We are blogging from our vessels, providing you with first hand accounts of our voyages. The blogging began with the Maiden Voyage to the North Pole of the world’s largest icebreaker 50 Years of Victory. (That’s Victory to the left, as she pulled out of Murmansk harbour at midnight!)

We are blogging in English and German. Other languages will follow as time goes by. We encourage you to post your comments and questions. We’ll do our best to have our bloggers answer them. Because we operate in remote areas, with limited connectivity, there will be time delays.

To begin reading the blog that interests you, click on a category to the left.

The Quark Expeditions Team.

September 27, 2008

Who’s on board? 
Aside from our gracious Inuit guests, I’ve not mentioned much of the diverse bunch on board.  Most of the staff on this Baffin Island expedition are raging adventurists (tho’ pleasant and unassuming) who fill our afternoons with lectures on birding, ancient tool making, the absolute realities of ice shrinkage or the trials of modern Inuit culture.  It’s quite social.   

It was on this very vessel some years ago that ship physician Vincent Lam “cornered” Margaret Atwood, sent her a manuscript and there began his rise to fame as a celebrated Canadian author.  Great story, but it’s the “cornering” that is unconvincing – in such close quarters it’s actually hard to escape others.  You bond over meals, knocking heads in rough zodiacs, or losing a soccer match to excited kids in Pond Inlet.  Lam writes of his time on board the Akademik Ioffe in the Globe & Mail:  http://www.vincentlam.ca/articles-020825-an-arctic-trip.php

Ken McGoogan, Author:  As we tour the graves of men lost in search of the elusive Northwest Passage, or explore abandoned Mounted Police posts in the high north, historian Ken McGoogan proves to be the ultimate storyteller.  Suspicious deaths, lead poisoning and cannibalism are a specialty.  Though a Eurocentric slant is often put on arctic exploration, Ken intertwines legendary Inuk explorers into the European tales.  He tells us (as we pass an antiquated outhouse in desolate Dundas Harbour) that explorers who connected with this land and its people interest him far more than those who did not.  www.harpercollins.ca/kenmcgoogan
Photo: Ken reads from Race To The Polar Sea, released while we’re at sea.
 
Pat Fairhead, Artist:  When she not spontaneously dancing, you’ll find Pat painting at a porthole on deck three.  She wears a mysterious smile and is eternally in awe of the sky.  For real? Can this sky evoke her breathless inspiration all the time?  I found my answer might be ‘yes’ one early morning, as I shuffled along the slippery deck for exercise and found her doing the same.  She was soaking in the horizon.  “Did you notice how the light is changing from there to there?”  Nope, I had not.  She has to point out this subtlety – this changes the way I view her paintings.   I asked her how long it would take for this stark scenery to settle on her eyeballs and become commonplace.  
“Never, never, never…  Never!”
“How do you know?” I challenged.
“Well this is my 8 or 9th time up here… it’s a most exciting place!”  Ok, Pat, you win.
 www.patfairhead.ca

September 23, 2008

The Captain turned around at 4am and told no one.  I knew.  I had not slept a wink and detected that, at that time, I was now being thrown around in a different direction.  We are in Smith Strait heading south again, passing much of Ellesmere Island’s east shore.  Many people skip breakfast.  Apparently the 35-40 knot winds had picked up to 50 at night.  Well, at least we can brag about reaching a latitude of  77.35, which is higher than many of our crew have been.

Again, we’re cooped up and it’s an uneventful day.  They’ve closed the slippery observations decks and outside our windows the Russian crewmen are heard chipping ice off the ship, as it apparently affects balance. Most people are passing time up on the Bridge with the quiet Captain and his panoramic view. 

The sun is simply brilliant today. Though we have ice, gale, and swells, it’s shining so strongly that my video camera can’t properly adjust to the blinding icebergs.  “Can you imagine them cooking downstairs in this swell?” asks Stephen the biologist.  I hum a Gordon Lightfoot tune, “Fellas it’s too rough to feed you… fellas it’s been nice to know you!” and gulp.
 
