There has been some amazing motorcycles churned out by the world’s leading manufacturers since the year 2000. In just over two decades, the best motorcycles have gone from almost totally analog to rolling computers, and there’s been a level of innovation the likes of which has never been experienced before within the industry.
Out of this field, there are a few standouts that deserved to be called out. We’ve cobbled together our picks for the best models since the millennium, only including production machines. The focus is also on those bikes you can ride on the street or dirt road. Hang on, we’re going for a ride.
2000 Honda RVT 1000 (RC51)
By the end of the 1990s, Honda was sick of its exotic but outclassed RC45 getting defeated in the WorldSBK race series, so it went away to build a “better Ducati.” This was Honda’s first go at producing a twin-cylinder racer after decades on the four-cylinder train, and it worked better than anyone had hoped. Two WorldSBK crowns with Colin Edwards (2000/2002), and its last AMA Superbike crown (2002) with the late Nicky Hayden, cemented the RVT 1000’s reputation as one of the best superbikes that Honda ever created.
2001 Suzuki GSX-R1000
Photo: Courtesy of PJ Archives.
Suzuki took a few lessons learned from its iconic GSX-R750 and fitted them into the new big-bore superbike category that was now in full prominence, creating a 108kW powerhouse that promptly displaced Yamaha, then class king, and its YZF-R1.
The GSX-R1000 was instantly competitive, and when it came to AMA Superbike competition, the model won every championship from 2003 until 2010, when Yamaha fought back. The 2001 GSX-R1000 marked the first true Suzuki superbike of the modern era.
2001 Honda GL 1800 Gold Wing
Photo: Courtesy of PJ Archives.
Honda went back to the drawing board in 2000 for the following year’s GL 1800. The bike featured an increase in capacity from 1,520cc to 1,832cc, plus an emphasis on the sportier side of long-distance touring with improved suspension, brakes and ergonomics.
The result was a motorcycle so good that it would be 17 years before Honda could come up with another fully revised version worthy of the Gold Wing name. The model is still the standard by which all touring motorcycles are measured.
2002 Suzuki V-Strom 1000
While the world was slowly waking up to the benefits of the do-it-all motorcycle at the beginning of the century, Suzuki trumped the competition in that class with the 2002 V-Strom 1000. The ’Strom used the old TL1000S V-twin, a motor with oodles of torque and primarily designed for a sportbike.
The V-Strom’s power plant, however, was packaged in a chassis that could handle almost every type of riding except hardcore off-roading. Twisty roads, touring, two-up cruising, city commuting, dirt roads—the bike can do no wrong.
2004 Kawasaki ZX-10R
We’ve selected the 2004 Kawasaki ZX-10R for inclusion, not for its outright performance, but for the lasting mark it left on superbike culture in the early 2000’s. Others were quicker and won more races, but the ’04 10R’s reputation as a scare-your-pants-off sportbike is unmatched even to this day. A claimed 130kW (in truth it was about 111kW at the rear wheel) with a snappy, unruly chassis—devoid of simple rider aids like a steering damper—made this bike one that was only for those who weren’t even remotely faint of heart. The easy-riding 2021 Kawasaki ZX-10R is almost the antithesis of the original 2004 fire-breather. We guess it had to grow up, eventually.
2005 Suzuki GSX-R1000
This is Suzuki’s all-time hit. A WorldSBK champion with Troy Corser, an AMA champion with Mat Mladin and a showroom star in sales across the globe. The 2005 GSX-R1000 combines light, precise handling with one of the best superbike motors ever made—a 130kW behemoth that put bikes like the Honda CBR1000RR and Yamaha YZF-R1 firmly in the mirrors. The engine and chassis were so good that Suzuki was still using the combination 10 years later when it introduced the GSX-S1000 range, and then a few years after that with the revamped Katana, which the company freely admitted was a 2005 GSX-R1000 in disguise.
2006 KTM 950 Adventure
Photo: Courtesy of PJ Archives.
The ultimate iteration of what many consider KTM’s greatest adventure bike, the 2006 KTM 950 was the last such machine to come from Mattighofen with carburettors. As such, it became a favourite with global travellers who could fix the bike in the middle of nowhere rather than deal with a finicky fuel-injection system.
Excellent WP suspension coupled with dual gas tanks meant that massive miles could be covered between stops. The 950 helped solidify KTM’s reputation as the motorcycle brand for serious adventure riders, rather than those who primarily commute to the café.
2006 Ducati Desmosedici GP16 RR
Photo : Courtesy of PJ Archives.
Ducati’s Desmosedici D16 RR (RR stands for Racing Replica) was as close as you could buy to a MotoGP bike for the street. Using a 990cc motor modelled on the 2004 Ducati Desmosedici MotoGP racer of Troy Bayliss and Loris Capirossi, Ducati claimed the machine made a rollicking 149kW and 115Nm of torque from the V-4 engine.
The bike is graced with the very best Öhlins suspension of the period, and was the first production motorcycle to use forged magnesium wheels. It’s an absolute gem that costs a treasure trove to run and service, but is currently skyrocketing in value as it will surely be coveted long into the future.
2006 Yamaha YZF-R6
The 2006 Yamaha YZF-R6 is to sportbike riders what a Remington Model Seven is to serious hunters. This machine debuted a number of technical firsts for Yamaha—the first ride-by-wire throttle in Yamaha’s Chip Controlled Throttle (YCCT), variable inlet tracts, titanium inlet and exhaust valves and an ear-splitting 18,000 rpm redline.
