Kongsfjorden Oct 29 2026

This article is part of the series “2026-10: Fram Strait cruise KPH”.

29 October

Yesterday we were on the open sea; last night we approached the coast of Svalbard. When I wake up, our position is 79° 2′ N / 10° 41′ E, about 15 km north of the northern tip of the island Prins Karls Forland. I can see the mountains, not through the scuttle (my cabin has none) but on channel 303 of the ship’s TV system.

When I go out right after breakfast, everything is foggy, but two hours later it has cleared up and for the first time in more than two weeks I see land again.

After lunch we have already taken the three westernmost CTD casts of our planned Kongsfjorden transect. Now we are heading east into the fjord. I’ve never been here before and I’m happy that the weather is clear. So I stand on the helicopter deck as I have done countless times before, but this time I am not alone. Most of the other cruise participants and some of the crew are standing outside enjoying the views of this extraordinary landscape, too.

To the right in the south lies Ny-Ålesund, a settlement that provides facilities for research activities to 19 institutions, among others the Norwegian Polar Institute.

Further and further east we go. We seem to skip a CTD station or two. Or all? It turns out that we first go all the way east to the glacier front of the glacier Kronebreen to use and enjoy the daylight and then do the CTD casts back west thereafter. For about two hours I stand outside and take one photo after the other. The others also take pictures with everything between a mobile phone and a large system camera. I use my Nikon D750 and three lenses – 24–70 mm, 70–200 mm, and 150–600 mm.

I am happy to experience this arctic landscape today, but I am also sad. I know that the human-caused climate change will change these landscapes drastically and that I probably belong to one of the last generations that can see glaciers calving into the fjords of Svalbard.

At around 2 o’clock we have reached our easternmost position. According to the ship’s navigational system we are south of the mountain Colletthøgda. According to the map service TopoSvalbard there is no open water south of Colletthøgda but the glacier Kronebreen. I’m afraid, the ship’s navigation system is right and the glacier has retreated a lot. The change has long begun.

I take some pictures in the early afternoon as well. The next photos are taken between 14:45 and 15:30 and you can see how dark it already is. The sun will not rise here before mid-February next year.

Around 19:50 – I am about to lose a card game – our cruise leader comes into the day room. She tells us that she has spotted a fog bow. Again I go out onto the helicopter deck – and it is still there. A flat, pale bow with the moon as a light source. I have seen a fog bow in daylight on another cruise two years ago, but never a lunar fog bow before. Pretty cool! Thank you, L.!

More ice stations and back to the open water Oct 26 2026

This article is part of the series “2026-10: Fram Strait cruise KPH”.

22 October

After a day with drizzle and bad visibility, there is another ice station, starting around 78° 50′ N, 6° 15′ W. The first part is interrupted soon, because a polar bear shows up, forcing the sea ice team to go back on board and wait until this specimen of Ursus Maritimus has walked away far enough for the team to go back onto the ice.

After lunch I can go onto the ice for another drone flight. It is this flight that will teach me something about drone flying on the ice. It is cold, but everything goes fine. After flying I take a selfie and go back on board the icebreaker Kronprins Haakon. I enjoy the sun and take some photos from the helicopter deck.

When I get the first result of the orthomosaic – stitched together from more than 200 photos – I experience a surprise. The photo is – well – chaos. Perhaps because I added a wrong image? But the second and third attempts are not better.

Was it the GPS? Other sensors? What happened? To make it short: It was the drift of the sea ice. It was 0.4 knots this day, which does not sound extreme. Nevertheless, it is a drift of about 12 metres per minute and that adds up, when drone flying takes half an hour. Over the next two days I use some of my time to write a script to compensate for the drift by reading the position of the ship (which drifts together with the ice). And with this drift compensation, the orthomosaic creation finally works well:

23 October

Another day with an ice station. The ice team has it tough today with temperatures around -17 °C and a wind speed of more than 10 m/s. At the same time, it gets darker each day. Yesterday there were around three hours of daylight; today it is less than two and a half. Tomorrow it will be eighty minutes and then there will be polar night for almost four months.

