Kongsfjorden

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

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.

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.

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.)

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

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.

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.

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?

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

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.

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:

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

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

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.

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.

Bergen reloaded

On Sunday I flew to Bergen once more. While it had been sunny a few days ago, it now presented itself as Bergen is known for: rainy.

It was not the normal rain with raindrops falling from above. It was more like an omnipresent moisture coming at you from all directions. Invisible to the eye but you get wet anyway.

On Monday I went to work. I went from the hotel in the centre to the Port of Bergen, where it took me a while to find the entrance and then to get on the list for a day visit aboard the icebreaker Kronprins Haakon.

My pocket was full of cards – one for my hotel room, one visitor card for the port, one for the ship.

One of the instruments on the bridge is a radar used for sea ice navigation. On this day an engineer from Sea Hawk was installing additional hardware that delivered the radar video signal and additional data such as GPS and gyro to an auxiliary network. My responsibility was the other half: the laptop and the software to read and store the data. And so my workplace looked like:

After some hours of work the “radar” laptop showed the same data as the large overhead display on the bridge. The engineer calibrated the scan streamer unit and I used the rest of my working day to catch one hour of radar data as an example. As expected the amount of data was immense: about 74 GB per hour.

Then it was time to head back to my hotel in Bergen, the city with about two hundred days of precipitation a year. Even the shops here reflect the omnipresence of rain.

Tor te rest of the day, I was a tourist and took some tourist photos in Bryggen, the famous historic quarter.

Visiting Kronprins Haakon

Last Thursday I visited the icebreaker Kronprins Haakon in the port of Tromsø. Not to join an expedition but only for a couple of hours. I wanted to check some code that is supposed to run on the ship later this year. This is part of my work as a software developer and data manager at the Norwegian Polar Institute. When I run code in the office I always have to simulate the systems running on the vessel and I was glad that the software actually worked with the real ship’s system as intended.

“Takk for sist” – thanks for the last time – you say in Norway, when you haven’t seen each other for a while. I’ve been on several cruises with Kronprins Haakon and so I know part of the crew and they know me. “Takk for sist, Roy”. “Takk for sist, Ronny”. “Takk for sist. (I forgot your name, sorry.)”

This year, the budget is far too tight to allow me another cruise and no one knows next year’s budget. But three expeditions I’ve done already. Since I’m a software developer I wrote some code to create the ship’s tracks from these expeditions as “GeoJSON”, a file format that you can easily load in the open source GIS software QGIS. Here is a Screenshot I made. Greenland to the left, Svalbard to the right:

Arven etter Nansen JC3 · Arctic Ocean 2023 I · Fram Strait 2024

Just now (2025-04-06T19:31:54Z) Kronprins Haakon is in the Svovelbukta in southern Spitsbergen. I however will continue office work in Tromsø tomorrow and improve the code I’ve written. Hopefully I can try it out again when Kronprins Haakon is in Tromsø again. There are several opportunities.

Hydrographical measurements in the Fram Strait

This article is part of the series “2024-08: Fram Strait cruise KPH”.

You see the map with Greenland to the left and Svalbard to the right? And all these orange dots?

Each of the dots stands for a cast where an instrument or a set of instruments was lowered into the water. As you see it was quite a lot of casts that the researchers and the crew of the icebreaker Kronprins Haakon conducted in the Fram Strait between 14° W and 10° E within two weeks.

Let’s start with the most prominent hydrographical instrument, the CTD.

CTD stands for Conductivity, Temperature, and Depth. It is a group of instruments to measure these important water properties. The conductivity is directly related to salinity. While the CTD is lowered these three properties are measured continuously which results in so-called “profiles” that show the salinity and the temperature per depth. With these properties oceanographers get the first insight in what kind of sea water it may be. It is Atlantic? Or Arctic? But there are also other sensors mounted to the CTD to measure properties such as fluorescence or current velocities.

Also part of a CTD is the rosette of “Niskin bottles”. These bottles can be opened and closed remotely underwater to fetch sea water in defined depths on the way up. The large CTD has 24 of these bottles. When it is on board again and stands on the euro-pallet in the main hangar on deck 3 then it is time to fetch water samples from the Niskin bottles.

