8th July 2020: I have been waiting for this moment for over a year now, but with everything being up in the air over the last few months, due to the Covid 19 crisis, I can hardly believe I am actually leaving for Iceland today. Ever since meeting my first arctic foxes in winter 2019 (see my post https://karinswildlifediaries.org/renards-polaires-en-islande/) I have been dreaming of getting back there to spend more time with them. The country only re-opened its borders to tourists 3 weeks ago, subject to them being tested at the airport on arrival. Until that moment I was almost certain that my second trip to observe and photograph arctic foxes would have to be put back for at least another year…..
10th July: After a long and tedious journey via Paris and a night spent in Reykjavik I am finally starting out on the last leg of the journey to the Westfjords – From the moment I boarded my train to Paris 48 hours ago, until my arrival in Reykjavik, everybody had been wearing masks, and yet, here at Reykjavik’s domestic airport, there isn’t a masked face in sight – one could almost forget what’s happening elsewhere in the world…..
It’s time to meet the rest of the gang. I recognize Richard from my last trip to Iceland (much easier without a mask I have to say….) and we try to take guesses as to the third member of the party. The mystery is resolved soon enough as we are approached by Floriane’s mum who introduces her 18 year-old daughter as being the 3rd person to join us. No masks on the tiny plane either, in fact everybody (except me, I don’t like flying) seems to be perfectly relaxed, people are getting on the plane just as they would be jumping on a bus…. We seem to be the only foreigners. Phil (https://www.explographe.com/) is already waiting at Isafjörður airport, with a big smile on his face – I think we are all relieved to have made it this far!
We will be spending the next 10 days in the Hornstradir Nature Reserve, a wild and inhospitable peninsula at the far Northwesterly tip of the Westfjords. As opposed to the rest of Iceland, the arctic fox is a protected species there and with a bit of luck it can be spotted quite easily during the summer months, the only time the reserve is open to visitors. Early July is the time when the cubs start exploring the area around their natal den and we hope to be able to observe them over the next few days as well as photograph adult foxes near their hunting grounds.
DAY 1 – FIRST ENCOUNTER
The next morning we set off to our first destination in the Hornstradir Nature Reserve, a 1-hour boat trip away. The last winter has been particularly snowy and cold here and even now, in mid-July the mountains overlooking the fjords are dotted with big white patches of left-over snow. The Hornstrandir peninsula is a particularly wild, untamed and inhospitable part of the country and was abandoned by its inhabitants in the 1940’s. However some old farm buildings have survived and are now being used as summer homes by their owners descendants. Our base for the next 2 days is one of those little houses scattered along the coast.
We are all impatient to meet our first foxes and head off as soon as we have off-loaded our bags. Hidden behind a rocky outcrop and clumps of huge angelica we observe a first den-site from a safe distance. But nothing in nature is ever predictable and this morning the foxes that we are so desperately wanting to see, are just not playing ball. The tiny breeze is unfortunately not sufficient to keep the midges at bay and after enduring their relentless attacks for a couple of hours we head back to our base for some hot soup. The seals lazily basking on the beach at low tide are much more co-operative.
Early afternoon we decide to check out another potential den site – Phil has observed foxes there on several occasions last week, and he is pretty certain that the little ones cannot be far away. Whilst we we keep scanning the hill in front for movement, the blackflies gather for another attack. The plague-like swarms of those tiny but very aggressive little midges don’t actually bite, but they have a nasty habit of getting into eyes, nose, ears, mouth, a real pain. Given we are trying to keep a low profile we have to resist the temptation of wildly flinging our arms to chase them away. A couple of hours pass without any foxes showing up. We are starting to doubt whether we are looking in the right spot, but decide to head off just in case our presence is stopping the adults from approaching their den.
The summer in these latitudes is very short, and the fox cubs have to grow up quickly to reach independance before winter sets in. By early July the cubs, although still quite small at around 5-6 weeks old, are already fully weaned. They spend their time in and around the den, playing with each other and exploring the surroundings whilst waiting for one of their parents to return periodically to bring them food.
Back to den n°1 then in the late afternoon, hidden behind the same boulder as this morning we don’t take our eyes off the entrance. And there, hurray, after an hour we see the first cub carefully venturing out of a hole. A second one follows. As tempting as it might be to rush down for our first pictures, we stay put to observe the cubs behaviour for a while whilst scanning the horizon for their parents. Just as we decide that it is safe to slowly move down the hill, a group of Sunday hikers appears and not wanting to give away the presence of cubs we have no choice but to wait for them to move on. And they take their time…..
