Okay, the blog post title sounds a lot worse than it was. It drew a collective gasp from the crowd on the boat, er, ship, although in retrospect it was pretty funny. Our collective gasp was a way over-reaction on our part
To set the stage, Lucho came on the PA system at 7:26 am. My Spider-Sense (Note to Marvel: I don’t actually have Spider Sense, so I don’t owe you money) immediately tingled with one thought: Bear. It wasn’t quite 7:30 am, so the “Good Morning, Good Morning” that Lucho greeted us with each morning was four minutes early.
Sure enough, a bear had been sighted on the pack ice. I bolted outside, as Carol got ready (I was not in my pajamas – I had already gotten up at 6:00 and was blogging away). There it was – polar bear number 11, and another quality bear at that.
It picked and poked its way amongst the ice pack, stepping, or jumping, from floe to floe. Just going, you know, with the flow.
The bear fail came as it was trying to jump across a wider chasm than normal. The bear coiled and sprung, promptly coming up short. Splash from the water, gasp from the ship. It was as though we thought the bear would drown, or freeze and drown, or maybe catch the sniffles. If brown and black bears spend a lot of time doing something in the woods, white bears are pretty used to the water.
The bear popped up with an expression that clearly said, “I hope nobody saw that.” No such luck. (Editor’s Note: Don’t anthropomorphic-ize the bear. Blogger: Please! Everyone else does it! Editor: If everyone else jumped off a bridge, would you? Blogger: Now you sound like my mom!)
Anyhow, the bear steadied himself at the edge of the ice floe, stuck his tongue out not once but twice, and pulled himself up. To dry off, he took a some steps, flipped over and rolled around on his back. A true “Awww” moment for the crowd.
Eventually he walked far away, but it was breakfast time anyhow, and that omelette wasn’t going to cook itself. Well, I didn’t cook it either. The omelette chef did. And it tasted as good to me as a ring seal tastes to that polar bear.
Sunday, June 17, 2018
The Last of Our Quality Bears
Without the camera zoom lens,
here's how close he was.
He's going for it.
Reaching, reaching, reaching.
Uh-oh.
Missed it by that much!
Drying himself off.
Like The Swallows Returning To Capistrano
We had tried earlier in the day to go to the cliffs of Cape Fanshaw, which make the famed Cliffs of Insanity look totally sane. Thousands of birds nest on the little holds on the cliffs, bob on the ocean, and generally be fascinating Arctic birds.
It was too foggy and windy, so we stopped by late at night, after dinner.
The birds swooped and dove, flew and glided. Many, many more were content to hang on the cliffs, guarding their eggs or just generally talking about current events, such as the Donald Trump-Kim Jong Un summit and, more importantly, the Washington Capitals winning the Stanley Cup. (Of course these Arctic birds are hockey fans – don’t you realize how much freakin’ ice there is up there?!). Some even were drinking lattes or checking their iPhones.
No, all kidding aside, it was one of the most spectacular birding sites I have ever sighted. I am not an ornithologist, but if I were to start a new career, that might be it (Aaron Judge’s job as right fielder for the New York Yankees is pretty secure, so I won’t be taking that over).
Actually, it’s nothing like the swallows returning to Capistrano.
Climb Every Mountain
We ended up in a stunning area – Lomfjorden -- for what turned out to be the hardest hike of the trip. Again, Kasper was my hiking group leader. He’s a young guy who lives in northern Norway, and also leads back country cross country skiing expeditions and owns a chunk of a dog sledding concern.
He also has a hiking style that can best be described as aggressive. With Stefano, we would set out, meandering around, as Stefano would stop frequently and tell us about the history or the natural aspects of the area. Kasper fires off, never looking back, assuming everyone is right with him. Every so often, he’ll stop, tell stories, and wait for the stragglers who were either taking pictures, or slow up hills (both describe me), and then fire off.