All of these elements helped make the ’06 R6 one of the finest sportbikes of all time. It formed the basis of the R6 line for the rest of the model’s life, which finally ended in 2020 when the last YZF-R6s rolled off the production line.
2008 Kawasaki Concours 14
Photo: Courtesy of PJ Archives.
Taking the design ethos of the Suzuki Hayabusa–killing ZX-14, Kawasaki launched the Concours 14 in 2008. The model is an elegant and fast long-distance touring machine. Thanks to its ZX-14-derived four-cylinder motor, the bike made 111kW. It also featured variable valve timing, digital tire pressure monitors, an electric windscreen, ABS and a cockpit that enabled pilots to ride for hour after hour in comfort.
In one fell swoop, Kawasaki nearly perfected the high-speed touring motorcycle. The model has remained essentially the same ever since, save for minor tweaks like traction control, some bodywork nips and tucks and subtle suspension changes.
2008 BMW F 800 GS
The F 800 GS was BMW’s answer to a growing call from adventure riders for slimmer, lighter off-road motorcycles that were easier to take to the far reaches of the world than the mighty (and heavy) R 1150 GS. The 2008 F 800 GS relies on a svelte parallel-twin motor that is also found in the F 800 R.
BMW mated the motor to a long-travel, dirt-friendly suspension with 21-inch front wheels and 19-inch rear wheels. Add the chain drive and it’s a true go-anywhere transport that proved immensely popular with everyone from expeditionary travellers to inner-city motorcycle couriers. And the F 800 GS proved an able sibling to the bigger 1150 GS range.
2009 Aprilia RSV4 Factory
With the redoubtable RSV4, Aprilia came back to superbike competition with a vengeance in 2009. Possessing the only V-4 motor you could buy in the class (at least at the time), the RSV4 benefitted from Aprilia engineers who used every bit of knowledge gained from their years of 250 cc Grand Prix domination to create a landmark, track-focused machine.
The bike delivers a stout 134kW and 115Nm of torque, and is equipped with the best production Öhlins suspension and Brembo brakes of the time. The first RSV4 was dominant almost immediately, taking the 2010 WorldSBK title with Max Biaggi in the saddle. Since then, the RSV4 has garnered two more titles and won countless shootout tests across the globe. The model is now part of the 1100 cc club with the debut of the stupendous 2021 edition.
2009 Harley-Davidson XR1200
The sportiest Sportster of all time, the XR1200 is on this list not so much for outright performance or even sales success, but as an indication of how on-point Harley-Davidson’s thinking was at the time. The manufacturer preempted the return of the flat-track style—universally favoured by custom builders around the world—by half a decade. But Harley-Davidson only produced the machine between 2009 and 2012.
After that, the executives gave up, confining what was a real sleeper of a machine to the history books. Today, an XR1200 that’s not in some state of disrepair is a rarity, as many were raced, crashed, poorly maintained or all of the above. Find a good one, though, and you’ve got a true modern classic on your hands.
2010 Honda VFR1200F DCT
Photo: Mark McIntyre, courtesy of PJ Archives.
Trust it to Honda to push the technical boundaries. The world’s largest motorcycle company did just that with the 2010 VFR1200F, the first such machine to come with Honda’s innovative dual-clutch transmission (DCT). The DCT was the first semi-automatic gearbox fitted to a production motorcycle.
You could still change gears manually via the paddle shifters on the left handlebar, but there was no clutch lever—something many riders needed time to get used to. Powered by a 1,237cc V-4 motor, the VFR is remembered as a good bike, not a great one, yet was the vehicle Honda used to bring the DCT system to market. That alone is reason enough to include it here.
2010 BMW S 1000 RR
Few superbikes have blown away the competition like the BMW S 1000 RR. At a time when the world was still reeling from the global financial crisis, BMW kept its development foot flat to the floor and released what is now remembered as the first true digital sportbike. A total of 141kW was on tap from the 999cc four-cylinder motor that ran a number of production firsts, including “finger-follower” valve actuation for the cams rather than the old “shim-and-bucket” design.
A twin-spar aluminium frame designed primarily for track use was employed, but the big news was the massive electronics suite that included ride-by-wire throttle, lean-angle-sensitive traction control and four variable ride modes. With the S 1000 RR, BMW changed the design game for all superbikes to follow.
2013 BMW R 1200 GS
The bike that started the ADV segment way back in 1980 got its biggest update yet in 2013. Dubbed the “wasser-boxer” (water boxer), the 1,170cc flat-twin engine was partially water-cooled, with power going from 82KW to 92kW, and torque measurably increased across the rev range.
With a focus on sporty handling, this GS could even be taken to the racetrack if so desired, and then eat up any dirt roads on the way home. Of course, true to BMW form, it seemed to carry every conceivable rider aid offered, so the tech more than matched the motor. The BMW R 1200 GS became king of the maxi-ADV class, a position it holds to this day.
2014 Yamaha MT-07
This is the little Yamaha that could. Yamaha has a proud history of excellent small-capacity roadsters that stretches back to the early 1970’s. Machines like the TX650 and subsequent RD350 had newbies lining up to ride them, and the MT-07 continues this legacy for a new generation.
There’s nothing overly flashy about the MT-07; it’s got a 687cc parallel-twin four-stroke motor good for about 52kW. But it’s finished beautifully and the ride experience is superb. Yamaha has sold mountains of MT’s since its release in 2014, and there’s little doubt that it will continue to do so for years to come.
2014 KTM 1290 Super Duke R
The rise of the “super-naked” bike really began with the Aprilia Tuono V4 at the end of the previous decade, but the class was cemented when KTM brought out “the Beast” in 2014. That monster was the 1290 Super Duke R powered by a 1,301cc V-twin—a naked motorcycle designed for the hooligan in all of us.
