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| The bride and groom saluted by their kayak compatriots |
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| The stern deck is prepped for dinner al fresco as we sail out of the fiord |
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| The view from our window |
It's a slow start today. Last night's party went on til the wee hours, with mostly the younger folk dancing away, but we did our best to hold up our end. The wedding was held in the bridge, a small private affair, but then the happy couple came out to the forward deck under an honour guard of kayak paddles held aloft. We celebrated with champagne and sushi, then moved to the stern deck for dinner al fresco. The crew had set lovely tables outside, and we motored down the fiord as we ate. The only problem I found with this happy plan was that dining outdoors on Baffin Island requires one to wear 14 layers of clothing and I could hardly bend my elbow to take a drink. Thankfully the dancing warmed us up and I could shed about 6 outer layers. Way too much fun was had by all!
According to the map we have almost 1000 miles to travel still, along the coast of Baffin. We motor steadily through the night, and awaken in the midst of icebergs. We are on the hunt for bowhead whales who congregate in the shallows off this stretch of coast to calve, feed and scratch their itchy spots, much like Robson Bight in BC. As we slowly pull into Isabella Bay, a protected whale sanctuary, we see distant blows in all directions. Several small groups of bowheads come close enough to photograph - lolling on the surface in the shallow turquoise water, or splashing and rolling by the shore. None are as bold as the orcas who taunted us a few days back, but then these are much more massive whales. Fifteen to twenty meters long, huge and solid, they can break through 6 feet of ice to breathe if they need to. They are not as athletic, nor as interactive as the orcas, but they are still very impressive.
We head out, beyond the shallow shelf of coastline, and turn south. Icebergs surround us - impossibly tilted cathedrals of ice, aircraft carrier decks, gigantic whales breaching from the waves. Every one tempts the imagination to fantastic visions. We cruise right along side one large flat tabular berg. It is 60 feet high, completely flat, and over a kilometer long. We feel fragile beside this floating giant.
Our ship is a great platform for viewing the sea. We have outside deck space everywhere, and I get my exercise checking the sights from the bow to the topmost deck. One of our favourite spots is on the bridge. It's a huge bonus that we have the run of the entire ship. The bridge deck is our first stop each morning and our last one at night. We follow our course on each day's chart, check the GPS and radar screens, make notes of headings, coordinates, wind and speed. It's an added dimension to this cruise that I really enjoy. The Russian officers speak enough English to help us decipher the electronics and seem happy to have us milling around them, binocs in hand.
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| Dropping the anchor is a very noisy affair |
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| Norbert on the upper deck |
The Russian dining room crew are less fluent, but charming and cheerful. They are young and enthusiastic, and I suspect there are a few romances between these handsome young men and our younger female guides. Sparks fly across the room occasionally and less than subtle glances are thrown. One of my favourites is our waitress, Svetlana. She has a shy smile that bursts into a big grin when I try out my good morning in Russian. The same thing happened when I used it on our chamber maid and she burst into smiles and a torrent of Russian interspersed with gesticulations miming checking the time. I'm guessing that you only use the good morning phrase at breakfast and there is something different for mid morning and lunch, but I can't for the life of me catch what that might be.
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