Frozen IN AWE
Caroline Hendrie braves the Arctic’s icy waters for two magical sights: killer whales and the Northern Lights
AS I eyed the tempting cheese trolley parked at a neighbouring table, the Pole To Pole dining room was filled suddenly with a voice from the bridge. The Fourth Officer said he hoped we didn’t mind the interruption but a flicker in the sky was gaining strength on the starboard side.
Jumping up, I joined the dash for the door, and quickly popped into my cabin to throw a jacket over my cocktail dress before joining the throng on deck.
Sure enough, a curl of pale green – the magical Northern Lights – was slowly twisting and drifting across the dark sky.
Only when my feet got so cold that I thought they might fall off did I return to the almost empty dining room to finish my dinner.
I was among 700 passengers on board Saga Sapphire’s In Search Of The Northern Lights cruise to the far reaches of Arctic Norway. Fortunately we found them – for two nights running.
Always high above us but highly unpredictable, the elusive Aurora Borealis (to give the lights their scientific name) are most likely to appear inside the Arctic Circle in winter, away from the light pollution of towns.
So our itinerary – with a full week in the Arctic, including two-anda-half days docked in the small, remote town of Alta, one of the best bases for Northern Lights viewing expeditions – was full of promise.
I also signed up for an overnight excursion to stay in the Sorrisniva Igloo hotel, a 30-minute coach ride into the snowy wilderness.
On the banks of the frozen river Alta, I found my Narnia. Built entirely from blocks of ice, a giant igloo contains a wedding chapel and a cavernous bar filled with trolls, giant fish, a child astride a polar bear – all frozen still, as if the White Witch had cast a spell on them.
After dinner of tasty reindeer stew in the toasty warm restaurant, I looked out at the dark, starless sky. The Northern Lights didn’t come out for me that night, so I retired to my icy £249 room to try to sleep – fully clothed – in a sleeping bag on a block of ice covered in reindeer pelts. After a good breakfast, I have never been so glad to get back on a coach.
The following evening the forecast was good, so after an early supper, I joined an excursion to a nearby campsite. Hundreds of us gathered in a snowy field and gazed skyward.
Just as I thought about giving up, a faint flicker turned into a veil of moving light. It then vanished before appearing once more, waft- ing and spiralling, every bit as mysterious as I had hoped. And when I returned to the ship, the light show, clearly visible from the deck, continued into the small hours.
On another thrilling excursion, yelping, panting, endearing husky dogs pulled us on a sled across snowy wastes and through a skeletal birch forest.
Afterwards we visited a Sami settlement for a gentler ride in a sleigh, this time pulled by a beautiful white reindeer.
On days at sea – in between lectures on gardening and wildlife, trad jazz sessions and yoga – I’d pop out on the forward top deck to join the hardy team from an orca whale and dolphin charity, who had their eyes peeled from dawn to dusk. Frustratingly, it seemed that every time I ventured on to the deck, I discovered that I had just missed these magnificent creatures.
But later, as we sailed south, I hunched by the rail once more and at last saw whale blows in the distance. Lifting my binoculars with frozen fingers, I spied a breaching fin whale. Then, to my astonishment and delight, pods of black-and-white killer whales came leaping past.
Like the Northern Lights, they were more than worth the freezing wait.