In the afternoon I take another drone flight from the ice. Brrr! That’s cold. The second photo shows my caps and balaclavas drying – I wore them all, one above the other.

Cold weather stuff – everything was needed

24 October

For all those interested, we got a tour through the machinery spaces by maskinsjef B. I have a deep respect for the crew members working with these complex systems and who know so much about every technical facet of this icebreaker. I do not even try to tell you anything about it because I do not have the slightest clue about any of these components. Thanks for the great tour, B.!

At 3 o’clock in the afternoon, something strange happens – we are leaving the ice behind. The boundary between the marginal ice zone and the open water is like being cut with a knife. When I am on deck, it is already too late to see this cut. We have been in the sea ice for more than a week and I have grown accustomed (and fond) to it.

But it’s not for long; we return into the ice only hours later.

25 October

Some shots taken in the evening.

26 October (today)

Today we have the last ice station. It is pretty dark, the visibility is far from brilliant and it is drizzling. I get a message from A., who has discovered a rare guest in this region – a snowy owl sitting on an ice floe nearby. This is the best shot I get of it from deck 3.

A snowy owl on an ice floe in the Fram Strait

To my delight it clears up after a while and the drizzle has stopped. My last chance to go out on the ice again to take a series of drone photos for the sixth orthomosaic of this cruise. Despite the damp weather, the results turn out to be surprisingly good. (And yes – I used drift compensation again, because here we had a drift of 0.6 knots, which is 30 cm a second.)

Kronprins Haakon in the drift ice for the last ice station

In the afternoon, while I am playing table tennis with two researchers, we leave the ice again, this time for good. The rest of this week we will spend in open water (it’s fun to play table tennis in a ship that is slightly rolling) and continue with one of the main fields of this cruise that I haven’t mentioned yet: conducting CTD casts to measure Conductivity (and so salinity) and Temperature at different Depths. The oceanographers have already conducted 49 CTDs over the last two weeks and there will be many more. But that’s another story to tell.

Daily weather changes and another ice station Oct 21 2026

This article is part of the series “2026-10: Fram Strait cruise KPH”.

18 October

Oh, what lovely weather we have on the ice station. After I have done my job, I take the opportunity to take a photo from the icebreaker Kronprins Haakon by drone.

Ice Station on the starboard side of RV Kronprins Haakon

That was 13:00. Six hours later, the weather has changed. It is snowing and the crosswind on the helicopter deck is so massive that I do not dare to step out more than one metre. I take a shot to the front and a very blurred selfie and go inside again.

19 October

As predicted, the weather has become worse. When I am on the deck again after lunch, wind speeds have increased to something between 22 m/s and 28 m/s and the temperature has dropped to -8 °C. So I take the selfie in the wind-protected hangar.

But I am in a luxury position. Most of my work here is computer work, done in the heated Conference Work Room. Others have a much tougher job. They are recovering a mooring. Although the cable is one of the shorter ones, it takes around two hours until the mooring is recovered, because the elements keeps tangling up the cable. This is outside work on deck 3, with overalls, helmets, balaclavas and goggles in storm conditions and wind chills below -20 °C. So, it’s not me who should complain about the weather.

Later in the evening, the weather becomes even more severe, with wind gusts above 30 m/s and temperatures dropping below -10 °C. A very good time to stay inside even when taking photos. So I take photos through the windows from the bridge. On the starboard side, the storm batters the ship with snow. On the port side, the snow swirls in all possible directions.

Snow storm in the dark – seen from the bridge

20 October

The next morning, the weather has changed again, this time for the better. It has become colder, with temperatures of -13 °C, but the storm is gone and so has the snowfall.

An ice station is planned. I will join it later, when the wind has decreased even more and it is a bit brighter outside. Although our position is -9.5° W, our ship time is Norwegian time and so sunrise is around noon. Around 10 o’clock, I stand on the ice with the drone I intend to fly. Will it work when it is still dawn?

The drone I use belongs to the Norwegian Polar Institute

Yes – it works! The ship provides a lot of light that illuminates the ice. Not only for working but also for the team on the bridge that is looking for polar bears. While their job is harder at dawn, my drone flies well, although it detects obstacles in the air that are not there.

