So far north, yet so accessible

Norway | Anno 2018

 

Wednesday 18 July | Longyearbyen

Thursday 19 July | Ny-Ålesund – Magdalenefjorden

 

 

Wednesday 18 July | Longyearbyen

A grey blanket of clouds hangs low over the North Sea. Tattered gaps occasionally reveal a glimpse of the coastline. The Norwegian fjords with their snow-capped peaks show up soon. It’s a rugged coast, with elongated islands surrounded by a maze of waterways.

The approach will be thrilling. We fly lower and lower between the mountains, until the peaks obscure the view of the landscape

 

Gradually, we lose sight of that coastline. We now have about a thousand kilometres of the Norwegian Sea to cross. It’s not until just before noon that snow-covered peaks shyly pierce through the cloud cover. A mountainous landscape reveals itself as we descend, with treeless slopes deeply cut by erosion gullies and covered in patches of snow. In the distance, a large body of water is visible. That must be Isfjorden, the fjord where Longyearbyen is located, the capital of Svalbard.

 

Spitsbergen – Adventdalen

The approach will be thrilling. We gently descend into Adventdalen, a wide valley that opens into Isfjorden. We fly lower and lower between the mountains, until the peaks obscure the view of the landscape. A short left turn, then a brief stretch over the sea, and before we know it, the engines begin to roar as they slow us down. We’ve arrived at Svalbard Lufthavn Longyear. The flight from Belgium has taken just under four hours.

 

Isfjorden

Le transfer est organisé à pied, comes the announcement in French over the Lignes France intercom. So, we’ll be walking to the airport building. It’s sunny with light clouds, and the thermometer shows a not-unpleasant 7 °C (45 °F). But appearances can be deceiving, as the wind is chillier than we’re used to. We’ll soon learn that the perceived temperature here is usually significantly lower than the measured one.

The photogenic setting of the airport immediately makes an impression. Photographers scatter in all directions. The airport staff struggle to usher us inside on time, as the next flight is already approaching.

And there it is, our very first polar bear. Luckily, it’s a stuffed one

And there it is, between the luggage conveyor belts, our very first polar bear. Luckily, it’s a stuffed one. Ikke rør isbjørnen, reads the sign – do not touch the polar bear. Whether everyone will adhere to that is another question.

Less than half an hour after landing, we’re outside. An impressive signpost points out all possible distances – London, Mexico City, Bangkok, Tokyo... you name it. But what interests us most is Nordpolen, the geographic North Pole. It turns out to be just 1,309 km away from here.

 

 

It's a strange realization. In just under four hours of flying, we’ve gone from Belgium to this spot at 78° 15’ north latitude. Vernadsky Station, on the other hand, our southernmost position in Antarctica, required no less than five days of sailing from Ushuaia, Argentina. And even then, we were only at 65° 15’ south latitude, more than 2,700 km from the South Pole. Experts will later explain to us that the fact that Svalbard is so far north yet so accessible is all due to the warm Gulf Stream.

 

Entrance to the old coal mine

Our suitcases are loaded onto a truck, our hand luggage goes into a bus, and we settle into yet another bus. And off we go. An asphalt road takes us to downtown Longyearbyen, almost five kilometres from here. That accounts for 10% of the entire road network, as Svalbard has only 50 km of paved roads in total.

 

Svalbard Global Seed Vault

Soon, we notice a strange structure high up on the mountain slope to our right. That’s the entrance to the Svalbard Global Seed Vault, the world’s seed bank. More than two million seeds from all kinds of plant species are stored there. It’s as secure as it gets. Earthquakes aren’t a concern here, nor are military conflicts. The permafrost acts as a natural refrigerator. If the power supply were to fail, it would take weeks for the temperature to rise from – 18 °C (0 °F) to the surrounding temperature of – 4 °C (25 °F). That’s more than enough time to fix the problem. Even if sea levels were to rise due to melting ice caps, it would be a while before the seeds would be threatened. The entrance is located 130 meters above sea level.

Those seeds are there to be used. This actually happened not too long ago, in 2015, for the very first time. Specifically in Syria

Those seeds are there to be used, there can be no doubt about that. This actually happened not too long ago, in 2015, for the very first time. Specifically in Syria, where the local seed bank in Aleppo was no longer able to provide the requested samples due to the civil war.

At the Gammelkaia, the old pier, the M/V Sea Spirit is already waiting for us, as it turns out. It returned from its journey to Franz Josef Land last night, and just twenty-four hours later, it will embark on a voyage around Svalbard with us tonight. It will be our home base for the next ten days. But for now, we leave it aside and continue to the University Centre in Svalbard.

 

Longyearbyen

On foot, we explore the town. Two parallel asphalt roads run perpendicular to the coast, extending a bit into a valley. That’s about all there is to the topography of Longyearbyen. But that’s enough for a community of just over two thousand residents. Along the local version of the main street, you’ll find all the necessary amenities for both tourists and locals – hospital, post office, hotel, travel agencies, supermarket, shopping centre, pubs, restaurants, and more.

All the buildings here are on stilts. In winter, the cold air can freely circulate under the houses. Otherwise, the permafrost beneath the heated homes would thaw, and your house could sink into the soggy ground.

 

 

Snowmobiles are everywhere. Groups of a few dozen are parked on pallets between houses. They’re completely useless in the summer but absolutely essential in the winter months. It’s said that Longyearbyen has four thousand of these flashy vehicles with tracks and skis – two per resident.

In 2005, a certain Peter Adams wrote that the streets in Longyearbyen don’t have names, only numbers. That’s not entirely accurate, as the main asphalt road is named after Hilmar Reksten, a Norwegian shipping magnate. But Adams had an explanation: Grown men do not build houses in streets that are named Blueberry Road or Teddy Bear Yard.

 

Guns aren’t welcome here; they should be stored in the gun cabinet. And dogs are to be ‘parked’ by the flagpoles

Gradually, thick clouds have taken over the sky. For a quick lunch, we settle into the Barentz Pub. Shoes off, slippers on – that’s the rule here. Though it seems not everyone takes it to heart. But there’s more. Guns aren’t welcome here; they should be stored in the gun cabinet – key available at the reception. And dogs are to be parked by the flagpoles.