The manufacturer quoted an incredible 134kW for the motor, wrapping it in KTM’s trademark orange steel-trellis chassis, WP suspension (admittedly not as top-of-the-line as it could have been) and just enough electronics and rider aids to lend a faint air of sensibility to the madness. More than that, however, the Super Duke heralded KTM—already an off-road powerhouse—as a truly major player in the street-bike market.
2015 Honda RC213V-S
It would be unfair to include the Ducati Desmosedici on this list and not the Honda RC213V-S. More exclusive, rarer and certainly pricier, the bike was Honda’s halo MotoGP replica based on the RCV1000 machine raced by the late Nicky Hayden.
Limited to just 200 examples and weighing a scant 170kg dry, the model—carrying a 999cc V-4—came in restricted 74kW. However, the purchase of the race pack, which included a stunning and barking-loud titanium exhaust, allowed for 160kW. This is likely the most exclusive street bike Honda has ever produced, besting even its other halo model, the 1992 NR750.
2015 Yamaha YZF-R1
Photo : Courtesy of PJ Archives.
For 2015, Yamaha went through the YZF-R1 model from top-to-bottom, releasing a superbike that could be considered the natural successor to the 2010 BMW S 1000 RR in terms of the loaded tech. A new, slender chassis and reworked crossplane-crank motor were crafted, and a slew of electronics were added, the latter including Slide Control.
The 2015 YZF-R1’s power plant was a massive step up from the original crossplane-crank engine in the iterations from 2008 through 2014. This version was such an improvement that Yamaha has only had to make incremental changes in recent years to keep it at the head of the superbike pack.
2017 BMW K 1600 GT
Photo: Daniel Kraus, courtesy of PJ Archives.
When considering BMW’s K 1600 GT, its long-distance touring tour de force, there is a laundry list of impressive features to note: the 1,649cc six-cylinder engine with ferocious torque, the self-levelling electronic suspension, adaptive headlights that see around corners, a reverse gear, an electric screen and all the rider-assist bells and whistles you could want.
First released in 2011, the model received a thorough rework in 2017 in order to challenge the Honda Gold Wing in the maxi-touring arena. It’s a far sportier machine than the Gold Wing, and the build quality is exceptional. The BMW K 1600 GT and even more luxurious K 1600 GTL represent the absolute pinnacle of Munich’s touring might.
2019 Triumph Scrambler 1200 XE
Photo: Courtesy of PJ Archives.
Although Ducati was arguably the first to bring a modern, scrambler-style production bike to market in 2014, it was Triumph who perhaps perfected the segment in 2019 with the brilliant Scrambler 1200 XE. The original scramblers are the forefathers of today’s motocross bikes, and while Ducati got the looks right, Triumph took it a few steps further to create a retro-style motorcycle that can go places many modern ADV bikes would struggle to get to, and that the Ducati Scrambler could only dream of. (Although the Ducati Scrambler Desert Sled somewhat fixed this problem).
Huge ground clearance, good suspension and comfort, a motor swiped from the Triumph Thruxton and aesthetics that would fit right in with Steve McQueen in the film On Any Sunday make the Triumph Scrambler an absolute treat to ride.
2020 Zero SR/F
The first company dedicated to electric motorcycles, California-based Zero had spent 13 years trying to convince famously reluctant riders about the benefits of electric propulsion. But it never quite managed to do so until the SR/F came along. The SR/F hit the market at the same time as the Harley-Davidson LiveWire, but its price (a third less than the LiveWire) made it a far more enticing prospect.
Then there was the ride experience. The machine covers zero to 100km/h in 3 seconds, not to mention its mind-bending acceleration between 60km/h to 120km/h. This is a proper motorcycle, not one of the sometimes gimmicky Zero offerings of the past. It shows that electric motorcycles really can excite, and provides a tasty preview of far more battery-powered bikes to come.
2020 Ducati Superleggera V4
Photo: Courtesy of PJ Archives.
Carbon fibre. That’s all you need to know about the Superleggera V4. Every structural component is made from the stuff—the front frame (chassis), subframe, bodywork, wheels, various engine and wheel guards, all of it. The Superleggera is the first street bike to feature a carbon frame for sale to the public (the other carbon bike, the BMW HP Race, was a track-only offering).
Due to the Ducati model’s lightness paired with its 224 hp V-4 motor, one that gets boosted to an eye-watering 234 hp with the race exhaust, the Superleggera V4 gets firmly placed in the pantheon of sportbike legends.
2021 Ducati Multistrada V4 S
Photo: Courtesy of PJ Archives.
The Ducati Multistrada took a massive leap forward in 2021, and not simply because it got a bigger V-4. It’s a ground-breaking motorcycle because it was the first production bike to be fitted with radar-assisted Adaptive Cruise Control (ACC) and Blind Spot Detection (BSD), upping the safety game considerably over the rest of the field on the market today.
Combine that with an outrageous 1,158cc V-4 motor, optimum ergonomics for everything between sporty on-road riding and off-the-beaten-path adventuring, every possible rider aid Ducati could come up with and an excellent suspension and brake package, and you’ve got a bike Ducati says is its greatest yet. After time in the saddle, it’s very hard to argue that sentiment.
The starters are on the blocks, and with less than 100 days to go until the Paris 2024 Olympics, luxury Swiss watchmaker Omega was bound to release something spectacular to mark its bragging rights as the official timekeeper for the Summer Games. Enter the new 43mm Speedmaster Chronoscope, available in new colourways—gold, black, and white—in line with the colour theme of the Olympic Games in Paris this July.