Eventually the coast is clear and we can at last get closer. But that wasn’t counting on the cubs’ mum…. Like all animals, arctic foxes have individual characters – some are very trusting and approachable, others are shy and don’t accept the presence of humans, especially anywhere near their young. The important thing is to leave the choice up to the foxes and respect their choice, even if that means not getting any pictures. Unfortunately for us, this particular fox mum wasn’t having any of it – pictures of her cubs all over social media? Certainly not!!! We have no choice but to make a swift and discreet exit.
DAY 2 – FOX CUBS AT LAST
At this time of the year it never really gets dark here and I wake up several times during the night, totally disorientated by the constant daylight. At 5 am I have had enough and decide to have a little wander around outside before everybody else gets up. It is low tide and I head towards the beach hoping to encounter a scavenging fox there. But the only one to keep me company is a ringed plover.
I am just about to turn back when I see something moving at the very far end of the beach. My first ever white morph fox! I head that direction, but the fox is way too far for me to catch up and I can only watch him disappear into the high grasses in the distance.
I take a slight detour on my way back, stopping every so often to scan the hills above me. Suddenly a fleeting movement in a pile of boulders way up on the slope catches my eye, so brief I have doubts whether it wasn’t just wishful thinking. I wait and stare for a couple of minutes, and there it is again, I can hardly believe my eyes, 2 little cubs are climbing around between the rocks and it dawns on me that the den is right there in front of me!
After breakfast we all head back to den n°2, and we don’t have to wait long before we see the first cub reappear. Mercifully today’s slight drizzle is keeping the swarms of blackflies at bay. In total we count 5 cubs, 3 white and 2 blue morph, unsurprising given they have a white morph dad and a blue morph mum.
Most people automatically assume that all arctic foxes turn white in winter and brown in summer. But in fact two main colour morphs are known, white and blue. The white morph is virtually pure white in winter and turns into a light greyish fawn colour mixed with light grey in the summer. The blue morph on the other hand stays a more or less dark chocolate brown (sometimes with blueish hues, hence the name) all year round. Worldwide the white morph is far more common, but in Iceland, and in particular in the Westfjords around 80% of the population belong to the the blue morph, an adaption to their coastal habitat. Arctic fox colour morph genetics is a complex subject matter. In summary, the allele responsible for the blue morph is dominant, whereas the one for the white morph is recessive. Thus offspring in the same littler will be a mix of both colour morphs if either their parents are a blue and white couple or if the parents are blue, but both carry the recessive gene responsible for the white colour.
One of the cubs, the runt of the litter as it later turns out, has climbed far up in the rocks, we hear it bark every so often – the others play around the den. Suddenly another bark can be heard, and the cubs’ mum appears in the rocks above and rushes past us with a small bird that she drops at the entrance of the den.
Instantly the cubs, all trying to get hold of the prey, disappear behind a boulder. Mother fox is clearly intrigued, but not alarmed by our presence, in particular as we are set up at a considerable distance. For a quarter of an hour she hangs around the den, the cubs all vying for her attention.
By the time the smallest of the cubs, who had climbed far up into the rocks, finally makes it back, the vixen has already left. For all five of them to survive the parents will need to bring more substantial food than the odd chick. The tiny blue cub curls up in the drizzle outside the den entrance and not wanting to outstay our welcome we slip away as discreetly as possible.
DAY 3 – AT THE END OF THE WORLD
After a night in comfortable beds at Phil’s house we head off for the second part of our adventure in the Hornstrandir Nature Reserve, this time a 3-hour boat journey away.
It really doesn’t get a lot wilder than this remote part of the reserve, permanently exposed to the unforgiving elements of the Atlantic Ocean. It is easy to understand why the few courageous souls once eeking out a meagre living in this area decided to abandon the Hornstrandir peninsula for an easier life in town. The boat drops us off somewhere along the beach, from here we have to walk to the designated area where we are allowed to pitch our tents. Given the amount of stuff we have, tents, food and cooking equipement for the next few days, rucksacks with clothes and of course our photographic gear, we have to do several trips. We come across our first arctic fox on our way, an adult, soon enough joined by a second one. They seem totally relaxed in our presence and have a little territorial dispute right in front of us. Needless to say our cameras are still on the beach!
Later on we are delighted to discover that there is an occupied den not far from us and we spend the rest of the day getting to know the family. Both parents are blue morphs, but they seem to have the recessive white morph allele as 2 out of the eight cubs are white!
On the whole arctic foxes in this remote stretch of Iceland tend to have a more curious and inquisitive nature than their counterparts in the rest of the country (where they are unfortunately still being hunted), but their tolerance levels still vary enormously from one individual to the other. We are extremely lucky to have found this family, as they are exceptionally tolerant and relaxed about our presence. The parents’ layed back and confiding behaviour means the cubs are not bothered about us being around either and after some initial curiosity they quickly resume their usual plays and squabbles.