 

Scheuchzer's cottongrass

Around two thirty, we head for the Svalbard Museum. Louis Beyens, an emeritus professor from the University of Antwerp, will guide us through this small but excellent overview of the archipelago. Louis knows his stuff. Over the past few decades, Spitsbergen has seen him regularly camping in the tundra or on the ice, carefully sifting the soil for scale-bearing amoebae and their companions.

Actually, the archipelago is called Svalbard, Louis explains, while Spitsbergen is just the largest island of this archipelago. The Norwegians use the name Svalbard to reinforce their claims on the island group. After all, it was the Vikings who discovered Svalbard in the 12th century, as is being told firmly in Oslo. Although, not everyone is convinced of this, since no physical evidence of Viking presence has been found on the islands.

What is certain is that in 1596, the Dutchman Willem Barentsz spotted the sharp mountain peaks of the largest island. He was so impressed by them that he named the island Spitsbergen, what means sharp-peaked mountains in Dutch. It was his third attempt, and you could say the third time's the charm, as his previous two attempts had ended in failure.

As for who came first – Barentsz or the Pomors – there's still no definitive answer

Not that Barentsz was looking for such islands. His goal was to find a passage along the northern coast of Siberia to the lucrative markets of China and Japan. At that time, Spain and Portugal controlled the sea routes in the southern hemisphere, which didn’t sit well with other seafaring nations like England and the Netherlands. They wanted an alternative.

What’s also certain is that from the 16th or 17th century onwards, Pomors began wintering on some of the islands. The Pomors were a people of Russian hunters and fishermen from the White Sea region, near the port city of Arkhangelsk. But as for who came first – Barentsz or the Pomors – there's still no definitive answer.

 

 

Geologically, there could hardly be more difference between east and west in Svalbard, Louis emphasizes. In the west, we find the jagged mountains that give the island its name, while in the east, we have to make do with flattened hills.

In addition, the North Atlantic Drift, an extension of the warm Gulf Stream, washes up on the islands from the southwest. This current keeps the water on the west side ice-free for much of the year. This places Svalbard in a unique position, making it far more accessible than other areas at comparable northern latitudes, such as Greenland, Canada's Ellesmere Island, or Russia's Novaya Zemlya.

The east side, on the other hand, is permanently gripped by a cold ocean current. It’s significantly colder there, with much more sea ice, and even the Hinlopen Strait – the wide sea passage between the two largest islands – is frozen over for most of the year. Only by late June or early July can passage be considered.

Glaciers are the norm here. About 60% of the archipelago is covered by them. Nord­aust­landet, the second-largest island, even boasts a fonna, a true ice cap – the third-largest in the world after those in Antarctica and Greenland.

Rocks, stones, pebbles, and debris cones make up 27% of the landscape. The remaining 13% allows for some vegetation to take root – lichens, mosses, flowers, and even dwarf trees. Altogether, the islands cover an area of approximately 61,000 km² – about twice the size of Belgium.

 

 

A relatively shallow sea, the Barents Sea, with an average depth of 200 to 300 meters, separates Svalbard from Europe. As a matter of fact, Svalbard lies right on the edge of the continental shelf.

To the north, the situation is quite different. There the seabed quickly plunges to depths of four to five thousand meters. This is the Arctic Ocean, the smallest of the five oceans on Earth.

However, it’s a mistake to think that the seabed there is flat. Deep beneath the sea, across the North Pole, runs the Lomonosov Ridge, an underwater mountain range that is believed to be an extension of a mountain range in Siberia – at least that is how they see it in Moscow. And they might be right, Louis notes. The Russians certainly base their geopolitical claims in the Arctic region on this.

Geopolitical squabbles, however, are not an issue in Svalbard, thanks largely to the Svalbard Treaty of 1920. After World War I, the young nation of Norway was granted sovereignty over Svalbard, albeit with some limitations. Military activities are prohibited, and taxes can only be levied to the extent that they are used for the administration of Svalbard.

Perhaps the most remarkable aspect is the non-discrimination clause. Norway is free to apply its laws in Svalbard, but these laws cannot differentiate between citizens of different nationalities. Norwegians, Belgians, Russians, and Americans all have the same rights there. This led to the peculiar situation during the Cold War where Russian soldiers could freely roam the territory of a NATO member state.

During the Cold War Russian soldiers could freely roam the territory of a NATO member state

Although Barentsz discovered Svalbard, it was the whalers who truly profited from it. Barentsz had reported on the rich wildlife along the coasts and in the fjords, and less than twenty years later, in 1612, whaling was being conducted on an industrial scale. It's a story of brave and adventurous men, dreaming of wealth – or so they call it here.

 

Epitaph of Abram Iorisse

The story of hunters and trappers commands respect, especially when we see the remnants of the clothing they had to rely on. No waterproof trousers, Gore-Tex parkas, or boots with Arctic grip technology – just felt hats, simple woollen caps, and knee-high knitted socks. A rare epitaph rescues one of the whalers from oblivion: Hier leit begrave Abram Iorisse Schaep van Rotterdam. Is gestorve den (…) 1712 opt schip De (…). In translation it reads: Here lies buried Abram Iorisse Schaep from Rotterdam. Died (...) 1712 on the ship De (...).

 

Primitive shoe

Setgun for polar bear hunting

Much less respect we have for the setgun, a wooden contraption with a sawed-off shotgun mounted in it. As soon as an unsuspecting polar bear steps on a plank baited with food, the bear triggers the gun and kills itself. Louis notes that it’s a non-selective weapon, as even female bears with cubs were caught in its deadly trap. Two fur hunters once boasted that they had killed 145 polar bears in one winter season on Halvmåneøya using this technique. It wasn’t until 1973 that this cruel device was banned.

Two fur hunters once boasted that they had killed 145 polar bears in one winter season using this technique

We continue to stroll through Longyearbyen. Contrary to Peter Adams' suggestion of a male-dominated society, it’s a full-fledged community with a kindergarten, shopping street, and hospital, allowing families to settle in. The colourful wooden houses look large and comfortable, and the streets are notably clean.

