The World's Northernmost: Ny Ålesund - 78° 55' 43" N 11° 56' 11" E

Myrca's log, date 7 July 2026. Our position, Fjortende Juilbukta 79° 07.017' N 11° 52.697' E

Cod, Glaciers and a Farewell from the Walrus

Another glorious, sunshiny day brought a visit from the Sysselmester, the Governor of Svalbard's representatives. They came aboard for a document check to make sure all our permits were in order. They were wonderfully friendly chaps who were spending the summer living in a cabin in Magdalenefjord.

Presenting our passports and gun registration to the authorities.

What a great job to have!

Avid fishermen themselves, they gave us some excellent tips on how to catch Arctic cod. We needed to find somewhere where the sea floor dropped away steeply, then cast our lines in at around 80 metres. Drop the line all the way to the bottom, jiggle it a little and wait. Simple.

We studied the charts and identified a couple of promising cod-catching locations along our route. It seemed almost too easy.

Before we left, a couple of walrus came to bid us farewell, and we saw our first skua—a magnificent, aggressive-looking bird stealing food from a glaucous gull. Quite a battle ensued, with the skua eventually winning. There is clearly no room for sentimentality in the Arctic.

At our first fishing spot, Ed dropped the line to 80 metres and, almost unbelievably, pulled up a rather large cod!

Ed shows us how it is done.

Thanks to the local advice, we had the right gear, in the right place, at the right time. There was great excitement on board. This fishing-for-dinner business was looking remarkably straightforward!

We eventually anchored in front of the Fjortende Julibukta glacier and headed off in the dinghy to get a closer look. It was simply amazing. The glacier crackled, snapped and popped as the ice shifted, while the water gently slapped against its face. Every now and then there was the distant rumble of ice moving somewhere up on the glacier.

The bay was surrounded by towering bird cliffs, with birds everywhere—wheeling overhead, nesting on the cliffs and diving into the water. The anchorage itself was gloriously calm, made all the more spectacular by the incredible blue of the glacier ice.

What scenery for anchoring

Fending off bergy bits, and yes, that is the scientific terminology.

And then we discovered just how impressive this place really was. From the anchorage we could see seven glaciers, each spilling down from the mountains towards the sea. It was one of those Arctic scenes that makes you stop talking and simply stare.

Myrca's crew in the dinghy.

That evening we had delicious fresh fish and chips for dinner, although even dinner required a little nautical activity. A few bergy bits were drifting towards the boat, so every now and then we had to give them a gentle nudge with the boat hook to keep them from bumping into us.

Freshly caught Arctic cod, glacier ice, a calm anchorage and a dinner cooked on board. Not a bad way to spend a day in Svalbard!

Fish and chips.  Very fresh.

Total distance: 178.8nm

Myrca's log, date 8 July 2026. Our position, Fjortende Juilbukta 79° 09.681'N 10° 56.596' E

Ice, Fish and the Northernmost Pub

We woke to the sound of ice crunching alongside the boat. A huge chunk had become hung up on the bow and anchor chain, so we let out some more chain and used the bow thruster to coax it past us. The sound of water lapping against the ice is remarkably like running water, while the snap, crackle and pop of the shifting ice, together with the calls of birds on the cliffs, provided the soundtrack to the anchorage.

Now, that is going to prove tricky to get off the anchor chain.

Goodbye, lovely anchorage!

There was a lot more ice in the bay now, and when a particularly large bergy bit, carrying what looked like chunks of square rock, bounced up against us, we decided it was time to up anchor. We slowly negotiated our way through the ice and out into the fjord.

The bird cliffs were spectacular. Gulls occupied the higher ledges, while the lower cliffs were home to thousands of guillemots. Little auks, startled by our boat, flap away in the most comical fashion—somewhat less elegant in flight than they are sitting quietly on the water.

And everywhere we looked: glaciers, glaciers, glaciers!

Jo pilots us by some growlers with birds everywhere in the water.

Here is a cruise ship for scale.

Under brilliant blue skies, the sea was the colour of an alpine lake, reflecting the mountains and the vast fields of ice around us. But the weather was changing. Mackerel clouds began sweeping across the sky, and rain was in the forecast. We decided to head further up Kongsfjord to see the massive glacier at its head.

On the way, we even had the opportunity to circumnavigate an iceberg. It was an impressive lump of ice, and getting close enough to appreciate its size without getting too close was quite an experience.

Kate guides us closer.

Now, that's close!  We were going dead slow and the water was very clear, allowing us to fully see the bottom of the bergy bit.  This easily weighed more than Myrca!

Super, SUPER close ... but c-a-r-e-f-u-l-l-y.  We circled it ... twice.

Time enough for a quick smile for the camera!  What an experience!

Wow.

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Rather than spend another night at anchor, we decided to motor on to Ny-Ålesund, attracted partly by the promise of somewhere warm and dry—and, more importantly, the lure of a pub!

But first, there was more fishing to be done.

We found another perfect-looking fishing spot, so Ed dropped his line over the side. On a whim, and despite being the non-fisherperson of the crew, Kate decided to toss in a line too.

Almost immediately, she had a fish!

Got one!

Fishing in 100 metres of water is quite exhausting. There is an awful lot of winding to do, and the deeper the line goes, the more convinced you become that the fish must be absolutely enormous.

