Nordaustlandet and the South Hinlopen Strait Region
In the land of the midnight sun, the days can seem endless, each blending into another, as one spectacular event after another reveals itself. Often on the National Geographic Endeavour as our shipmates chat amongst each other discussing the recent bear sighting or how many walrus were seen on a beach, they check themselves, asking, “was that only yesterday?” Today would be no different, as our day started at 0530 approaching the Nordaustlandet Ice Cap. This spectacular ice wall, reaching upwards to 65 feet had us gaping in awe as we looked higher and higher, our necks arching backwards, as Captain Leif Skog brought us closer and closer. By the time we had finished we could have washed down the decks with one of the melt waterfalls that streamed from the ice cap’s side, seemingly reached out and touched the hard blue ice, or taken a cold shower ourselves. But on another day of firsts, as our gaze reached the top of the ice wall, what was sitting there but a polar bear, posing at the edge, further engraining in our minds that this creature is indeed the “King of the Arctic.” Some of our naturalists have been coming to Svalbard for 20 years or more, often visiting this Ice Cap, and none have ever seen such a spectacle.
It is not only pioneering sights above the water’s surface that have us mesmerized and wondering, but below the ocean surface as well. The sea surrounding Svalbard has one of the least studied benthic communities in the world. The bottom here runs a series of dips and rises, covering depths from 20 to 2000 feet, enveloped sometimes in a silty muddy layer, or sometimes total rock. The water temperature varies little, staying at 30 - 32°F for most of the year, and in the winter covered completely with ice in many places. Many would think that these conditions would inhibit life from growing, but on the contrary, the colder the water is, the more oxygenated and nutrient-rich it is. This makes for the perfect place for small rorqual whales, such as the minke, to feed, as well as the ideal environment for filter feeders such as the anemones to live.
Much of the exploration that National Geographic Endeavour’s Undersea Specialist, Dennis Cornejo, and I do in Svalbard, is done by ROV. The ROV, or Remotely Operated Vehicle, is a small submersible which is “flown” from an electronic consol in a Zodiac on the surface, traveling well below diving limits. The ROV is tethered to the Zodiac by an umbilical cord, and captures what is seen below on video, which is then shown in the comfort of our lounge. It is at these deeper bottom sites where the most interesting, wonderfully weird, and least studied creatures live. There are times that we will find an organism that has not been categorized anywhere, leaving it to our best guess as to what it does and why it is there.
Pictured here is a hydroid medusa found at 170 feet. This genus, Gonionemus, has not been cataloged in any Svalbard underwater guides as yet, but in general this hydroid medusa moves within the water column as any other, using water jet propulsion to move in the “open and close the umbrella” motion, mainly in a vertical pattern. However, a special characteristic that this medusa has is that it can attach itself to vegetation, and “crawl” around the bottom. Beware though, they can resume their water flight suddenly, and appear to jump from their seats.
In our expedition of unique experiences on the National Geographic Endeavour, it seems that repetition is not part of our vocabulary, as every hour Svalbard exhibits something new and unusual.
In the land of the midnight sun, the days can seem endless, each blending into another, as one spectacular event after another reveals itself. Often on the National Geographic Endeavour as our shipmates chat amongst each other discussing the recent bear sighting or how many walrus were seen on a beach, they check themselves, asking, “was that only yesterday?” Today would be no different, as our day started at 0530 approaching the Nordaustlandet Ice Cap. This spectacular ice wall, reaching upwards to 65 feet had us gaping in awe as we looked higher and higher, our necks arching backwards, as Captain Leif Skog brought us closer and closer. By the time we had finished we could have washed down the decks with one of the melt waterfalls that streamed from the ice cap’s side, seemingly reached out and touched the hard blue ice, or taken a cold shower ourselves. But on another day of firsts, as our gaze reached the top of the ice wall, what was sitting there but a polar bear, posing at the edge, further engraining in our minds that this creature is indeed the “King of the Arctic.” Some of our naturalists have been coming to Svalbard for 20 years or more, often visiting this Ice Cap, and none have ever seen such a spectacle.
It is not only pioneering sights above the water’s surface that have us mesmerized and wondering, but below the ocean surface as well. The sea surrounding Svalbard has one of the least studied benthic communities in the world. The bottom here runs a series of dips and rises, covering depths from 20 to 2000 feet, enveloped sometimes in a silty muddy layer, or sometimes total rock. The water temperature varies little, staying at 30 - 32°F for most of the year, and in the winter covered completely with ice in many places. Many would think that these conditions would inhibit life from growing, but on the contrary, the colder the water is, the more oxygenated and nutrient-rich it is. This makes for the perfect place for small rorqual whales, such as the minke, to feed, as well as the ideal environment for filter feeders such as the anemones to live.
Much of the exploration that National Geographic Endeavour’s Undersea Specialist, Dennis Cornejo, and I do in Svalbard, is done by ROV. The ROV, or Remotely Operated Vehicle, is a small submersible which is “flown” from an electronic consol in a Zodiac on the surface, traveling well below diving limits. The ROV is tethered to the Zodiac by an umbilical cord, and captures what is seen below on video, which is then shown in the comfort of our lounge. It is at these deeper bottom sites where the most interesting, wonderfully weird, and least studied creatures live. There are times that we will find an organism that has not been categorized anywhere, leaving it to our best guess as to what it does and why it is there.
Pictured here is a hydroid medusa found at 170 feet. This genus, Gonionemus, has not been cataloged in any Svalbard underwater guides as yet, but in general this hydroid medusa moves within the water column as any other, using water jet propulsion to move in the “open and close the umbrella” motion, mainly in a vertical pattern. However, a special characteristic that this medusa has is that it can attach itself to vegetation, and “crawl” around the bottom. Beware though, they can resume their water flight suddenly, and appear to jump from their seats.
In our expedition of unique experiences on the National Geographic Endeavour, it seems that repetition is not part of our vocabulary, as every hour Svalbard exhibits something new and unusual.