What a difference from 1906, when the Arctic Coal Company set up a few barracks for its miners here. Up to 64 men shared a barrack, sleeping in four-tiered bunk beds. Potable water was scarce, and food was hardly better, especially in the spring when they awaited new supplies. John Munro Longyear was in charge of the company, so it was logical that the settlement became known as Longyear City.

In 1916, the business passed into Norwegian hands, and the place was renamed Longyearbyen, with byen meaning settlement in Norwegian. Coal remained the region's economic engine, but this became increasingly difficult as the mines were exhausted, production costs rose, and markets dwindled.

Today, only Mine 7 in Longyearbyen remains active, located further up Adventdalen. Only about a dozen miners work there daily, digging five kilometres into the mountain. What they extract is enough to power the local coal plant and meet private needs.

The days of winter isolation were over, and Longyearbyen became accessible year-round

Meanwhile, time hasn't stood still. From the 1960s onwards, modernization took hold, with the construction of the airport in 1975 marking a breakthrough. The days of winter isolation were over, and Longyearbyen became accessible year-round. Tourism has since become the new economic spearhead.

We walk to Gammelkaia, where the M/V Sea Spirit is waiting for us. It’s half-past four when we board. With genuine warmth, cabin steward Mario greets us as we search for our home for the next few days. It’s a fairly spacious, comfortable cabin, with everything securely fastened and drawers and doors that lock with a click. They're well-prepared for rough seas here.

 

M/V Sea Spirit

The Sea Spirit is certainly no small vessel, measuring 90 meters in length. However, it's not too large either, making it ideal for navigating inlets and fjords – especially important when exploring the polar regions. The ship is reinforced for ice, which means it can handle smaller ice floes without trouble, though it’s not an icebreaker and isn’t meant to ram through thick pack ice.

It’s not an icebreaker and isn’t meant to ram through thick pack ice

In open water, the Sea Spirit cruises at 15 to 16 knots, which translates to about 28 to 30 km/h. Built in Italy over a quarter-century ago in 1991, the ship has undergone several refurbishments, the latest in 2017. Now, it's registered in Nassau, Bahamas, where it calls home.

Just after five, we’re welcomed in the lounge on deck three by expedition leader Ryan Hope-Inglis. A Brit who has lived in Longyearbyen for four years, Ryan even leads winter trips there. His experience spans both the Arctic and Antarctica, and he’ll be responsible, alongside the captain, for charting our course – deciding which landing sites we’ll visit, where the zodiacs will cruise, and where the kayaks will be launched. Planning ahead is tricky in Svalbard due to the unpredictability of the weather.

Ryan isn’t alone in this task. Poseidon Expeditions has provided him with an entire expedition team – specialists in geophysics, geology, glaciology, sedimentology, ornithology, marine biology, ecology, nature photography, and underwater photography. These are not dusty academics but seasoned polar enthusiasts with a wealth of experience. Their passion for extreme environments is infectious, and we’ll need to be on guard against catching it, we are told. Add to this the Asteria team with its experts, and we can rest assured that no aspect of the local fauna and flora will go unnoticed.

Their passion for extreme environments is infectious, and we’ll need to be on guard against catching it, we are told

But the logistics are just as important. The Sea Spirit boasts a crew of seventy – 63 men and 7 women from eighteen different nationalities. This includes not just Captain Oleg and his officers on the bridge, the sailors on deck, and the engineers in the engine rooms, but also the hotel team – the people who keep the cabins, kitchen, restaurant, and bar running smoothly. And let's not forget the ship’s doctor, Gloria.

 

M/V Sea Spirit – The Bridge

The bridge is open to us day and night. We can always take a look there and even chat with the officers, as long as we don’t disturb the operations or remind Captain Oleg of the general smoking ban.

One hand for the ship, one hand for yourself, that’s the basic rule on board

Ryan has some additional advice for us. One hand for the ship, one hand for yourself, that’s the basic rule onboard. This means always keeping one hand free to maintain balance, especially since doors on a moving ship can slam shut unexpectedly. You definitely don’t want to get your fingers caught in one.

The greatest danger on a ship is fire. If a fire breaks out, there’s no place to escape. This is another reason to adhere strictly to the smoking ban – unless your name is Oleg and you’re the captain. And speaking of safety, when you hear a whistle signal of seven short bursts followed by one long, it’s time to assemble. We’ll practice this shortly.

While Svalbard may not be as pristine as Antarctica, efforts are made to keep it as untouched as possible. So, nothing should be taken, left behind, or lost – accidentally or otherwise. To minimize risk, each of us is given just one bottle of mineral water, which can be refilled at the bar as often as needed.

Communication with the outside world will be minimal. No phones, emails, wifi, radio, or TV. Only in exceptional cases communication will be possible via satellite phone or ship mail.

Onboard, we have an excellent library with hundreds of books, especially about the polar regions. There’s also a bar, a jacuzzi, a fitness room, and a small infirmary. Ryan smiles as he gives us the overview.

Add to that a bar, a jacuzzi, a fitness room and a small hospital, and the overview is complete, beams Ryan with pride.

At six o’clock, the ship starts to vibrate noticeably. The engines have evidently been started. A quarter-hour later, the quay begins to drift away from us. Our ten-day journey around the main island of Svalbard has begun.

Soon after, the siren sounds seven short bursts followed by one long. Following the instructions, we don our warm jackets, grab our life vests, and hurry to Muster Station B in the club on deck four.

We look like a bunch of Michelin costume people cheering for the House of Orange

Struggling to fasten the orange life vests, we look like a bunch of Michelin costume people cheering for the House of Orange. Cabin numbers are called out. Skipping the drill is not an option, as Mario checks our cabin behind our backs.

Then, four groups start to move. Like orange snakes, they slide independently through the corridors and down the stairs of the ship, heading to their assigned lifeboats. For us, it’s lifeboat number two on deck three.

The drill ends there. The life vests can be put away, hopefully for good. Only a long, uninterrupted signal from the siren could still mean a real evacuation is imminent.