So, after walking along the shoreline with magnificent cliffs towering over us, we headed up a steep, snow covered hill. I’m straggling along, using the excuse of stopping to take pictures to try and catch my breath. It was a pretty solid climb, but we were rewarded with staggering views. The ship was now tucked out of sight, as we were up behind the cliffs. Meanwhile, reindeer were doing what they do, which is play reindeer games. Well, okay, they were eating and paying us little mind.
As an exercise in silence, Kasper had us stop and do nothing for five minutes. No talking, no picture taking, no movement. Just soak in the sound of silence. Before we started, he noted that there are not many places in the world left that are so quiet.
As Kasper closed up the five minutes, he said “thank you everyone.” I noted to him that next time, instead of saying that, to signal the quiet time was over, he should fire off his gun. That earned a chuckle from him.
We turned right and headed up across a slick, snow covered hill with deep pockets of soft snow. Occasionally we were able to stay atop the snow, although at points, we were going uphill and sideways on an angle, so there was the risk of sliding down without strong purchase on the ice. I envisioned myself skidding off towards a cliff, and having to self-arrest with my hiking poles. It never came to that, but I think I could have done it if needed.
But that was the easy part. The hard part was breaking through the snow crust and going down up to your shins and even knees at places. Going uphill was not so bad – it turns out the harder part was later.
A little before the top of the cliff, we saw a solitary reindeer run by, just a bit below us. No one thought anything of it. (Foreshadowing).
At the top of one of the cliffs (we attacked it from the back and side, as a straight on assault would have been impossible) we posed for pictures high above the ship. And, we took in the pack ice that crowded in the small fjord below. At that point we had climbed from sea level to a height of 564 feet. I know, I know – that doesn’t sound like much, but in muck boots, knee-deep snow, and going from zero to 564 in a relatively short stretch is still work. And, come to think of it, the gain was probably more, as iPhones consistently had us 30 feet underwater when we were on the ship.
We were continuing up, when, back in the pack of the group, someone said, “look at that.” Many of the group had passed right by a little, scared baby reindeer. Kasper judged that it was less than 24 hours old. The mother was the reindeer who had run past us just a bit ago.
By the way, I gotta note sprinting the same day as giving birth is a pretty impressive feat of nature. I haven’t seen too many moms of newborn human babies doing that. (Editor’s Note: Now you’ve done it! Blogger: Oh, women will know I’m kidding. Of course I’m kidding. Ha, ha, aren’t I funny! See, I bet women are laughing right now! What guy would be dumb enough to mean something like that. Editor: Most of them. Blogger. Thinks for a moment. Oh shoot, please do not hurt me!).
All kidding aside (and it IS kidding!) women of the human species will forgive me when they see the picture of what is the cutest animal you will see on-line all week. And to help them move on from their righteous anger, here it is:
Anyhow, we then cut short the hike (up around 600 feet up), so as to hasten our departure and give the mother reindeer a shorter wait before returning to her fawn.
The way down was hard. Going downhill through knee deep (actually deeper) snow was hard work. People were falling, as you not only fell through the snow, but you carried forward a bit down the hill. You don’t fall every time you break through the snow – it seemed like ratio of one fall to every one hundred breakthroughs though!
I’m pretty certain the reason I broke through the snow so often was not my body weight, but the extra weight added by my lightweight camera. (Editor’s Note: Uh, he’s in denial folks, just keep going.)
Your trusty blogger went down twice. The first time was wild. I had stepped in someone else’s tracks (that was the smart way – let someone else break the trail) except their feet were smaller. Mine slide forward, down under the thick snow crust, so I landed on my butt. No problem so far. Except getting up was impossible – my feet were trapped under the crust.
I flailed away it the crust with my hiking stick tips, but to little avail. I had no leverage on it, so I must have looked like a drunken overweight middle-aged guy smacking away at an imaginary snake near his feet. The less success I had, the more I flailed. Finally, two guys came over to help, using their fists and leverage to punch away the crust. It’s possible if they had not rescued me, I would have been a polar bear snack, which would have caused all sorts of paperwork for the expedition. Poor folks.
The second fall was nowhere near as dramatic, and does not require two paragraphs of modest exaggeration to write about.
