1524: Siberia's Forgotten Coast 24 Jun 2015
Day 1
24 June
Leaving Petropavlovsk-Kamchatskiy
Dr. Cam swayed his hips at the front of the lecture room “Dancing is good!” he said. It was our first night on board the Spirit of Enderby or the Professor Khromov, as she’s known in Russian waters. He went on to explain how best to ward off seasickness: get up on deck, somewhere at the centre of the ship, fix your eyes on the horizon, and just ‘move with it’. After dinner, some of us did get outside and stare at the darkening crease between sea and fog. “Our flotilla of little friends”, according to Chris, some Northern Fulmars bobbed alongside and glided low against the inky, cresting water, leaving a slick of glistening shadow.
We were excited to be here. Getting off the plane at Petropavlovsk-Kamchatskiy was an experience in itself. There were dogs that looked more like wolves, a billboard with the face of a Kamchatka Brown Bear looming over a plate of steak, the place was whited-out with fog, and it seemed like every second person was hauling outsized equipment from the baggage claim room. We’d flown across Russia from Moscow, crossed 9 times zones, and were now within cooee of Sarah Palin, or so we joked. ‘The Russian Far East’ a place we’d all dreamed of going and few people ever do.
‘The Professor’ had one month’s hiatus at port in Petropavlovsk-Kamchatskiy, so when 1800 rolled round, with all passengers safely on board, she was more than ready to go. Unfortunately the pilot responsible for guiding the ship out led her hard against the dock, scraping a significant section of the paintwork. We weren’t delayed long. Rodney had words, took photos, bid adieu to those involved, and we were off, headed through Avacha Bay, one of the most secure natural harbours in the world on the first day of our fourteen-day expedition: ‘Siberia’s Forgotten Coast.’
Having handed over our passports (for border control) and attended a briefing in which all the staff were introduced, we were free to get up on deck for some sea-watching. Sightings included: Rhinoceros Auklet, Aleutian Tern, Tufted Puffins, Kuril and Pigeon Guillemot, and Steller’s Sea Eagle. Chris said it was the first time he’d seen an Aleutian Tern in this harbour. It was very cold up on deck and half of us huddled out of the wind, facing the wrong way, that is, back the way we came from. The other half crowded into the front 2-3 metres of the deck, strained seawards, and talked birds: birds, neat: not just birds, only birds.
To the uninitiated, birding can look a lot like warfare. Someone identifies the target – e.g., ‘2 o’clock, 50m out’ – the vanguard scan, sights, and locks it in: shoulders hunched, barrels steadied, and a volley of shots are fired from huge, concertinaed, sometimes camouflaged, appendages. They certainly looked like they were having fun.
Dinner was our introduction to what would be an unerringly fabulous performance from Cath and Lindsay, our Kiwi chefs extraordinaire. It was also a chance for expedition participants – travelling from the UK, Israel, the USA, Sweden, Moscow, New Zealand, Australia, Spain and Holland – to meet. Later in the evening we passed the Three Brothers, rock sentinels that jut out of the sea at the entrance to Avacha Harbour, and we were on our way in open sea, heading north overnight to reach Zhupanova River in the morning.
© M.Kelly
Day 2
25 June
Zhupanova River
Our first morning wake-up call came over the PA at 0615 for a 0630 breakfast. It was very cool and foggy.
Brazil’s ‘Birds of East Asia’ describes Steller’s Sea Eagle’s wings as “clearly fingered with hands”. In flight, beats often appear laborious as it “rows powerfully like a massive falcon”, and “appears to have large baggy white trousers”. A female can weigh up to 10kg and its wingspan ranges from 195-230cm. This morning at 0830 we got into Zodiacs (having already attended a safety briefing, of course) and made our way to the Zhupanova River, in search of these incredible raptors.