 

 

At half past seven, we get acquainted with the restaurant on deck two. The tables and chairs are securely anchored to the floor for safety reasons. Miguel, Juan, Lei, and many others are cheerfully ready to provide smooth service. The women are of Chinese nationality, while most of the men are of Filipino descent.

Their good humour seems unaffected by the fact that they work seven days a week, throughout the season. Their work rhythm remains steady as well. They spend their nights on deck one, notably below the waterline.

In the kitchen, the cheerful French chef Francis is in charge. What he and his seven cooks prepare daily easily compares with the finest restaurants on land. His seven years working at Paul Bocuse in Lyon is likely not unrelated to that.

A man working at the stove is considered embarrassing, at least through African eyes. That we will later learn when chef Francis chats with us. His father is from Durban, South Africa, and his mother is from Cameroon. As young athletes, his parents met at a Pan-African sports competition. One thing led to another and suddenly little Francis appeared on the scene. Francis shakes his belly with laughter while he tells his story.

But the fact remains that in Africa a man who cooks is met with ridicule. His mother therefore prefers not to say that her son is a chef, even not a chef on a cruise ship. Instead, she proudly tells family, friends, and neighbours that her son Francis is a Food and Beverage Manager on a cruise ship.

As a consolation prize, a few Brunnich guillemots skim low over the water.

Barely have we finished our starter when a beluga alarm sounds through the intercom. Still somewhat awkward in our new role, we leave the cutlery and rush to deck four. However, we barely catch a glimpse of the white whale, except for a distant vague spot. As a consolation prize, a few Brünnich's guillemots skim low over the water.

 

Brünnich's guillemots

Nine o’clock. We head down to the lounge to receive our expedition parkas, Muck boots, and neck warmers. We’ll need these for our landings in the coming days.

Gradually, we reach the open sea to the west of Svalbard, and we’ll certainly feel it. The ship rolls up and down, and we carefully navigate through our cabin. We’re heading north now, around Prins Karls Forland. The Forlandsundet, the strait that separates this elongated island from Spitsbergen, is only four meters deep in some places – not ideal for our Sea Spirit.

Eleven o’clock. A thick layer of clouds still hangs over the sea, and it’s broad daylight. There’s no night here, and it will stay that way for the coming weeks. They call it the polar day here, which lasts 129 days. From 17 April to 24 August, the sun will tirelessly remain in the sky, as we learned earlier at the museum. It will never be more than 35° above the horizon, but it will not dip below it either.

The flip side of the coin starts on 26 October. That’s when the polar night begins. Complete darkness will last until 16 February, a total of 113 days.

The fact that the polar day lasts a bit longer than the polar night – fortunately – has to do with the shape of the sun. It’s not a point-like light source but a disc. So, it takes a bit longer for the sun to completely disappear below the horizon. Even then, some light rays continue to reach us, thanks to refraction in the atmosphere.

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Thursday 19 July | Ny-Ålesund – Magdalenefjorden

Quite early in the morning, at half past six, our German cruise manager Bettina wakes us via the intercom, with a hint of enthusiasm that borders on schadenfreude. The sun is already high above the horizon, flashes through our minds as we look out the window. Oops, think again, because that’s a misperception – the sun is still high above the horizon.

There is an un-Arctic atmosphere over the immense bay – a beautiful spring sun shines against a mostly blue sky, there is no wind and it’s not cold

Kongsfjorden

Around us unfolds in all its glory Kongsfjorden, the largest fjord on the northwest coast of Spitsbergen. There is an un-Arctic atmosphere over the immense bay – a beautiful spring sun shines against a mostly blue sky, there is no wind and it’s not cold, the sea is calm and ripple-free, and the air is crystal clear. Thankfully, a small iceberg drifting in the water reminds us that we are indeed in the High North.

 

Confluence of Kronebreen and Kongsvegen Glacier

While we are bent over an omelette, the Sea Spirit moors at the small pier of Ny-Ålesund. Strands of snow drape the erosion gullies on the slopes of the bare, ash-grey mountains. A few dozen wooden houses lie at the foot of the slope. In the summer, around 150 people stay here, with about 40 overwintering. This makes the modest spot one of the northernmost permanently inhabited settlements in the world. They can already boast the most northern post office.

Ny-Ålesund would have become a ghost town if not for the fact that scientists soon recognized the unique value of the location

Ny-Ålesund

But first, there’s another matter to attend to. Specifically, a safety briefing on zodiacs and polar bears – mandatory for everyone, according to Ryan.

What the International Association of Antarctic Tour Operators (IAATO) is for Antarctica, the Association of Arctic Expedition Cruise Operators (AECO) is for the Arctic – an association of tour operators dedicated to organizing safe, sustainable, and environmentally friendly tourism in the polar regions. AECO also emphasizes ethical interaction with indigenous peoples.

We are advised to wear waterproof clothing, boots, gloves, and a hat. And, of course, a life jacket. A backpack or camera bag slung over the shoulders is allowed, but not in the zodiac. Because in an emergency, the life jacket inflates itself. Combined with a shoulder strap, it can become a perfect strangulation device.

Leaving the cumbersome life jacket behind on the beach during a walk might be tempting, but it’s not a good idea. An unwelcome polar bear could appear on the beach behind us, and then we’d be in trouble.

For landings, ten people will fit in a zodiac; for cruises, twelve. Two sailors will assist us aboard with a seaman’s grip. Once seated, we hold onto the boarding rope tightly. Get in, sit down, shut up, and hold on, Ryan grins as he summarizes.

Sustainability and environmental friendliness are the norms here. We leave nothing behind, take nothing with us – no flowers, no plants, no stones, no fossils, no reindeer antlers, not even a piece of driftwood. Also, be careful when picking up or touching things. Rabies has been detected in foxes, seals, and even reindeer on Svalbard. So, it’s best not to touch any live or dead animals.

And polar bears, we should keep a considerable distance from them. In principle, they can appear anywhere, at any time. Sometimes they are very difficult to see on the rolling rocky coasts.

