Svalbarð Fundinn

"Polar Bear!" The words resounded round the camp as everyone jumped out of their sleeping bags....

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Svalbard - Cold Coast... Spitsbergen - Sharp Peaks

There is a place, at 80° N, which continues to defy belief. The Northernmost outpost of life on this planet is a small group of Norwegian islands collectively known as Svalbard, the largest and most westerly of which is Spitsbergen. First mentioned by the Icelanders at the turn of the last Millennium (how good does that sound?!) and later 'discovered' by Dutch explorers, Svalbard was a major commercial Whaling base for several centuries, before becoming even more 'popular' during the Second World War, when everyone wanted a part of it. Now an integral part of Norway, Spitsbergen is the only permanently inhabited island and boasts a handfull of Norwegian and Russian settlements. Once hosting a thriving mining community, this has now all but disappeared. The logistics of organising independent travel to Svalbard are scary - all such trips need to be registered with the Governor of Svalbard and each group needs to be heavily armed against the real threat of Ursus Maritimus: Polar Bears! Added to this, the unthinkable costs involved in arranging your own boat transport and an organised tour suddenly looks VERY attractive. We therefore decided to go on Svalbard Polar Travel's 'Trekking at the North Pole Rim' tour.

The journey was a long one. I left my home in Yorkshire early one July Saturday afternoon for a sweltering 250 mile drive down to Brighton. The next day, my flight plan would take me from London Heathrow to Oslo, onward to Tromsø and thence to Longyearbyen - arriving at around 0230. I love flying north, though. It's great to see the the sky get lighter the later you fly. This time was even more impressive, as the weather in mainland Norway was awful. As we left Tromsø, with all its cloud and rain, we rose into the bright Midnight Sunshine as we flew towards the snow topped peaks of Spitsbergen. Landing on Longyearbyen airstrip, it could have been early afternoon rather than early morning. When the sun never even thinks about setting, time loses all relevence.

After two weeks of glorious sunshine in the UK, it had been quite a shock to find it raining in Tromsø. It was an even bigger shock to find that Tromsø airport consisted of just one room - and we had the prospect of a five hour wait for our onward flight. All was not lost, however, spying a bus we headed for town. Unfortunately, like most Scandinavian towns, no-one comes out until after 11pm, so we had the place pretty much to ourselves. Finding a bar - and finding that my extremely poor grasp of Danish was understood (I only know 3 words: "two", "beer" and "cheers"- that was lucky!) we settled in for a while...

A couple of pints were followed by a wander next door to the kebab house - yes, that's right, the Kebab House! Not just any old kebab, though. Oh, no - this was an authentic Moroccan affair and very nice too. The owner brought over the delights and offered it to me

"Here," he said, "Try this..."

 

"Mmm - very good", I approved.

"Now shall I continue holding this all night, or would you like to take it?" He offered the kebab over.

"Nah, I'll have it!", taking the hint. And they said waiter service was dead...

The morning was spent waking up to the 'city' of Longyearbyen. Set at the bottom of a valley, the brightly painted houses looked well against the dark background of the de-vegetated landscape. Remains of the country's mining history surround you here - everything has been preserved, both natural and industrial archaeology alike. The town museum, especially, held a great deal of interest for me with its detailed record of the history of polar exploration from the islands.

A sense of reality was quickly bestowed on us with the tale of recent bear attacks on nearby huts. In one hut, the bear had found - and started to eat - a sack of flour. And I thought they were only found in the North and East during summer - how wrong you can be...

Just like on the Greenland trip, this was an organised holiday. I've come to like the idea of small-group activity holidays. There are still places where I would prefer to make my own arrangements but here, where logistics are a nightmare and heavy gauge bear-stopping artillery is a must, it makes sense to give way. Besides, when the tours are run by local companies and the groups are small, it makes life one hell of a lot easier! Our group for this trip consisted of 11 mixed nationalities from England, the Netherlands, Germany, Austria, Denmark and Switzerland. With the two Norwegian guides, it made for an interesting fortnight. It's worth noting, however, that this may not always be a perfect sized group. Apparently our group of 11 was considered 'small' - they do like to pack 'em in and I'm told it's not uncommon for groups to reach the unwieldy number of 22 people - PLUS GUIDES!!! This would have been unbearable and would have definately spoilt the holiday. It's to hope that this doesn't regularly become a reality. The only way to enjoy the remote parts of this world is to do just that - STAY REMOTE. Nevertheless, as I said, this was to turn out to be the perfect group in terms of both size and mix of people.