When the sun finally rises, it is pretty spectacular. In high latitudes, it seems more to roll over the horizon than to lift up.

And the colours are incredible. The snow-covered ice floe we are in shows many colours but not white.

After lunch, the ice station is continued and have the opportunity for another flight. Some shots from the side:

Then I stayed outside to learn a bit about the calibration of the GEM2, an electromagnetic instrument that is used for measuring the thickness of snow and ice.

However, I do not fly the drone for leisure but to make orthophotos that show the ice situation from above. For that, I have to take many pictures and then – back on the ship – use both traditional image editing and special software to stitch the images together. The morning orthophoto was stitched together from 125 images, the afternoon one from 255 images. That took about an hour of processing on a fast computer.

Especially the latter photo has a good image resolution. Do you see the scientists out there with the GEM2 on a pulka sled in the photo below? It is taken from the orthophoto above.

The next day another ice station is planned.

21 October

… but never set up. First the visibility was too poor and then it was too windy. I couldn’t have flown a drone anyhow because first it was snowing and then, with rising temperatures, it was raining. So a lot of other work was done instead.

So – another ice station tomorrow? Actually, that’s planned. Tomorrow I’ll know a bit more.

A mooring, ice stations and the sun Oct 18 2026

This article is part of the series “2026-10: Fram Strait cruise KPH”.

16 October

The polar bear is gone. The dinner has been eaten. Now it is time to recover F12, another mooring which is underwater and has measured a variety of values for 14 months. The ship’s echo sounder has already located it, so it has “only” to be released from the ground. There is only one issue – there is a lot of ice and to recover the mooring, open water is needed. The helmsman has already circled the icebreaker several times to create an ice-free area. When the mooring is finally released, the air-filled buoy pops up in the water, just two metres away from the searchlight. Chapeau! I mentioned in the last article the joint effort that is needed to get such a mooring with more than 1800 metres of Kevlar cable equipped with instruments from the sea onto the ship.

17 October

When there is ice, it’s an opportunity for an ice station. Again, this is teamwork. Besides the scientists on the ice, you need a polar bear guard with a rifle on the ice and three bridge watches on the bridge on deck 8 that are constantly observing the surroundings for polar bears, cracks in the ice, fog coming up, and other potential dangers. I handle the communication between the bridge and the team on the ice, and luckily nothing happens. The only thing I have to do is to keep track of the people who are on the ice.

There are my things: A bottle of water, my own binoculars (I have had them for more than 40 years), a VHF radio for communication and a notebook with a ballpen for taking notes.

I haven’t seen the sun for days, but now, while I am taking the second shift, the sun is rising from a low layer of clouds on the horizon. I can see its reflections in the windows on the other side of the bridge while the ice team works in the ship’s shadow.

For the rest of the day, I do computer work but interrupt it several times just to go outside and take some photos from the helicopter deck, which is on deck 6 at the bow of the ship. You never know how long the good weather will last. I am there while the sun is shining, I am watching the sllloooowww sunset, and I am there in the evening, when it is the ship that is illuminating the ice.

Ice on the Fram Strait, October 2026 III

Ice on the Fram Strait, October 2026 VII

I am already in bed when I see a post in our group chat mentioning Jupiter and Mars. I put my down clothes over my pyjama, put the helmet on my head and go out onto the “helideck” one last time for the day. The night is starry and there they are: Both Jupiter and Mars near the horizon, accompanied by many stars. But there are also big spotlights, which make the view somehow special. The stars are slightly out of focus, but I am showing a photo nevertheless.

18 October

Another day – another ice station. I will do the first bridge watch and then go onto the ice myself to fly a drone. Around 10 o’clock, the team enters the ice.

Two things are certain on an expedition with the icebreaker Kronprins Haakon. All meals are on time. Everything else may and will change. This time, it is a crack in the ice that I observe. I inform the team on the ice. I have to give several updates, because more and more cracks appear. After less than half an hour, both the team and their equipment are safely back on board, and the ice station is aborted. Between the first and the last of the following photos lie 18 minutes.