In fact, there are three types of polar bears, says Ryan – timid, indifferent, and curious. The last category can be dangerous. As a matter of fact, the other two can be dangerous as well

In fact, there are three types of polar bears, says Ryan – timid, indifferent, and curious. The last category can be dangerous. As a matter of fact, the other two can be dangerous as well. It is rare for a polar bear to come directly at you, but if it does, it becomes very serious.

Staying in a group is the message. Each time we go ashore, a perimeter will be marked with red flags. Armed guides will protect this perimeter. When we go for a walk, an armed guide will accompany the group at the front and rear.

If the ship’s horn sounds while we are ashore, we must immediately return to the landing spot. We will then be evacuated to the Sea Spirit. The horn would likely signal the presence of a polar bear nearby. When this happens, it’s not the most suitable time to start taking photos, Ryan notes.

At half past nine, we walk onto the pier. Strictly speaking, Ny-Ålesund is located at 78° 55’ north latitude, says Sergey, our Russian guide with years of experience in the polar regions. But in the settlement, you will see the designation 79° here and there. This is not a mistake, he emphasizes, it’s merely foresight. Due to continental drift, Ny-Ålesund will be there in just a few million years, as Svalbard is gradually drifting northwards.

 

Tre Kroner

At least four glaciers slide into the sea in the distance – Kongsbreen, Kronebreen, Kongsvegen, and Conwaybreen. Three deep-blue peaks with patches of snow on their slopes rise like pyramids above the ice. The Inuit call such dark rock formations amidst a white ice layer nunataks. Snow has little grip on them; their slopes are too steep. Due to their imposing appearance, the Norwegians have named this trio Tre Kroner, or Three Crowns – specifically Dana, Nora, and Svea, referring to Denmark, Norway, and Sweden.

Due to their imposing appearance, the Norwegians have named this trio Tre Kroner, or Three Crowns

In any case, it’s pure luck that we get to see Tre Kroner at all, Sergey notes. Mist usually obstructs the view here. But today, the nunataks are shining splendidly.

 

Kongsfjorden – Tre Kroner

It had long been known that coal could be found in this area. In 1916, the Kings Bay Kull Compani from Ålesund, Norway, purchased the land and established a settlement, which they named Ny-Ålesund – New Ålesund.

Naturally, mining here was far from straightforward. The coal seams lay deep underground, even beneath the permafrost. Trying to keep your tunnels dry and your shafts open was quite a challenge. It took just twelve years before KBKC gave up on the venture.

After World War II, the prospects looked somewhat better. International demand for coal had increased. The mine was now under Norwegian government ownership. Operations resumed, the mine was modernized, and production figures appeared promising. However, fatal accidents continued to occur. An explosion on 5 November 1962, which resulted in 21 fatalities, proved to be the tipping point. The mine was closed, Prime Minister Gerhardsen was forced to resign, and the population moved away.

Ny-Ålesund would have become a ghost town if not for the fact that scientists soon recognized the unique value of the location. Today, about fifteen countries have research stations here. Ny-Ålesund has thus become a hub of Arctic research. This research is coordinated at Sverdrup Station, an institution of the Norwegian government. Nowhere else in the world are the effects of climate change felt as acutely as in Svalbard.

As early as 1925, Amundsen took his chance with two Dornier Wal seaplanes

Sergey guides us along an elevated gravel path, which he wryly calls the main street of Ny-Ålesund. It is indeed the only street in the modest settlement, flanked by colourful wooden houses. On the left, an authentic locomotive with a few wagons makes its appearance. This was once used to transport coal. The charming set was thoroughly restored in 2016.

 

Ny-Ålesund – Coal train

Roald Amundsen

So we end up at Central Square, Sergey beams. And indeed, in the middle of the tundra, we find a statue here. It’s a bust of Roald Amundsen.

Here you’ll find the world’s northernmost post office, as well as the northernmost hotel. The idea in 1936 when the Nordpol Hotellet was inaugurated was to develop some tourist activity alongside mining. However, tourists did not show up, and even attempts in the 1960s to revitalize the hotel failed. Nowadays, the building is used for events or to host important visitors. Visitors like us, for instance? Sergey shakes his head.

Most of the houses are occupied by international researchers. The Indians have their shoes left at the door, the Chinese two marble lions, and the Dutch two bicycles.

The Indians have their shoes left at the door, the Chinese two marble lions, and the Dutch two bicycles

Ny-Ålesund

Nordpol Hotellet (1936)

Initially, polar foxes even lived under the Dutch house. But they quickly put an end to that, as ornithology is their field of research. Foxes and birds don’t make a healthy combination – at least not for the birds.

One of the houses has the rather pretentious name Amundsen Villa, because the famous explorer lived there in the 1920s.

Reaching the edge of town, signs warn us about polar bears. It is forbidden to proceed further without a weapon. But we are relying on Vadim, who is waiting for us further along with a rifle over his shoulder.

 

Moss campion

 

Once in the tundra, a plant with dark pink flowers immediately catches the eye. It’s a moss campion, also known as the compass plant because the beautiful flowers first appear on the south side. The petals seem to lie on a spherical, green cushion, one of the many ways plants here adapt to the extreme conditions. This spherical shape helps the plant retain heat better – inside it’s a bit warmer than outside. Additionally, the shape somewhat weakens the airflow above the plant, reducing moisture loss.

The spherical shape helps the plant retain heat better – inside it’s a bit warmer than outside

But we are mainly interested in the thirty-five-meter-tall mast standing alone in the tundra. This brings us to the events that once focused the eyes of the whole world on Ny-Ålesund.

For this mast is an anchoring tower to which zeppelins dock, like ships to a pier. Vadim, our Russian guide with years of experience in the Arctic, will explain this to us. We will come to know him as a true optimist, with a perpetual smile on his lips.

 

Anchoring tower of the zeppelin

Commemorative plaque for the first flight over the North Pole (1926)

Expeditions to the North Pole often departing from Ny-Ålesund is no surprise to Vadim. After all, we are only 1,230 km from the North Pole here, and this place is relatively easy to reach.

Another man having understood this well was Amundsen. As early as 1925, he took his chance with two Dornier Wal seaplanes. In the early morning of 21 May, they took off from the ice in Ny-Ålesund. Eight hours later, they made an emergency landing just 251 km from the North Pole, at 87° 44’. One of the planes, the N24, was no longer airworthy.

