© Arved Fuchs
Interview with Arved Fuchs, extreme adventurer, sailor and ambassador of the German Committee of the UN Ocean Decade
“They said, ‘Well, he’s crazy’, but I didn’t care.”
In Bad Bramstedt, the morning light sweeps over the flat land, curtilages, fences, a farmer has given the HSV flag a home for life. At the same time, glaciers in the Arctic will soon begin to slide into the ocean again due to climate change. Arved Fuchs is at home in both worlds, has circumnavigated Cape Horn in a kayak, reached the South Pole and the North Pole on foot and sailed from the South Pole to South Georgia in a dinghy. An interview in a room full of memories. But Arved has already packed his bags for the next expedition on the 'Damar Aaen' as part of his Ocean Change project.
Arved Fuchs
Extreme adventurer, ambassador of the German Committee of the UN Ocean Decade, founder of Ocean Change
Arved Fuchs is continuing his climate expedition series OCEAN CHANGE on the Dagmar Aaen for the tenth year. The start is on 1 June in Flensburg.
Kiel-Marketing: From Bad Bramstedt to Bear Island and many other expeditions around the globe – what drew you as a young man from the flatlands of northern Germany to faraway places?
Arved Fuchs: After leaving school, I completed a traditional apprenticeship in the merchant navy on freighters of a Bremen shipping company. On the other hand, I've always had this affinity for the water. My grandparents lived on Sylt, where I spent part of my childhood and learnt to swim in the North Sea. And my uncle went to sea. When he came home, he told lots of stories, sailor's yarns, which was a great experience for me as a youngster. But I also always enjoyed outdoor sports, extreme sports, the polar regions always attracted me. That's why I started to train specifically relatively early on, endurance sports and so on. As I didn't have much money, I couldn't afford to travel to Scandinavia to train for the cold, so I took a very pragmatic approach and spent the night in freezer rooms.
You went to a butcher's shop here in Bad Bramstedt and said: "Hi, I'm Arved and I'd like to go into your freezer room for a few days"?
Yes, at first they doubted my sanity and wondered whether he was still in his right mind. But I was always very convinced of what I wanted to do and was able to explain it convincingly. Back then, it was called a shock freezing chamber, which could be set to -37 degrees. It was all about testing the equipment and individual cold behaviour and gaining experience. And they let me do it.
They just let the madman do it.
They said "Well, he's crazy", but I didn't care. But cargo ships weren't what I always wanted to do in the long term, I wanted to have my own ship. I started out with very small boats, kayaks and folding boats, and used them to go on my first expeditions, rounding Cape Horn and so on. I also realised that if you wanted to travel in polar regions, you had to learn the craft.
Today you are doing your expeditions on the shark cutter Dagmar Aaen [pronunciation 'Aaen': with a long open O as in 'order'] with a crew. How do you choose the people? You don't send them to the cold room beforehand, and you also have to make sure that they're a good fit in human terms.
The first Greenland crossing with dog sleds was actually with someone from my circle of friends who I knew from sailing and where the chemistry was right. It's very important that you understand each other on a human level and can rely on each other. That's how I've always looked for partners. We also keep getting enquiries from people who would like to join us, who think they can buy their way in. But it's not a question of price, on our ship it's hand against berth. Over the years, we have built up a pool of people who keep coming back, from which we recruit our core crew, but I also want young people in particular to come, especially women. At the moment, more women are applying than men, and they are highly competent.
“You need special personalities on board who can do that.”
Arved Fuchs
There are different generations on board, women, men, international.
Yes, that's true. Of course, you have to realise that it's a small ship for a maximum of ten people, so there's not much space left for the individual. You have to have some social skills. And then you have to have a bit of experience and sensitivity when making your selection. Often people apply who really want to do this but have never been in a situation like this before, who don't even know what it's like when they don't get a fresh apple for weeks or their boyfriend or girlfriend is away for a really long time. You need special personalities on board who can do that.
My experience is that many people grow with their tasks. Especially young people who have literally 'discovered their ship' and have grown with it.
That's true, that's the way it is. I usually invite them to the shipyard first. That's where they sand, paint and rig. I want them to get to grips with the ship, lend a hand, get to know the others. Some people have really grown into it, they've been there for many years. Some as schoolchildren.
© Arved Fuchs
Started so young and still at it?
Still at it. Ole, for example, graduated last year and previously took part in the classroom under sail project on the Theo Heyerdahl . He's been with us for three years now, he can do everything, all the traditional trades. Or last year we had a Spaniard who actually studied classical music, but then realised that seafaring was actually more for him ...
