Soaking weary bones and nursing our bruises at the hot springs near Akureyri, enroute to Reykjavik.

As a non-sailor, coming across the Greenland sea was surprisingly exhilarating. Weirdly, the increasing sense of exhilartion appeared to be exponetially linked to a worsening sea state (although my mum will never believe that in a month of sundays!) But now I’m seeing my glacial geomorphology textbooks come to life in a huge, towering, awe-inspiring way.

On the 2nd we went for an afternoon walk on a large moraine complex. One glacier fed into the head of the current fjord, in a north-easterly direction, and yet the east / west orientated striations on virtually all the boulders contained in the moraine suggested that something had come through from a different direction, exerting huge forces that gouged out lines in the solid rock. On climbing up to the top of the ridge I could see another glacier in the far distance, separated from the first one we could clearly see from the boat by a sharp ridge (arete). This glacier has retreated a long way up its valley, and yet with a bit of imagination and going back a few hundreds of years, you could visualise how these two streams of ice would have met, and carved their way out to sea in one massive ice stream. What I had thought to be a lateral moraine would actually have probably been a medial moraine, marking the join between the two glaciers.

On the 3rd we went for an amble in the Nooderlicht. Initially out to investigate a large iceberg, but then through a sound (Sund) round Turner Island. We went into a little inlet part way through the sund in which we were meant to moor last night. Here we saw something I thought I would never see in all my life – snap freezing of the sea within minutes – read Simon’s blog for more detail on this amazing feat of nature.

At the head of this cove was a classic example of a corrie or cirque. This is an amphitheatre shaped depression, usually located high up in the face of a mountain. It acts as an accumulation zone for snow, and will often develop into the head of a glacier. There was no obvious glacier forming in this one, although a trail of snow leading from it suggests that maybe in the past it was a glacial source. Following the snow down from this, there was a sudden drop into a lower valley, where a small glacier was retreating back from the fjord edge. Although not a classic example, this closely resembled a hanging valley, formed when a tributary glacier joins a main ice stream, and is quite literally left hanging when the main ice sheet retreats. What I couldn’t tell from the boat was when this retreat happened – whether or not the retreat has happend recently (on the geological timescale of hundreds of years!) or as part of a natural cycle of advance and retreat.

The sund also showed the effects of compression from the most recent period of Greenland’s evolution. Offshore there are lower tertiary volcanic rocks exposed at the seabed, whilst onshore we can see picrite volcanics, that formed sometime between 400 million years ago and the present (Devonian to the Quaternary). Turner Island, to our left (east, port-side) as we sailed through the sund showed beds dipping steeply to the east / south-east. To the west of us (off the starboard side) the beds were dipping more shallowly in the opposite direction. My immediate thoughts were that during the phase of compression and orogeny, linked to the building of the mountains surrounding us, there had been an uneven distribution of forces, resulting in the rocks being pushed up more steeply on one side. This could have
resulted from a geological barrier located offshore somewhere, inhibiting movement eastwards. It’s a bit of a leap of the imagination, but my mind is wandering through all possible connotations that would result in this. One option is the following, and I would welcome comments on this as I may be completely off base here! Compressive forces from the west during the orogenic phase were counter-balanced by seafloor spreading at the mid-ocean ridge to the east, causing this large scale anticline (upward doming fold) to form.

What was also obvious here was the offset between each limb (side) of the fold. The points of maximum dip appeared to overlap forming an “x”. But again a quick check of the maps (as frustratingly I couldn’t get ashore to investigate myself) showed a couple of transform faults run through the sund. The rocks have therefore slid past each other laterally at some point following the period of compression, in a north north-east / south south-west direction, breaking the folds.

The next page of the geology textbook to reveal itself was a couple of hours sail away, in another inlet located about 5 – 10 miles south. We passed a towering lateral moraine – another remnant of a much larger glacial outpouring, and saw this curling spit that appeared to flow out from the mountains on the other side of the inlet’s mouth. From the boat, my idea was that the constant erosion of the large moraine by ocean currents was carrying loose debris to the southerly side of the fjord, and depositing it in this curling spit of land. However, we could get ashore this time, and my idea as to its formation changed.

Walking along the spit we could see that it was made up of morianal type debris, but any visible striations on the boulder sized debris contained within it were very randomly orientated. At the landward end of the spit was a large debris fall, completely different in composition from the mountains either side of it, conaining a wide mix of grain sizes from very fine silts to large boulders about 4 foot in diameter. I couldn’t access the top of the debris flow (polar bear dangers combined with snow and ice), but I’ve seen something very similar in the Leones Valley in Chile. At the seaward side of this fall was a stream that tumbled down from the mountains in a series of waterfalls. This supported idea number 2!