We finally got down to a hillock with no snow, and a clear path a ways down. Except, as you have probably figured out already, there was a nesting white ptarmigan about half-way down the snow-less section. Obviously we couldn’t go that way, so, that meant more snow!
But, I’m getting ahead of myself. I thought it an odd place for a snow-white ptarmigan to nest, as it stood out like a Giants fan at an Eagles home game. Thankfully it will molt soon, and have its summer brown feathers. Kasper said that ptarmigan is the traditional Christmas Day meal in Norway. Then he told the great story of how, to impress his girlfriend, he went hunting to get two ptarmigan to make for Christmas dinner. The only problem was, he had to cross country ski for four days before he came across the ptarmigan. Apparently it is not supposed to be that hard.
We finally stumbled our way back down closer to shore, and headed back to the boat. Another leader pointed out some polar bear tracks right down by the shoreline. We walked back along the shoreline, tired from the effort and marveling at the wonder of it all.
Our zodiac driver took us a circuitous route back to the ship, as we went right past the edge of the pack ice, the brilliant blue ice looking up at us from underwater. It was a special moment.
Carol had wisely skipped the hard hike (her injured ribs would have been in intense pain during and after it, probably causing a setback). Instead, she got to see swimming walruses pretty much up close. She noted she doesn’t know if she saw upwards of ten walruses, or if she saw the same two popping up continuously. Either way, it was pretty cool.
After lunch, we napped. And it was good.
He also has a hiking style that can best be described as aggressive. With Stefano, we would set out, meandering around, as Stefano would stop frequently and tell us about the history or the natural aspects of the area. Kasper fires off, never looking back, assuming everyone is right with him. Every so often, he’ll stop, tell stories, and wait for the stragglers who were either taking pictures, or slow up hills (both describe me), and then fire off.
So, after walking along the shoreline with magnificent cliffs towering over us, we headed up a steep, snow covered hill. I’m straggling along, using the excuse of stopping to take pictures to try and catch my breath. It was a pretty solid climb, but we were rewarded with staggering views. The ship was now tucked out of sight, as we were up behind the cliffs. Meanwhile, reindeer were doing what they do, which is play reindeer games. Well, okay, they were eating and paying us little mind.
As an exercise in silence, Kasper had us stop and do nothing for five minutes. No talking, no picture taking, no movement. Just soak in the sound of silence. Before we started, he noted that there are not many places in the world left that are so quiet.
As Kasper closed up the five minutes, he said “thank you everyone.” I noted to him that next time, instead of saying that, to signal the quiet time was over, he should fire off his gun. That earned a chuckle from him.
We turned right and headed up across a slick, snow covered hill with deep pockets of soft snow. Occasionally we were able to stay atop the snow, although at points, we were going uphill and sideways on an angle, so there was the risk of sliding down without strong purchase on the ice. I envisioned myself skidding off towards a cliff, and having to self-arrest with my hiking poles. It never came to that, but I think I could have done it if needed.
But that was the easy part. The hard part was breaking through the snow crust and going down up to your shins and even knees at places. Going uphill was not so bad – it turns out the harder part was later.
A little before the top of the cliff, we saw a solitary reindeer run by, just a bit below us. No one thought anything of it. (Foreshadowing).
At the top of one of the cliffs (we attacked it from the back and side, as a straight on assault would have been impossible) we posed for pictures high above the ship. And, we took in the pack ice that crowded in the small fjord below. At that point we had climbed from sea level to a height of 564 feet. I know, I know – that doesn’t sound like much, but in muck boots, knee-deep snow, and going from zero to 564 in a relatively short stretch is still work. And, come to think of it, the gain was probably more, as iPhones consistently had us 30 feet underwater when we were on the ship.
We were continuing up, when, back in the pack of the group, someone said, “look at that.” Many of the group had passed right by a little, scared baby reindeer. Kasper judged that it was less than 24 hours old. The mother was the reindeer who had run past us just a bit ago.