So, what do we get in this nicely-wrapped, Olympics-inspired package? Technically, four new podium-worthy iterations of the iconic Speedmaster.
The new versions present handsomely in stainless steel or 18K Moonshine Gold—the brand’s proprietary yellow gold known for its enduring shine. The steel version comes with an anodised aluminium bezel and a stainless steel bracelet or vintage-inspired perforated leather strap. The Moonshine Gold iteration boasts a ceramic bezel, and will most likely appease Speedy collectors, particularly those with an affinity for Omega’s long-standing role as stewards of the Olympic Games, since 1932.
Notably, each watch bears an attractive white opaline dial; the background to three dark grey timing scales in a 1940s “snail” design. Of course, this Speedmaster Chronoscope is special in its own right. For the most part, the overall look of the Speedmaster has remained true to its 1957 origins. This Speedmaster, however, adopts Omega’s Chronoscope design from 2021, including the storied tachymeter scale, along with a telemeter, and pulsometer scale—essentially, three different measurements on the wrist.
While the technical nature of this timepiece won’t interest some, others will revel in its theatrics; turn over each timepiece and instead of finding a transparent crystal caseback, there is a stamped medallion featuring a mirror-polished Paris 2024 logo, along with “Paris 2024” and the Olympic Rings—a subtle nod to this year’s games.
Powering this Olympiad offering—and ensuring the greatest level of accuracy—is the Co-Axial Master Chronometer Calibre 9908 and 9909, certified by METAS.
A Speedmaster to commemorate the Olympic Games was as sure a bet as Mondo Deplatntis winning gold in the men’s pole vault—especially after Omega revealed its Olympic-edition Seamaster Diver 300m “Paris 2024” last year—but they have delivered a great addition to the legacy collection, without gimmickry.
However, at the top end of the scale, you’re looking at 85K for the all-gold Speedmaster, which is a lot of money for a watch of this stature. In comparison, the immaculate Speedmaster Moonshine gold with a sun-brushed green PVD “step” dial is 15K cheaper, albeit without the Chronoscope complications.
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The Omega Speedmaster Chronoscope in stainless steel with a leather strap is priced at $15,725; stainless steel with steel bracelet at $16,275; 18k Moonshine Gold on leather strap $54,325; and 18k Moonshine Gold with matching gold bracelet $85,350, available at Omega boutiques now.
In our quest to locate the most exclusive and exciting wines for our readers, we usually ask the question, “How many bottles of this were made?” Often, we get a general response based on an annual average, although many Champagne houses simply respond, “We do not wish to communicate our quantities.” As far as we’re concerned, that’s pretty much like pleading the Fifth on the witness stand; yes, you’re not incriminating yourself, but anyone paying attention knows you’re probably guilty of something. In the case of some Champagne houses, that something is making a whole lot of bottles—millions of them—while creating an illusion of rarity.
We received the exact opposite reply regarding Armand de Brignac Blanc de Noirs Assemblage No. 4. Yasmin Allen, the company’s president and CEO, told us only 7,328 bottles would be released of this Pinot Noir offering. It’s good to know that with a sticker price of around $1,800, it’s highly limited, but it still makes one wonder what’s so exceptional about it.
Known by its nickname, Ace of Spades, for its distinctive and decorative metallic packaging, Armand de Brignac is owned by Louis Vuitton Moët Hennessy and Jay-Z and is produced by Champagne Cattier. Each bottle of Assemblage No. 4 is numbered; a small plate on the back reads “Assemblage Four, [X,XXX]/7,328, Disgorged: 20 April, 2023.” Prior to disgorgement, it spent seven years in the bottle on lees after primary fermentation mostly in stainless steel with a small amount in concrete. That’s the longest of the house’s Champagnes spent on the lees, but Allen says the winemaking team tasted along the way and would have disgorged earlier than planned if they’d felt the time was right.
Chef de cave, Alexandre Cattier, says the wine is sourced from some of the best Premier and Grand Cru Pinot Noir–producing villages in the Champagne region, including Chigny-les-Roses, Verzenay, Rilly-la-Montagne, Verzy, Ludes, Mailly-Champagne, and Ville-sur-Arce in the Aube département. This is considered a multi-vintage expression, using wine from a consecutive trio of vintages—2013, 2014, and 2015—to create an “intense and rich” blend. Seventy percent of the offering is from 2015 (hailed as one of the finest vintages in recent memory), with 15 percent each from the other two years.
This precisely crafted Champagne uses only the tête de cuvée juice, a highly selective extraction process. As Allen points out, “the winemakers solely take the first and freshest portion of the gentle cuvée grape press,” which assures that the finished wine will be the highest quality. Armand de Brignac used grapes from various sites and three different vintages so the final product would reflect the house signature style. This is the fourth release in a series that began with Assemblage No. 1. “Testing different levels of intensity of aromas with the balance of red and dark fruits has been a guiding principle between the Blanc de Noirs that followed,” Allen explains.
The CEO recommends allowing the Assemblage No. 4 to linger in your glass for a while, telling us, “Your palette will go on a journey, evolving from one incredible aroma to the next as the wine warms in your glass where it will open up to an extraordinary length.” We found it to have a gorgeous bouquet of raspberry and Mission fig with hints of river rock; as it opened, notes of toasted almond and just-baked brioche became noticeable. With striking acidity and a vein of minerality, it has luscious nectarine, passion fruit, candied orange peel, and red plum flavors with touches of beeswax and a whiff of baking spices on the enduring finish. We enjoyed our bottle with a roast chicken rubbed with butter and herbes de Provence and savored the final, extremely rare sip with a bit of Stilton. Unfortunately, the pairing possibilities are not infinite with this release; there are only 7,327 more ways to enjoy yours.