After lunch – the second try. I may join the team in the beginning, because, although the conditions for drone flying are not the best (mediocre visibility, low temperatures, high humidity), the winds will increase in the afternoon. It’s now, or never.

Fifteen minutes later, I am on the sea ice. At first, I let the drone fly at an altitude of only 2-3 metres for two minutes. I land it and check the propellers. Are they free and able to move? Is there visible icing? What about the battery? Luckily, everything looks fine. With a new battery I lift the drone up to 65 metres to fly a zigzag pattern to get a mosaic of photos to be stitched together later. The flying itself works pretty well, although I get some wind warnings on the display of my remote control. I have some minor issues with the camera gimbal and take another flight to get some backup photos. At the very end I take a snapshot of our icebreaker.

And a selfie or two. I am wearing a survival suit and a helmet from the Norwegian Polar Institute, a woollen sweater I bought in Longyearbyen two years ago and a balaclava knitted by my friend Christine.

When I have finished, I leave the sea ice. After redressing and a small break I take another bridge watch. Nothing happens, and so it should be. The exciting part comes thereafter. Are the photos – 126 in total – suitable for an orthomosaic? I mean, the single shots look like this:

Preview of the drone photos in Lightroom

An then, the relief: WebODM, the software successfully stitches together the photos.

Why does the image has this odd angle? Because it contains spatial data, so that it can be used in GIS systems. It is therefore aligned north. Here is a cropped version aligned parallel to the ship:

Will there be another ice station? I’m pretty sure. Probably not tomorrow, when we expect another strong gale, with wind speeds above 20 m/s. So I don’t know what will happen tomorrow, apart from one thing: all meals will be on time.

Into the ice, into the storm Oct 16 2026

This article is part of the series “2026-10: Fram Strait cruise KPH”.

14 October

After encountering a small ice field in the morning, we reach the marginal ice zone. So it looks like round 16:00:

Less than an hour later, it looks like this:

At six o’clock, people are standing on the bridge, peeking into the snowfall, driven by the increasing wind. A mooring is about to be recovered. It has been collecting data for more than a year, and now its release mechanism will be triggered by a so-called hydrophone, allowing the air-filled orange buoys to float to the surface and making the mooring visible. Then it has to be located visually so that it can be towed onto the ship. Not easy, when it looks like this.

The buoy is spotted, and now the long cable, equipped with instruments at different depths, is pulled onto the ship. Not easy, because ice floes drift along and carry the cable with them, bringing them close to the ship, until the cable is released. A new version of ice fishing.

This is a good example of teamwork. You need experts on deck doing the manual work, a helmsman steering the ship with Fingerspitzengefühl, people on the bridge spotting the next buoy, and good communication between these groups. The first activity is successfully completed, with a wow-effect.

Watching the sea ice illuminated by the ships spotlights has its own beauty. I still cannot get enough from these views.

The weather, however, worsens. At 21:10, the wind speed reaches 20 m/s for the first time that day, and the temperature is dropping as well. It is snowing, and each snowflake leaves a bright trail, like a meteor. How will the weather be like tomorrow?

15 October

Over night, it has become even colder and windier. The temperature -10 °C and falling, and the wind speed is above 20 m/s and increasing. Ice floes cover the ocean. Now I’m glad, I brought my warmest down parka with me.

Two CTD casts have been completed today, but then it became too stormy to continue. I go onto the helicopter deck to take some photos, but the wind is so strong, that although I never thought it could actually happen, I’m afraid of being blown overboard. I can’t see much because I’ve pulled up the fur-trimmed hood of my parka to protect myself from the cold, and the wind blows the fur in all direction closing the hood even further.

In the evening – well, I managed to get a shot from the side of the ship, where I was slightly sheltered from the storm. When I went around the corner to the helicopter deck, I had to seek shelter because the storm was too strong. I took a selfie, but in a sheltered corner so that I could stand steadily and avoid getting frostbite on my hand while using my mobile phone.