... and he didn't just want to sing shanties ...
... nah, nah. He studied real classical music in Barcelona and then changed his career, took out nautical patents, but only ever sailed on sailing ships. He then came with his girlfriend, a Scottish woman who also only sails on sailing ships. It's a small community that just wants to sail on these classic ships. They're not interested in sailing on a yacht, on a racer, they're not interested in that. They want to sit up in the bosun's chair in the rigging and make lace. They were on board for six weeks and worked from morning to night. We also have scientists on board, but they still have to hoist sails and clean the loo like everyone else. Everyone has their own area in which they specialise, but they all work closely together as a team. That's really fun.
“You can’t always just come back and tell nice stories, you also have a chronicler’s duty to report on them.”
Arved Fuchs
© Arved Fuchs
© Arved Fuchs
© Arved Fuchs
© Arved Fuchs
Women on board is also a big issue in the Ocean Race, there has to be at least one woman in the crew, in the Ocean Race Atlantic 2026 from New York to Barcelona there will be 50:50 crews. You recently had a podcast with a marine scientist who was in Tasmania. When did you discover the marine conservation aspect for yourself and your expeditions?
It has a history that goes back to my seafaring days after school. Back then, there was a so-called sludge tank on the old cargo ships, where all the dirt and oil sludge ended up. At sea, this was simply drained. Back then, there were even specially designated areas on the nautical charts where tankers were allowed to wash their tanks. That's why there were these lumps of tar on the beaches everywhere back then, which thankfully no longer exist today. I got myself into real trouble back then because I refused to drain this mud.
You could simply refuse?
Not really, I was put under a lot of pressure. I said we could pump it out in the harbour, but they said it was our business. I was an assistant at the time and didn't have much to say. But I didn't do it. This approach to nature led me to realise very early on that you can't always just come back and tell nice stories, you also have a duty as a chronicler to report on them. I started articulating my environmental policy early on.
© Arved Fuchs
On board the Dagmar Aaen you have various laboratory devices, drifter buoys, Argofloater, OceanPack – all devices that the yachts in the Ocean Race also have on board. What data is collected and how is it processed?
That always depends on the sensors installed. We use the OceanPack to measure the CO2 content of the seawater, the salt content, the temperature and the phytoplankton. The devices work fully automatically 24/7 and the data is sent directly to Geomar in Kiel via a satellite channel. The experts who analyse the data are based there.
We also have a CCD probe with us, which we lower down to 500 metres and which measures four times per second. A probe like this costs forty to fifty thousand euros. We built the winch ourselves, which we crank up with a cordless screwdriver ...
... with a standard cordless screwdriver?
Yes, we made it ourselves. Sometimes you have to look for simple solutions. The data is then also sent via satellite. And we are an official weather ship of the DWD, the installed devices measure air pressure, temperature and so on, all the data goes directly to the central computer, where the weather offices can then use it. We work with the IOW [Leibniz Institute for Baltic Sea Research] in Warnemünde with the Argofloats and the drifting buoys. Director Oliver Zielinski was also here at the last Baltic Sea Day. We also have an analogue "Eye on Water" at the front of the jib boom, which visually records the turbidity of the water and takes photos. One of our engineers, Jana, who also helped develop the OceanPack at SubCtech, has refined it a little. So here too, the further development of ideas with archaic means that we have available on such a sailing ship.
On the one hand, these modern high-tech devices, on the other hand, you go out on the almost one-hundred-year-old Dagmar Aaen. Why not a more modern ship?
Many people think it's an anachronism. But I see it very differently. The Dagmar Aaen is first and foremost a good seagoing vessel, it was built for such a mission. They didn't have any plans back in 1931, they just made models and then these ships were built. They had to go out and take the weather as it came and either survived or not. There wasn't much room for manoeuvre. I already had a soft spot for this class because it was also ice-going. It shouldn't be too big so that it is manoeuvrable and also affordable. But above all, it has one big advantage: if you drop anchor in front of a small Greenlandic village with a ship like this, the Greenlanders think it's cool. If you arrive there with a high-tech yacht, there's an invisible partition that they don't dare approach. But they paddle over and say "Oh, all wood, cool" and then you invite them round for tea and biscuits and get talking to them. And it's not really an anachronism either, because we've installed state-of-the-art navigation technology below deck.
Here on the shelf next to us is the sextant that you used to navigate with until 1989, when you travelled to the South Pole on foot, then GPS and satellite phones came along. You know where you are at all times and can contact others. Does this make you feel less isolated compared to the past when you are travelling far away from civilisation?