Up in the mountains I believe there is a retreating land terminating glacier. As it retreats, a glacial lake forms behind the terminal moraine. This finally breaches, resulting in a mass debris flow as the meltwater carries the remains of the terminal moraine downslope. The stream still running down one side of the debris flow suggests that there is still a glacial meltwater source up in the high mountains. The debris is now being slowly re-worked by the continental shelf currents, with the shallow topography of the fjord to the north causing refraction of these currents into this inlet. This has resulted in a gyre like circulation around the inlet, that caused the re-worked sediments to be moved into the graceful curve we walked along today.

I’m sure that the next few days will bring more of my geology lessons to life…….and I eagerly await trying in vain to describe the wonderful formations and glacial geomorphology I’m seeing.

But then 10 minutes after the end of my watch there was a shout that land had been spotted. We’d all been wondering if A) Greenland really existed and B) if we’d ever be allowed to see it by the ever omnipresent ice. It was early early dawn with just a faint blush on the horizon delineating sea from sky, and the land looked like mystical clouds and cliffs floating over the cold grey sea surface. There was no hint then that the constant grey clouds that had acompanied us across the now legendary sea journey would ever lift.

But when I stumbled out of my bunk at about 8am there was a glorious sunrise brewing, casting warm shades of pinks and oranges over the most spectacular scenery I think I have ever seen. We were moored in a fjord, with two huge icebergs floating regally close by. I have never seen such an accumulation of photographers, cameras and film makers along the port side of any boat……I wonder what such a group would be called……maybe a floe would be appropriate.

A slow circle of one of the icebergs showed some amazing crevices that had been infilled with freshwater, re-freezing in a cobalt shade of blue. Emily and I were approached by the film crew…….”so what do some of the brightest minds on the boat think of this” was the question posed……to which we replied after some thought – well it looks like the perfect Mr Whippy but its missing the flake.

The sky is now blue, with some artistically scultped low lying clouds hiding the peaks of the nearby mountains. We are on our way to another more shelterd part of the fjord where we will anchor. We plan to spend the next few days exploring three fjords, all of which have very different styles of glaciers terminating in them. The geology map has been out, and discussions had about the evolution of Greenland. I now have to retrieve my mind from wherever it went to hibernate during the worst of the weather so that I can have proper scientific discussions about glaciers and glacial geomorphology! Guess its back to work….

Yesterday was an interesting day…we attempted to tie a nautical knot on the chart with our ship track. Having got within about 60 miles of Scoresby Sund, we came across the sea ice. The aim was to keep the ice to our starboard side and follow it until we reached its southern most extent, then track west into the Sund.

On the 4-6am watch on the 30th, I was confronted with sailing into a headwind, accompanied by freezing sleet and snow. Iceberg watch was vitally important as we were still doing 8 knots under only the jib straight through the ice field. It was bitterly cold as face, toes and fingers slowly froze. At the end of shift it was decided to take the jib down and hold station until it got light and we could spot the bergs early enough. I staggered up front with Barbara, Kathy and Gert – unfortunately the ropes had frozen and we had to battle to untie them..the jib then came down of its own accord under the weight of ice, showering us with ice and hail. Trying to furl a frozen sheet whilst balancing on a heeling ship in the dark with 2 inches of snow and ice underfoot is…um…entertaining! It really felt like the arctic wanted us out of here – what on earth possessed us to think this was a good idea! And to be honest by the end of the night watches mostof us wanted to get out!

The ice had other ideas! Weaving our way through the floating bergs during daylight, we tracked the ice front..east away from Greenland..north-east back towards Svalbard..finally north-west! Only needed a small westwards track to complete our 80 mile circle! The ice had formed a curved arm that appeared intent on ensnaring us in its grasp!

But then the early morning watch today was incredible. The wind had dropped, the clouds parted showing a full moon, the stars were twinkling..and we had escaped the icy embrace and were now sailing south-east again. Slightly ironic that in 24 hours we were only 15 miles away from where we had started on the 30th! Spirits were up onboard, and the photographers were out in force snapping the ice encased ropes, and weirdly shaped icicles. With the falling snow it strangely felt like Christmas, to the extent that we sang Christmas songs all lunch, much to the amusement of the crew – no crackers or hats could be found though!

Vikram likened the feeling onboard to that of mass Stockholm syndrome minus the baddie (although the sea ice is a possible contender here). We alternate between claustrophobia and agoraphobia – the boat has become a comfort blanket and yet we still want to see land – any land – soon.

The science progresses – we’ve had some great CTD profiles recently, with the last dip showing a really strong indication of the East Greenland Current. The very low salinity and temperatures show that the sea could freeze quickly and soon – another reason for skirting round the ice and not trying to wend our way through it. For more extensive explanations of what we’ve found, with diagrams, see Emily’s blogs. The sea ice movements, for all the wasted sailing time it caused, have really shown the quick reaction times to prevailing winds, tides and Ekman pumping, and the fluctuating nature of the sea ice extent. I’m not sure how many more CTD dips the rest of the intrepid company will tolerate though…there have been mutterings of us accompanying out instruments into the deep depths, as the boat tends to swing more wildly as we try to hold position with our nose into the wind! We haven’t told them about doing a cross section across Denmark Straits yet!!!!

