Olav V Land on Spitsbergen, and further south in Storfjorden. As the name suggests, this is the largest fjord in Svalbard. It was not until 1858 that it became clear that Barentsøya was not a peninsula, but that there was in fact a sound here at the northern end of Storfjorden.

Heleysundet is notorious. Here, currents have been measured at up to 11 knots, and there are many stories of ships being crushed by drift ice that piles up in the narrow sound. No precise measurements have been taken of when the tidal current reverses, but "Den Norske Los" suggests that it is at its slowest approximately four hours after high tide in Longyearbyen. Since the area is virtually free of drift ice, we do not expect any accumulation in Heleysundet either, but the sound is narrow and since we are unfamiliar with it, we make sure to arrive a little earlier than planned and get a little countercurrent. This way, we will have the current with us if we have to turn back for any reason.

We quickly notice the current. In the picture above, you can see the current as the calm area where it flows northwards in the sound, which fortunately has been well mapped with depth measurements. We sail neatly and carefully around Kap Muhry and round the islet on the northwest side before slipping into the narrow fjord that runs westwards in the sound. The chart indicates that the seabed here is muddy, but we get reasonably good anchorage and decide to stay overnight. There is no current here and it is well sheltered from the wind.

The next morning we wake up to blue skies and calm winds. During the night, the Belgian boat "Mai" has arrived. As we are about to raise the anchor, he calls us on the VHF. He is alone on board and chatty.

Normally, there is work for both of us when we raise the anchor. One handles the anchor winch and tidies up on deck, while the other keeps control of the boat. Today, it is the captain who is working on deck, so it is the skipper who can talk on the VHF until the boat is manoeuvred out into the sound again. It turns out to become a long conversation, as the anchor chain is completely covered in thick sticky mud that has stuck to the chain and will not wash off by itself.

We have a hose in the bow to clean the chain and anchor when it comes on board, and now we are really putting it to good use. Normally, things are hosed down immediately as the chain comes out of the sea. Now it takes almost half an hour to hose down the 30 metres of chain we have out there. We have never before encountered such a mess.

We had calculated that we would have the current with us for a good stretch southwards, but now we are almost half an hour behind schedule. As we round the islet in the sound, the current catches us and we pick up speed. To begin with, the engines are running at half speed, which normally gives us a speed of 3-4 knots, but the GPS shows 11.2 knots (!). The boat chases and tosses in the strong current. The waves are getting bigger and bigger, and it is clear that a change in the current is underway. Within a short time, we have the current against us, and now the diesel engines have to work hard to keep the boat moving south towards Ginevrabotnen. Gradually, the fjord opens up more and more, the sea calms down and the current subsides. When we eventually turn south into Storfjorden, we hoist the sails and get a good wind. We set course for Andersonbukta on the south-west side of Barentsøya.