16 October

At the risk of repeating myself, the weather looks even worse. I wake up at 5 o’clock, and the temperature is -15.4 °C with a wind speed of 26.2. That’s a wind chill of -32.6 °C. In mid-October!

If you have read this article so far, you might get the impression that I am here as a photographer, but I’m actually here as a data manager, and I spend a lot of time at my computer in the Conference Work Room. I just don’t write too much about my computer work here. I am making good progress, but the distractions are there, for example, the frost patterns on the outer windows. This one looks like a jellyfish made of ice.

Right after lunch I go outside once more, this time to the ship’s stern, where I had a better protection from the wind. Oh, how I love watching the sea ice gently drifting by or being crushed forcefully by the ship.

Ok, back to work. I’m almost finished with the day’s work when the others in the room suddenly jump up and disappear. A polar bear has been sighted in front of the ship. It takes me some time to put on my face mask, helmet, down parka, down pants, gloves, and boots, and to mount the big telephoto lens. Only then can I take some photos of the bear in the distance. It approaches at first, but then turns right and trots away.

Fram Strait cruise – departure Oct 14 2026

This article is part of the series “2026-10: Fram Strait cruise KPH”.

12 October

The weather in Tromsø is clear, the mountains are white, and the reindeer are flying.

At least, it looks like this, while I’m sitting at Gate F18 of Tromsø Lufthavn, waiting for my flight to Longyearbyen, Svalbard. Some of my colleagues from the Norwegian Polar Institute are here as well. We are all going on board the research icebreaker Kronprins Haakon (KPH) for a cruise in the Fram Strait between Svalbard and northern Greenland for almost three weeks the next day.

On arrival in Svalbard, we get a lift to our respective hotels, where we stay overnight.

Passing Kronprins Haakon on our way to the centre

footpath to UNIS, where NPI has its office, too

13 October

Three of us were staying in Coal Miner’s Cabin, which is south of the centre. We share a taxi to Bykaia, part of the Port of Longyearbyen, where KPH is berthed. It has got warmer and it’s raining.

And here it is – the ship on which the 18 of us will spend the next three weeks together with the crew.

Just kidding! The RV Kronprins Haakon is actually lying in the other direction.

During the evening, the weather gets a bit ugly. It’s +5 °C, it’s raining and the wind speed is around 20 m/s. The sea state gets rougher and the waves grow higher.

14 October

In the morning the sea has calmed down and at a quarter past nine I feel the first small bump as a small ice floe collides with our ship. We have entered a band of pancake ice.

Now we are in open water again and the conditions are calm. Anyway, if Windy is right, we will get pretty rough weather tomorrow with a wind speed of around 18 m/s and an air temperature of -17 °C – a drop of almost 20 degrees. That would result in a windchill of -33 °C and I am very glad that I took my Canada Goose parka and trousers with me.

13–14 September – From the island into the desert Sep 24 2026

This article is part of the series “2026-09: Canada”.

13 September

My wife Annika and I stand on board of the ferry Queen of Cowichan. After several days on Vancouver Island we are heading back to the Canadian mainland, this time to Tsawwassen, which is south of Vancouver. To get there we have to cross international borders twice, first into the USA and then back into Canada. These borders are invisible because they are on sea. Back on the mainland, we see signs to the USA border at several places as well.

We make a stop in the village of tucckʷiowhum which is part of the Nlaka’pamux Nation. British Columbia is home to many distinct First Nations, each with its own culture, history, territory, and language. Often the languages are visible on the bilingual signs. The following stop signs show two different languages. According to the AI I used for research, “ƛ̓éyi” is Nłeʔkepmxcín which is spoken in the Fraser Canyon and Nicola regions. “T̄ÁLLEC” is St̓át̓imcets which is spoken in and around Lillooet, the town we are heading for today.

But we are not in Lillooet yet, we are in tucckʷiowhum. This is the first place where we can see the devastation caused by this year’s forest fires. Some hills are covered with black trunks. Even some of the buildings have burnt down. We know that forest fires are part of nature (or can be) but it makes me sad to see the black trees, some standing, some fallen.