Bill Henson is one of Australia’s best-known contemporary photographers. When a show by this calibre of artist opens here, the art world waits with bated breath to see what he will unveil.
This time, he presents a historically important landscape series that chronicles a time in New York City that no longer exists. It’s a nostalgic trip back in time, a nocturnal odyssey through the frenetic, neon-lit streets of a long-lost America.
Known for his chiaroscuro style, Henson’s cinematic photographs often transform his subject into ambiguous objects of beauty. This time round, the show presents a mysterious walk through the streets of Manhattan, evoking a seedy, yet beautiful vision of the city.
Relying on generative gaps, these landscapes result from Henson mining his archive of negatives and manipulating them to produce a finished print. Sometimes, they are composed by a principle of magnification, with Henson honing in on details, and sometimes, they are created through areas of black being expanded to make the scene more cinematic and foreboding. Like silence in a film or the pause in a pulse, the black suggests the things you can’t see.
Henson’s illustrious career has spanned four decades and was memorably marred by controversy over a series of nude adolescent photographs shown in 2008, which made him front-page news for weeks. This series of portraits made Henson the subject of a police investigation during which no offence was found.
In recent years, Henson has been a sharp critic of cancel culture, encouraging artists to contribute something that will have lasting value and add to the conversation, rather than tearing down the past.
His work deals with the liminal space between the mystical and the real, the seen and unseen, the boundary between youth and adulthood.
His famous Paris Opera Project, 1990-91, pictured above, is similarly intense as the current show, dwelling on the border between the painterly and the cinematic.
Bill Henson’s ‘The Liquid Night’ runs until 11 May 2024 at Roslyn Oxley9 Gallery.
A century ago, an expedition to the North Pole involved dog sleds and explorers in heavy, fur-lined clothes, windburned and famished after weeks of trudging across ice floes, finally planting their nations’ flags in the barren landscape. These days, if you’re a tourist, the only way to reach 90 degrees north latitude, the geographic North Pole, is aboard Le Commandant Charcot, a six-star hotel mated to a massive, 150-metre ice-breaking hull.
My wife, Cathy, and I are among the first group of tourists aboard Ponant’s new expedition icebreaker, the world’s only Polar Class 2–rated cruise ship (of seven levels of ice vessel, second only to research and military vessels in ability to manoeuvre in Arctic conditions). Our arrival on July 14 couldn’t be more different from explorer Robert Peary’s on April 6, 1909. On that date, he reported, he staked a small American flag—sewed by his wife—into the Pole, joined by four Inuits and his assistant, Matthew Henson, a Black explorer from Maine who was with Peary on his two previous Arctic expeditions. (Peary’s claim of being first to the Pole was quickly disputed by another American, Frederick Cook, who insisted he’d spent two days there a year earlier. Scholars now view both claims with skepticism.)
Our 300-plus party’s landing, on Bastille Day, features the captain of the French ship driving around in an all-terrain vehicle with massive wheels and an enormous tricolour flag on the back, guests dressed in stylish orange parkas celebrating on the ice, and La Marseillaise, France’s national anthem, blaring from loudspeakers. After an hour of taking selfies and building snow igloos in the icescape, with temperatures in the relatively balmy low 30s, we head back into our heated sanctuary for mulled wine and freshly baked croissants. Mission accomplished. Flags planted. Now, lunch.
As a kid, I was fascinated by stories of adventurers trying to reach the North Pole without any means of rescue. In the 19th century, most of their attempts ended in disaster—ships getting trapped in the ice, a hydrogen balloon crashing, even cannibalism. It wasn’t until Cook and Peary reportedly set foot there that the race to the North Pole was really on. Norwegian Roald Amundsen, the first to reach the South Pole, in 1911, is credited with being the first to document a trip over the North Pole, which he did in 1926 in the airship Norge. In 1977, the nuclear-powered icebreaker Arktika became the first surface vessel to make it to the North Pole. Since then, only 18 other ships have completed the voyage.
Visiting the North Pole seemed about as likely for me as walking on the Moon. It wasn’t even on my bucket list. Then came Le Commandant Charcot, which was named after France’s most beloved polar explorer and reportedly cost about US$430 million (around $655 million) to build. The irony of visiting one of the planet’s most remote and inhospitable points while travelling in the lap of luxury doesn’t escape me or anyone else I speak with on the voyage. Danie Ferreira, from Cape Town, South Africa, describes it as “an ensemble of contradictions bordering on the absurd”. Ferreira, who is on board with his wife, Suzette, is a veteran of early-explorer-style high-Arctic journeys, months-long treks involving dog sleds and real toil and suffering. He booked this trip to obtain an official North Pole stamp for an upcoming two-volume collection of his photographs, Out in the Cold, documenting his polar adventures. “Reserving the cabin felt like a betrayal of my expeditionary philosophy,” he says with a laugh.
Then, like the rest of us, he embraces the contradictions. “This is like the first time I saw the raw artistry of Cirque du Soleil,” he explains. “Everything is beyond my wildest expectations, unrelatable to anything I’ve experienced.”