We are treated to a truly spectacular show of sea ice, cathedral peaked icebergs, as well as the plateau type.  The Bridge is the best seat in the house and we linger for hours until lunch is served.  A woman is quilting in the Captain’s chair with a 180 degree view of this most impressive outdoor sculpture gallery I’ve ever seen. - Janet Alilovic

September 22, 2008

Today’s itinerary has been scrapped.  What was to be a cultural visit to Grise Fjord, the most northerly community in our arctic, has turned out to be a potential hazard, as gale force winds are pushing pack-ice into Jones Sound (where Grise Fjord is situated).  Some passengers are irate, as they booked the trip with Grise Fjord in mind.  I see our competent expedition leader handle the situation with grace and a gently forced grin, explaining that even if we manage to make it in, we may not be able to leave.

Instead, we’ve decided to head north. As north as we can go.  When we hit frozen sea, we’ll marvel at the sight then turn around. With Ellesmere Island to the west and Greenland to the east, one full day and one full night’s journey should get us there. 

Like the snow days in Elementary school, we are passing time.  A family plays cards, people read, the coffee maker is working around the clock.  The weather is rough and our cheerful Doctor has been handing out nausea medication in large doses. In the evening, the waves really start to pick up; it’s icy, we secure objects in our cabins, and at night it feels like I’m sleeping on a scary slow-motion trampoline.  I wish my husband were here.-Janet Alilovic

AT SEA, September 21, 2008
2:30pm Eastern Standard Time

We’ve been redeemed!

In the last 2 days, the wildlife sightings have apparently been better than what entire expeditions in the past have encountered.  I so enjoy playing back my video footage, beautiful crisp shots of preening polar bear and apprehensive walrus, which make my earlier footage look like vague and fuzzy Bigfoot sightings.

I appreciate how our Expedition leader approach the animals in a well-planned and almost military manner.   Three staff scope the parameters with weapons for safety, the Expedition leader gets counsel from our Inuit guests about animal behaviour, then the zodiacs are ordered to disengage engines and paddle inch by inch toward the animal.  Our shutters are a-clicking, our hearts a-racing.  Animal sighting take precedence over everything – lectures, meals and sleep.

5:00pm Eastern Standard Time

Wry Neck and Owl Vomit
Admittedly, geology has never much engaged me, but yesterday I spent the entire afternoon searching for brachiopods and, under the guidance of our resident biologist Stephen, snowy owl vomit.  We’re dropped on a nearby beach (and told not to wander, as staff is standing on guard for polar bear) where the ancient rock shelves are absolutely loaded with Brachiopod and prehistoric Lily fossils.  I simply love the idea that they existed before life had struggled onto land.  Owl vomit is an exciting find – the digestive system allows the bird to skip the difficult process of digesting bones and fur – and the hairy finger-like pellet is usually the remnant of a lemming or small rodent.  The owl’s stomach acid leeches the best of the protein then heaves out what it doesn’t need.  With my nose to the ground for an hour, I’m the only person who finds one.  I’m most likely the only one who really tried.  I need a Chiropractor.

8:00pm Eastern Standard Time

At dinner I sit across from a Chiropractor from Toronto.  Joe and I talk shop (I’m a Massage Therapist).  I find he’s set up a hockey camp in Iqaluit, Nunavut, and is the guest of our Inuit reps Mika and Jamesie, her father the Elder.  Our conversation changes from therapy balls and muscle release techniques to Joe’s experience with Mika on a seal hunt.  I ask Mika if her people have a traditional technique to relieve muscle pain.  She speaks slowly, almost dead-pan, but with an authentic twinkle in her eye, “No.” 

She then remembers that fermented caribou meat is a natural muscle relaxant.
 
“You put it ON the muscle?” My voice sounds pleading.
“You eat it.”  She says. Yum.

After the soup, Mika discreetly asks the wait-staff for a traditional meal for her father.  No doubt the meals onboard are too rich.  Jamesie, Joe tells us, just missed his 80th birthday because he wasn’t sure of the date.  Mika translates and the minute man grins in his genuine, albeit toothless, manner as his meal arrives.  We have chicken and potatoes, and Jamesie is served chunks of boiled Narwhal blubber.  He pours a side of ketchup.  My one wish on this trip was to see this near-fabled, one-tusked beast… I just never imagined it would be on a plate.