Some of the samples will be processed on land after the cruise but many samples are processed directly. Two examples:

Anne-Marie Wefing (NPI) uses the Winkler titration to measure the concentration of dissolved oxygen in the sea water. My chemical knowledge is too weak to explain this process. For the chemists amongst you I refer to the Wikipedia article for details.

Daniel Koestner (University of Bergen) leads water through different types of filters. The water can pass, particles exceeding a certain size will remain in the filter. While the deeper sea water is quite pure the samples from the upper water column contain more particles. The difference is visible by the naked eye but only land-bound lab work will give quantifiable results. Some of the filters can be transported at room temperature, those for chlorophyll have been frozen at -80 °C.

Daniel Koestner is also part of the team that measures particle concentrations directly in the water using a laser. This is how the instrument of the “optical cast” looks like:

The CTD is a heavy-duty instrument and could be used more or less all the time. Other instruments such as the laser or the MSS are much more fragile and the usage had to be skipped when the waves were to high. Too big the risk, that an expensive instrument would crash. But as far as I know everything has gone well!

Some cruise stats:

CTD casts 73
Optical casts 44
MSS casts 27
Total casts 144

While I have the luxury to work whenever I want the sheer amount of casts has led to a huge amount of lab work and some teams have been working in shifts, because casts have been conducted day and night.

Disclaimer: This is a private blog. I try to stick to the facts as best as I can. However, this article has not been proofread by anyone, so some facts may be slightly inaccurate or even plainly wrong. If you find an error, please let me know and I will correct it. Thank you!

Ice station two and icebergs

This article is part of the series “2024-08: Fram Strait cruise KPH”.

When I woke up in the morning of the 20th of August my first thought was: will there be another ice station? I peeked through the port hole and – yes – we were at least in the ice. From the helicopter deck it looked like this:

Round nine o’clock the ice station is started. Eleven people are involved – four scientists and students actually doing science, a polar bear guard on the ice and two times three bridge watches taking turns to observe everything from above. I take the morning shifts, the weather is not good for drone flying anyhow. Yesterday we had a lot of polar bears on the ice, today it is quiet. It is more the fog that could lead to problems, but even the visibility is ok. Good luck.

In the afternoon it has become too windy to fly the drone. I get onto the ice anyhow to take photos for outreach. Time to show people doing research on the ice. It is a lot of manual work. Carrying things down the gangway, pulling sledges, using drills with coring equipment, a saw to slice the ice cores, a digital thermometer and for a lot of data – paper and pencil. This may sound antiquated but writing down notes works often works better in harsh environments than using electronics.

Later, just before dinner people who never have stood on the sea ice before become an opportunity to do that. I was on the sea ice three times since yesterday, so I volunteer for bridge watch again. The weather has become more and more nasty. It is raining and wind is blowing with temperatures round +1 °C. So it looks from the bridge:

At 17:30 (dinner time) the second ice station is finished. Now we will head back more or less the same way we came from. I take some photos from the helicopter deck, especially from the turquoise coloured melt ponds that I have never seen before like that.

At 9 o’clock we reach the ice edge and sail through the open sea again. Time to say farewell. I do not know when I’ll may see my beloved sea ice again.

Anyhow one thing was different than on our way there some days ago: icebergs are drifting on the sea. We see a lot of them on this and the following day. Some of them are small or medium sized …

… one of them was huge. I am able to take a drone photo from above. I estimate that the cliff to the right has a height of 10-15 metres.

There was one difference between the two ice stations. It is visible on the map:

While the 2nd ice station started and ended at the same place, the 1st ice station didn’t. This is because the 1st station was on drift ice while the 2nd station was on fast ice. Fast ice is either grounded or it is connected to land, in this case Greenland.

Although Greenland with islands was more than 50 km away it was visible on the 19th of August. I was really surprised and also happy – I have never seen Greenland before. And I managed to take some blurred photos (cropped image, 600 mm focal length).

Feels like I should visit that place sometimes …