The view from the ship bridge is what I expected: a ribbon of dark Arctic water leading through a maze of snow-capped mountain islands. But the view by the bridge is a shock. Where’s the wheel, the map and that big metal thing that goes ‘ting’? You know, the one labeled ‘Dead Slow’ and ‘Full Steam’, like you see in Titanic when they see the iceberg? In its public areas, the Havila Capella looks like any modern cruise ship or luxury ferry. There are lounges, a panoramic bar, a few gyms and a terrace where you can stroll. It’s what lies behind the bulkheads that is very different.
On a bridge that’s more USS Enterprise than Titanic, Captain Brynjard Ulvøy checks the flat screens. “You know, if we increase the speed…” He nods to the first officer in the comfy chair tapping on another screen. “We are draining the batteries and using more liquefied natural gas.” Another nod and the ship moves back slightly. “At this speed we are at our most economical.”
The chief engineer, Bjørn Jones, puts it this way: “Do you remember the first hybrid cars? We are at that stage with ships.”
Liquefied natural gas has been criticized for methane emissions, but this ship reduces other pollutants and its batteries allow four hours of low-emission sailing in environmentally sensitive areas. When Havila Capella was built, its two 43-ton batteries, each housed in a compartment the size of a tennis court, were the largest in the world.
I hurry away, back to the passenger’s world. We are on a cruise from the Norwegian port of Bergen to the world’s northernmost fishing village, a place far beyond the boundaries of most human settlements within the Arctic Circle. We have an astronomer on board, ready to answer questions about the stars and the Northern Lights, should they appear. Being a winter cruise also means that weather can play a role: storms have already caused our departure from Bergen and we had to meet the ship in Trondheim and then leave quickly when another shower hit the fjord. The best laid plans are rewritten and I enjoy the unexpected: instead of a mountain hike near Ålesund, I visit the aviation museum in Bodø.
Oceangoing vessels haven’t been environmentally friendly since the Victorian heyday of tea clippers like the Cutty Sark and Thermopylae, but the search is on. First came coal-fired, then diesel, now liquefied natural gas, which consists largely of methane, cooled to -162°C. “LNG ships can reduce greenhouse gas emissions by up to 23%,” says Dr Kayvan Pazouki, lecturer in maritime, offshore and subsea technology at the University of Newcastle. “Not only that, but they also reduce nitrogen emissions by up to 80% and eliminate sulfur and particulate matter.” However, there are disadvantages. “The CO2 savings are limited,” he notes. “They cannot meet the net zero requirement by 2050.”
Ships like Havila Capella supplement LNG with huge batteries (equivalent to 600 Tesla cars). In China, the Yangtze River Three Gorges 1 is an all-electric cruise ship, which can carry up to 1,300 passengers on day trips along the river. However, batteries limit range and the future could see the return of wind power. The bulk carrier Pyxis Ocean already uses steel and fiberglass sails developed by British company BAR Technologies, delivering fuel savings of up to 30%. The Bahamas’ pioneering Veer Group plans to launch two wind-powered ships by 2026. “These will be the first zero-emission container ships to cross the oceans,” says CEO Danielle Southcott. Veer is also working on expedition cruise ships that use the same technology.
The museum is not something I would normally choose, but I quickly get lost in the Norwegian Cold War experience and also have time for a walk along the coast, spotting three sea eagles before rushing back to the departing ship . During dinner, our astronomer, Ian Ridpath, tells us that he is optimistic about the possibilities of the Northern Lights. “The weather forecast shows clear skies and we sail right under the aurora band. The Kp index is not high, but there is a coronal hole.”
I already understand what he is talking about because I attended his lecture in the conference room. The aurora band is a wide ring of aurora activity that circles the pole. “You can go too far north and miss the aurora,” says Ian. Tonight, and for the next few days, we will be directly under the sky with the greatest aurora activity. The Kp index – K for Kennziffer or code, p for planet – is a measure of solar activity that goes from zero to nine, with nine being the maximum activity. Even a low index of two can mean a good observation if you are below the band. A coronal hole is a cool region on the sun’s side where more solar wind can escape, bombarding our atmosphere with the particles that create these magical displays.