The 17-day itinerary launches from the Norwegian settlement of Longyearbyen, Svalbard, the northernmost town in the Arctic Circle, and heads 1,186 nautical miles to the North Pole, then back again. As a floating hotel, the vessel is exceptional: 123 balconied staterooms and suites, the most expensive among them duplexes with butler service (prices range from around $58,000 to $136,000 per person, double occupancy); a spa with a sauna, massage therapists, and aestheticians; a gym and heated indoor pool. The boat weighs more than 35,000 tons, enabling it to break ice floes like “a chocolate bar into little pieces, rather than slice through them”, according to Captain Patrick Marchesseau. Six-metre-wide stainless-steel propellers, he adds, were designed to “chew ice like a blender”.
Marchesseau, a tall, lanky, 40-ish mariner from Brittany, impeccable in his navy uniform but rocking royal-blue boat shoes, proves to be a charming host. Never short of a good quip, he’s one of three experienced ice captains who alternate at the helm of Charcot throughout the year. He began piloting Ponant ships through drifting ice floes in Antarctica in 2009, when he took the helm of Le Diamant, Ponant’s first expedition vessel. “An epic introduction,” Marchesseau calls those early voyages, but the isolated, icebound North Pole aboard a larger, more complicated vessel is potentially an even thornier challenge. “We’ll first sail east where the ice is less concentrated and then enter the pack at 81 degrees,” he tells a lecture hall filled with passengers on day one. “We don’t plan to stop until we get to the North Pole.”
Around us, the majority of the other 101 guests are older French couples; there are also a few extended families, some other Europeans, mostly German and Dutch, as well as 10 Americans. Among the supporting cast are six research scientists and 221 staff, including 18 naturalist guides from a variety of countries.
The first six days are more about the journey than the destination. Cathy and I settle into our comfortable stateroom, enjoy the ocean views from our balcony, make friends with other guests and naturalists, frequent the spa, and indulge in the contemporary French cuisine at Nuna, which is often jarred by ice passing under the hull, as well as at the more casual Sila (Inuit for “sky”). There are the usual cruise events: the officers’ gala, wine pairings, daily French pastries, Broadway-style shows, opera singers and concert pianists. Initially, I worry about “Groundhog Day” setting in, but once we hit patchy ice floes on day two, it’s clear that the polar party is on. The next day, we’re ensconced in the ice pack.
Veterans of Arctic journeys immediately feel at home. Ferreira, often found on the observation deck 15 metres above the ice with his long-lensed cameras, is in his element snapping different patterns and colours of the frozen landscape. “It feels like combining low-level flying with an out-of-body experience,” he says. “Whenever the hull shudders against the ice, I have a reality check.”
“I came back because I love this ice,” adds American Gin Millsap, who with her husband, Jim, visited the North Pole in 2015 aboard the Russian nuclear icebreaker Fifty Years of Victory, which for obvious reasons is no longer a viable option for Americans and many Europeans. “I love the peace, beauty and calmness.”
It is easy to bliss out on the endless barren vistas, constantly morphing into new shapes, contours and shades of white as the weather moves from bright sunshine to howling snowstorms—sometimes within the course of a few hours. I spend a lot of time on the cold, windswept bow, looking at the snow patterns, ridges and rivers flowing within the pale landscape as the boat crunches through the ice. It feels like being in a black-and-white movie, with no colours except the turquoise bottoms of ice blocks overturned by the boat. Beautiful, lonely, mesmerising.
Rather than a solid landmass, the Arctic ice pack is actually millions of square kilometres of ice floes, slowly pushed around by wind and currents. The size varies according to season: this past winter, the ice was at its fifth-lowest level on record, encompassing 14.6 million square kilometres, while during our cruise it was 4.7 million square kilometres, the 10th-lowest summer number on record. There are myriad ice types—young ice, pancake ice, ice cake, brash ice, fast ice—but the two that our ice pilot, Geir-Martin Leinebø, cares about are first-year ice and old ice. The thinness of the former provides the ideal route to the Pole, while the denseness of the aged variety can result in three-to-eight-metre-high ridges that are potentially impassable. Leinebø is no novice: in his day job, he’s the captain of Norway’s naval icebreaker, KV Svalbard, the first Norwegian vessel to reach the North Pole, in 2019.
It’s not a matter of just pointing the boat due north and firing up the engine. Leinebø zigzags through the floes. A morning satellite feed and special software aid in determining the best route; the ship’s helicopter sometimes scouts 65 or so kilometres ahead, and there’s a sonar called the Sea Ice Monitoring System (SIMS). But mostly Leinebø uses his eyes. “You look for the weakest parts of the ice—you avoid the ridges because that means thickness and instead look for water,” he says. “If the ‘water sky’ in the distance is dark, it’s reflecting water like a mirror, so you head in that direction.”
Everyone on the bridge is surprised by the lack of multi-year ice, but with more than a hint of disquietude. Though we don’t have to ram our way through frozen ridges, the advance of climate change couldn’t be more apparent. Environmentalists call the Arctic ice sheet the canary in the coal mine of the planet’s climate change for good reason: it is happening here first. “It’s not right,” mutters Leinebø. “There’s just too much open water for July. Really scary.”
The Arctic ice sheet has shrunk to about half its 1985 size, and as both mariners and scientists on board note, the quality of the ice is deteriorating. “It’s happening faster than our models predicted,” says Marisol Maddox, senior arctic analyst at the Polar Institute of the Woodrow Wilson International Center for Scholars. “We’re seeing major events like Greenland’s ice sheet melting and sliding into the ocean—that wasn’t forecasted until 2070.” The consensus had been that the Arctic would be ice-free by 2050, but many scientists now expect that day to come in the 2030s.