We continue our trip north. The landscape changes slowly. The forests are less dense, the soil looks drier and is often vegetated with brown grass.

At half past seven we cross the Fraser river and arrive in Lillooet, a small town with a population of about 2300. The sun starts to set, but the mountains in the east still have sunlight.

View at the Fraser river and the Fountain Ridge

We check in at our first motel ever. We get a giant room with two double beds, a fridge, a coffee machine and a microwave. Since there is no proper kitchen available we walk into the centre where we eat salad and pizza at Manny’s Corner. The delicious Tandoori Chicken Pizza is massive and although I ordered only “medium size” I only manage to eat half of it. The leftovers will serve as tomorrow’s breakfast. On the other side of the street: The Roman Catholic church and a fast food chain.

In the streets: some pedestrians, especially younger ones and cars – mostly pickup trucks. The latter are very common in the area, the bigger the better. No wonder that our rented VW Tiguan, not a small car either, was rated as an “undersized vehicle” by the ferry company :-D .

14 September

Yesterday it had cleared up and when I wake up, the sky is blue. I go outside, just to the road where I see a flock of mule deer grazing on the dry meadows.

Our first action this morning is to visit Seton Lake. Sam, the manager of the motel said, it was a good place to take a swim and it is. There are some other people around but it is only us actually swimming in the lake.

Back in town we are looking around. I already knew that the landscape around Lillooet is desert-like, but I never expected cacti to grow here. This species seems to be the Brittle pricklypear.

You meet the Brittle pricklypear in person when you are stupid enough to wear sandals. But it is the yellow-blooming Rubber rabbitbrush that shapes this landscape. You can see them everywhere.

Nearby lies the Lillooet Suspension Bridge, built in 1913 and in active use to cross the Fraser river until the modern “Bridge of the Twenty-Three Camels” was built in 1981.

Our way leads north along the Fraser River canyon. We stop several times, mostly to enjoy the views and once at the Fountain Flats Trading Post, a convenience store where we buy snacks and something to drink.

Another stop we make is at the second-hand shop in Clinton where Annika buys a Thermos flask with an interesting feature: it does not insulate for a minute. In a corner of one of the rooms: Two pairs of large snowshoes.

Near Chasm we leave Highway 97 and drive north on unpaved roads. Beside the road are several alkaline lakes, most of them dried out. On the surface there is a thin layer of soda crust, underneath it is black mud. I never saw anything like this before. My rubber boots get muddy and it takes ages to wash the soft-soap-like mud away.

Alkali lakes between Chasm and Williams Lake I

Alkali lakes between Chasm and Williams Lake II

Alkali lakes between Chasm and Williams Lake III

At half past eight we arrive at our motel, the Stampeder Inn in Williams Lake where we’ll stay for two nights.

Again I remember my wondering before our journey: Will Canada be different from Scandinavia apart from its size. And again I get the answer: Some parts are very, very different!

9–11 September – Vancouver Island Sep 21 2026

This article is part of the series “2026-09: Canada”.

Oh my, it is already 20 September. My wife Annika and I are still travelling around in western Canada, have seen many things and today I finally find the time to write another blog article, this time about Vancouver Island, that we visited from 9 to 13 September. It feels like ages ago.

9 September

The alarm clock rings at 5:45. We want to catch the early ferry from Horseshoe Bay on the mainland to Nanaimo on Vancouver Island. The ferry crossing takes about two hours.

With 2200 km², Hinnøya is the largest Norwegian island near the mainland. Vancouver Island is more than 14 times as large and is ranked 11 on the list of Canadian islands. Sometimes Canada may resemble Scandinavia but everything seems to be much bigger.

We take the road north and make a stop at the public beach in Parksville on the east side of the island.

Then we make a stop at Cathedral Grove. It was a recommendation of a local from Vancouver that we met a couple of days ago. And this place is amazing. This is not just some forest, it is an ancient rain forest with gigantic trees, both tall and thick so that you may need a whole group of people to embrace it. I never ever saw a forest and trees like that and my concerns that Canada could be too similar to Scandinavia are immediately washed away.