Joining our 'cruise ship' - the M/S Brand - we set sail for the Russian settlement of Barentsberg. The ship was an amazing part of the organisation in terms of both entertainment and convenience. The convenience came in that the cruise ship plies the western coast of Spitsbergen throughout the summer, landing each day to give the cruise passengers their daily fix of Arctic land - "Do you remember the time when we walked in the Arctic? It was a long hard stretch - we walked for hours - it must have been at least 200 yards!"Little did they know, but these poor souls would provide us with hours of myrth and entertainment.

Landing at Barentsberg in two groups (we had been dubbed the 'Trekking Group' - though I tend to consider a trek to be a multi-day backpacking trip and much more than we were due to do). The Boat People were, then, the 'Cruise Group'.

 

Q: What's the difference between the 'Trekking Group' and the 'Cruise Group'?

A: About 4 miles an hour!

Barentsberg, we were warned, should not be compared with the likes of Longyearbyen. How right that was. Lynette, a Photographic Artist, found an interesting example of modern art awaiting her on the dockside, requiring a view from every angle. Bits of rusty lorry were entwined with rusting boat hulls and, off to one side, the ramains of a rusty helicopter - the only thing missing was a nuclear submarine (but They're Out There...) The local girl who showed us the town took great pleasure in telling the history of Russian activity on the island. Like other areas, mining is now all but gone and, following a drastic plane crash a few years ago which wiped out the majority of the townsfolk, Barentsberg is now little more than a ghost town, which really is a sad state of affairs. No-one stays here for more than about 2 years, most people giving up after just one dismal winter. In the cliffs above the town - Hollywood style - are the white words "World Peace". Let's hope that people take heed.

The museum, past the 'Olympic Stadium' and the 'Barentsberg Hilton' (honest!), houses more examples of polar attempts - this time, of course, by Russians and one 'interesting' piece of natural history - a pickled Polar Bear's heart! Of course, when given the opportunity, we had to visit a genuine Russian bar - complete with genuine Russian Vodka. This was good stuff, all right!

That night, the sea was a little choppy as we followed the outer run of Prinz Karls Forland. Stood on the deck, the weather was bleak but never have I felt so contented to pass through such lonely waters with just the birds for company. With the land shrouded in low cloud and waves rocking the boat, the effortless gliding of the Fulmars and the deft flocks of Little Auks skimming the water looked just right. I've never been into birdlife in any way, shape, or form but here, at a mere 600 miles from the North Pole, it all just fits into place.

Magdelene Fjord was our first landing, the next day. This was the site of one of the most horrific tragedies of recent years. A number of years ago, a family of Austrians had camped here. Believing that this was the Polar Bear's kingdom - and what right did they have to harm a bear in its own terratory? - thay did not carry rifles. During the night, the father awoke to noises outside the tent. Sticking his head out of the door, he was immediately struck by a Polar Bear who, after knocking him out, dragged him out to sea and onto a nearby iceberg from where it leisurely ripped him apart and ate him alive in front of his family. All they could do was throw stones at the bear; the moral - don't be stupid - a rifle is a necessity out here.

 

"If you set this off", said André, one of the guides, "The whole camp will wake up."

On the third night - one hour before my second watch - the camp was awakened by André's shouting:

 

"Polar Bear, Polar Bear!"

Jumping out of my pit, sure enough there were two bears on the beach - a mother and cub. There are two well advertised behaviour patterns; if the bear is curious, it will walk slowly, stopping occasionally to sniff the wind. If the bear moves quickly towards you - maybe raising itself onto its hind legs (maybe 7 feet high!) - then the body language tends to speak for itself! Luckily, this one seemed to be in 'curious' mode. It spent quite a while, walking along the beach and up one side of the camp, never coming closer than 200 yards. I knew that my following watch would now be boring, as she would not return that night. This is quiite an important observation, however; this mother and cub have now been seen at this camp on every tour this season - in previous years, there may have been just one or two sightings per season, a sure sign of the increasing local population of a species once almost hunted to extinction.

We heard a report later in the week - from the group who followed us at this camp - of a much more serious incident, however. Having been out walking during the day, the group returned to find an adult male bear in their camp. It had damaged about 6 of their tents and had also broken into their food tent, where it proceded to eat a sack of bread. As the group approached he, indeed, raised himself onto his hind legs in greeting. The bear was scared away without harm, but this is a much more worrying situation as he may have now learnt to associate people with food. This should be avoided at all costs as, without fear of humans, the bear is indeed dangerous.

The final birthday of the fortnight was that of our glorious leader André, a mere youngster at only 29. André was obviously well thought about, because one of the group, Eva, stayed up for four hours during the night to bake cakes! They were certainly well appreciated.

It is a Svalbard law that nothing pre 1946 may be removed. The place is a living museum which doesn't just include the nature. This is an industrial archaeologist's Utopia. Nature and history remain there side by side. Around the settlements, the signs of mining are there in your face while out in the wilds are the remains of the old trappers. They live on in the remains of their huts and their graves.

