June 2-3 Volcanoes, katabatic winds and big seas

Sun rising over Taketomi volcano on Atlasova Island

About to head out exploring in various directions

I'm sure the last two mornings were dress rehearsals for this morning which saw us in the 'briefing' room at 6am for a 6:30 zodiac boarding (armed with a handful of pastries). Overnight, we had reached the most northern of the Kuril Islands - Atlasova, which boasts the highest volcano in the Kuril Archipelago, Mt Alaid at 2340m, as well as one of the youngest. Taketomi which came into being around 1933 is a mammoth consolidated pile of the rocks and ash spewed out in that mighty eruption. We were to visit quite a number of the spectacular Kuril Islands over the following 6 days, but this morning was special - Lindsay climbed Taketomi! Led by Leonid, our resident vulcanologist, and accompanied by 'Team Russia' (as our 4 Muscovite fellow-expeditioners had been tagged). He climbed right to the top which was no mean feat, given he had to clamber over rocks and plough upward through compacted, albeit somewhat unstable, ash to about the height of a 30-storey building or more. He came back down hours later beaming, albeit exhausted.

Lindsay heading off to climb Taketomi 

The base of Taketomi with the small climbing party at the bottom

The small volcano climbing party starting the ascent

Lindsay is almost to the top (photo taken by one of Team Russia)

Happy to leave Lindsay to his personal adventure and reassured that there were few bears on the island, I set off alone for a little beachcombing/exploring under the watchful eye of a Largh Seal. I discovered lots of treasures and curiosities - shells, plants and rocks. I then headed away from the beach to tramp through the grass, scrub and sand dunes on the fringes of the island. I wandered around the remains of an abandoned fish processing plant which had been operated mainly by women who were shipped in specifically for the job. Contrary to some beliefs, it was not a gulag - they volunteered?!  (In one of the harshest and most remote places in the world, one wonders at the idea of volunteers.)  I fought my way through tangled mats of long grass in my clumping gumboots, skirted round dense thickets of dwarf Alder trees just starting to pop out their fragrant catkins, and in many places under the stunted trees, I found carpets of a herb whose foliage looked and smelled like the fronds of carrots. That and stinging nettles, which I carefully stepped around, were once used by the Ainu (aboriginals of the Kuril Islands) to 'preserve' their meats. The herbs were placed in alternating layers with meat (seal, sea cow, otter, fish, etc), seaweed and other herbs with insect repelling properties, and hot rocks in a deep pit and then covered with earth.  Sound familiar? Well in fact, the belief is that the Polynesians were related to the Ainu of this region.

A selection of treasures

Signs of a settlement in this wilderness 

The remains of the fish processing factory 

There was neither genie nor ship in this bottle washed up on the beach

All the while I was tramping in glorious solitude, I kept an eye on the Alaid volcano and saw it slowly emerge from the fog which had completely blanketed the island when we landed. And finally, voila! there is was ..... quietly belching out plumes of smoke and ash - looking exactly like what it was. Quite awesome!

Mt Alaid (2340 m), the highest volcano in the Kuril Archipelago

Then it was back to the ship for a very late breakfast. Now that's the way to start a day!

We weighed anchor after brekkie to head south to Onekotan, sailing on the western side of the archipelago in the huge Sea of Okhotsk in an attempt to avoid the heavy seas produced by a cyclonic, or anticyclonic, weather pattern (not sure which). Despite 'hiding' behind an island, the sea got bigger and bigger as the day wore on which was quite thrilling - watched from the warmth and safety of the bridge! Birds were tossed about in the winds that reached 80-90 knots (well over 150 kph) by the end of the day. The swells were growing in size and were made more ominous as the wind scooped up and flung huge walls of water into the air and way up onto the monkey deck (top of the ship) and across the windows of the bridge (I am sure there is a more nautical name of those).  The winds were intensified as they swept down the sides of the volcanoes and hills - the katabatic effect. One was tempted to have a quiet little worry about our tiny ship's ability to stay upright in swells which had us clinging tight to whatever handholds we could find. But we were, well I was at least, reassured that all was fine, that the Professor Khromov could handle 50-foot seas without a problem - it was built as a meteorological and hydrological research ship and designed to survive huge seas and ice. Even so, we spent the night sailing up and down in the lee of Onekotan, along with another ship, for safety. Mealtime and sleep were interesting experiences!

The captain left the safety of Onekotan around 4am (and I felt the ship start to buck) and headed further south, but that morning the sea was still too big to launch the zodiacs so we spent a day at sea, entertained brilliantly with a series of lectures - the habitat and behaviour of orcas, a potted history of Russian and Japanese occupation of the Kuril Islands in the first half of the C20th, and bird migration.  They were all quite fascinating, but we were all anxious to get back into those zodiacs and explore - the next day hopefully. I have discovered that I love being in small boats surrounded by a heaving sea - it is like being in the embrace of a huge moving and mostly unpredictable beast. So much raw power is impossible to comprehend. But there have been magical times too when the surface is smooth like, satin or gleaming like beaten pewter, and all you can hear are gentle lapping, slurping sounds in the silence with land a long way off.

Life on board our expedition ship is a far cry from your usual idea of a cruise ship - which is perfect for us. There are no lifts, stairs are narrow and steep, and space is tight, especially when 40-odd people are running up and down between decks, the bridge, etc, when calls go out that a whale has been spotted "at 11 o'clock off the bow" or "Dall's Dolphins are riding the bow wave" or the rarely-sighted Short-tailed Albatros is circling the ship. Even the commonest of sightings brings people up on deck, binoculars and cameras at the ready. There is a constant buzz aboard ship. The quietest spot is usually the library/bar where people go to read, sort and upload photos, doze over a cuppa - except during happy hour that is!