From there it is not far away to our accommodation near Port Alberni, a beautiful blockhouse that we have booked for a night but immediately extend to three nights. It has a large living room including a piano and everything you need. Later Ryan, the friendly and helpful owner will tell us about the house’s story, but now we just fall into the king-size bed and are soon fast asleep.

10 September

Today we have planned a day trip to Tofino including visits in the Pacific Rim National Park Reserve. Our first stop is an unplanned one – many more will follow, a pull-off by Kennedy River¹, that has created a gorge in the rough rocks. A good way to start the day.

We buy a pass for the Canadian national parks and start with a short hike on the Shorepine Bog Trail. Well, I have visited countless bogs in Sweden, where the landscape is mostly sparse. Here a boardwalk leads over the bog, which is wet as well but overgrown with large pines with intense green needles.

And then there it is – a Pacific beach, the open ocean. Both the waves and the many warning signs prevent us from taking a bath, but the impression of standing at the shore of the largest ocean of the world is thrilling. Next land to the west? More than 6000 km away!

Before we arrive in Tofino, we walk both parts of the Rainforest Trail, which is as amazing as Cathedral Grove. Especially “Loop B” is outstanding, because it not only features giant trees but also leads into a deep-cut valley so overgrown that you cannot see any ground or soil. Even if you head to Tofino for the beaches – as I did – do make this hike. It does not take long but it’s absolutely worth it!

We spend the time in Tofino mostly replenishing our supplies, refuelling the car and having a meal by the harbour, where as many seaplanes than boats were arriving or leaving. I also found an animal on a rock under a layer of sand. It is the sea anemone Anthopleura elegantissima (thank you, Ulrich, for the specification).

The view from our oudoor dinner place in Tofino

On the way back we stop at the northern tip of Long Beach, the largest beach, where we watch the surfers, take a stroll by the beach and collect some shells.

And here I finally manage to take a photo of a Steller’s jay. I’ve seen many, but they flew away as soon as I appeared with my telephoto lens.

11 September

Our first day off. Taking it easy, feeding the sheep, playing the piano, taking a bath in Sproat Lake, taking a nap and another bath in Sproat Lake. It’s important to let the many impressions sink in.

We will stay another day on Vancouver Island, then we will head back to British Columbia’s mainland.

_____
¹Kennedy River may be the wrong name.

6–8 September – Vancouver Sep 14 2026

This article is part of the series “2026-09: Canada”.

6 September

I am standing on the SkyTrain Expo Line that brings me to Waterfront station in central Vancouver. SkyTrain is fully automated and so I can stand at the front looking at the mountains to the right and the skyscrapers in the front.

At Waterfront I change to the Canada Line in the direction of the airport. It crosses the Fraser River on which tree trunks are floating, waiting to be transported.

Then I am at Vancouver Airport again. Yesterday I arrived here myself, today I am fetching my wife Annika. It takes some time before she is through the passport control and collects her luggage, then she is finally here, nineteen hours late. Our four-week Canadian holiday can begin.

As I was the day before, Annika is pretty tired from the flight but we don’t have any jet lag, although we travelled across nine time zones. We take the same trains back to Burnaby, enter bus 119 and arrive at our private host’s home.

After having a chat and leaving Annika’s luggage behind we go for a walk to Deer Lake, which is nearby. It is a beautiful lake in a park in the south of Burnaby which you can walk around. There are many signs that we are no longer in Scandinavia anymore: the many skyscrapers in the background, the bear and coyote warning signs but most of all: the huge trees.

After an afternoon nap we are looking for a restaurant. We were told that the local asian ones are all excellent. We choose the “Singapore Hawker” because it is crowded. We have to wait a while until we are seated. The interior is simple but the food is excellent. I ordered “G6. Nyonya Eggplant – Tender wok-fried eggplant and minced pork, enhanced with dried shrimp.” Have I ever eaten eggplant so tasty as it was here? I cannot remember.

7 September

Today Annika and I want to explore central Vancouver with Stanley Park. Again we take the SkyTrain into town, walk a bit and find a bicycle rental shop, where we hire two excellent bicycles for exploring.