At the entrance to the river we saw our first eagles as they flew across the face of the cliffs. Our next sightings were to the right of the river: one on a stick poking up out of the long grass on the banks, another on a man-made frame, the former was chased away by crows. On a spit a little further up the river, two Steller’s Sea Eagles were locked in a spat. They hobbled and were clumsy on land, but by far the biggest thrill was seeing the birds at their nests, and especially finding a new nest, just made this season. The nest was a big composite bulk in large part sticks at the top of a tree. Beside it, the eagle perched commandingly. In a coup for birders and lookers alike, the eagle took flight and slowly circled the nest, beating great, almost ragged-looking wings with massive curvature, before slowing, and managing its descent in a series of wobbles, finally returning to its perch, prehistoric-looking talons outstretched and reaching from feathered trousers, accompanied by the paparazzi flutter of 5 Zodiacs filled with camera shutters.
Our mission was to see the Steller’s Sea Eagle and we succeeded. As an additional bonus, upwards of 15 Aleutian Terns were spied, gorgeous, delicate birds, and a good number of Largha Seals that were hauled out and lolling on a spit. We also saw several bears lumbering in the meadows on our way up and down the river.
Our party divided in two: those wanting to check out the salmon farm, and those who wanted to see a Long-toed Stint. Those who wanted to thaw-out with a cup of steaming, sweet black tea, and enjoy just-fried salmon steaks, freshly baked bread, and salmon caviar; and those who would like to “squelch in the relevant direction”, as Chris directed, calf-deep in a stinking bog with hats coated in mosquitos. The squelchers eventually located a bird less than 30m from where they stood. A scope was set up and the bird stayed out in the open for long enough for everyone to get a close look. By all accounts the salmon banquet was delicious. We rejoined as a group and left the fishing camp, nearly taking the overexcited husky camp dog with us when it leapt into the boat.
We returned to the ship for lunch, then completed a safety drill with the lifeboats. In the afternoon we were treated to a vivid lecture from Katya on the some of the history of the Commander Islands, both human and natural. Then it was time for an early dinner in anticipation of a 0630 start.
© M.Kelly
Day 3
26 June
Nikol’skoye - NW Cape Sea Lion/Fur Seal Rookery - Ariy Kamen
A big day began with another foggy morning. We landed at Nikol’skoye, the residential part of Commander Islands and were met by Olga, a biologist and friend of the Heritage staff. Lindsay handed her a care package of fresh fruit and vegetables from the ship. Getting fresh produce here is a mission. Getting anything here is a mission! Olga recently moved here and told us she could never have predicted this life for herself, in a town of seven hundred inhabitants, off the deep end of the Aleutian Chain. She said that after living on the island for a while you start to get interested in other peoples’ affairs like who did what and all the things people say to each other. She thought then you have probably been there too long! Later, a few of us agreed that Nikol’skoye would make the best setting for a murder mystery. We had all over-dressed after yesterday’s freezing trip up the Zhupanova River. It was wholesale stripping as we went into the museum, which doubled as a glass house with a big tomato plant in the corner.
Sergey the Artist’s studio was another sort of museum. He had his art on the walls but the main event was Sergey himself, and Sergey’s life and personality, writ large in artifacts. He made people tea and told us a story about a walrus’s baculum, or penis bone, that he hung above his doorway and which knocked visitors on the head as they walked in. It was his lucky bone, as he garnered favour with several influential people during this time. He reluctantly gave the talisman to a physician in men’s health who was desperate for the specimen. Inside the studio, there’s everything. There’s a framed newspaper clipping of the day Princess Diana died, photos of a younger rakish Sergey, a jawbone, tens of Sea Otter skulls line a rafter, there are antique trappings from Japanese fishing vessels, a vintage motorbike, piles of records, a ship’s steering wheel and compass stand. Most importantly though is the very-near-complete skeleton of a Steller’s Sea Cow, suspended from the ceiling. Hydrodamalis gigas, the seaweed-grazing, enormous, bobbing, bizarre creature that was made extinct within 30 years of its existence being recorded by Steller. Somehow Sergey and this creature make perfect sense together. It’s tempting to see them both as made fantastical and singular by their environment.
We reconnected with the birders who had a memorable encounter with a pair of Rock Sandpiper at very close range, the male displaying. We left the town with its buildings in bright and candy colour-blocking, backed by two weather domes; the sea front and its ribbons of rusted metal, abandoned corroding ships, shipping containers, and rocks encrusted with Red-faced Cormorants.
