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.

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.

The sunset was too early

Today we had another clear morning with a temperature of -23 °C and not a single cloud. According to SMHI and The Photographer’s Ephemeris sunrise at our place in Obbola was at 07:32 today. While I was still walking on the sea ice to have a better view of the sunrise the sun already appeared – three minutes too early. The reason for this is atmospheric refraction due to an inversion above the ice that bends the light and so “lifts up” objects in the distance.

To the right in the photo: The lighthouse Storbränningen, which I visited two days ago. It is about 4 km away. I could also spot the lighthouse Väktaren – 7 km away – although the distance to the horizon is technically only 4.5 km. I can even still see some construction far, far away on a bearing of 140° but I haven’t worked out what it is. Finland perhaps … ?

Soldagen 2026

Although the sun has been above the horizon in Tromsø since 15 January, it always takes some days until it rises above the mountains south of the island. Today was the “official” soldagen, the “sun day” when the sun returns to Tromsø.

The first photos, however, I took today between 5:00 and 5:30. There was polar light all over the sky but when I reached a good spot it had already weakened. At least I took a photo of the trees covered in hoar frost – the result of a very foggy night two nights earlier.

Before lunchtime, I took an hour off and took the bus to Telegrafbukta in the southern part of Tromsøya.  It is a good spot to welcome the sun after two months of absence. When I reached the beach I could already see the sunlit snowy mountains in the north. What a beauty!

I joined some winter swimmers and took a dip in the sea. Water temperature 3.9 °C and sorry—no photos. The sun had vanished behind a mountain but luckily came back and stayed for a while. That’s always a special moment and I was amongst hundreds of other people celebrating this hour of resurgence.

I look very overdressed with this heavy down parka considering it was only -6 °C, but I like to have it extra warm after a winter bath when waiting for the bus back to work.

With the sun, the days get longer and longer and even shortly before 16:00 the western sky was still glowing in warm colours. Fifteen minutes later I saw another aurora between the frosted trees.

Unfortunately the last photo is out of focus. When I realised it the aurora had already almost disappeared again. Often you have to be quick to take pictures of the northern lights.

 

 

End of polar night in Tromsø

Now the time of the polar night has ended in Tromsø. The sun rises above the horizon, though not above the mountains yet to be seen in town. This will take some other days.

Midnight sun on the Stor-Kjølen – part II

To part I >

I slept better than expected in the shelter on top of the mountain Stor–Kjølen (790 masl) that I hiked up the previous day. At 7 o’clock I get up and enjoy strolling around the plateau under a deep blue sky. Thank you, DNT, for maintaining this shelter.

At half past seven I start my way back. The sun is high in the sky.

The plateau summit resembles a desert of stones with hardly any plant beside of lichens and some tufts of grass. The first plant that catches my eye when descending the summit is a flowering ground cover. If the AI is correct, it is silene acaulis, also known as moss campion or cushion pink.

Again I cross the huge snow field. I see footprints but no ski tracks. Skiing season seams finally to be over.

Navigation is easy. Sometimes I go astray, since there are so many parallel paths – this hike is quite popular. But with the help of the painted red dots it is easy to find back to the main track. The cairns – Scottish  Gaelic for a man-made pile of stones – can be used for navigation as well. Great in fog! However, use them with caution. Tourists love to build these all over the mountains on random places.

While coming down the mountain the landscape slowly changes. The ground is more and more overgrown and to the right there are several lakes.

As the day before I pass a small valley. Now it lies in the sun. It looks very idyllic with its lakes, streams and its birch trees. One day I have to check how to go there.

Another stream to cross, another lake to view …

… and I’m on the home stretch. Soon I can see the gravel car park. One of the grey cars is mine. But still the terrain is hilly and in no time the car park disappears from view again.

By 9:45 I am back at the car. I was incredibly slow — a luxury you can afford when you’re hiking alone and stopping to take photos.