I’m dying to try it.  Joe, a hearty fellow who is at home with everyone, dares ask for a piece and slices it into bits for us curious on-lookers.  About five of us agree that it tastes like chewy calamari. - Janet Alilovic

Barrow Strait - September 19, 2008
3:00pm, Eastern Standard Time

Have you ever been chased off a beach by a Polar Bear? 
Until this sunny morning on Beechey Island, most of us had not.  Our first excursion, cut short due to a shiny white blob spotted on the horizon, saw our usually smiley guards sternly order us back to the zodiac.  We maintained an air of curiosity and excitement (the bear was so far off!) until our lunchtime briefing, where we learned how fast a bear could run.

It could have reached us in under 5 minutes, and it took us over 10 to hustle everyone into the zodiacs.   Apparently, the last folks to embark saw the bear in the distance begin to run toward us, more courageous with a thinned-out crowd.

Our Inuit representative, Mika, explained that a skinny bear is a dangerous bear.  She translated for her father, an Elder, who added that this skinny bear was in its “in-between years,” or teenaged, which is the most volatile type.  So, the threat was apparently real.  I’m sure every time we retell this story, the bear will have gotten closer and our lives more endangered.

7:00pm, Eastern Standard Time
Kerry is kind and fun to chat with.  Early this morning she showed me ‘the bridge’ up on the 6th deck, the equivalent of a cockpit where wall to wall windows allow our Russian captain and crew to keep watch for ice.  We are allowed to roam freely among them and use their binoculars.  I’m surprised they are not annoyed by this daily traffic. 

Kerry points out some brown dots on the distant shore.  It’s too far to tell even with binoculars, but she was told they were muskox.  The expedition leader announces a polar bear sighting on shore over the loud speaker.  It is hardly visible to the naked eye.  Through the binoculars, Kerry spots a tiny white figure passing near the herd – she finds it bizarre that the herd and the bear ignore each other. 

I’m chatting with Kerry again later on and she introduces me to the best outdoor lookout point and hauls over an extremely powerful telescope which we are apparently free to use.  With some difficulty, we focus it on the muskox, grazing in the same spot as yesterday.  They turn out to be 4 rusty barrels – we laugh and decide that people will see what they want to see. – Janet Alilovic

Resolute, Nunavut -  September 18, 2008 5:00pm, Central Time

“Take it all in while your eyes are still fresh,” advised Sarah, a family friend and seasoned arctic traveler, “There are no do-overs; your first impressions are in the first 3 days.”

After landing in Resolute, 80 passengers are whisked by zodiac over extremely choppy waters toward our ship.  I’m trying to take in my surroundings but the ride is too rough.  An older, soft-spoken woman named Dawn sits across from me and the icy spray soaks her back before it flies overtop her head to hit me in the face.  Frozen, salty bits.  I begin noticing ice mounds with stunning turquoise bases floating nearby, and I think, “And the expedition hasn’t even started.”  They’re like actors hanging around the front-of-house before the performance begins. 

As the zodiac pulls up along side the Akademik Ioffe’s long and thin staircase, I realise for the first time how dangerously unforgiving this water could be.  Dawn removes frozen fingers from a handle and says she’d never experienced as rough a zodiac ride in the Antarctic.  I’m relieved, this ride was not the norm.

9:00pm, Central Time
It turns out Dawn is my cabin mate.  She’s recently been to Easter Island, Iceland, and has camped in the desert.  We’re mingling among the ship’s guests to find people exchanging stories of snowball fights in June atop Norwegian fjords and forbidden toilet visits on the delicate Galapagos archipelago. 

As dinner is served, I’m smiling as I remember Sarah’s offer to lend me her emergency bear flare gun, “You may have to get your own refills,” she had said sincerely.  I’m quite sure now that the only refilling will be my glass of Shiraz at dinnertime. – Janet Alilovic
 

Janet Alilovic, a Massage Therapist from Mississauga, Ontario (Canada) blogs the Baffin Island Explorer tour in Nunavut, which sails the Canadian arctic waters from Resolute to Iqaluit on board the Akademik Ioffe. This is her first far north expedition.