That's a deceptive illusion. Sometimes it can be quite annoying, for example when you're travelling around Cape Farvel on the southern tip of Greenland at night in shitty weather, and then suddenly someone from the Munich beer garden calls and wants to do an interview with you, and I have to tell them that it's not a good time right now. It used to be normal that you weren't available. But I've grown into the other world, where everything is digital and you're ultimately omnipresent. That takes a bit of the charm out of it, I have to say. When I used to be away, I used to tell Brigitte that I was away now and that I'd send a telegram when I got back.
And she hoped a telegram would come.
Nobody knew where you were. When I say deceptive, because a lot of people say if something is, I push the button. But some people have died in the Arctic because they weren't well prepared, because they wanted to walk through the Greenland ice sheet as quickly as possible with as little weight and as thin a tent as possible. Then there's some shitty weather, everything flies away and then you freeze to death. That happens within a few hours. Nobody gets there that quickly. It's this deceptive sense of security that means I can call anywhere. Yes, of course you can tell people you're freezing to death. But help won't necessarily come.
“The Greenland glaciers have doubled their flow speed in some places. There will be many more icebergs in the future due to the shrinking ice. We will therefore have a higher iceberg density than at the time of the Titanic.”
Arved Fuchs
In 2024, you returned to Bear Island in the Barents Sea after 33 years. Did you have any particular expectations about what you would find there? You can't just go ashore there anymore.
The whole procedure is completely different. You travelled there in the early nineties and registered with the Sysselmann [the Norwegian government's highest representative on Spitsbergen] . He said: "Great that you're here, have fun". Nowadays you have to get a permit for every landing and explain exactly what you want to do there beforehand. We had to take out rescue insurance for each crew member, which is not so easy to get. In case someone had to be evacuated.
Oh, normal international travel insurance isn't enough for Bear Island?
(laughs) No. Of course, it's also an attempt to keep people away a bit. That's the administrative side. Apart from that, I didn't have such high expectations. Even in the nineties, there was no more pack ice there in summer. We were there at the beginning of May, when it was still very wintry. Landing is not easy because the island is very exposed in the middle of the Barents Sea. There is usually always swell and surf, plus the cliffs. There are also sandy beaches, but then the wind direction has to be right. Last summer we had bombastic weather, very little wind, it wasn't really sailing weather at all, so you could land anywhere.
During the tour, we measured that the water temperature in the Barents Sea was 3 to 5 degrees above the long-term average, with a peak of 7.5 degrees. This rise in temperature is like an earthquake. It's totally frightening, because it means you have a completely different weather pattern.
The sea is getting warmer and the ice is receding. On the east coast of Greenland, for example, you have a cold inflow from the north. Today there's nothing there in summer, it's more or less open water. The Greenland glaciers have doubled their flow speed in some places. As the ice shrinks, there will be many more icebergs in the future. That is why we will have a higher density of icebergs than at the time of the Titanic.
Judith Schalansky,
“Atlas of the remote islands”
Bear Island
Doesn't this bad news spoil your expeditions?
It really affected me because I didn't go there with the mission of reporting on any environmental issues, but because I thought it was so cool to be out and about in this landscape and to be able to move around normally. You become a good observer over the years, because this power of observation is your life insurance. You need to know when the storm is coming or whether the ice is bearing down, so you are very, very sensitive to changes. Then you realise that there are dramatic changes in certain leaps in time. Ten years is not even the blink of an eye in climate history. But then so much has happened that it leaves you speechless. Yes, that takes away your impartiality.
In one of your books, I found a quote from Sigga Sverissdottir, who is also a member of the crew: "When I need solid ground for my thoughts in life, I find it on the rocking ship." Can you relate to that?
I can absolutely understand that. Sigga comes from Iceland, had just graduated from high school, was part of one of our youth projects and has stuck with it ever since. Yes, it's this detachment from the complex world we live in. You become grounded in the truest sense of the word. All this ballast, these vain set pieces that we surround ourselves with, they no longer play a role at all. When you're in bad weather, other things are elementary. Sigga was also at James Caird II , where she said: "If you're complaining about cold fingers, then you don't belong here".
How do you experience it when you come back here to Bad Bramstedt from your expeditions?
When I started out and was away for two or three months, I came back and said: "Now you're reformed, now you're doing everything completely differently." And after a week, you're crying wolf. What I want to say is that you come back and are so full of images and impressions, but you realise that you can't transfer one world to the other. They are two different worlds, but both are always very real and present for me. Over the years, this transition has become easier and easier for me. I move around on the Greenland ice sheet with the same ease as I do on Hamburg's Jungfernstieg.
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