The afternoon’s landing at North-West Cape Nature Reserve saw beaches littered with Steller’s Sea Lions and Northern Fur Seals. It was like a Brueghel’s scene, or a very ambitious epic poem. It was full-scale chaos; life in all its corporate complexity. Males lunged at Arctic Foxes as they roamed amongst the throng. Slightly gruesomely, we found evidence of the animosity between the species in a dismembered head of a Northern Fur Seal pup at the entrance to a fox’s den. Out to sea, far beyond the hustle and bustle, over one hundred Sea Otters were quietly rafting, holding on to seaweed to keep their place. As we headed back to the Zodiacs I saw a bird literally fall out of the sky. Brian tells me this is a Pechora Pipit, ‘parachuting’.
Next stop, Ariy Kamen, an island simply buzzing with life, guano-covered, with birds in every crevice: Red-legged Kittiwake mostly, but also Pigeon Guillemots, Brunnich’s and Common Guillemots, Tufted Puffins and Parakeet Auklets. It was insane - noisy as heck and strangely life-affirming. The sea was rough which made for a fun ride in the Zodiacs. As we rose and troughed, Elena and Evgeny sang a song in Russian while the front two people got drenched.
© Heritage Expeditions
© Heritage Expeditions
© Heritage Expeditions
Day 4
27 June
Circumnavigating Bering Island
Today we lifted anchor at 0500 and sailed off the edge of the continental shelf, over the steep, deep trench along the south side Bering Island: the beginning of the Aleutian Trench. This rich seam of life, where the warmth of the plateau meets the cool of the deep, provides an ideal feeding ground for a plethora of cetaceans. Most of us were up at 0600 to catch any possible sightings. It was another morning of low fog and the base of the mountains along the southwest side of Bering Island was just visible, with patches of snow not dissimilar to Orca patterning. The morning’s sea-watching kicked-off with a bunch of Dall’s Porpoises and one Harbour Seal riding the bow wave. It probably reached its apogee when an immature Humpback breached just metres from the boat and just kept on breaching ebulliently. It slapped, spun and generally put on a fantastic show. For the birders highlights included Whiskered Auklets, Mottled Petrel, and Black-footed Albatross.
We came to the end of Bering Island and turned, crossing the shallow channel between Bering and Medny Islands, and headed up the northeast coast, making for Commander Bay, final resting place of Vitus Bering where we landed at 1430. It’s a bleak, nondescript sort of place. There are two graves for Bering, one where he was originally thought to have died, and another at a revised estimate. Winningly, on the map you’ll find it between ‘Mosquito Creek’ and ‘Impassable Cliffs’. As Brian put it, “Commander Bay, there may be good places to die, but this is not one of them”.
At the onset of winter in 1741, Bering and the much depleted crew of St. Peter, many of whom were wracked with scurvy, came aground. They set-up camp, digging what they joked were their ‘graves’ in the partly frozen sand. Commander Bering died on December 8th, of several suspected conditions, however, as Georg Steller, naturalist, geographer and finally, Bering’s physician, wrote in his journal “he died more from hunger, cold, thirst, vermin, and grief”. These vermin – Arctic Foxes – were their steadfast tormentors, so maddening that within days, Steller and Plenisner went on a rampage with axe and long knife killing over sixty of them in one go. However, persecution only made them stronger. According to Steller, they “dragged apart all the baggage, ate the leather sacks, scattered the provisions, stole and dragged from one man his boots, from another his socks and trousers, gloves and coat. They even dragged off iron and other implements that were of no use to them.” In some sort of eerie insult, as we left the memorial to Bering and those of his crew who died, a number of us saw a pair of mating Arctic Foxes.
We returned to the ship and Katya gave another great lecture, this time ‘Cetaceans of the Russian Far East’. We learned many identifying features of cetaceans we could hope to find here, e.g., a Sperm Whale sprays forwards, at an incline of 45 degrees.
Capping off the lecture a pod of about 20 Orca, including 3 foals, passed the ship, several at very close range.