Eisbrecher „50 Let Pobedij“, 2008-07-17 

Franz-Josef-Land, Wilczek Island 

Arktische Landschaften sind abstrakte Landschaften. Abstrakt im genauen Wortsinn, abgezogen sind hier weitgehend Pflanzen und Boeden. Es nackte Landschaften, kahle Berghaenge, Kliffs, Gesteinsschutt, bedeckt nur von Schnee und Eis. Fuer Geologen ein Beobachtungsparadies, die Gesteine und ihre Strukturen sind offen gelegt.

Arktische Landschaften sind aber auch aesthetisch abstrakte Landscaften, was man spaetestens dann merkt, wenn man zu Hause seine Fotografien wieder anschaut. in unerschoepflichen Variationen finden sich Reduktionen auf Kontraste heller Schnee- und Eisflaechen gegen dunkle Gesteinsflaechen, die unregelmaessigen Muster des Meereises, die gesetzmaessigen Formen der Gletscher und Eiskappen, die geometrischen Strukturen der Frostmusterboeden. Heute Vormittag bot sich die Kueste der Wilczekinsel dem Blick in Form zweier duenner, dunkler, waagerechter Linien vor hellem Hintergrund dar. Das Bild erinnerte an gewisse japanische Tuschezeichnungen, die aeusserst sparsam in den Mitteln und formal radikal auf das Notwendigste reduziert ihre eigene Abstraktion gefunden haben, weitab von europaeischen Wegen der abstrakten Kunst, die nur zufaellig zu aehnlich erscheinenden Ergebnissen fuehrten. Die untere Linie war der Schatten des langgezogenen Gletscherabbruchs, sie trennte optisch das Meereis von dem Scheehang darueber; die obere Linie ein Steilhang, die Traufkante des Tafelberges gewissermassen, sehr steil und daher schneefrei, darueber Schnee und eine flache Eiskappe, deren Weiss mit den Wolken verschmolz.

Ein abstrakt-kuenstlerischer Blick kommt hier also auf seine Kosten, und da auch die Geologie einen gewissen abstrahierenden Blick erfordert, fuegt sich fuer mich hier alles bestens zusammen.

Uebrigens fehrt das dazu, das man sich an Land, wo immer sich ein wenig Vegetation zeigt, begierig auf fast jedes Bluemchen stuerzt und man am liebsten gleich alle fotografieren wuerde. In der Antarktis ist noch eine Steigerung dieser Entzugserscheinungen moeglich, dort haben wir einsame Grasbueschel als allerletztes Gruen fotografiert.

 Wolfgang Bluemel, Lektor

Eisbrecher „50 Let Pobedij“, 2008-07-16

Franz-Josef-Land, Hooker Island, Rubini Rock und Tichaja Buchta, sowie Northbrook Island, Cape Flora.

Am fruehen Morgen fahren wir mit unserem Schiff bis auf wenige Meter an den Rubini Rock heran, einen hohen Vogelfelsen, wo Krabbentaucher, Dickschnabellummen und Dreizehenmoewen auf Basaltsaeulen nisten. Nach dem Fruehstueck dann Anlandung in der Tichaja Buchta (Stille Bucht), eine alte Forschungsstation. Ich steige die steilen Haenge hinauf und geniesse die Aussicht ueber die Bucht und auf den gegenueberliegenden Rubini Rock. Am Nachmittag dann eine weitere Anlandung auf Kap Flora, ein entdeckungsgeschichtlich legendaerer Ort, an dem Fridtjof Nansen und F. H. Johansen zufaellig auf Frederick Jackson trafen. Auch hier steige ich schnell den Hang hinauf, um mir das bisschen Bewegung zu verschaffen, das mir auf Schiffen immer fehlt. Fuer die Beobachtung der Geologie bleibt leider keine Zeit, da war Nansen besser dran, von ihm stammt ein sauber gezeichnetes Profil, das ich in meinem Vortrag ueber die Geologie der Arktis den Passagieren zeige.