By the way, I gotta note sprinting the same day as giving birth is a pretty impressive feat of nature. I haven’t seen too many moms of newborn human babies doing that. (Editor’s Note: Now you’ve done it! Blogger: Oh, women will know I’m kidding. Of course I’m kidding. Ha, ha, aren’t I funny! See, I bet women are laughing right now! What guy would be dumb enough to mean something like that. Editor: Most of them. Blogger. Thinks for a moment. Oh shoot, please do not hurt me!).
All kidding aside (and it IS kidding!) women of the human species will forgive me when they see the picture of what is the cutest animal you will see on-line all week. And to help them move on from their righteous anger, here it is:
Anyhow, we then cut short the hike (up around 600 feet up), so as to hasten our departure and give the mother reindeer a shorter wait before returning to her fawn.
The way down was hard. Going downhill through knee deep (actually deeper) snow was hard work. People were falling, as you not only fell through the snow, but you carried forward a bit down the hill. You don’t fall every time you break through the snow – it seemed like ratio of one fall to every one hundred breakthroughs though!
I’m pretty certain the reason I broke through the snow so often was not my body weight, but the extra weight added by my lightweight camera. (Editor’s Note: Uh, he’s in denial folks, just keep going.)
Your trusty blogger went down twice. The first time was wild. I had stepped in someone else’s tracks (that was the smart way – let someone else break the trail) except their feet were smaller. Mine slide forward, down under the thick snow crust, so I landed on my butt. No problem so far. Except getting up was impossible – my feet were trapped under the crust.
I flailed away it the crust with my hiking stick tips, but to little avail. I had no leverage on it, so I must have looked like a drunken overweight middle-aged guy smacking away at an imaginary snake near his feet. The less success I had, the more I flailed. Finally, two guys came over to help, using their fists and leverage to punch away the crust. It’s possible if they had not rescued me, I would have been a polar bear snack, which would have caused all sorts of paperwork for the expedition. Poor folks.
The second fall was nowhere near as dramatic, and does not require two paragraphs of modest exaggeration to write about.
We finally got down to a hillock with no snow, and a clear path a ways down. Except, as you have probably figured out already, there was a nesting white ptarmigan about half-way down the snow-less section. Obviously we couldn’t go that way, so, that meant more snow!
But, I’m getting ahead of myself. I thought it an odd place for a snow-white ptarmigan to nest, as it stood out like a Giants fan at an Eagles home game. Thankfully it will molt soon, and have its summer brown feathers. Kasper said that ptarmigan is the traditional Christmas Day meal in Norway. Then he told the great story of how, to impress his girlfriend, he went hunting to get two ptarmigan to make for Christmas dinner. The only problem was, he had to cross country ski for four days before he came across the ptarmigan. Apparently it is not supposed to be that hard.
We finally stumbled our way back down closer to shore, and headed back to the boat. Another leader pointed out some polar bear tracks right down by the shoreline. We walked back along the shoreline, tired from the effort and marveling at the wonder of it all.
Our zodiac driver took us a circuitous route back to the ship, as we went right past the edge of the pack ice, the brilliant blue ice looking up at us from underwater. It was a special moment.
Carol had wisely skipped the hard hike (her injured ribs would have been in intense pain during and after it, probably causing a setback). Instead, she got to see swimming walruses pretty much up close. She noted she doesn’t know if she saw upwards of ten walruses, or if she saw the same two popping up continuously. Either way, it was pretty cool.
After lunch, we napped. And it was good.
Drifting Through Snow at Lomfjorden
A beautiful shot of Lomfjorden, a calm spot
along the Northeast Coast of Svalbard.
We had gained some elevation by time the
next group came along. Note the hint of
sun and the pack ice.
If Kirk Cousins were here, he
would ask: "You lichen that?"
Reindeer were our constant
companions on the hikes.
There is so much raw beauty in the shot.
Saxifrage on ice. The battle between
cold and life writ small.
Either we climbed or the ship
got so small it is now a boat.
Looking back toward a glacier valley.
The orange lichen is green with envy at this lichen.
At least I was upright when I took this photo!