Day 5
28 June
Morning at sea & Karaginsky Island
This morning we had our first skerrick of sun in five day’s sailing. There was actual, defined shadow on the deck and the water shone brightly. For about five minutes. The remainder of the day was really quite foggy, and a cool nine and a half degrees. It was slow start with a sleep-in and 0900 breakfast. We had the first half of the day at sea, headed for Karaginsky Island. Before lunch, Elena and Evgeny gave lectures introducing the Spoon-billed Sandpiper and some of the obstacles to, and efforts for, the conservation of this very special bird, which, as Evgeny explained, at only 40g, weighs less than a shot of vodka. Elena’s lecture ‘Spoon-billed Sandpiper conservation in the breeding grounds in Chukotka’ presented this tiny wader of which it is estimated only 100 breeding pairs remain in the world. She spoke of the success of the 'head starting' breeding project in Chukotka and stressed the importance of involving as many different people as possible, as in the case of Chukotka: local school children, governors, decision-makers and NGOs. Evgeny’s lecture was entitled ‘Declines of migratory birds at the East Asian Flyway with Special Reference to Spoon-billed Sandpiper as Conservation Flagship.’ Evgeny illustrated some of the deadly impediments to the bird’s migration on the East Asian Flyway, including degradation or obliteration of habitat, systematic and incidental trapping, hunting for food or for trophies. Like Elena, he emphasised the need for a broad approach, in this instance, involving all parts of the flyway. After the lectures we picked up merchandise in support of this charismatic little bird.
We were briefed in avoiding bears and at 1430 headed for Karaginsky Island. On landing at the island, we saw fresh bear tracks on the beach. The tundra was a maze of pools, which, from above, looked like partly corroded metal. The steep bank behind the plateau, once climbed, gave great views of the plain. From the top you could see walkers wearing raincoats and over-trousers, in pairs or threes, or in a large group that included several tripods and scopes. The tundra was filled with wildflowers and lichen and sections were in moguls. It was a good day for the birders who had some great moments with waterfowl: Common Eider, Greater Scaup, and our first views of Long-tailed Ducks. It was also a good day for Dusky Warblers. A highlight for me was seeing Red-necked Phalarope at close range, admiring its very smart plumage. It was a relaxed landing, with a lot of time for moseying about. Wetting mist set in but it didn’t rain.
© M.Kelly
© K.Ovsyanikova
Day 6
29 June
Verkhoturova Island, Shipwreck, ‘Bear Gully’
There was barely any wind up on deck this morning, and almost sun. We approached Verkhoturova Island which has steep bluffs of scree and bright green meadow spilling over the cliffs of gravel “like icing on a cake” said Lindsay. We got closer to the island and great whorls of birds rose up and wheeled around us in vast, kaleidoscopic formation. Closer still amongst the scree, nested a crush of Parakeet and Crested Auklets. These birds also swarmed in the water. The noise was incredible. A Steller’s Sea Lion surfaced right next to our Zodiac and swam around and under the boat. The water was perfectly clear and you could see its huge pale body streaking through the water beneath us.
It was a bit of a hike to get to the plateau, but once you got there, boy, was it worth it. We were enveloped in meadow of unbelievable verdure. We lost everyone to it, heading anti-clockwise. Bar a few. A few started climbing the hill behind us and didn’t stop. We thought we’d got to the top about six times but had to keep on going. The plant life went from strength-to-strength as we climbed. It grew denser and more varied: goldish rhododendron, bright red shoots of arctic dock, alpinum knotweed, umbelliferous puffs of something carrot-like, wild onions, daisies, deep maroon Kamchatka fritillary. The island floated up to us, we could hear the haul-out of Steller’s Sea Lions roaring, the gulls shrieking and surf crashing. When we finally got to the top we dropped over the other side and it was suddenly, completely silent.
We got back in the Zodiacs and found that those who’d stayed on the plateau had the best and closest views of Tufted Puffins, just metres away. We headed for the Steller’s Sea Lion haul-out on the most outlying rock from shore and cruised slowly past, cutting the motors completely. The Sea Lions were roaring and fighting and shifting their great weight. We were lucky to have a group of them swim right next to and around the boats.
