The husband and I signed up for just two of the ship's off-ship excursions. The first, a visit to a brewery was cancelled. The other was yesterday, and it was a doozy. Said excursion is described here, but I must caution you to disregard the headline photo. They offer this excursion from November 8 through March 22; the light in that photo would be from the very start or very end of that period. They also offer this excursion only if there is adequate snow and only if they have six to 20 people registered. We squeaked in with seven, one of whom was our new German friend Oliver (we finally shared names after we had finished the excursion).
I've always been a bit of a polar expedition junkie, particularly of the stories of the South Pole. Roald Amundsen and Robert Falcon Scott competing to see who could get there first. Ernest Shackleton's Endurance adventure and so on. This excursion seemed right up that alley, especially since the other "polar" excursion, a walk in Tromso, did not run on the day we were in Tromso, December 31.
We started the excursion a bit late since that was when we arrived in the port of Hammerfest. The guide was told that the ship would be in port 15 minutes longer than usual and please try to get these seven passengers back in time for that delayed departure. As a result, we missed the normal start of the excursion in the "large cosy tent with fireplace" and headed straight up the mountain. The mountain is not all that steep, but the ground cover varied considerably from knee-deep snow to dry rock to rock covered with ice. I did my best to adhere to my resolution to keep my own pace, but, yeah, I failed pretty badly. I slipped or fell several times; fortunately, the husband and/or Oliver were back there with me (did I mention that I was bringing up the end of the group?) to help me get up. One complicating factor was that I chose to put on one of the replica hats similar to those the original South Pole expedition might have worn, and the brim encouraged my glasses to fog up. Had I kept my own hat on, I would have had less of a problem.
The other complicating factor and not just for me was the wind. Even with the extra weight I've put on since the knee replacement, I could have been blown over quite easily. Early on the walk I asked the guide how fast the wind was blowing; his answer was 15 meters per second. It got stronger later on; the husband estimated it at some 60 miles per hour. I tried to keep my side to the wind to give it a smaller target, but that was not always possible. I don't know if we cut the climb short due to the time constraint, but heading down was even more treacherous than heading up had been. We stopped at one point, and gathered together so that the guide could take a photo of us planting the Norwegian flag. That's the photo I haven't managed to get a copy of yet.
On the descent, we did stop at the "large cosy tent." The problem was that the zipper was either frozen shut or caught in the canvas. (The suggestion was made that the male expedition members could urinate on it to melt any ice; fortunately, we did not have to resort to that.) It took the guide some time to get us access to the inside, where a second guide was waiting with a hot beverage and some food similar to what might have been served on the South Pole expedition. We scarfed those down rather quickly and made for the bus. We made it back onto the ship only about five minutes late.
Especially with the wind, the excursion seemed a good, if obviously easier, demonstration of what foot travel (even with dog sleds) through a polar environment might be like. It was easy to see how vital proper equipment and experience would have been. Amundsen's time living with the Inuit gave him much better preparation than Scott had had. And there were rules to be played by; when Amundsen realized that he and his colleagues had celebrated arriving at a spot close to but not atop the magnetic south pole, they repeated their flag planting--and celebrating--at the proper location the next day.
The husband slept in this morning, meaning I breakfasted alone. I had a nice chat with one of the servers, though, a young woman probably in her 20s. From her, I learned that this ship, MS Lofoten, will be retired permanently in two years. At that point, she said, she would look for other employment; she did not want to work on one of the larger ships. I also learned that it is possible to overcome seasickness. She said that her first voyage was so calm; then she heard the captain say that it was the calmest voyage he'd ever had. The next voyage, she was very seasick. She now has no problem. I commented about the ability of the servers to carry dishes while the ship was rocking; she said that carrying was not the problem; walking without appearing drunk was. She still prefers serving thick soup to thin. Part of a server's training is to graduate from carrying two bowls of soup, one in each hand, to three, one in each hand and a third one up the arm from one of the other two. She described how, when first graduating to three bowls, she was so focused on putting the first bowl down carefully she did not notice that she was spilling some of the other two bowls. Finally, she worked over Christmas this year, and then would not have to do so again next year. She said her family was leaving all their Christmas decor up until she got home so that she could still have a small Christmas celebration.
Here are two of the noon photos I took today. The blue light has been with us for all our time in the Polar Night; I'm not sure where the pink light came from.
I'd note that it is now dark, but then it's been pitch black for several hours. We have a two-hour stop coming up in Svolvaer. Oliver will be leaving on the horseback riding excursion and will dine early. We plan to dine a bit later with Cary, an Australian we met at lunch, and then look into a gallery of ice sculpture. Since that will not be an official ship excursion, we'll definitely watch the time and be back on board early enough to keep me calm.
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