Except Kate's fish wasn't enormous.  She'd managed to catch two fish on the same line.

That's the way to do it! Two on one line!

Amazing!  Proud angler!

So, once again, fish for dinner. At this rate, the Arctic was turning out to be remarkably good at feeding us.

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We eventually arrived in Ny-Ålesund, one of the world's northernmost permanent settlements. We are beginning to notice a bit of a theme here—we may have to devote an entire blog post to all the “most northerly” things we encounter on this trip!

Really, really north.

It's a very small but well-built jetty, offering very good protection.

A view of the jetty from shore.

The locomotive that used to bring ore from the mine to the jetty.
All the wood for these structures came from the mainland of Norway or Russia.

There is now an environmental research station on the top of the hill, tucked away in the clouds today.

The hotel.  This was quite a busy place when the race to the North Pole was in play.  Dozens of workers,  miners and their families were here in the early 1910's to 1920's.

There is still a community of scientists and researchers living here year 'round.  Here is the post office.  It is open on Mondays and Thursdays from 17:00 to 18:00.  We would have had to wait.

We had a tour of one of the expedition cruise ships and then wandered into town. Naturally, we couldn't leave without buying a T-shirt from the world's northernmost—or at least one of the world's northernmost—shop. It seemed only appropriate.

The captain invited us to the bridge and kindly had his chief purser and chief engineer take us around the boat for a tour of the working areas and staff quarters.

The engines are so big, the mechanical room is three stories deep. These engines were built in 1962 had have over 3 million hours of service.  Let's hope Chinook's engines last that long!

These Volvo D6s don't drive the boat at all - they just run the electrical system.  Each can handle the full requirements for the boat and provide redundancy.

We also took advantage of the facilities, bunkering 460 litres of subsidised diesel and topping up our water supply.  With full tanks, fresh fish for dinner and a pub somewhere in town, Ny-Ålesund was looking like a very good place to stop.

Total distance: 210.8nm

Myrca's log, date 9 July 2026. Our position, Dahi Glacier 78° 33.967' N 12° 23.409' E

A New Baby, a Beef Rump and a Whale of a Day

We woke to a thick fog—and a new baby!  Nephew Tom and his wife Bec (down in Horsham, AUS) were expecting.  Welcome to the family, Billie Nicole!

While we were celebrating from the other side of the world, we headed off to explore Ny-Ålesund and its most excellent museum. For such a tiny place, the museum is fabulous and has an enormous amount to tell. There are stories of mad men in airships attempting to reach the North Pole, daring expeditions and, apparently, quite a few fibs told along the way.

Small, but a wealth of information and artifacts.

The fibs were told by the mad men—not the museum!

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Meanwhile, the young crew on the boat alongside us had approached one of the expedition cruise ships to see if they could spare some vegetables. They came back carrying a crate of fruit and vegetables, a chicken and a whole beef rump.

Being pescatarians, they had no use for the beef, so they handed it over to us. We sacrificed one of our fish in exchange, making it a most excellent Arctic barter.

Easily 12 kilos of beef.

The only slight problem was the size of our new acquisition. The beef rump weighed around 10 kilos and, being thoroughly frozen, was going to take about a week to defrost. We suddenly had enough beef on board to feed a small expedition.

It's like looking in a mirror!

While we were in the harbour, another Garcia 45 (Hull #2, Velvet) came into port.  Velvet is still in great shape and looks almost new after fourteen years in the water.  

We tossed off the lines around noon and motored out into the fjord in almost complete calm.

Today was a whale of a day!

We began seeing humpback whales and possibly a minke or two, feeding in the fjord. Whenever one appeared, we stopped the engine and simply drifted, watching them surface and dive around us. It was magical to be surrounded by these enormous animals with nothing but the sound of the water and their occasional blows breaking the silence.

There were seals everywhere, along with an extraordinary variety of Arctic birds—little auks, puffins, guillemots, gulls and kittiwakes. It seemed that the entire cast of Arctic wildlife had turned up for the day.

Then the weather changed.

Cloud began to pour over the mountains and the rain arrived, bringing with it rather more challenging conditions. It wasn't the spectacular panorama of sparkling ice, blue water and brilliant sunshine that we had become accustomed to. Instead, the mountain tops disappeared into the cloud and mist, leaving a dark, sinister and almost otherworldly landscape.

But it had its own charm.

Every now and then a curious bird would pop its head up to watch us as we passed. There were birds everywhere—on the water, on the cliffs and flying overhead. We watched them bathing, dipping their wings beneath the surface and then shaking themselves vigorously, over and over and over again. There was something wonderfully absorbing about watching these little creatures going about their daily business in such an extraordinary environment.

We are not the only ones who like the bergy bits.

Eventually, we dropped anchor at the base of the dark glacier. Once again, the scenery was spectacular, even under the grey skies.

Jo and Ed set and secure the anchor.

There wasn't much ice calving into the bay, which was a relief after our earlier adventures with bergy bits catching on the anchor chain. We were anchored in about 8 metres of water, well protected from the southerly wind, with a magnificent view of the glacier.

Another Arctic day done.

Whales, seals, birds, fog, rain, a glacier—and a 10-kilo beef rump slowly defrosting in the sail locker.

Life aboard was certainly never dull.

Total distance: 250.8nm