What a priviledge to be able to observe their most intimate moments of family life at close quarters without distrubing them, without impacting on their behaviour!
Unlike red foxes, arctic fox couples are monogamous and will generally remain together until one of the partners dies. Thus all cubs in a litter have the same father and male arctic foxes play an active role in the upbringing of their offspring. Not only do they provide food, but we also witnessed many scenes of tenderness and play between dad and his never tiring youngsters.
Male foxes tend to bring bigger prey, mainly adult birds that they hunt in the cliffs. Females seem to predominantly hunt or forage on the beach, where they find stranded fish or wild bird chicks (guillemots in particular) that have prematurely fallen out of their nests.
There is something deeply rewarding about spending time in such close company of wild animals – a stark reminder that our so often fraught relationship with wildlife doesn’t have to be that way. I can’t help thinking of ”my” red fox families back home, would they be equally trusting if they hadn’t been hunted and persecuted for so many generations?
DAYS 4 AND 5 – ARCTIC FOXES IN THE RAIN
Over the next couple of days we will be hiking up into the mountains in search for other dens which should allow us to take a variety of different images. Yesterday’s bits of blue sky have totally disappeared and the clouds hang low, shrouding the tops of the mountains. Trails are not marked here, and unless you have a good guide (like we did!) it is easy to get lost in this endless expanse of boggy moorland, in particular when the fog sets in.
Up in the mountains thousands of kittiwakes hang out in and around the many freshwater lakes to wash the salt off their feathers.
Visibility is poor with the low clouds, we carry on, hoping to come across a fox on the way to the cliffs, but no luck. Due to the low clouds we can only imagine the no doubt spectacular views from the top of the cliffs.
In total we try our luck at 2 dens, but only one family is willing to accept our presence. After a long treck across seemingly endless expanses of tundra-like moorland and blanket bog, the valley finally opens up in front up us. Binoculars glued to my eyes I scan the rock scattered hillside. Suddenly a tiny bundle of chocolate brown fur appears in the misty distance. The little cub has spotted us behind the angelica and decides to move closer to investigate. It seems to have been out in the rain for a while as its otherwise soft and fluffy fur is wet and sticking together in tiny little spiky bundles. Very photogenic….
A minute later the female climbs on top of a large rock in the distance. She too has seen us but appears very relaxed about our presence, especially as we have kept a respectable distance between us and the den area.
Soon she is joined by 4 of her cubs, all blue. 2 more cubs are clambering about in the surrounding rocks, one gives out a little bark every so often.
After a lengthy grooming session the vixen makes several attempts to leave her offspring to head off to hunt, but the boisterous cubs try to follow her every time.
Finally she manages to slip away, after all the 6 cubs all need feeding! 2 little bundles of wet fur have curled up a few meters away from us, seemingly unbothered by the drizzle or our presence. When they finally decide to head back to their dry den we pack up too.
The big storm is already looming when we arrive in our valley. In this remote part of the world there is no mobile phone signal and no WIFI. Luckily Runar, Phil’s friend and our host during the winter trip, has left us a radio so we can get regular weather updates from him. The forecast turns out far worse than we had expected. Rather than one day of heavy rain they are now expecting a major storm with gale force winds and a veritable deluge – 350 – 400 mm in 48 hours.
Nordic summers are hardly renown for their high temperatures or their generous amounts of sunshine, so you have to accept that some days will be wetter and windier than others. But even for the most determined photographer there are limits, when the rain starts to come in horizontally, there is no point in even trying. Spending a day in a small tent waiting for the rain to stop is not much fun, but the prospect of spending 3 days under these conditions is even less appealing. We gladly accept Runar’s offer to join him on a different stretch of the coast, where he has set up a much more spacious semi-permanent safari-type tent for a group of Spanish photographers.
The ranger who is doing a round to warn any stray hikers, is relieved to hear we will be moving to a safe place. Runar will be picking us up at the beach late afternoon. Taking down our tents in the rain wasn’t much fun, but pitching them again in the rain is even worse. The wind is really picking up and we are relieved to have found refuge in Runars large communal tent with cooking facilities, a dining table and a cosy sitting area. And, pure luxury, there is even a little stove to help us warm up. The group of Spanish photographers that are staying with Runar have kindly accepted to share the day-time facilities with us. Sadly I don’t speak any Spanish so the only one I can communicate with is their English-speaking guide Marta.