A harrowing period followed. By hand, they took more than three weeks to clear a 500-meter runway on the pack ice. Several times they had to start over because movements in the ice had undone their work. All the while, the six of them huddled together in the N25, surviving on a ratio of 450 grams of food per day.

All the while, the six of them huddled together in the N25, surviving on a ratio of 450 grams of food per day

Everything unnecessary was thrown out of the N25. The fuel from the N24 – located several kilometres away – was transferred to the N25. Twenty five days later, on 15 June, they were ready. Miraculously, they managed to take off, but a fuel shortage forced them to land on the sea eight hours later, just north of Nordaustlandet, Svalbard’s second-largest island. Once again, they were incredibly lucky – the ship Sjøliv was nearby and succeeded in safely picking up the crew, who were believed to be dead, and delivering them back to their starting point.

 

 

But Amundsen was not the type of man to give up easily. In 1926, he embarked once again, this time aboard the Norge, a zeppelin built by the Italian Nobile and funded by the American Ellsworth. They successfully flew over the North Pole, dropping a Norwegian, an Italian, and an American flag. Much to Amundsen's annoyance, he discovered that Nobile had brought a much larger flag than the other two.

Much to Amundsen's annoyance, he discovered that Nobile had brought a much larger flag than the other two

The plan was to land in Nome, Alaska, but it wasn't smooth sailing. Fog formed a layer of ice on the balloon, and chunks of ice were hurled by the propellers against the delicate skin of the balloon. A storm pushed the zeppelin across the Bering Strait toward Siberia. With great effort, they managed to return to Cape Prince of Wales and, after a 72-hour flight, landed in Teller, a small Inupiaq village in western Alaska.

However, by this time, the relationship between Amundsen and Nobile had soured. Each believed he deserved all the credit – Amundsen as the expedition leader, and Nobile as the pilot and builder of the zeppelin. And they both made sure to broadcast their claims to the world.

 

 

Whatever the case, their expedition was the first to be absolutely certain to have reached the North Pole. Their alleged predecessors – Cook, Peary, Byrd – were never able to convincingly substantiate their claims.

But Nobile was not one to rest on his laurels. And Benito Mussolini was keen on an Italian triumph at the North Pole – perhaps even a landing. So, in 1928, another expedition was launched, this time with the zeppelin Italia. Aided by a strong tailwind, they reached the North Pole on 24 May after just nineteen hours of flight from Ny-Ålesund. They didn't dare land but did manage to drop a flag.

The plan was again to fly on to Alaska, but that plan was abandoned. The onboard meteorologist was certain that the tailwind would die down. Turning back and returning to Svalbard seemed the best option.

The zeppelin lost altitude, ice ridges tore open the gondola, and ten crew members were thrown onto the ice

So said, so done. But the wind did not keep its promise, and the Italia ran into trouble. The zeppelin lost altitude, ice ridges tore open the gondola, and ten crew members were thrown onto the ice. Nobile – unconscious, with a broken arm, leg, and ribs – was one of them. One man did not survive.

 

 

Completely out of control the balloon drifted out of sight, with six men still on board, including Chief Engineer Arduino. He immediately realized the hopelessness of their situation. In an astonishing display of calmness, he began throwing everything he could find overboard – food supplies, equipment, tools. This surprising reflex likely saved the lives of the nine men stranded on the ice.

This surprising reflex likely saved the lives of the nine men stranded on the ice

For it would be another 49 days before those men were rescued by the Russian icebreaker Krasin. This was partly due to the indifference, unwillingness, and even opposition from the Italians. In Mussolini's Italy, failure was not an option. Ultimately, 1,500 people would be involved in the international rescue operation, which later became known as Operation Red Tent.

 

Warning for polar bears

Arctic tern

Even Roald Amundsen, despite his strained relationship with Nobile, joined the rescue effort. However, the search for his arch rival would ultimately cost him his life. On 18 June his seaplane crashed en route to Svalbard, with only the tail of the aircraft ever being found. As for the Italia, along with Arduino and the five others on board, they were never heard from again.

Despite his heroic death, Norwegians don't consider their compatriot Roald Amundsen a true hero, Vadim concludes his long tale. That title is reserved for Fridtjof Nansen, the other polar enthusiast. What Nansen did, he did for science. In contrast, what Amundsen did, he did for... Amundsen.

 

 

Meanwhile, a chilly wind has picked up, and a thick layer of clouds has dispelled the pleasant springtime feeling of this morning.

We head down to the By- og Gruvemuseum, the northernmost museum in the world, dedicated to the town (By) and its coal mining history (Gruve). We also find information about the local flora and fauna there.

On the first floor, we are immersed in the exploits of Byrd, Amundsen, Nobile, and Ellsworth. Not that there’s much new to learn after Vadim’s detailed account, but the black-and-white photographs further fuel our imagination. One rusty steel tube, about two meters long and 15 cm in diameter, makes an impression. Such tubes were used to supply the dangerous hydrogen gas for the zeppelins – 4,800 of them were needed to fill the gasbags of the cigar-shaped envelope.

This means they cover about 40,000 km each year. The explanation for this is simple – daylight

Down by the pier, a few fuel tanks are safely placed on a hill behind a fence. It’s no surprise that this is the favourite spot of a small colony of Arctic terns. These aggressive little birds, with their white-grey plumage, black heads, and red beaks, are known for their hostility. Sergey had already warned us: if you get too close to their nests, they won’t hesitate to attack. The advice is to protect your head, but you must not retaliate against the birds – like all birds on Svalbard, Arctic terns are protected. Wounding them could mean starvation for their chicks.

Even the more placid bird species are aware of the terns’ combative nature. They like to nest near or among a tern colony, believing that the militant terns will successfully scare off any potential threats.

 

Arctic tern

You wouldn't expect it from them, but in our summers you will find these relatively small birds of 100 to 125 grams with a wingspan of around 80 cm in the Arctic, in our winters in the Antarctic. This means they cover about 40,000 km each year. The explanation for this is simple – daylight. For by migrating that far, most of the year they inhabit areas where the sun shines 24 hours a day and where they can find food all day long.