A plume slowly rolls up, then unfolds across the sky, acquiring a greenish hue with a delicate pink edge and a reddish border
Dinner isn’t one of those gigantic buffet blowouts you find on many cruises; this is a ship that takes environmental care seriously, and table service significantly reduces food waste. However, the cuisine is delicious and provided by the friendliest crew I have ever encountered.
That evening the ship will sail through the narrowest canal of our journey, the Raftsundet, a 26 mile long canal between two of the Lofoten Islands that is barely 200 meters wide at its narrowest. Captain Ulvøy knows it well, because he grew up on a farm on the island, close to his jaws. As we walk past, he points to his parental home with a spotlight.
As we make our way through the Lofoten archipelago, the temperature on deck drops and the air clears. The ship’s lights are dimmed. A plume of gray mist seems to rise in the darkness from one of the many snow-capped peaks ahead, a plume that slowly rolls up and then unfolds across the sky, taking on a greenish hue with a delicate pink edge and a reddish border . Over the next few hours, the aurora image swells, fades, and then reappears. The deck lights come back on as we approach another port: although this is in many ways a tourist voyage, the ship still carries cargo to dozens of small ports along the Norwegian coast, carrying mail and essential supplies.
At our next big stop, Tromsø, most passengers disembark for a few hours. I go cross-country skiing through the hilly outskirts of the city, dodging people in the air or on fat bikes, many pulled by their dogs.
Despite its wintry appearance and high latitude, Tromsø benefits from the warming effects of the Gulf Stream, but then we move around the upper Arctic edge of Europe, heading east into the colder air. One morning at dawn, I can barely last a minute outside while holding a metal camera with my bare hands. The settlements look sturdier and there are no snow-covered trees. Frozen vapors float over a hard, dark sea streaked with white, and the island’s bays are silent with ice. We are now close to the Russian border, and in some small ports the road signs are in Norwegian and Russian, a sign of how close ties once were: Russians crossing to do their luxury shopping; Norwegians move east for cheap gasoline.
We moor at Honningsvåg on the island of Magerøya and everyone disembarks. Most go on tour buses for a tour to the North Cape, the northernmost point in Europe. Several others opt for a snowshoe hike. That leaves a small, rather nervous-looking group, all of whom happen to be British. We chose to swim in the Barents Sea.
I surprise myself by actually swimming a few meters in the Barents Sea, after which my toes and fingers start begging for mercy
A short bus ride takes us to Skarsvåg, the northernmost fishing village in the world and the scene of our remarkable act of folly. Gøran and Sunniva run a small shop and a sauna, which they have ready. There is also a fire on the scaffolding, but it does not appear to emit any heat.
The couple are the youngest members of a dwindling population, now numbering about forty. “The old ladies come and sit in the shop and knit socks,” says Gøran. “I wouldn’t be able to ice fish without them.” I assume he means the socks, but maybe the die-hard non-peers go fishing too. In summer this is a popular sport fishing spot – visitors land gigantic halibut weighing up to 400kg – but in winter houses disappear under heavy snowfall and there is snow and ice everywhere. It is magical, especially seen from the sauna after a refreshing dip.
After a few minutes in the 80-degree sauna, I brave the jetty and descend the stairs into the sea. The air temperature is -15C. “Not too cold in the water today,” calls Gøran. “Maybe three or four degrees.” I surprise myself by actually swimming a few meters, after which my toes and fingers beg for mercy. But once I warm up, I get an inexplicable desire to repeat the experience. It is truly magical to swim surrounded by the Arctic winter in all its brutal glory.
Later, in the café, I eat waffles with cloudberry jam, washed down with hot coffee. I buy a pair of locally knitted socks and discover that Gøran was right. Finally my feet are getting warm.
The trip was arranged by Discover the World, which offers an eight-night trip from Bergen to Kirkeneswith six nights on board the ship from £1,624pp with sea view cabin. Discounts are often available and cabins without a sea view are cheaper. Sauna and ice bath excursion from £170. Astronomy lecture series (on some trips) £254. Holiday Extras provides insurance, transfers and parking
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