Bears are best in the evening. We aimed for late afternoon to be at ‘Bear Gully’, Cape Conspicuous, Govena Peninsula. En route we had a lecture from Chris on migratory birds and the phenomenal journeys they take: Godwits, Albatrosses, Spoon-billed Sandpiper. These birds travel mind-boggling distances, and despite more advanced tracking mechanisms for some migratory birds (large enough to handle devices), this is still such a mysterious subject. On our way to Bear Gully we stopped by a rusted wrecked ship converted to fancy hotel and playcentre for Slaty-backed Gulls and their chicks. Hoods went up as the adults swooped from above. As we approached, several bears were climbing the sheer cliff. Further on, we saw a mother bear with two cubs run up a gully and then another bear. We parked the Zodiacs and walked back to the young Kamchatka Brown Bear which was in quite bad condition and very skinny. We watched this one for a while and followed it along the river’s edge. A second bear was older and in better condition and we watched this one for a good long while as we hung out in a forest of sticky, scented Japanese dwarf pine. Every time the bear did something new – bear with mouth full of grass, bear bending a branch to be closer to it, bear looking sad, looking at us – our cameras snapped.
© M.Kelly
© M.Kelly
© M.Kelly
© M.Kelly
Day 7
30 June
Tintikun Lagoon & at sea
Tintikun Lagoon is a terminal moraine with edges razed by glacier. We could see this when the curtain lifted and the fog played a game of cat-and-mouse with patches of blue, snow and ridgeline. This place was Eden. It had hot pools, lush ferns, wild onions, a river flush with fish, and with Disneyeque style, bears – a mother and her two cubs – glissading down a steep slope. Elena and Olga took a dip in the hot pools. The birders hunted for the Siberian Accentor, which had traditionally been found here, and instead found Red-flanked Bluetail, Pine Grosbeak and Little Bunting. On the way back Lindsey stabbed at the darting Halibut with Mike’s walking stick, to no avail. Rodney checked out a hut, which seemed to have been ransacked by a bear. We were back at the ship by 1200 having left in Zodiacs at 0745. Chris announced, prophetically as it turned out, that we stood a good chance of seeing the highly endangered Kittlitz’s Murrelet. As we sailed away, there was a whole cache of them, making the day’s total seventy-five.
We sailed towards the Koryak coastline where we would begin our work with the Spoon-billed Sandpiper conservation project led by Evgeny and Elena. Rodney and Evgeny briefed us on the logistics of the next four-five days and Elena schooled us on the pronunciation of Shlyupochnaya, or Lifeboat Bay, our first stop tomorrow. Prior to that Dan gave a talk on mammals of the Russian Far East, which had some fantastic slides of creatures we’d seen and those we hope to in the coming days. Tonight we had our first sunset of the trip. There were peach, pinks, and oranges and an almost full moon.
© M.Kelly
Day 8
1 July
Shlyupochnaya or ‘Lifeboat Bay’
If you were to look at the ship’s course for today, it is a back-and-forth action. It was seven degrees, calm, and the sun was trying to shine through. We scrapped Plan A of searching for the Spoon-billed Sandpiper in Shlyupochnaya or Lifeboat Bay, as the tide was too low. As we sailed to our next possible landing, Chris performed a follow-up lecture to ‘Migrants of the Russian Far East’. When we arrived at Alovcha Bay (the site of Plan B) we had to scrap that too, as the surf was crashing on the bar making it too dangerous to broach. And so Plan C was hatched, which involved returning to Shlyupochnaya on the right tide to sweep tundra for possible Spoon-billed Sandpiper nesting sites. We were divided into groups, assigned sections and dropped at different points of the river. Disappointingly, we did not find any Spoon-billed Sandpiper this day. However, we did find other signs of life: a White-tailed Eagle; fresh bear tracks; long, fibrous strips of Bowhead Whale baleen; an Orca tooth; what may have been Snowy Owl feathers; a pair of Long-toed Stint; a Gyrfalcon trap; and a Red-necked Stint nest. Rodney traded with the salmon farmers at the mouth of the lagoon, and we came back to the ship with a bucket of Sockeye Salmon, weighing around 3-6kg each.
