Hornsund, West Spitsbergen, Svalbard
The island of Spitsbergen narrows steadily from north to south, reaching an inverted apex at Surkapp (South Cape), its southernmost point. The fjords that dissect the island form natural avenues for polar bears passing from east to west and back again. It is a mere day’s stroll for a bear to leave the east coast and pass over the inland ice to reach Hornsund, a stunningly beautiful fjord system of the west coast of Spitsbergen. For this reason, Hornsund was a productive site for Norwegian hunter/trappers taking polar bears and arctic foxes, a practice that continued into the 1970s. This morning we entered Hornsund in yet more magnificent, clear weather. Above us rose glacially-carved peaks called horns, and glaciers descending from the mountains reached the sea at the head of the many side fjords. In one of these, Burgerbukta, we watched a large and powerful polar bear swim steadily along the glacier face, a reminder that these are true marine mammals.
Our morning landing was at Gnållodden under an imposing cliff of limestone and low-grade marble. Thick-billed murres (or Brünnichs guillemots) and kittiwakes (fortunately, only one name) nest on the cliffs and ledges above. With hands cupped behind ears, we listened to the cacophony of their calls. With each trip to the sea to feed the birds bring nutrients from sea to land, and thus fuel the growth and flowering of tiny tundra plants. We visited the trapper’s cabin beneath the cliffs, imagining the lonely life of a winter spent in the high Arctic. Nearby we found the remains of an earlier era: the foundation of a Pomar (18th Century Russian hunter) cabin and the grave of one of its former occupants.
For the afternoon we entered a side fjord where the Samarin Glacier ends in an ice face two miles across. Here we launched our fleet of inflatable watercraft, some yellow and self-propelled, others black and powered by Yamaha, for kayaking and cruising in and around pieces of glacial ice of all sizes and shapes. With sufficient imagination we could find a swan here, a battleship there, and a brilliant blue floating troll upon which rested a flock of kittiwakes. Some were witness to a very large calving event when a pinnacle of ice broke away from the glacier and, seemingly in slow motion, filled the glacial bay with clear blue ice. Others were fortunate to find a bearded seal resting on the ice, its head appearing to be two sizes too small for its rotund body.
One of the many pleasures of expedition travel, Lindblad style: at 6:00 PM you are finishing a Zodiac cruise in the ice; at 6:15 you are in a hot, comfortable shower, at 6:30 you are gathering in the ship’s lounge for the farewell cocktail party, and the drinks are on the Captain. Rather more comfortable than the life of a Svalbard trapper!
The island of Spitsbergen narrows steadily from north to south, reaching an inverted apex at Surkapp (South Cape), its southernmost point. The fjords that dissect the island form natural avenues for polar bears passing from east to west and back again. It is a mere day’s stroll for a bear to leave the east coast and pass over the inland ice to reach Hornsund, a stunningly beautiful fjord system of the west coast of Spitsbergen. For this reason, Hornsund was a productive site for Norwegian hunter/trappers taking polar bears and arctic foxes, a practice that continued into the 1970s. This morning we entered Hornsund in yet more magnificent, clear weather. Above us rose glacially-carved peaks called horns, and glaciers descending from the mountains reached the sea at the head of the many side fjords. In one of these, Burgerbukta, we watched a large and powerful polar bear swim steadily along the glacier face, a reminder that these are true marine mammals.
Our morning landing was at Gnållodden under an imposing cliff of limestone and low-grade marble. Thick-billed murres (or Brünnichs guillemots) and kittiwakes (fortunately, only one name) nest on the cliffs and ledges above. With hands cupped behind ears, we listened to the cacophony of their calls. With each trip to the sea to feed the birds bring nutrients from sea to land, and thus fuel the growth and flowering of tiny tundra plants. We visited the trapper’s cabin beneath the cliffs, imagining the lonely life of a winter spent in the high Arctic. Nearby we found the remains of an earlier era: the foundation of a Pomar (18th Century Russian hunter) cabin and the grave of one of its former occupants.
For the afternoon we entered a side fjord where the Samarin Glacier ends in an ice face two miles across. Here we launched our fleet of inflatable watercraft, some yellow and self-propelled, others black and powered by Yamaha, for kayaking and cruising in and around pieces of glacial ice of all sizes and shapes. With sufficient imagination we could find a swan here, a battleship there, and a brilliant blue floating troll upon which rested a flock of kittiwakes. Some were witness to a very large calving event when a pinnacle of ice broke away from the glacier and, seemingly in slow motion, filled the glacial bay with clear blue ice. Others were fortunate to find a bearded seal resting on the ice, its head appearing to be two sizes too small for its rotund body.
One of the many pleasures of expedition travel, Lindblad style: at 6:00 PM you are finishing a Zodiac cruise in the ice; at 6:15 you are in a hot, comfortable shower, at 6:30 you are gathering in the ship’s lounge for the farewell cocktail party, and the drinks are on the Captain. Rather more comfortable than the life of a Svalbard trapper!