Darn ptarmigan would not pose for me.
Apparently she was more worried about
her eggs or somewhat! Gosh.
If you are thinking those are polar bear
footprints eroded by the wind, you
are correct.
I'd be happier to be a zodiac driver
than to be a race car driver.
Two of the bad asses getting to tool around.
Goo Goo G'joob
It was time for our afternoon hike. We landed at Torrelnesset, with no beach for a wet landing. Instead, we walked up on the gas tank box at the front of the zodiac, and climbed onto the landing by using some ice steps that the exploration scouts had cut for us.
Torrelnesset is, of course, an area on Nordaustlandet, which as geography nerds know, is the second largest of the Svalbard Islands.
Kasper was the guide for our group, as we were doing a long hike. They offered two-three levels of hikes each landing (depending), and zodiac tours for those who did not want to walk on land. Some people would mix it up, doing a long hike one day, and then a zodiac ride the next. Or a long, then a medium. Sometimes short shoreline hikes were offered, and at least once or twice they did photography walks, with the photographers there to give tips and point out composition and subject tips.
With around 140 people on board, it worked well to have such a system – for example, after doing the first two long hikes, Carol’s Oslo-bruised ribs were hurting, so she did a day on the zodiacs – and got to see walruses swimming.
Anyhow, back to the hike. First, we went along flat ground that paralleled the water – maybe a bit under a half mile. Maybe less. The wind was whipping, and every so often, you would break through the snow. But at least it was really cold. For a flat walk, it was not easy. But, did I mention it was incredibly windy and cold? (Editor’s Note: Yes, you did. You can cut that sentence now.)
(By the way, I have some folk music on my iTunes. As I was writing about the zodiacs in this post, “Michael Row The Boat Ashore” was playing, which raises the question. Why didn’t Michael just zodiac boat ashore? It’s much faster.)
Anyhow, that brought us to the walrus hang-out. There were probably 40-50 there, although since they were so bunched up in three groups, it was impossible to get an accurate count. For some reason, the naturalists refused to let us walk right up to them. (Editor’s Note: Some reason? Here’s two: Try safety! And not stressing the walruses! Blogger: Oh – thinks for a moment – that makes sense. Editor: SMDH!).
There were also walruses swimming in the water, but I didn’t think to use my fast setting on the camera, so I didn’t get many good pictures of them. It was fun to watch them pop out of the water, then shoot down underwater again. They’d show tusk and then not. It was enthralling.
Meanwhile, back on land, most of them were lollygagging around, but one would occasionally sit up as though to move, then think better of it and lay back down. Apparently you have to want to move 2,000 pounds, and they chose not to. My personal favorite was one who separated himself from the largest pack, laid on his back, scratching himself and sticking flippers and tail up into the air as though rubbing his back on the snow was the best thing ever.
(Please note, the large groups of walruses are male. The female walruses try to stay away from the males unless it is time to have a calf. And once the walrus young are born, they are kept away too. As I noted to Kasper after he told us that, it explains why the group was watching sports, drinking beer, and farting. Oh, related hint, try not to be downwind of walruses, they smell like all they do is contained in the previous sentence.)
After a bit, we moved on. The island turned, so we headed along the coast, enjoying the bergy bits just off the coast, and the views across the water to other islands. The island consists of a series of natural terraces, which extended the island over millions of years. We also crossed streams packed with snow.
Then, we headed up to the top of a terrace. It was pretty steep, and we were working. When we got to the top, Pam Stuart quipped, “We all passed our treadmill stress test!” And she should know – she’s a doctor!
We then headed back toward the landing area, but it was not a short stretch. The views are sweeping, and we passed through some of the most solitary land in the world. Pictures don’t do it justice, but they try. We came across whale vertebra, and reflected on how far the island has grown.
Eventually we returned to the landing area, after trekking through some extraordinary land. Certainly it’s not for everyone, but it is for me.
Torrelnesset is, of course, an area on Nordaustlandet, which as geography nerds know, is the second largest of the Svalbard Islands.