But this was one hell of a place to live; by far the most impressive scenery I have ever seen. We were camped about 200 yards from the sandy beach, mountains on two sides and a lake just slightly upvalley of us. Across the fjord, a long chain of snow-capped mountains formed a most dramatic backdrop. I've never seen so many glaciers in one area before, virtually one per peak. Amazing.

The walks around the area were quite varied, taking in the beach and the main valley and the ranges on either side. There are unlimited possibilities in the area. A lot of the mountains are conglomerated, ie compacted rocks, as opposed to the solid slabs which I had grown used to on Greenland. The contrast could not have been more distinct. In East Greenland, the terrain indeed makes for harder walking and the high peaks make the mountains more impressive. However, here we were in much more impressive surroundings (it also helped, the fact that, here, the weather was clear and the views stretched for miles whereas on Greenland the low cloud base and miserable weather made for much more restricted viewing).

Many a snowfield was crossed and I was quite pleased at the end of the holiday that my boots had taken on no water whatsoever. Any such discomfort would, however, have been far outweighed by the stunning views from the tops. The ridge walk along one side of the valley was especially rewarding, with views off to all sides, including a fantastic view of Ben Nevis! It was on the highest point of the ridge walk that a healthy discussion developed about underwear. Not the frilly, lacy kind, you understand; more along the lines of CocaCola bottles or sheep-based.

Whereas natural fibre clothing is making strong inroads throughout the world, with its warm, lightweight and breathable attributes, the Scandinavians still prefer the feel of wool next to their skin (ouch!) No, I don't think much came of the discussion and, although light-hearted and good humoured, the group remained in a state of 'stalemate' and it remained only to 'agree to disagree'!

One thing to beware of across the Arctic region is the threat of attack from Skuas & Arctic Terns. The latter little buggers just don't give in! If you get anywhere near their nest, they first of all circle around your head and will quickly 'go for the kill' with merciless attacks to the head. They are, however, easy to avoid - when god was handing out intelligence, the Tern was obviously nowhere to be found. Enter yet another fantastic use for the trekking pole! (No, not to spear them; if you hold the pole above your head - or, better still, above someone else'shead - they will attack that instead). It's a point worth knowing.

After three nights in camp, the boat finally arrived late on the fourth day to take us on to our next camp, near the Blomstrand Glacier. The 'boat people' were much younger this time and this prompted the question as to why young people feel the urge to go on this type of cruise. Accepted, all people do not share the same thought-patterns. Accepted, some people do not have the physical ability to walk great distances, but these are generally normal young people, who would easily have the ability to do more. At each landing, for instance, no walk would be longer than a mile and the average would be around half that. On one occasion, the cruise leader anounced that the next landing - although there being 3 armed guides - would consist of a single group of around 50 people, who would walk VERY slowly (quote, unquote) and after a short walk, they would stop and then walk another 200 meters! I stayed on the boat on this occasion, in disgust.

Now this is ridiculous!There can surely be no justification for enforcing such a large and unwieldy groupsize on people who have paid a large amount of money to visit such a remote place?The whole reason for coming to 80°N is to feeland experience the isolation, which cannot be attained in such circumstances. If the reason is not to experience the solitude - rather to cater for the 'seen it... been there... done it...' brigade - then the commercial aspect must also be questioned. Still, the boat tours are a necessary hurdle which enable the small group to attain the otherwise unaffordable.

The boat is, undoubtable, the ideal way to see wildlife - perhaps this is the motive? Heading north to the flat, isolated island of Moffen, the whole island was awash with buck-toothed pinnipeds - Walrus. What an amazing sight! The entire island is a nature reserve and, like the islands in the east of the archipelago, landing is not permitted. The boat hung around for a while as hoards of tourists flocked to photograph the Walruses on the island and in the water. And all around as we travelled, the air was full of Skuas, Fulmars, Terns and Little Auks. After about 5 minutes on deck with the jostelling crowd. I turned round and headed back to my pit - I'd seen enough ("Heathen", I hear you shout!)

Other than Longyearbyen and Barentsberg, the only other settlement we saw on our trip was Ny Ålesund, a scientific community of around 150 residents from across the globe. It is not possible to stay here as a tourist, so the only way one can see the place is as part of a boat tour - and several dock here each day. Today, the 150 residents were inundated by around 500 of the buggers! (I admit to being one of them, though!) This is - wait for it - The Northernmost Town In The World. Here, you can see:

• The Northernmost steamtrain in the world
• The Northernmost statue of Amundsen in the world and
• THE NORTHERNMOST POST OFFICE IN THE WORLD!

Now you can see why this has the Northernmost Tourists in the world. With a couple of hours available though - cruise passengers only tend to stay on land for around 30 minutes - it is possible to avoid the mayhem and realise that this is one of the nicest settings for any town. The town is set near the mouth of the fjord, with a dramatic mountainscape as a backdrop; a really nice place to live. And as the last boat leaves the dock, you can see the curtains twitch as the residents heave a sigh of relief...