It’s a very humbling experience being out here in the middle of nowhere on a beautiful schooner attempting to sail between Spitsbergen and Greenland. We reckon that bar a few icebreakers, we are the northerly most ship in the world at the moment – certainly of the sailing variety. Already we have had to alter our course due to the ever changing pattern of sea ice that is currently lying off the east coast of Greenland. Today we were told by our skipper Gert that the is 10-40% ice cover across the entrance to Scoresby Sund, and that it is lying in a 10-20km thick band – the implications are that with the forecast southerly for the next couple of days, we may well be able to get into the Sund when we arrive sometime on Sunday.

Hopefully you’ll be able to read these blogs on Sat 29th on the open day at BGS in Edinburgh – but keep track of our exploits once we land in Scoresby Sund via the Cape Farewell website. We can get emails back via the website so anyone who’d like to ask us any questions please feel free! Once we get the ID number for the ARGO float we deployed yesterday, you can also check up on its progress via the met office website as it journeys with the ocean currents for the next 3 years. Luckily for all those I threatened a mammoth photo fest to when I got back, the sea sickness and weather has kept the camera at bay for a few days…..but I’m sure I’ll still get the odd 100 together for you!

So adieu for now. Its time to go and stand out in the cold and wet with the satellite phone to try and get all our recent blogs and photos through. And then off to bed for a few hours before my next watch duty at 4am……and time to start watching for the sea ice as we’re only about 60 miles away from the start of it!

So today was the day that “Arty Bob”, the Cape Farewell ARGO float was to make a brief debut into the world before descending into the depths of the Greenland Sea. Guess we’d better get the science out of the way……the ARGO float is programmed to sink to a specific depth in the ocean. It will then be taken by the current we want to investigate, in this case the East Greenland Current, and track it for approximately 3 years. At 10 day intervals, the float will sink to 2000m, before rising to the surface recording temperature, salinity and density on the way. At the surface it will send all the data and its current position back via satellite to the British Oceanographic Centre in Liverpool. The data can then be accessed by anyone throughout the world via the Met Office website.

We deployed the float at 0 degrees Longtitude, the same meridian that runs through Greenwich, London, and 74 degrees Latitude. By deploying Bob north of the Mohns Ridge, it is hoped that the float will show how the deep Arctic water is channelled past this ridge, either through one of two knick points in the ridge, or by being diverted north-east and around the ridge before resuming its southerly course.

The ARGO crate was opened with great excitement, and the float activated at 13.20 UTC. It then had to be left for at least 30 minutes in order for the oil bladder to fully inflate. This bladder controls the ascents and descents that the float will undertake in the course of its life, and so early deployment could have meant a very untimely end to Bob!

We head into the wind and drop our sailing speed. Everyone is watching from the side of the boat – or in Nick’s case harnessed in but hanging off the outside of the boat with his camera – as Bob, merrily beeping away to let the satellite receiving station know that he is active, is carefully lowered into the water at 14.36 UTC. The float slowly rights itself, proving to be as much of a draw for a flock of seagulls as for all aboard the Nooderlicht. It has to be said that this is a first in my scientific career – to merrily launch £25k of equipment over the side of a boat and not be expected to retrieve it! Bob will stay at the surface for a few hours, ensuring that all messages are being received clearly, before being instructed to sink to the pre-programmed “cruising” depth of 1500m. Then let the journey into the deep ocean begin………. check back with us in a week or so when we have the ID number and we can all follow Bob’s great ocean adventure.

Cape Farewell’s Arty Bob joins the ranks of almost 3000 ARGO floats that have been deployed throughout the world by 20 different countries. However, only Bob has been signed by comedian Marcus Brigstocke, with an added joke for the marine world inscribed on its side. Marcus has promised free tickets for his next show to anyone who gets the joke (literally!!)  Maybe it was the lure of this that had a northern bottle-nosed whale heading in Bob’s direction as we sailed off towards ScoresbySund.

So where is Arty Bob now?
Click to find out where Arty Bob is and to see what he’s been up to.
(Arty Bob’s ID: 6900609)

Find Arty Bob and check his data >

Dr Carol Cotterill
Marine and Coastal Geoscientist (UK)

Carol initially trained as a theatre designer, specialising in lighting design, and the effect of colour on the human emotions. However, a rather convoluted path led to re-training as a geoscientist, and working for the British Geological Survey. She now works on many different aspects of palaeoclimate work, habitat mapping and geomorphological interpretations of past landscapes and environments at a national and international level.

“Climate change is affecting everyone on some level. I can see that graphs and figures won’t appeal to everyone, but we have to find a way of getting the message across. Cape Farewell is a superb channel, combining arts and science in a unique way.”
Dr Carol Cotterill

www.bgs.ac.uk