Kasper was the guide for our group, as we were doing a long hike. They offered two-three levels of hikes each landing (depending), and zodiac tours for those who did not want to walk on land. Some people would mix it up, doing a long hike one day, and then a zodiac ride the next. Or a long, then a medium. Sometimes short shoreline hikes were offered, and at least once or twice they did photography walks, with the photographers there to give tips and point out composition and subject tips.
With around 140 people on board, it worked well to have such a system – for example, after doing the first two long hikes, Carol’s Oslo-bruised ribs were hurting, so she did a day on the zodiacs – and got to see walruses swimming.
Anyhow, back to the hike. First, we went along flat ground that paralleled the water – maybe a bit under a half mile. Maybe less. The wind was whipping, and every so often, you would break through the snow. But at least it was really cold. For a flat walk, it was not easy. But, did I mention it was incredibly windy and cold? (Editor’s Note: Yes, you did. You can cut that sentence now.)
(By the way, I have some folk music on my iTunes. As I was writing about the zodiacs in this post, “Michael Row The Boat Ashore” was playing, which raises the question. Why didn’t Michael just zodiac boat ashore? It’s much faster.)
Anyhow, that brought us to the walrus hang-out. There were probably 40-50 there, although since they were so bunched up in three groups, it was impossible to get an accurate count. For some reason, the naturalists refused to let us walk right up to them. (Editor’s Note: Some reason? Here’s two: Try safety! And not stressing the walruses! Blogger: Oh – thinks for a moment – that makes sense. Editor: SMDH!).
There were also walruses swimming in the water, but I didn’t think to use my fast setting on the camera, so I didn’t get many good pictures of them. It was fun to watch them pop out of the water, then shoot down underwater again. They’d show tusk and then not. It was enthralling.
Meanwhile, back on land, most of them were lollygagging around, but one would occasionally sit up as though to move, then think better of it and lay back down. Apparently you have to want to move 2,000 pounds, and they chose not to. My personal favorite was one who separated himself from the largest pack, laid on his back, scratching himself and sticking flippers and tail up into the air as though rubbing his back on the snow was the best thing ever.
(Please note, the large groups of walruses are male. The female walruses try to stay away from the males unless it is time to have a calf. And once the walrus young are born, they are kept away too. As I noted to Kasper after he told us that, it explains why the group was watching sports, drinking beer, and farting. Oh, related hint, try not to be downwind of walruses, they smell like all they do is contained in the previous sentence.)
After a bit, we moved on. The island turned, so we headed along the coast, enjoying the bergy bits just off the coast, and the views across the water to other islands. The island consists of a series of natural terraces, which extended the island over millions of years. We also crossed streams packed with snow.
Then, we headed up to the top of a terrace. It was pretty steep, and we were working. When we got to the top, Pam Stuart quipped, “We all passed our treadmill stress test!” And she should know – she’s a doctor!
We then headed back toward the landing area, but it was not a short stretch. The views are sweeping, and we passed through some of the most solitary land in the world. Pictures don’t do it justice, but they try. We came across whale vertebra, and reflected on how far the island has grown.
Eventually we returned to the landing area, after trekking through some extraordinary land. Certainly it’s not for everyone, but it is for me.
A Glorious Morning For Bears
When it is light 24 hours a day, leaving the blinds open in our room is a mistake, although this time it was a lucky mistake. I kept waking up through the “night” – 3 am, 4 am, and seeing the sunlight pouring through the windows. I kept telling myself, I need to get up and take photos. But I couldn’t drag myself out of bed.
Finally at 5:50 am, I woke up again and rallied. By 6:00 am I was roaming the outside decks of the ships, taking glorious pictures of the glorious light on the glorious snow on the glorious mountains, or the glorious ice on the glorious water. If you haven’t figured out by now, it was pretty glorious. (Editor’s Note: Yes, we got your point. Blogger: Glorious!)