Across the bay, though, lay Blomstrand - the glacial bay which would afford us our next camp for another 3 or 4 days. Now this is, by far, the most impressive camp site known to man. Across the water from our golden-sand beach camp, a pair of glaciers glistened pure white in the glorious sunshine. From the nearest one, an impressive crevasse field tumbled into the sea. With such a backdrop, it was not possible to avoid the temptation to go for a swim for the tourists so, wearing nothing more than my boxer shorts I ran, teeth clenched, into the water. Strangely, it didn't feel all that cold. I think the word is 'numbing'; after no more than 2 minutes, sunshine or no sunshine, it was time to retreat - and I sure had! Out of the water, the feeling was amazing - my entire body was burning - what a feeling!

Across the bay, back at the camp, the hot weather was obviously causing mayhem with the glacier. All around, the sun was cracking great chunks off the crevasse field where we'd happily been playing the previous day. All around, the deafening crash of ice broke the silence. Anyone would think we were in the middle of a war zone!

Again, the Bear Watch was maintained each night, though it is around 2 years since any have been seen in this area. Still, two weeks ago, in Longyearbyen... As well as the pen-sized flares, we also had a couple of had guns. These held flare cartridges of around 3 inches x 1 inch:

"I think, " laughed André, " that if you set this off, the whole of Ny Ålesund will wake up!"

And he was probably right. What a beast! Luckily, we didn't get to hear how loud these were, as we didn't see any more bears (they were probably scared off for good, the last time anyone fired one of these things!) The watch, here, was even more peaceful and relaxed than before. The scenery was stunning. After a short spell of rain earlier in the evening, the sky was clear and the sun warm, with not even the slightest breeze, when me and Steve did our 2 hour watch together at 1 AM. Apart from the wildlife, not a thing stirs. The sea was calm, as we sat and watched a seal bobbing in the bay and a line of Geese parading along the beach to the water's edge. In this short, hectic, summer nothing sleeps. All the animals and birdlife continue to live and feed throughout the night in a frenzy before the first signs of dusk arrive in a couple of months time.
 
 

But soon it was over with nothing left but to return to the hubub of 'The Smoke', Longyearbyen for a well earned bath and an haute-cuisine meal in the Svalbard Polar Hotel. Having crossed the 80° line, we had all received an amazing certificate, even more tacky than last year's Greenland 'tourist trophy'. The worded "...in the best polar tradition participated in an expedition in Arctic waters..." We were on a cruise boat, for Christ's sake! Still, the people on the next table semed joyously pleased to receive such an outstanding award. Little things... (as they say)

So, with joy in our hearts and alcohol in our veins, we boarded the first of three planes back to civilisation. Eventually arriving back to glorious London sunshine (really) it really was a journey of 'planes, trains & automobiles', but luckily no pillows! It was quite a shock to see the moon again...

The average July temperature in Svalbard is around 5°C. During our holiday, this was the minimum temperature - the maximum being 20°. Below is a table of the average daily temperatures, but it must be noted that these are much higher than normal.

 

Date	Average temp	Average Wind chill
11/07/99	4.10	1.00
12/07/99	4.10	1.00
13/07/99	4.10	1.00
14/07/99	5.10	-0.50
15/07/99	7.80	-1.70
16/07/99	11.90	2.40
17/07/99	8.00	6.40
18/07/99	12.80	2.90
19/07/99	7.60	-2.40
20/07/99	9.60	3.10
21/07/99	5.30	-1.30
22/07/99	6.60	-5.40
23/07/99	9.60	7.00
Holiday av.	7.43

(data supplied by Nordlysstasjonen, Adentdalen - the Auroral Station)

Some other useful links can be found on my main links page

As usual, I must now thank my 'sponsor' - Crossley Tordoff's of Pontefract, West Yorkshire for their overwhelming level of help and support with the supply of all my equipment for this and previous trips. I am a great believer in using the best gear for the job and I am pleased to use the down products of RAB Carrington. I'd also like to thank our guides, André & Nicolay, without whom the holiday would not have had the same flavour. Finally, to our UK tour operator of several years, Arctic Experience Ltd.

It's amazing, but whenever I find myself in the most wonderful and awe-inspiring corner of this 20th century maelstrom of a planet, some bright spark has to ask "Why?" My exploits may seem unfitting in comparison, but to this end I shall borrow the famed words of one Wally Herbert:

 

And of what value was this journey?

It is as well for those who ask such a question that there are others who feel the answer and never need to ask.

A dream fulfilled - but next time I'm going somewhere where I'm at the top of the food chain!

Kev

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