Those who didn’t sweep, took a Zodiac cruise with Rodney and Katya up the braided Tamar River and by the sound of it had magnificent time. They said they experienced a near religious experience with views of the mountainous ‘fairy land’ suddenly appearing as the fog lifted. As the groups got closer together, a figure was spotted on a rocky high perch looking out to sea. This was later confirmed to be Philip.
Day 9
2 July
Zodiacs / Buhkta Petra to Buhkta Pavla / Red Lake and Seal Lake
Today was arguably the crowning jewel of the trip. It was the day the fog burned-off and we could see what had been with us the whole time. It was also the crew’s day off. They sat on the back deck in t-shirts and mufti, taking selfies and enjoying the sun. It was a really beautiful day. We took many photos trying to bottle it. We had so many good choices. With hindsight, no one made a bad one. One group took Zodiacs to a walrus haul-out of over one hundred males. We admired their science fiction blisters and idled close-by for a while. Another group walked from Buhkta Petra to Buhkta Pavla and loved every minute of it. Both groups saw Snow Sheep. A third group of two sets led by Evgeny and Elena searched areas in Red Lake and Seal Lake for Spoon-billed Sandpipers.
But let’s not forget the morning – a 0600 start, a light breakfast for a Zodiac cruise to Buhkta Natalia in search of Gyrfalcon. We didn’t see any, but we had a great look at a 70-year-old abandoned fishing factory-cum-border station. Mark climbed the watchtower and made us all nervous. Here, the birders finally cracked the Siberian Accentor and had great looks at Dusky Thrush and Dusky Warbler.
© M.Kelly
© M.Kelly
Day 10
3 July
Opuka Lagoon
Today turned out to be Gray Whale day, and what a day it was. This was probably my favourite experience of the trip. The whales were so close and so numerous it was simply mind-blowing. To be close enough to smell the cauliflower stink of their blow, to observe the variously notched and serrated spines, to see how close the calves stuck to their mothers, and all the unique splotches and barnacles – just magic. They were so intent on feeding they couldn’t care less that we were there. They churned and spun, and went side-ways, getting benthos off the bottom. The water was only eight to ten metres deep so we had front row seats. Everywhere you looked there were geysers of spray, white against a dark sky and flinty sea. It was thrill after thrill as the animals came around two metres from the Zodiacs, swam between the boats and we were close enough to see their two enormous blowholes.
After getting our fill of whales we crossed the bar into Opuka lagoon where there was an old army posting. It was a grim spot where the houses still stand, now filled with snow. A young bear stood on the beach and didn’t seem to understand the rules. It kept coming closer and eventually Rodney let off flares, which deterred it. It did not go far and kept looking back as if considering another approach. In the afternoon Katya lectured on the indigenous people of the Chukotka, Koryak and Kamchatka areas, with a particular focus on Chukchi peoples.
In the evening, we made another landing at Opuka Lagoon. There were fewer Gray Whales around but hoards of Largha Seals were popping their heads up left, right and centre. Gorgeous late afternoon light and sightings of Long-tailed Duck, Steller’s Eider, Pacific Eider, and White-fronted Duck. Highlight of the evening: a seal carrying a salmon like a dog with a slipper, then wolfing it in one go.
© M.Kelly
Day 11
4 July
Anchored at Meinypil’gyno
For many, this was the day. Some who bought Spoon-billed Sandpiper t-shirts hadn’t worn them in case they didn’t get a chance to see the bird. If it was going to happen, it would be this morning, at a monitored nesting site for the species. We approached Meinypil’gyno down a long strip of unmelted snow flanked with huts with structures housing strips of fish strung up like washing. We got to the village. It was freezing – the coldest day so far. All the houses were on metal struts to accommodate permafrost. My group met with Nikolai, an ornithologist with the Spoon-billed Sandpiper project, and we got into three vehicles to go to the nest. We were followed by this wolfish dog that ran alongside and killed a squirrel at a run, and on arrival, flushed the Spoon-billed Sandpiper. It was carried, grinning, back to the van.