There is a cycle path by the seaside that we follow to Stanley Park which lies on a peninsula north of the centre. Our first stop is at a group of totem poles.

We continue around, pass the Brockton Point Lighthouse and watch the seagulls carrying starfish in their beaks. They look like the birds’ versions of H. P. Lovecraft’s Cthulhu.

We also spot some birds. A woodpecker, probably a pileated woodpecker. Then, also in the forest, a barred owl and finally at the beach a great blue heron. All beautiful birds of their kind.

At the end of Stanley Park there are several sandy beaches. Time for a swim – our first swim ever in the Pacific Ocean.

Now I am getting pretty hungry. We took Granville Bridge over False Creek and get some food at the Granville Park Public Market which was quite crowded. We cycled a bit more but I got tired and so we turned back, this time using the Burrard Street Bridge. After about thirty kilometres of cycling we were back at the rental shop to bring back the bikes.

In my option the bicycle is the perfect vehicle to explore Vancouver.

8 September

It is time to pick up our rental car at the airport. We’ll have it for three weeks to travel around in western Canada but today we’ll just make a day trip. We get a VW Tiguan with all-wheel drive and I am glad that Annika is driving this day, she handles big cities better than me. Our first stop is Richmond, a city near the airport where we buy some essentials and eat lunch, then we head off north to visit Whistler. In my view, Whistler is just a town and a ski resort, the journey there is very beautiful. We stop twice at designated tourist attractions. The first one is the Shannon Falls Provincial Park. The waterfall is beautiful, but what impresses us much more is the giant trees in the park. I’ve never been in a forest like this before.

We make another stop at the Brandywine Falls Provincial Park. First we take the short walk to the platform from which you can see the water falling down about 70 metres, then we take a small hike to a lake nearby. I’m a bit nervous, there are black bears and grizzly bears living in these forests as well as coyotes and cougars (though sightings of the latter are uncommon).

When we drive back the same way to our accommodation in Burnaby, it starts to get dark and when Annika parks the car in front of the house, it is dark.

5 September – An Arctic regular flight Sep 11 2026

This article is part of the series “2026-09: Canada”.

Saturday, 5 September. I am about to take my longest and furthest flight ever: from Amsterdam to Vancouver, West Canada. Annika had tickets for the same flight, but she was not allowed to travel because of issues with her eTA (Electronic travel authorization) and also because of the complete absence of a functioning customer service at KLM which we both have tried to contact for days, but in vain. So she will fly the next day.

My flight departs at around 16 o’clock and after a short time we leave the coast with the sandy beaches behind and are above the North Sea. Although Vancouver lies further south than Amsterdam the long flight goes north. It is shorter. We fly north of Iceland and over the Norwegian island Jan Mayen, which I cannot see because it is cloudy. Then the clouds begin to disperse and I get a view, first of a field of ice floes and then of the next mainland: Greenland. I am glued to the window to see these extraordinary views starting with the elongated island Store Koldewey. More and more mountain chains, bays filled with small ice floes come into view until the Greenland Ice Cap takes over and everything becomes white, first of ice, then because of a layer of clouds.

Some hours later holes start to appear in the layer of clouds and I can see other polar landscapes, those of Arctic Canada. We fly over Ellesmere Island, Axel Heiberg Island, Cornwall Island, Bathurst Island and Victoria Island. Then the mainland: a bit of mainland Nunavut and then the Northwest Territories, where I get a view of its largest lake Great Bear Lake, the eight-largest lake of the world.

Only slowly the landscape changes. There is less and less ice and part of the Northwest Territories is characterised by a large number of lakes, some of them dried-out and a red hue that makes it look like the surface of another planet.

After a while the landscape seems to have changed again. It takes me a couple of seconds until I realise, there are trees growing there. Now there are also more and more streets – probably dirt roads and then houses and fields, small towns and finally a big city: Metro Vancouver.

You see the beaches on the last photo? Two days later Annika and I will have a swim there, our first time in the Pacific Ocean.

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