Bölscheøya, Svalbard
Here in the land of the north, far above the Arctic Circle, it is hard to tell day from night. The midnight sun shines upon us and our bodies respond as if it were the middle of the day. One tries to sleep but that sliver of intensity peaks beneath the curtains calling that it is time to rise even when it is not. Sadly luminosity does not guarantee visibility. As bright as the fog of the day was, it did little to aid our search for bears and ice and even for a place to land.
We spent the morning then watching fulmars magically appearing and disappearing into a world of their own. Cozy in the lounge we learned of plants and mammals of the north. But that hidden world outside kept tempting and tantalizing us until like the birds we too flew free of the bonds of the ship.
Orange-coated naturalists were adorned like Christmas trees with an assortment of decorations dangling from their necks and pockets; two radios each, two crew-finders, binoculars, cameras, compass and GPS. The Zodiacs were equipped with radar reflectors and emergency supplies. Off we went, unsure of what we were to find but confident that our safety was ensured and an adventure to be had.
It’s a strange feeling to set out into the mist with no paved or trampled path to set our course by. We could pretend we were whalers and explorers of the past with no instruments but a compass to guide the way. It was imagination only for the radio chatter gave the secret away. Our drivers knew exactly where we were headed to and the ship was tracking us on radar every step of the way.
A fog bow arched over the tiny island of Bölscheøya where dark rocks of the shore stair-stepped uphill providing perches for myriads of little auks and their red-footed relatives, the black guillemots. Ice floes tipped on end or eroded into lacy panels bobbed in our wake or parked themselves against the beach. Puffins puffed their chests out proudly standing tall beside burrow holes. Barnacle geese, flightless in their annual moult ran across the landscape in a strange and jerky parade. Almost hidden in the floating ice and crowd of Zodiacs, six tiny red phalaropes frantically fed. Suddenly the sun appeared and the fog was swept away like a curtain to reveal the finale of the show. An enormous polar bear was browsing in the intertidal zone! He took a bow quite rapidly and turned and walked away disappearing over the crest of the hill just as the filmy drapes were drawn again.
Back on board, it was a Swedish festival with special pancakes at tea and a giant smorgasbord dinner complete with snaps and singing.
Tonight bright light does guarantee a gorgeous sight and we flocked to the decks to watch as the Endeavour danced once again through the ice.
Here in the land of the north, far above the Arctic Circle, it is hard to tell day from night. The midnight sun shines upon us and our bodies respond as if it were the middle of the day. One tries to sleep but that sliver of intensity peaks beneath the curtains calling that it is time to rise even when it is not. Sadly luminosity does not guarantee visibility. As bright as the fog of the day was, it did little to aid our search for bears and ice and even for a place to land.
We spent the morning then watching fulmars magically appearing and disappearing into a world of their own. Cozy in the lounge we learned of plants and mammals of the north. But that hidden world outside kept tempting and tantalizing us until like the birds we too flew free of the bonds of the ship.
Orange-coated naturalists were adorned like Christmas trees with an assortment of decorations dangling from their necks and pockets; two radios each, two crew-finders, binoculars, cameras, compass and GPS. The Zodiacs were equipped with radar reflectors and emergency supplies. Off we went, unsure of what we were to find but confident that our safety was ensured and an adventure to be had.
It’s a strange feeling to set out into the mist with no paved or trampled path to set our course by. We could pretend we were whalers and explorers of the past with no instruments but a compass to guide the way. It was imagination only for the radio chatter gave the secret away. Our drivers knew exactly where we were headed to and the ship was tracking us on radar every step of the way.
A fog bow arched over the tiny island of Bölscheøya where dark rocks of the shore stair-stepped uphill providing perches for myriads of little auks and their red-footed relatives, the black guillemots. Ice floes tipped on end or eroded into lacy panels bobbed in our wake or parked themselves against the beach. Puffins puffed their chests out proudly standing tall beside burrow holes. Barnacle geese, flightless in their annual moult ran across the landscape in a strange and jerky parade. Almost hidden in the floating ice and crowd of Zodiacs, six tiny red phalaropes frantically fed. Suddenly the sun appeared and the fog was swept away like a curtain to reveal the finale of the show. An enormous polar bear was browsing in the intertidal zone! He took a bow quite rapidly and turned and walked away disappearing over the crest of the hill just as the filmy drapes were drawn again.
Back on board, it was a Swedish festival with special pancakes at tea and a giant smorgasbord dinner complete with snaps and singing.
Tonight bright light does guarantee a gorgeous sight and we flocked to the decks to watch as the Endeavour danced once again through the ice.