When a young Arctic tern is fed fish from the sea by its parents, the chick’s body temperature can drop by up to 6° C due to consuming the fish. This is a remarkable adaptation to extreme conditions. Mammals like us would not be able to handle that.

It’s lightly raining as we board the Sea Spirit again just before noon. We leave civilization behind for a while. For the next eight days, we won’t encounter any inhabited settlements.

If you look up the Icelandic annals from the year 1194, you find the cryptic phrase Svalbard fundinn

In the lounge, Sergey provides more information about Svalbard. We already knew that Spitsbergen was named by Willem Barentsz in 1596. We also knew that the name Svalbard emerged in the early 20th century.

Sergey attributes this to young Norway, which had only become independent in 1905. As a result, it could count on significant goodwill when it began making claims on Spitsbergen.

The Norwegians believed they had good reason for this. If you look up the Icelandic annals from the year 1194, you find the cryptic phrase Svalbard fundinn – Svalbard discovered. For the Norwegians, it is clear. This phrase means that the Vikings discovered the archipelago, a good four hundred years before Barentsz.

Others are less convinced. Svalbard means nothing more than cold coast or cold edge. The sea route mentioned in the annals is so vague that it could refer to Spitsbergen, Greenland, Jan Mayen, Franz Josef Land, or even Iceland or the edge of the pack ice to the north. No physical evidence has been found of Vikings having landed on Spitsbergen.

Such trivialities do not deter the Norwegians. Since 1925, they have referred to the entire archipelago as Svalbard, with Spitsbergen as the largest island. Previously, Spitsbergen was the name of the archipelago and West Spitsbergen the name of the largest island.

In short, there are probably more polar bears on Svalbard than people

Still, the west coast of Svalbard is the only place where you find settlements. No wonder, since this is where the warm sea current washes ashore. The coast is therefore ice-free for longer periods, and the average temperature is significantly higher.

But we shouldn’t exaggerate the number of settlements on Svalbard. You can almost count them on one hand. In Longyearbyen, Ny-Ålesund, and Sveagruva, there are just over 2,200 inhabitants of 42 nationalities under Norwegian administration. In Barentsburg and Pyramiden, about five hundred Russians live and work. And then there is the small Polish research station in Hornsund. In short, there are probably more polar bears on Svalbard than people.

Administratively, Svalbard is under the authority of the sysselmann, a sort of governor. Currently, this is Kjerstin Askholt. She manages everything; there is no parliament or representation here. Besides, Sergey adds, who would be on such a body given the many nationalities and frequent personnel changes?

As a bonus, Sergey gives us a brief introduction to Norwegian. It’s easier than we thought. Øya means island, and halvøya – how did you guess – means peninsula. Halvmåneøya thus means Half-Moon Island. A fjellet is a mountain, a breen is a glacier, a dalen is a valley, and a kapp or neset is a cape. Let’s better see them in real life, we think to ourselves, while looking out the window.

 

The ragged mountains of Spitsbergen

It won’t be long now, as we have meanwhile travelled a considerable distance northward along the coast of Spitsbergen. With a wide turn, we enter the Magdalenefjorden, heading east. This is said to be the most beautiful fjord in Svalbard, according to the books. We don’t disagree with that, as we soon find ourselves admiring the impressive scenery.

 

Magdalenefjorden

Even under the dense, grey clouds, the mirror-smooth water glistens sea-green. Pointed peaks from all sides remind us why this archipelago was originally named Spitsbergen. Glaciers glide majestically between the peaks towards the water. Small, deep-blue icebergs pass by. Black guillemots float peacefully on the water, then suddenly dive headfirst, staying underwater for minutes in search of fish and crustaceans.

 

This is said to be the most beautiful fjord in Svalbard

With much clanking, the anchor chain rolls down at twenty past four. We look down at a modest little beach. You wouldn’t immediately guess it, but this spot is rich in history. The little peninsula is called Gravneset. Our knowledge of Norwegian is sufficient to understand that this is the cape of the graves.

 

Gravneset

In 1596, Willem Barentsz was the first to appear on the scene here. The fjord turned out to be a safe haven for ships. Soon, English whalers arrived, beginning to bury their dead here. This practice continued until 1800, even after the English had left the area in 1623. The improvised cemetery ultimately counted around 130 graves.

Ce cimetière plus affreux qu’aucun autre; cimetière sans épitaphes, sans monuments, sans fleurs, sans souvenirs, sans larmes, sans regrets, sans prières, noted the French novelist Léonie d'Aunet in 1838. In translation this reads This cemetery more dreadful than any other; a cemetery without epitaphs, without monuments, without flowers, without memories, without tears, without regrets, without prayers. Incidentally, Léonie d'Aunet was probably the first woman to set foot here, accompanying her husband on a scientific expedition aboard the corvette La Recherche.

We shouldn't imagine much from such a grave. Permafrost makes it impossible to dig deep into the ground here. Usually, the body was placed in a simple coffin and covered with heavy stones. A hungry polar bear would have no trouble with that.

But it wasn’t only polar bears that made a mess of it

But it wasn’t only polar bears that made a mess of it. Tourists caused such a havoc on the cemetery that a large number of bones had to be reburied, noted the Norwegian newspaper Aftenposten… in 1932.

It will be a while before we can explore all of this on-site. On the aft deck, zodiacs are lowered into the water using a davit. First, a few scouts set out on reconnaissance. They meticulously search the area for possible silhouettes of polar bears, as we prefer not to encounter such creatures during our landing.

Meanwhile, we get to work in our cabin with our gear. Rain pants and a parka over our regular clothes, a second pair of socks, waterproof high boots, a neck warmer, a woollen cap, waterproof gloves, a life vest, and the parka hood over our head. Not unexpectedly, this turns out to be very hot, so we hurry outside.

The desk on deck three is where we check out. This is done electronically with our ship ID card – a routine procedure that will be meticulously applied each time. Because there must be no uncertainty about the whereabouts of the passengers. Once the magnetic card is swiped, our name and photo appear on the screen. Mistakes are almost impossible.