Chris’s group may have kneeled and crawled, but we walked up to the nest. It was a very special moment seeing the tiny little bird with the spoon-shaped bill sitting on a nest in the tundra in the middle of nowhere. What an incredible bird! After hearing what it goes through on the Flyway it’s even more unbelievable to be standing just metres from the thing. I wanted to wrap it in cotton wool. The wild seemed too wild for it. I mean that dog, for instance. But Nikolai flushed the bird a couple of times so we could get a better look. The bird was very calm, tame even and Nikolai had to walk quite close to get it to go anywhere. It was absolutely beautiful to see it walking back to the nest. This bird was truly magnetic to watch.
We walked back to town, a wee bit hushed, a wee bit frozen and pretty seriously chuffed. We had an hour to kill in the village. We watched a kid do a three-sixty degree flip on a metal swing. We bought vodka from a shop where the woman serving us used an abacus, and wandered the buildings where everyone’s growing basil, geranium and tomatoes, inside. We met with the other group who had a similarly great experience, albeit on their knees, and went to the town hall to watch a local group perform traditional indigenous song and dance. They had some great numbers based on the movements and sounds of birds, the change of seasons and the river.
We were happy to get back to the ship and celebrate. At dinner, the whole starboard side dining room joined in a toast. Many cracked-out their Spoon-billed Sandpiper t-shirts and shot glasses to mark an absolutely momentous occasion. For the birders, it was a pretty unbeatable tick.
© M.Kelly
© M.Kelly
Day 12
5 July
Anchored at Meinypil’gyno
Today we returned to Meinypil’gyno. One group went to the museum, the other to the spit. We didn’t land where we had intended to on the spit, as there was a sleepy, young bear not far from the shore so we landed closer to the surf. We had a good long while to contemplate life and watch salmon running, seals popping up and down, gulls swarming and diving, and of course, Beluga Whales. There were so many Beluga Whales. They were white river stones smoothly surfacing in easy stiches along the fringe of surf. Salmon accidentally caught waves and flew up at the water’s edge. Everything was feeding and going crazy. The Beluga Whales in the mist in the white-silver water was pretty epiphanic for a lot of people. An unearthly image we will carry with us; a bit of magic from the Far East. Those who’d visited the village rejoined the group at the spit carrying fish, foxes’ tails, caviar, and appeared to have had a great time. We spent the afternoon at sea. A good number of people continued to watch for walrus and saw several.
Day 13
6 July
At sea
We were unable to land as conditions were too rough, so we had a day of lectures. First up was Katya who spoke about the history of Chukotka. Meghan then covered Arctic marine ecology and diversity. The final presentation of the day was from Rodney, Lindsey and Meghan who gave a behind-the-scenes look at the practicalities of running the ship.
This was the last night on board and a busy night in the bar. Rodney put on a tie, many of the staff wore pretty dresses and we had a final night of 'chut-chut', sticking to the Russian rule of shots in odd numbers. A survey of Katya and Jess’s cabin showed an interesting collection from the voyage. Bear flares, red nail polish, a traditional Chukchi headdress, a clump of aromatic, tubular root which you soak in vodka to make you live for one hundred years, a paper bag full of what could be either Gyrfalcon or Snowy Owl feathers, saved for identification, a Spoon-billed Sandpiper soft toy, waterproof over trousers, three varieties of power adaptors. What an incredible two weeks! To think that words like ‘border guards’, ‘starboard gangway’, ‘haul-out’, even ‘Meinypil’gyno’ had become somewhat normal.
Day 14
7 July
Anadyr
It was the last morning on the ship for most, but a bunch of us stayed another night before heading to Khabarovsk, but here’s where we’ll end the saga. The barge was ordered for 0830 to take those heading for Nome, Alaska. We stood out in the rain to say goodbye. It was sad. Not only to say goodbye to people we’d shared just about every waking hour with for the past fourteen days, and some of the most unforgettable experiences ever, but also to realise that this unique bubble of time was coming to an end. These two weeks have given such a sense of awe for this incredible planet and its tenacious citizens, not least of which, a tiny little bird with a weird bill that flies half-way around the world, despite horrifying odds and weighs less than a shot of vodka. It’s been an absolute pleasure to learn from all on board and share this precious time.
© M.Kelly