That deterioration, it turns out, is why the three teams of scientists are on the voyage—two studying the ice and the other assessing climate change’s impact on plankton. As part of its commitment to sustainability, Ponant has designed two research labs—one wet and one dry—on a lower deck. “We took the advice of many scientists for equipping these labs,” says Hugues Decamus, Charcot’s chief engineer, clearly proud of the nearly US$12 million facilities.
The combined size of the labs, along with a sonar room, a dedicated server for the scientists, and a meteorological station on the vessel’s top deck, totals 130 square metres—space that could have been used for revenue generation. Ponant also has two staterooms reserved for scientists on each voyage and provides grants for travel expenses. The line doesn’t cherrypick researchers but instead asks the independent Arctic Research Icebreaker Consortium (ARICE) to choose participants based on submissions.
The idea, says the vessel’s science officer on this voyage, Daphné Buiron, is to make the process transparent and minimise the appearance of greenwashing. “Yes, this alliance may deliver a positive public image for the company, but this ship shows we do real science on board,” she says. The labs will improve over time, adds Decamus, as the ship amasses more sophisticated equipment.
Research scientists and tourist vessels don’t typically mix. The former, wary of becoming mascots for the cruise lines’ sustainability marketing efforts, and cognisant of the less-than-pristine footprint of many vessels, tend to be wary. The cruise lines, for their part, see scientists as potentially high maintenance when paying customers should be the priority. But there seemed to be a meeting of the minds, or at least a détente, on Le Commandant Charcot.
“We discuss this a lot and are aware of the downsides, but also the positives,” says Franz von Bock und Polach, head of the institute for ship structural design and analysis at Hamburg University of Technology, specialising in the physics of sea ice. Not only does Charcot grant free access to these remote areas, but the ship will also collect data on the same route multiple times a year with equipment his team leaves on board, offering what scientists prize most: repeatability. “One transit doesn’t have much value,” he says. “But when you measure different seasons, regions and years, you build up a more complex picture.” So, more than just a research paper: forecasts of ice conditions for long-term planning by governments as the Arctic transforms.
Nils Haëntjens, from the University of Maine, is analysing five-millilitre drops of water on a high-tech McLane IFCB microscope. “The instrument captures more than 250,000 images of phytoplankton along the latitudinal transect,” he says. Charcot has doors in the wet lab that allow the scientists to take water samples, and in the bow, inlets take in water without contaminating it. Two freezers can preserve samples for further research back in university labs.
Even though the boat won’t stop, the captain and chief engineer clearly want to make the science missions work. Marchesseau dispatches the helicopter with the researchers and their gear 100 kilometres ahead, where they take core samples and measurements. I spot them in their red snowsuits, pulling sleds on an ice floe, as the boat passes. Startled to see living-colour humans on the ice after days of monochrome, I feel a pang of jealousy as I head for a caviar tasting.
The only other humans we encounter on the journey north are aboard Fifty Years of Victory, the Russian icebreaker. The 160-metre orange- and-black leviathan reached the North Pole a day earlier—its 59th visit—and is on its way back to Murmansk. It’s a classic East meets West moment: the icebreaker, launched just after the collapse of the Soviet Union, meeting the new standard of polar luxury.
The evening before Bastille Day, Le Commandant Charcot arrives at the North Pole. Because of the pinpoint precision of the GPS, Marchesseau has to navigate back and forth for about 20 minutes—with a bridge full of passengers hushing each other so as not to distract him—until he finds 90 degrees north. That final chaotic approach to the top of the world in the grey, windswept landscape looks like a kid’s Etch A Sketch on the chartplotter, but it is met with rousing cheers. The next morning, with good visibility and light winds, we spill out onto the ice for the celebration, followed by a polar plunge.
As guests pose in front of flags and mile markers for major cities, the naturalist guides, armed with rifles, establish a wide perimeter to guard against polar bears. The fearless creatures are highly intelligent, with razor-sharp teeth, hooked claws and the ability to sprint at 40 km/h. Males average about three metres tall and weigh around 700 kilos. They are loners that will kill anything—including other bears and even their own cubs. Cathy and I walk around the far edges of the perimeter to enjoy some solitude. Looking out over the white landscape, I know this is a milestone. But it feels odd that getting here didn’t involve any sweat or even a modicum of discomfort.
The rest of the week is an entirely different trip. On the return south, we see a huge male polar bear ambling on the ice, looking over his shoulder at us. It is our first sighting of the Arctic’s apex predator, and everyone crowds the observation lounge with long-lensed cameras. The next day, we see another male, this one smaller, running away from the ship. “They have many personalities,” says Steiner Aksnes, head of the expedition team, who has led scientists and film crews in the Arctic for 25 years. We see a dozen on the return to Svalbard, where 3,000 are scattered across the archipelago, outnumbering human residents.
The last five days we make six stops on different islands, travelling by Zodiac from Charcot to various beaches. On Lomfjorden, as we look on a hundred yards from shore, a mother polar bear protects her two cubs while a young male hovers in the background. On a Zodiac ride off Alkefjellet, the air is alive with birds, including tens of thousands of Brünnich’s guillemots as well as glaucous gulls and kittiwakes, which nest in that island’s cliffs, while a young male polar bear munches on a ring seal, chin glistening red.
On this part of the trip, the expedition team, mostly 30-something, free-spirited scientists whose areas of expertise range from botany to alpine trekking to whales, lead hikes across different landscapes. The jam-packed schedule sometimes involves three activities per day and includes following the reindeer on Palanderbukta, seeing a colony of 200 walruses on Kapp Lee, hiking the black tundra of Burgerbukta (boasting 3.8-cm-tall willows—said to be the smallest trees in the world and the largest on Svalbard—plus mosquitoes!), watching multiple species of whales breaching offshore, and kayaking the ice floes of Ekmanfjorden. Svalbard is a protected wilderness area, and the cruise lines tailor their schedules so vessels don’t overlap, giving visitors the impression they are setting foot on virgin land.
