Bjørnøya - Bear island

Kvalrossbukta

After spending more than two days on three-hour on three-hour off watches, we were glad to be able to find our bunks and sleep for as long as we wanted. Mr. Furuno took responsibility for the anchor watch, keeping a close eye on things, so we slept soundly. With only two of us on board, we are completely reliant on an electronic anchor watch.

It is not possible to maintain this over time with a wakeful anchor watch.

Since we have only had positive experiences with the SPADE anchor, we felt secure in letting Mr. Furuno take the anchor watch. As you can see in the photo on the left below, the boat swings in the wind, and you can immediately tell if it is about to drift out of position.

When we are at anchor, we pay extra attention to two electronic devices. As well as the aforementioned anchor watch, we are very fond of the barograph, which shows trends in air pressure. Large and rapid changes in air pressure can indicate an approaching change in the weather, especially an increase in wind strength. As can be seen in the picture on the right, the pressure has increased steadily over the last two days, meaning that a change in the weather is on the way. At 19:32, the air pressure is currently 1017 mHG. It also shows the battery voltage of the consumption bank at the bottom right of the picture; it is currently at 25.2 volts.

If this falls below 24.5 volts, the battery needs to be recharged.

Usually, the wind generator provides maintenance charging, but this depends on there being sufficient wind. A minimum of 12 knots of wind (a light breeze) is required for effective charging.

We eventually got plenty of wind. Throughout the evening and night, it increased steadily. With the wind coming from the north-west, we were safe from the rough seas on the outer side, but we could clearly feel the gusts of wind coming over the mountains from the west.

The next day, the weather began to deteriorate significantly. At midnight every night, Bjørnøya Meteo broadcasts a weather forecast on 17.570 MHz on medium wave. They reported strong north-westerly winds and gales over the next few days. Based on this forecast, we decided to wait until the winds had calmed down. This suited us perfectly, as we wanted to explore the island while we were there.

However, with the wind increasing throughout the night, it was difficult to sleep with the boat rocking so violently. The next day, we decided to stay on board and postpone our visit to the shore until we saw how the boat — or rather, the anchor — would withstand the strong gusts of wind. The wind was blowing at 35 knots. At midday, we changed our anchor position to allow more room for the boat to swing in the strong wind. We laid out just over 60 metres of chain and tested the anchor by running both engines at full speed in reverse. The ship did not move, so we felt reasonably confident that it would hold.

But there was to be drama. Early on Sunday morning, a Dutch sailing boat entered the bay. We later heard that they had experienced a challenging journey from the mainland and were now struggling to secure their anchor in the strong wind. Eventually, they seemed to regain control and everyone disappeared below deck.

A couple of hours later, when we went outside to check the conditions, we found that their anchor had lost its grip and they were about to drift onto some nearby rocks. If the boat was to hit the rocks, it could be badly damaged.

We rushed over and repeatedly called them on the VHF radio, but received no response. They were obviously tired after the crossing and asleep.

The situation was becoming quite dramatic as they were drifting closer and closer to the rocks. With strong currents and gusts of wind, the situation could quickly become serious if their boat was damaged. All we could do was push on and try to get their attention by any means necessary. We fired two loud fire crackers and sounded a distress signal on our horn (a powerful horn mounted on the mast), in the hope of alerting them.
At the last moment, they reacted and, after a few hectic minutes, regained control and made it back into the bay.

We were very pleased that we had noticed what was about to happen. It turned out that the skipper had people on a charter trip with him and that it was his first time so far north. He was clearly not entirely familiar with the conditions here, as was evident from some of their equipment.

Shortly afterwards, the Coastguard on KV Nordkapp hailed us. They were positioned at the north-eastern tip of the island and had overheard our conversation with the Dutch boat via the VHF radio. They wanted to know if the situation was under control. We were able to reassure them that everything was fine now. We had a pleasant chat with the officer on duty, who gave us the latest weather update they had. This confirmed the forecast from Bjørnøya Meteo the previous night of continued strong north-westerly winds, which were set to last for a couple of days.

We had not received a weather forecast for several days, as there is no mobile coverage here in the wilderness and therefore no access to the internet. Bjørnøya Meteo only provides forecasts for one day at a time. Before we left, the captain had not quite mastered downloading weather information via satellite phone, but now it was just a matter of craning his neck over the PC.

Once we had sorted out our data, we were also able to send and receive emails from home. While it's always enjoyable to share experiences, the slow speed of the satellite phone made it impossible to send pictures, which would have added an extra dimension given how far away we were from civilisation.

Eventually, the wind shifted more towards the north, calming the bay. We pumped up the dinghy and went ashore.

This gave us the opportunity to stroll around the southern tip of the island. Not many people get to set foot on Bjørnøya, as there are no "tourist routes" here. Only the crew on the meteorological station, researchers from the Polar Institute, the coastguard and sailors like us come ashore here.

There is beautiful nature and lots of birds. We can stroll around carefree here, as it has been years since the last polar bear was seen here. It's been years since the island was surrounded by ice or there was drift ice here in winter. That is why there are no polar bears here. At least, we didn't see any.

However, we chose to bring our shotguns just in case, as the Sysselmann's directive for travelling in Svalbard states that weapons are mandatory outside built-up areas — and Bjørnøya can hardly be called built-up!

The remains of a whaling station, which was in operation from 1903 to 1908, can be found inside the bay. Scattered around are remnants of previous activities. These are now considered relics of the past and must not be moved or removed. I found it really exciting to stroll around, looking at the objects and letting my imagination run wild.

I wonder what it looked like when activity was at its peak? Much of the activity was at the experimental or trial stage. In the early summer, people sailed north and explored all the possibilities for exploiting the area's resources. They mainly hunted and trapped whales, walruses and seals, but we also found traces of mining.

Although the landscape initially appeared barren and monotonous, it was constantly punctuated by lush splashes of colour.

The captain of the KV Nordkapp stopped by in a Sjø-Bjørn, a high-speed rescue boat, after he and some of the crew had gone ashore to dive. The captain of the KV Nordkapp and the skipper of the Gyda are colleagues, albeit commanders in various branches of the armed forces, so they had plenty to talk about.

The divers had caught a small cod, which they gave to us, and it was quickly added to the fish soup for that evening.

We stayed in Kvalrossbukta for four days. We really wanted to visit the station on the north side, but there is no sheltered harbour in that area when the wind is blowing from the north, so we had to abandon that idea. On our last day, another Norwegian boat arrived and dropped anchor.

After a trip ashore, we met two people from the Norwegian boat on the beach, and it didn't take long before we realised that we were practically neighbours. Øyvind and Torild, who own the boat Duen II, live in Senja. They invited us to bacalao made from homemade stockfish later that evening, and we took it upon ourselves to provide the red wine. It was a pleasant evening with a delicious 'gentlemen's meal' (even though there were three ladies on board). There were five of them and they were now on their way home after travelling north to Ny-Ålesund. Eager to get home in time for the festival in Skrålsvik on Senja, they hoisted their sails and set course for Norway as soon as we disembarked.

Later, at the northernmost anchorage of the trip, we once again enjoyed clipfish from Duen II. :-)

We decided to set off early the next morning. The wind had shifted to the west and calmed down somewhat, so it was time to set course for Spitsbergen — the largest island in the Svalbard archipelago. It is located on the west side of the archipelago, with only Prins Carl Forland lying further west.

Our aim was to sail towards Hornsund, the southernmost fjord that runs inland. In the evening, the KV Nordkapp passed by on its way home to Norway to change crew. We started to prepare for the voyage north, which normally takes a couple of days, and went to bed early to get some rest.