 

Preparing the zodiacs

Then the message comes that the coast is clear. A staircase leads us to the marina deck at the back of the ship, just above the waterline. A Milpro MK5 Heavy Duty rubber boat with a 60 hp Yamaha outboard motor is bobbing on the water, securely fastened to the railing. The boat crew and zodiac driver are ready to safely guide us aboard.

We quickly settle into the spacious, black hull, which is compartmentalized into separate air chambers. So, a fatal leak is not something we need to worry about right away. The hard bottom provides a comfortable grip, even though we are not allowed to stand during the ride.

Zodiac driver Vadim, however, is allowed to stand. In fact, he must. Standing at the helm, he steers his boat with ten passengers away from the ship in a wide arc. But first, he gives us a brief safety briefing. What to do in the event of a MOB (Man Overboard)?

 

On the way to the zodiac

Disembarkation at Gravneset

All of us – except for two people – are to crouch on the floor of the zodiac so that Vadim can clearly see where the person in the water is located. The two seated individuals are to continuously point with outstretched arms towards the person overboard so that Vadim does not lose sight of him. Once sufficiently close, Vadim will pull the MOB aboard, which should be done with the person facing upwards.

Should the unthinkable happen – Vadim himself is the MOB – the dead man's cord will immediately cut off the zodiac’s engine. We are to ignore our unfortunate Vadim in the icy water, as that will be handled by the other zodiac drivers if they are nearby. Our sole concern must be to grab the paddles and row back to the Sea Spirit as quickly as possible. Quite realistic, if you ask us.

 

Magdalenefjorden, Gravneset

It is just after five when we reach the beach. We dutifully slide one by one over the hull, swing our legs overboard – always with feet pointing toward the ocean, as that is where the lowest point of the boat is – and wade through the shallow water onto the sandy beach.

Three armed escorts are waiting for us

Three armed escorts are waiting for us. Further along stands Sanna, a Finnish guide also with a rifle over her shoulder. She will lead us on our trek to Gullybreen, a strenuous hike through the glacier’s moraine. Sanna is a geologist specializing in glaciology. Glaciers are her thing; she knows them literally inside and out. With a friendly grin her colleagues call her the Finnish Ice Woman.

 

On the way to the Gullybreen

It was only since 2002 that a modest fence marks the hill where the 130 graves of whalers are located. Further along, there is a hut belonging to the governor. During the peak season, they try to organize some supervision.

It was mainly the bowhead whale that was slaughtered en masse here

The immediate area around the English blubber houses is now also off-limits. On stone circles, copper vats – blubber kettles – were placed. In these, the blubber, the thick layer of fat just under the whale’s skin, was cooked down to whale oil. In Europe, this oil was highly sought after as lamp oil, for the production of soap, and for treating leather and textiles. The baleen, on the other hand, found its way into women's corsets, hoop skirts, fans, and umbrellas.

 

 

It was mainly the bowhead whale that was slaughtered en masse here. It shouldn’t have swum so slowly and stayed afloat after being killed – two qualities that whalers appreciate. Four centuries ago, the Barents Sea could boast the largest population of bowhead whales in the world. Today, more than fifty years after the moratorium went into effect in 1966, the species is still threatened there.

Sanna immediately gets to work. Around sixty people have turned up for the trek to the glacier front of Gullybreen. The others explore the area around the beach.

 

Gullybukta with the Gullybreen (left in the background)

Page also joins us, a professional nature photographer from Virginia, USA. Each of the photos he takes is a gem. With him around, you might as well put your own camera away.

 

 

Meanwhile, it has started to rain lightly. We make our way in a long line toward the terminal moraine. It seems like an earthen wall covered with stones, but appearances can be deceiving. It’s almost certain that glacier ice forms the core of this moraine. On top are rocks and earth that the glacier has carried along over the centuries. Now, they create an insulating layer around the frozen core.

 

 

This brings us into a desert of stones, on the shore of Gullybukta. The English once called this small inlet of the Magdalenefjorden Trinity Bay because it proved to be such a safe anchorage. Ice floes drift slowly seaward.

Over the stones and boulders of the moraine, the ascent becomes more challenging. We’re sweating under our life jackets, parkas, and rain pants. In the distance, the impressive glacier front gradually looms larger. With each step, the white wall seems to grow, though we’re still almost a kilometre away.

 

Gullybreen

We now reach a small sandy beach. Further ahead, a great skua watches us fearlessly. He has the webbed feet of a seabird and the strong hooked beak of a bird of prey – a unique combination.

 

Great skua

Aggressiveness is the trademark of this rather large bird. Attacking birds in flight, biting their wings, and stealing their prey is routine for this brown pirate. A polar fox will think twice before sniffing around the nest of a great skua. Even a polar bear can be driven away from its nest by pecking at its nose and ears. We should also be cautious. If you approach its nest too closely, it will strike out very aggressively and peck at your head.

Even a polar bear can be driven away from its nest by pecking at its nose and ears

In the distance, the dull roar of calving ice regularly echoes. It’s hardly worth looking up, Sanna notes, because sound takes about three seconds to travel a kilometre. The event is mostly over by the time the sound waves reach our ears.

 

At the top of the glacier, mist is gradually claiming Gullybukta

Gullybreen

 

Then Sanna starts climbing the slippery, steep slope of the glacier. She knows more about that than we do. But the surroundings are beautiful, even though it’s still raining.

Behind us, the column of hikers has grown into a long line. Too long, in fact, to still be safe. The distance between the armed guides at the front and back has become too great. A third armed guide should be walking halfway along.

 

 

At the top of the glacier, mist is gradually claiming Gullybukta. It’s still raining as we begin our return at half-past six. An hour later, we reach the sandy beach of Gravneset. A zodiac is ready to take us back to the Sea Spirit.

 

Magdalenefjorden

On the marina deck, we give our boots and rain pants a good brush-off. One last swipe of the magnetic card through the computer, and it's official – we're back on board. Our trip lasted almost three hours. On deck three, they are actually waiting with a damp, warm cloth and a cup of hot ginger tea for us. It will later turn out that this is a regular ritual. We do not object, of course not.

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Jaak Palmans
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