Later that day I stand on my balcony. The view is mostly blocked by large trees. Birches, willows, rowans. Through the gaps I can spot the mountains. And if you look carefully on the next photo, you may spot a tiny white dot on the top of a snowy mountain. That’s the radar station of Stor-Kjølen. I’ve been there last night.

Midnight sun on the Stor-Kjølen

Yes, I was tired Saturday evening after travelling back from Obbola to Tromsø. But the weather was so nice and I already had started thinking about going up the mountain Stor-Kjølen for experiencing the midnight sun up there. Finally I made a decision. Let’s go. I packed water, a camping mat, a sleeping back, but most of all my camera equipment and went off. It is only a twenty minute drive to the lake Finnvikvatnet on the island Kvaløya where I parked my car. From there it is round 5½ km to the top and a good 500 metres of elevation gain.

When I start my tour at around 10 o’clock the sun is low. The sun is low, but it won’t set tonight – and not for the next twenty days either. The landscape glows in warm colours. The ground is dry, but soon I cross the first tiny snowfield.

The path winds its way through grassy terrain scattered with stones and rocks. Stray snowfields lie on both sides of the path and the radar station on top of Stor-Kjølen has come into view.

The first lake flanks the trail. Slowly, the terrain is becoming rockier.

I look back and already now the hiking tour was a success. Lakes, hills – some grassy, some rocky – and at the horizon a mountain range. So beautiful in the warm light of the low sun.

For a while, grassy patches and rocky ground alternate …

… then the altitude takes command. Only snow and rocks are present and the vegetation is reduced mostly to mosses and lichens. I have to cross a large snow field but the ground is not slippery.

But then I arrive on the stone-covered plateau of Stor-Kjølen, where I can see a small cairn in front of me, a tall cairn marking the summit and the radar station. And if you look closely you can see a small cabin in front of the station. It’s a shelter for hikers. I’m alone, so I can use it for the night.

I want to take photos of the midnight sun, so I start experimenting with some sun-facing shots. These photos are much darker than reality. While the light is warm, it is still bright daylight.

The mountains and the sea all glow in hazy orange hues when I look against the sun.

But I have a mission – taking a photo of the midnight sun. Here it is. Unfortunately there is a small, transparent cloud in front of the sun that makes it look like a white splotch instead of a circle. Bad luck!

Bad luck? Not really. We have summer time, so the lowest position of the sun is one hour later – or a bit more accurate 0:48 due to local solar time. So I had some spare time to take more photo from the stone-covered flat top.

Then it was time: The sun as its lowest position. Ok – I was three minutes late, but the solar path is so flat that it doesn’t matter when taking photos. The light is the same. And eventually the little cloud was vanished.

Just a selfie with my mobile phone, then it is time for bed, at last. (A down hoodie? Yes – it is windy and only +5 °C.)

I enter the shelter, roll out my sleeping mat on the floor and lie down, using my sleeping bag as a blanket. Cluck-cluck, cackle-cackle! What’s that? I peek out of the door and see that the hour of the ptarmigans has started. All around, these galliforms dart about, filling the air with their typical clucking. I am too tired to start another photo hunt so I just take some snapshots. (These photos are heavily cropped.)

But then it is finally time to sleep. The shelter is filled with light, the camping mats (I found another one in the shelter) are thin and the ground is hard. But then I doze off and …

… sleep. At least for a couple of hours.

To part II >

The sun is back in Tromsø

Today I saw the sun for the first time this year. Polar night in Tromsø has already ended one week ago but it always takes some days until it rises over the mountains. Yesterday it was cloudy but today was the day. Welcome back, sun.

This is a shot by mobile phone. I may have taken better photos with my small Sony camera but I forgot it in the office.

Ski tour in Sweden – Sälka—Tjäktja

This article is part of the series “2024-02: Ski tour Sweden”.

Day 5 – 2 March – Sälka—Tjäktja

It is our second morning in Sälka. The night was quiet – no storm, no snow. That’s quite a bit of luck for the travel group that left pulkas and skis on the ground without even thinking about finding shelter for their equipment.