By 6:20, I was done, and about to head into blog. Instead, on a hunch, I drifted into the bridge. There was a buzz in the air. A bear buzz. “We’ve seen five bears” I was told. There was a mama and two cubs, and also a mama and one cub further away. There was talk by a member of the crew of a sixth bear, but no one else could confirm it, so it didn’t count.
The ship continued to drift closer to the ice pack. I searched where everyone was pointing. Boom, I saw the set of three – bears 4, 5, and 6 for me. Then, way off in the distance, there were the other two – bears 7 and 8. The first set became naked eye bears, and the other two remained distant bears.
After a bit of bear watching, I went and told Carol it was time to get up for the bears. By then, the naked eye bears were wandering closer and closer to the ship. Lucho got on the PA system (internal only, not external to the outside of the ship) to announce the pre-breakfast bears.
The three bears (well, there is no Goldilocks in this story). The three bears turned into quality bears and kept us entertained as they hung at the edge of the fast ice. (I can’t remember if I explained, but fast ice is ocean water that has frozen solid, jutting out from the shore.
They would walk around, play a bit, rest, move out of sight behind some mashed up ice boulders, and then come back into view. The bears were. . .glorious! (Sorry, but I had to.) Finally, as the cubs lay there doing nothing but dreaming of ring seals, mama got up and trudged away. Finally the cubs took the hint and left.
As they faded slowly from sight, bears seven and eight walked across the fast ice at a distance (close enough to be naked eye bears), crossing in front of us. We watched them, hoping they would turn toward us out of curiosity, but they had places to go and seals to eat.
They will go down in expedition lore as the Bjornsundet Bears – two she-bears and three cubs who were in the same neighborhood but never crossed paths. Bjornsundet is on the eastern side of Spitsbergen Island, which is by far the largest portion of Svalbard.
Speaking of eating, it was time for a glorious breakfast.
Finally at 5:50 am, I woke up again and rallied. By 6:00 am I was roaming the outside decks of the ships, taking glorious pictures of the glorious light on the glorious snow on the glorious mountains, or the glorious ice on the glorious water. If you haven’t figured out by now, it was pretty glorious. (Editor’s Note: Yes, we got your point. Blogger: Glorious!)
By 6:20, I was done, and about to head into blog. Instead, on a hunch, I drifted into the bridge. There was a buzz in the air. A bear buzz. “We’ve seen five bears” I was told. There was a mama and two cubs, and also a mama and one cub further away. There was talk by a member of the crew of a sixth bear, but no one else could confirm it, so it didn’t count.
The ship continued to drift closer to the ice pack. I searched where everyone was pointing. Boom, I saw the set of three – bears 4, 5, and 6 for me. Then, way off in the distance, there were the other two – bears 7 and 8. The first set became naked eye bears, and the other two remained distant bears.
After a bit of bear watching, I went and told Carol it was time to get up for the bears. By then, the naked eye bears were wandering closer and closer to the ship. Lucho got on the PA system (internal only, not external to the outside of the ship) to announce the pre-breakfast bears.
The three bears (well, there is no Goldilocks in this story). The three bears turned into quality bears and kept us entertained as they hung at the edge of the fast ice. (I can’t remember if I explained, but fast ice is ocean water that has frozen solid, jutting out from the shore.
They would walk around, play a bit, rest, move out of sight behind some mashed up ice boulders, and then come back into view. The bears were. . .glorious! (Sorry, but I had to.) Finally, as the cubs lay there doing nothing but dreaming of ring seals, mama got up and trudged away. Finally the cubs took the hint and left.
As they faded slowly from sight, bears seven and eight walked across the fast ice at a distance (close enough to be naked eye bears), crossing in front of us. We watched them, hoping they would turn toward us out of curiosity, but they had places to go and seals to eat.
They will go down in expedition lore as the Bjornsundet Bears – two she-bears and three cubs who were in the same neighborhood but never crossed paths. Bjornsundet is on the eastern side of Spitsbergen Island, which is by far the largest portion of Svalbard.
Speaking of eating, it was time for a glorious breakfast.
One Ton Walruses On Torrelnesset
Missing a tusk, he could tell a story.