Wolfgang Bluemel, Lektor

Eisbrecher „50 Let Pobedij“, 2008-07-15

Franz-Josef-Land, Jackson Island, Cape Mills.

Der Tag beginnt wie geplant, um Viertel vor Neun fliegen wir mit dem Helikopter zu unserem Vormittagsziel, Cape Norway auf Jackson Island.

Die Sonne scheint mit polarer Zurueckhaltung, ein paar Wolken verteilen sich zwanglos ueber den Himmel, nur ueber der Nachbarinsel Payer Island haengt truebselig eine Nebelbank. Optimale Bedingungen also fuer eine Anlandung. Denken wir – zunaechst.

Das Wichtigste, das man lernen muss, wenn man in der Arktis reist, ist, dass es den einen grossen, limitierenden, alles bestimmenden, unerbittlichen Faktor gibt: das Wetter. Und dass dieses arktische Wetter nahezu unvorhersehbar ist und sich in kuerzester Zeit aendern kann.

Dabei ist das sommerliche Wetter eigentlich meistens gut. Selbst jetzt, in meinem vierten Sommer in der Arktis kann ich mich nicht an einen Regentag erinnern. Schnee Ende August, ja, aber in Maszen, denn die Hocharktis ist klimatisch eine Wueste, eine Kaeltewueste. Es ist nicht das nasse Wetter wie in unseren mittleren Breiten, das den Reisenden in der Arktis zu schaffen macht, auch die Kaelte, sondern der allgegenwaertige Nebel, der beruechtigte Polarnebel, der sich vor allem ueber dem Meereis bildet, wo Feuchtigkeit und Kaelte zusammenkommen.

Erreicht man die „Eiskante“, laesst der Nebel in der Regel nicht lange auf sich warten.

Wir sind gerade gelandet und haben unsere Rettungswesten abgelegt; beginnen uns zu wundern, warum der Helikopter nicht zum Rueckflug abhebt, um die die ersten Passagiere vom Schiff zu holen, da heisst es ueber die Funkgeraete: Alle wieder einsteigen. Wir fliegen zurueck zum Schiff. Eine Nebelbank schiebt sich heran. Wir landen auf dem Helikopter-Deck des Eisbrechers, und wenige Minuten spaeter zieht es zu.

In einer solchen Situation kann es passieren, dass die Fluege eingestellt werden muessen, wer dann noch an Land ist, sitzt fuers Erste fest. Das wollen wir natuerlich unbedingt vermeiden.

In den folgenden eineinhalb Stunden koennen wir das Hin- und Herwabern des Nebels beobachten: Payer Island bleibt staendig eingehuellt, ueber Cape Norway bleibt es unbestaendig, aber das Kap linker Hand, Cape Mills, erfreut sich ununterbrochenen Sonnenscheins. Also beschliessen wir gegen Mittag, dort anzulanden. Der Tag ist gerettet.

Cape Mills: Die Hochflaeche eines Plateauberges, Gesteinsschutt aus Basalt, bis auf wenige freie Stellen alles schneebedeckt. Das Kliff zeigt die saeulenfoemige Struktur des Basalts (aus dem Jura, etwa 150 Millionen Jahre alt), auf der Hochflaeche ist deutlich eine Polygonalstruktur im Verwitterungsschutt zu erkennen, Hinweis auf den Dauerfrostuntergrund. Soviel Geologie musste jetzt einfach einmal sein.

Die Landschaft kann man nun je nach Geschmackslage eintoenig oder grandios finden. Aber wer hier reist, und sich nicht ungluecklich in die Arktis verirrt hat, neigt dazu, sich von diesen arktischen „Einoeden“ immer wieder ueberwaeltigen zu lassen. Die strenge, fast abstrakte Komposition aus schwarzen Felsen und Gesteinsflaechen sowie weissem Eis und Schnee haelt das Auge wach und fordert zu staendigem Hinschauen auf, der Blick tastet die Linien ab und gleitet ueber die Flaechen. Man wird dessen nicht muede, aber dann muss man leider wieder in den Helikopter und zurueck aufs Schiff. Schade fuer die Augen, gut fuer den Magen. Der Lunch wartet.

Wolfgang Bluemel, Lektor