Today Annika and I will have a short distance to ski. It’s only twelve kilometres to Tjäktja but we have to cross the Tjäktjapasset which is pretty steep. 8:15 – we say goodbye to the warden and his friend and follow the undulating terrain north. We can already see the pass in the distance. It is still 8 km away.

The terrain is still undulating but it slowly changes. First we skied up and down, now we ski up or straight ahead, a sign that the terrain starts to rise.

Ah, I love my pulka. Most of the time I can pull it effortlessly over the hard snow, although there is a lot of food in it and a tripod and safety equipment and two down jackets and other clothes two sleeping backs and more. But when I have to climb steeper passages I realise that both my fitness and my strength could be better. So at the pass I have to take small breaks to catch my breath. The next photo is taken by Annika and long before the steep passage where we were too occupied to take any pictures.

Each of us climbs up in his/her own pace.

But then we are on the edge of a platform where I just must look back. 19 years ago on my very first ski tour I stood there and was completely flabbergasted when I looked into this valley Tjäktjavagge. And so it still is today. We stand there for a while before we continue skiing further up the pass.

Whew, that was exhausting, but now we are on 1100 m, the highest altitude on our tour. Time to take a rest at the shelter. No photos, just some tea and nuts before we continue. Now it only goes down, down, down and we remove our climbing skins. Soon Tjäktja comes into view. It is smaller then the other cabins on the Kungsleden. To our surprise we are the only guests tonight.

Day 6 – 3 March – Tjäktja

The weather on this tour has been extraordinary well and today we have another sunny day with blue sky. We are staying at Tjäktja and after breakfast we start our “duties”. The stugvärd (warden) is sawing logs, I am chopping wood. And then Annika and I take two empty canisters to fetch water. This means we have to go down to the frozen river where there is a hole and some tools to crush the ice. We have heard that the ice was very slippery and so we put on our spikes. Good choice.

The first container I pull up the snowy slope. Yes, it works but it is pretty exhausting. The other container Annika drags over the ice. I fetch the first container and we pull both back to the cabin. Well – pull … . It is a bit like walking puppy dogs. Twenty kilo puppy dogs. The containers stay behind, hurry ahead, bump into each other and then leave the path again. But finally we “walked” them home and have 40 litres of fresh and ice cold water from the river Čeavččanjira.

I go down to the river again to take some photos. I like the bridge and the icy area beneath.

But what I really love is the huge snow drift hanging there near the now frozen and invisible waterfall. I crawl in more and more until I can make the last of the three photos from my private “snow cave”.

Resting days are made for – well – resting. We are reading and taking a nap while other guests arrive. Slowly the sun is setting and the colours on the mountains go pink.

Time to cook and eat something. Right after dinner a beautiful polar lights have formed, although the sky is still kind of blue and not black yet. What a luxury to see it so early.

The northern lights are lasting for hours and are everywhere. Annika and I are standing there for a long time together with two people from Switzerland. Every now and then I leave to take photos. And more photos. It is an incredible experience to see the aurora far away from the light pollution of the cities. This is an extremely beautiful moment and this evening which marks the first half of our ski tour is a perfect end of the day.

Yes. The northern light continues, but the photographer has to catch some sleep. God natt. Good night.

The sun returns in Tromsø

While I got a lot of sun in Obbola (320 km south of the polar circle) between the years, Tromsø (340 km north of the polar circle) had to wait to see the sun again.

Last Sunday was the last day of the mørketid – the polar night. Monday at lunchtime the sun was above the horizon but not above the mountains. Anyhow everything has become much brighter compared to mid-December.

Yesterday I took a promenade from my new apartment. While Tromsø lay in the shadow – at least were I walked – I saw the snowy mountains of Kvaløya having pink tops. There the sun was already visible.

Today I was at Telegrafbukta round noon. I was not alone – round 200 other people waited for the sun, were barbecuing, taking selfies or a winter bath. On the sea a flock of eider ducks occasionally wa diving for food. And then it appeared from behind a mountain – the sun!

Welcome sun! The polar night is over, the winter will continue for at least three months. But every day the sun will rise a bit higher.