Chances to experience that sense of discovery and wonder, even slightly stage-managed ones, are dwindling along with the ice sheet and endangered wildlife. If a stunning trip to a frozen North Pole is on your bucket list, the time to go is now.
PARADIGM SHIP
For those studying polar ice, a berth aboard Le Commandant Charcot is like a winning lottery ticket. “This cruise ship is one of the few resources scientists can use, because nothing else can get there,” says G. Mark Miller, CEO of research-vessel builder Greenwater Marine Sciences Offshore (GMSO) and a former ship captain for the US National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration (NOAA). “Then factor in 80 percent of scientists who want to go to sea, can’t, because of the shortage of research vessels.”
Both Ponant and Viking have designed research labs aboard new expedition vessels as part of their sustainability initiatives. “Remote areas like Antarctica need more data—the typical research is just single data points,” says Damon Stanwell-Smith, Ph.D., head of science and sustainability at Viking. “Every scientist says more information is needed.”The twin sisterships Viking Octantis and Viking Polaris, which travel to Antarctica, Patagonia, the Great Lakes and Canada, have identical 35-square-metre labs, separated into wet and dry areas and fitted out with research equipment. In hangars below are military-grade rigid-hulled inflatables and two six-person yellow submersibles (the pair on Octantis are named John and Paul, while Polaris’s are George and Ringo). Unlike Ponant, Viking doesn’t have an independent association choose scientists for each voyage. Instead, it partners with the University of Cambridge, the Cornell Lab of Ornithology, and NOAA, which send their researchers to work with Viking’s onboard science officers.
“Some people think marine research is sticking some kids on a ship to take measurements,” says Stanwell-Smith. “But we know we can do first-rate science—not spin.”Other cruise lines are also embracing sustainability initiatives, with coral-reef-restoration projects and water-quality measurements, usually in partnership with universities. Just about every vessel has “citizen-scientist” research programs allowing guests the opportunity to count birds or pick up discarded plastic on beaches. So far, Ponant and Viking are the only lines with serious research labs. Ponant is adding science officers to other vessels in its fleet. As part of the initiatives, scientists deliver onboard lectures and sometimes invite passengers to assist in their research.
Given the shortage of research vessels, Stanwell-Smith thinks this passenger-funded system will coexist nicely with current NGO- and government-owned ships. “This could be a new paradigm for exploring the sea,” he says. “Maybe the next generation of research vessels will look like ours.”
Piaget, the watchmaker’s watchmaker, has once again redefined the meaning of “ultra-thin” thanks to its newest masterpiece, the Altiplano Ultimate Concept Tourbillon—the world’s thinnest tourbillon watch.
In the world of high-watchmaking where thin is never thin enough—look at the ongoing battle between Piaget, Bulgari, and Richard Mille for the honours—Piaget caused a furore at Watches & Wonders in Geneva when it unveiled its latest feat to coincide with the Maison’s 150th year anniversary.
Piaget claims that the new Altiplano is “shaped by a quest for elegance and driven by inventiveness”, and while this might be true, it’s clear that the Maison’s high-watchmaking divisions in La Côte-aux-Fées and Geneva are also looking to end the conversation around who owns the ultra-thin watchmaking category.
The new Altiplano pushes the boundaries of horological ingenuity 67 years after Piaget invented its first ultra-thin calibre—the revered 9P—and six years after it presented the world’s then-thinnest watch, the Altiplano Ultimate Concept. Now, with the release of this unrivalled timepiece at just 2mm thick—the same as its predecessor, yet now housing the beat of a flying tourbillon, prized by watchmaking connoisseurs—you can’t help but marvel at its ultra-thin mastery, whether the timepiece is to your liking or not.
In comparison, the Bulgari Octo Finissimo Tourbillon was 3.95mm thick when unveiled in 2020, which seems huge on paper compared to what Piaget has been able to produce. But to craft a watch as thin and groundbreaking as its predecessor, now with an added flying tourbillon complication, the whole watchmaking process had to be revalued and reinvented.
“We did far more than merely add a tourbillon,” says Benjamin Comar, Piaget CEO. “We reinvented everything.”
After three years of R&D, trial and error—and a redesign of 90 percent of the original Altiplano Ultimate Concept components—the 2024 version needs to be held and seen to be believed. The end product certainly isn’t a watch for the everyday watch wearer—although Piaget will tell you otherwise—but in many ways, the company didn’t conjure a timepiece like the Altiplano as a profit-seeking exercise. Instead, overcoming such an arduous and technical watchmaking feat proves that Piaget can master the flying tourbillon in such a whimsical fashion and, in the process, subvert the current state-of-the-art technical principles by making an impactful visual—and technical—statement.
The only question left to ask is, what’s next, Piaget?
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Model: Altiplano Ultimate Concept Tourbillon 150th Anniversary Diameter: 41.5 mm Thickness: 2 mm (crystal included) Material: M64BC cobalt alloy, blue PVD -treated Dial: Monobloc dial; polished round and baton indices, Bâton-shaped hand for the minutes Monobloc disc with a hand for the hours Water resistance:20m
Movement: Calibre 970P-UC, one-minute peripheral tourbillon Winding: Hand-wound Functions: hours, minutes, and small seconds (time-only) Power reserve: 40 hours
Availability: Limited production, not numbered Price: Price on request