A most unpromising thick mist hung about Beechey Island as we made the short Zodiac run to a gravel beach. The mood was sombre, as this island is where the Franklin expedition graves are located, along with other memorials to seafaring. There are many theories about the fate of the Franklin ships, coalescing round the theory that the supplies, which consisted largely of food preserved by a new and experimental process of canning, caused lead poisoning (or possibly botulism) in all the men, leading to impaired judgement and erratic behaviour. The ships were iron-hulled, steam-driven, state-of-the-art vessels which should have been up to the job, but which were ‘nipped’ in the ice and have never been found. First we visited the graves; bodies had been exhumed, studied and replaced, and were of course in excellent freeze-dried condition. A mile further on, through suitably grizzly drizzle, we came to Northumberland House, a well-constructed supply cache for Arctic explorers and rescuers. The site is littered with barrel stoves, rusting steel bands, fragments of copper items, coal in great cubes, and thousands of the deadly empty tins. We found hundreds of proto-coral fossils and a paintbrush (from the last trip, peopled by artists).
In the afternoon, we sailed to meet the ice-breaker escort, paid our bills and packed. Much exchanging of addresses followed a fascinating tour of the bridge by Ice Captain Alec Macintyre who explained the functioning of every instrument patiently and knowledgeably. Only a few of us made it down to the engine room, but it is as impressive as her sister’s, without the Christmas tree. In the bar, Stan was generous in his subbing of impecunious Brits who failed to leave with any US dollars, but as the racy photos attest, he was rather putting them away himself. Travel is complicated by the ban on any liquids, creams, lotions, gels, grease and goo in hand baggage.