Symmetry in Motion: Adèle at the Top of the World
Jan-Eric Österlund
03/01/2006

Adèle was flying along at 14 knots in a northwesterly breeze with the apparent wind just forward of the beam. The sea was smooth, the swell dampened by the pack ice less than 50 miles to the north of us, and the sky had at last turned blue as we headed east along the top of Spitsbergen, the main island in the Svalbard group.

With our crew of eight led by captain André Engblom, we left Holland less than a month before, sailing directly to Bergen and then following the Norwegian coast north to the Lofoten archipelago above the arctic circle. We expected cold weather, but instead met incredible sunshine 24 hours a day and temperatures of 24 degrees Celsius.

Approaching pack ice at Seven Islands, north of Svalbard, 800 miles north of mainland Norway. (Click image to enlarge)

From Lofoten, we voyaged another 700 miles north to Longyearbyen, the capital of Svalbard, at 78 degrees north, where we picked up my friends, including Adèle’s designer Andre Hoek and photographer Rick Tomlinson. From Longyearbyen, we sailed into the Smeerenburg fjord, on the northwest coast, to document the movement of its glacier. Ninety-nine years earlier, an expedition led by Prince Albert I of Monaco took a series of photos showing the head of the Smeerenburg glacier, and we wanted to document how much the glacier had since retreated.

As we approached the glacier, a cry of "polar bears!" rang out, and we changed course abruptly. Three bears—a mother and her cubs—were walking along the shore. We followed the bear family, motoring slowly, but when Adèle’s wake splashed the mother, she decided she’d had enough and turned away from the shore. We returned to the glacier and took Adèle as close as we dared to take some photos of our one-month-old yacht in front of the age-old glacier.

A polar bear lounging, spotted at the northwest corner of Spitsbergen, Svalbard. (Click image to enlarge)

We then climbed the mountains to find exactly the spot where the expedition took photographs almost a century before. It appears that the glacier has withdrawn some 4,000 meters, most of which probably happened in the last 15 to 20 years.

Documenting the glacier at exactly the same spot that prince Albert I of Monaco photographed the glacier in 1906. (Click image to enlarge)

Continuing north, the ice increased and we resorted to motoring as we approached Phippsöya in the Seven Islands group, the northernmost island in Svalbard—and in Europe—at 80 degrees 45 minutes north latitude. Though preferring to eat most of our meals on deck, where we can dine in the protected main cockpit or just aft of the main mast, neither of these options suited this bitterly cold evening. We had to retreat downstairs to the deckhouse, although we could still watch the walruses lounging on the beach.

Afterward, we had our coffee while seated around the fireplace in the salon. The fireplace is an antique we found in Bath, England, and restored. It can be fired with wood or coal but we normally prefer cleaner, artificial logs.

The next morning, we paid the walruses a visit. They were basking in the sun, tickling their bellies and generally looking very content with life, which was surprising as the females were far away in Russia’s Franz Josef Land caring for their pups.In the afternoon, we decided to sail north into the pack ice. As the ice increased, we had to motor slowly with lookouts up in the crow’s nest. This lofty perch on Adèle is like a lift; with the help of a captive winch controlled from the nest, it runs 130 feet up the forward part of the mainmast to just below the top end of the inner forestay. The view is fantastic and it was easy to spot the ice flows and bergs—although the crow’s nest was designed more for spotting coral reefs in tropical waters.

Finally, at 81 degrees 10 minutes north latitude, we were wedged in with ice towering all around us. Our jet-driven tender was launched and we all took a walk on the pack ice. At this, our most northerly point, we decided a glass of bubbly was in order—for which the champagne chiller was unnecessary!

One of the three tenders carried aboard is launched for some near-shore exploration at Svalbard. Photograph by Jan-Eric Österlund. (Click image to enlarge)

In the evening, we returned to Phippsöya and paid another visit to the walruses, this time staying in the dinghy to see if they wanted to approach us. As expected, their curiosity got the better of them, and when we turned off the engine they swam closer and closer until some of them were brushing our tender with their whiskers.

One of my guests told us a story of how her zodiac had been punctured by walrus tusks the previous year, so I felt perhaps we had better start the engine. Unfortunately, our engine chose this moment not to turn over. The situation became more desperate as some of the walruses tried in their weighty and clumsy manner to climb up onto our dinghy’s aft platform.

Adèle anchored at this ancient church in Nærøyfjord. (Click image to enlarge)

I radioed Adèle to get a second tender in the water to "rescue" us. I said, "We are surrounded by walruses and feeling quite vulnerable." But the crewman who received the call thought I said, "…feeling quite wonderful," so he answered, "Excellent, Adèle over and out!" Confusion reigned for a while, but soon another tender was launched and, eventually, our engineer was able to fix the capricious solenoid that prolonged our walrus encounter.

The northwesterly wind was increasing, pushing the polar cap closer to us and threatening to close the passage back around the northwest corner of Spitsbergen. Aboard Adèle, we decided to turn back and motor-sail as fast as we could toward the protected islands at Spitsbergen’s northwest corner.

Hanging out with the walruses in Seven Islands, north of Svalbard. Photograph by Jan-Eric Österlund. (Click image to enlarge)

The next morning found us at anchor and protected from pack ice. Snowflakes covered the deck, making our Cayman Islands flag look somewhat out of place. We continued south with just main and mizzen doing 11 knots; once the genoa was set, our speed increased to 14 knots. When the wind abated a little after lunch, we set the mizzen staysail, logging a similar speed.We anchored on the west coast of Signehamna and, after dinner, took two of the tenders toward the glacier. Close to the glacier itself, the water was pale blue in color from the melting ice, and the sun’s rays (although it was nearing midnight) broke through the floating bergs to create a million shades of blue. All around us we could hear the sound of air bubbles being released from imprisonment in the thousand-year-old glacier ice.

The next day, we motored down to Lilliehööksfjorden where, with the help of the bow and stern thrusters, Andre held Adèle just a few feet from a steep cliff inhabited by nesting puffins, guillemots and kittiwakes. The 125-hp thrusters are designed for tricky maneuvers in narrow harbors, but they work equally well on ornithological outings.

Anchored at the island of Marstrand, along the Swedish coast, the day after Adèle’s christening. (Click image to enlarge)

Adèle is nearly as fast motoring as with her sails set and we can cruise at around 13 knots. Whenever we were motoring through shallow or poorly charted waters, we sent our tenders ahead of us. Two of the tenders have echo sounders and GPS systems, which continuously send their position, speed, course and depth to the chart system on the mother ship. This means we always know where the tenders are and how deep the water is beneath them. By directing tenders via radio, we can "scan" our course ahead.

The historic Karoliner soldiers salute Adèle at her christening. (Click image to enlarge)

A couple of days later, all the guests disembarked at Longyearbyen and Adèle headed full speed due south to Marstrand on the west coast of Sweden, where she was formally christened. At the time of her christening, she had already done more than 6,000 miles and been farther than many yachts travel in a lifetime.

I am writing this article in Lisbon. The sun is shining, our friends are lying in the sun on deck or lounging in the deck chairs, and it feels a million miles away from Norway and Sweden. But the fact is, the distance between Lisbon and Göteborg is shorter than that between Göteborg and Svalbard, where Adèle was put through her first challenging test and passed with flying colors!