We really have to give ourselves a push to make our way across to our sleeping tents that evening, the wind is howling and the rain is pelting down so hard that 20 meters are enough to get soaked to the bone. I have barely fallen asleep when I am woken up again by Floriane moving. When I turn around I see her lying on her stomach with her head propped up on her arms staring in disbelief at what was once the ”living” area of our tent. The wind has completely flattened that side and the driving rain is now finding its way onto the ground sheet where we have stored all our bags. Whilst Floriane is pushing up the inside, I rush outside to refix the guy lines and pegs that have been ripped out by the storm. The wind and rain are so strong that I have to repeat this operation every couple of hours as the pegs just won’t stay put in the sandy ground. The joys of camping in Iceland!
DAYS 6 TO 9 – THE BIG STORM
Whilst we are having breakfast the next morning one of the Spanish photographers rushes in to announce that our tent has completely collapsed. Phil’s and Richard’s tents are still standing, but they look so battered that they are unlikely to stay up for much longer. We have no choice but to spend the remaining nights in the big tent. Luckily Runar has camp beds and every evening the dining table is pushed aside to transform the space into a giant dormitory.
During the day we huddle around the stove, temperatures outside have plunged to 4 or 5°C. The mountains behind us are sprinkled with a layer of fresh snow. The wind is rattling the big tents structure quite worryingly and the gusts are so strong that it takes four people to hold down the stove to stop it from being lifted off the ground by the updraft.
The storm rages for 3 days, impossible to attempt any trips outside other than to the toilet block. Even that is a challenge in the howling, gale force winds across a mainly flooded campsite. With food rations limited and calculated to last until the end of our stay, we rotate cooking and eating times between our 2 groups. The rest of the time we patiently wait, chat, read. Needless to say, in these conditions it is impossible for the boat to come and pick us up as planned. The earliest they can sail is the following morning, bad news for all of us who were planning to catch the domestic flight back to Reykjavik at lunchtime that day.
During the course of Saturday the clouds seem to have finally run out of water and the wind starts to drop. We venture outside to look for foxes. They probably sat out the storm like us. Their tracks are all over the beach, the storm has taken its toll, numerous sea birds have drowned and have washed up on the shore. Easy food for the foxes…..
In the evening the clouds at last tear apart and we get to see some of that truly magical light that only exists this far North. Briefly the grey mountains are tinged in a warm, golden glow, then a few minutes later the colour is all gone again. A very shy fox makes a brief appearance on the beach and disappears just as quickly. My heart sinks, the boat is coming to take us back to Isafjörður tomorrow morning, and I can’t see us getting another chance of seeing, let alone photographing more foxes before then.
DAY 10 – HORNSTRANDIR’S GOODBYE-PRESENT
But clearly the Hornstrandir peninsula doesn’t want us to leave without a glorious finale. The following morning, whilst getting ready, another fox shows up at the campground. Unlike the individual we glimpsed yesterday this one is very inquisitive and boisterous, no doubt a young fox born the previous year. Not in the least shy or intimidated by the group of overly excited photographers, it is crouching down like a dog in front of Richard, clearly inviting him to play! 30 minutes of pure bliss in its company before it looses interest in us and wanders off along the beach. We couldn’t have wished for a nicer goodbye-present!
The boat arrives and we are off on a very rough 3-hour ride back to Isafjörður. As the end of the fjord disappears into the distance I have already made up my mind, I’ll just have to come back here! Soon and for longer, much longer, there is still so much left to discover in this magical part of the world….. Our French lady-captain is doing her very best to stear the boat through the still very choppy waters, but I have rarely ever felt so sea-sick. Worse, seeing the state of some of the other passengers picked up on the way makes it very hard not to give in to that churning stomach….no doubt one of the longest three hours ever!
Back in Isafjörður I can’t believe my eyes, even here the mountain tops have had a sprinkling of new snow over the last couple of days. That’s summer in Iceland for you!
Having missed our flight, Phil is driving us down to Reykjavik. I still have another 3 weeks in the country, but the other 2 need to catch their international flights early the next morning. The weather today is glorious for a change, wall to wall sunshine as the winding road takes us South through the stunning scenery of the Westfjords. I haven’t seen the rest of the island yet, but I already know that this remote part of the country will always have a special place in my heart.
A big thank you to Phil for yet another wonderful guided trip, for organising everything to perfection (except for the weather 😉 and for making the special effort to drive us all the way to Reykjavik. Thank you also for sharing your arctic fox knowledge without which I would never have been able to spend such wonderful, unforgettable moments in their company…..without which I would never have been able to witness the most intimate moments of their family life. Even taking into account the days we lost during the storm we had more opportunities to observe and photograph arctic foxes and their cubs than I could ever have hoped for!
Thank you also to Runar for your kind offer of hospitality in your comfortably tent that saved us in a moment of need and to Marta and her group for generously sharing the space with us. For those who speak Spanish here is the link to read Marta’s post about the trip: https://indomitus.eu/expedicion-zorro-artico-verano-2020/