If I stick my teeth for a long time into
ice cream, I'd get a brain freeze.
Right there, scratch right there!
Ah, got the spot.
"How's my day going? Well, I'm surrounded
by walrus butt, so pretty good. Yours?"
From up top the terrace.
Bergy bits and growlers.
Time for a picture.
A post-dinner snowball fight broke out. I threw
a couple snowballs, then headed to the bar. I won.
Seals and blue ice.
If only I had a British accent, I
could do nature documentaries.
Things go swimmingly when you
are too big for polar bears to attack.
Friday, June 15, 2018
Bi-Polar
One of the jokes on the ship is that if you’ve been to both Antarctica and now the Arctic, you are bi-polar. We actually talked a little this week about perhaps going back to Antarctica in 2020, but we’ve decided to hold off.
This post is not about anything we did on this trip, but more about my feelings about being in polar regions. It’s a strange affect on the soul, these polar regions of our little rock in the vast infinities of the universe.
I didn’t expect to fall in love with the ice, the snow, the birds, and the amazing animals that own this part of the world. But it really does grab you. I remember being skeptical when, in Antarctica, the expedition people gushed about the icebergs – the saying goes, “Come for the penguins, come back for the ice.” Well, let’s not kid ourselves, the penguins and the polar bears are an incredible thrill to see.
But, in a way, they are right. The 24 hour daylight, the snow, the mountains, the fjords and bays, the rocky terrain, the cliffs jam-packed with birds. It’s all remarkable. It’s all awe-inspiring. I don’t have polar fever, but these are places that really get into you. And the people who live here, or visit often, speak about their experiences and what they have seen with an abiding sense of reverence.
(Editor’s Note: Oh, crap, Glen, you are veering off into some maudlin sentimental sob story. Better get back on track. Blogger: Sorry – just thought now would be a good time for a bigger perspective piece. Editor: It’s NEVER a good time, but if you must, go ahead and continue!)
If someone were to ask – hey, I only have time, money, or inclination to go to either Antarctica or the Arctic – where should I go, I would say Antarctica in a heartbeat. But this trip has been more amazing that I could have hoped for.
The great alt country singer Ray Wylie Hubbard has a line in a song – “And the days that I keep my gratitude higher than my expectations, Well I have really good days.” My gratitude for this trip far exceeded my expectations, and for that I thank our expedition guides, Holly Bryan and Inspirato, and the entire crew who worked so hard to put this expedition together. Plans changed nearly every day, and like two seals on an ice floe in Antarctica, they went with the flow and it worked.
I am in awe of the Arctic.
This post is not about anything we did on this trip, but more about my feelings about being in polar regions. It’s a strange affect on the soul, these polar regions of our little rock in the vast infinities of the universe.
I didn’t expect to fall in love with the ice, the snow, the birds, and the amazing animals that own this part of the world. But it really does grab you. I remember being skeptical when, in Antarctica, the expedition people gushed about the icebergs – the saying goes, “Come for the penguins, come back for the ice.” Well, let’s not kid ourselves, the penguins and the polar bears are an incredible thrill to see.
But, in a way, they are right. The 24 hour daylight, the snow, the mountains, the fjords and bays, the rocky terrain, the cliffs jam-packed with birds. It’s all remarkable. It’s all awe-inspiring. I don’t have polar fever, but these are places that really get into you. And the people who live here, or visit often, speak about their experiences and what they have seen with an abiding sense of reverence.
(Editor’s Note: Oh, crap, Glen, you are veering off into some maudlin sentimental sob story. Better get back on track. Blogger: Sorry – just thought now would be a good time for a bigger perspective piece. Editor: It’s NEVER a good time, but if you must, go ahead and continue!)
If someone were to ask – hey, I only have time, money, or inclination to go to either Antarctica or the Arctic – where should I go, I would say Antarctica in a heartbeat. But this trip has been more amazing that I could have hoped for.
The great alt country singer Ray Wylie Hubbard has a line in a song – “And the days that I keep my gratitude higher than my expectations, Well I have really good days.” My gratitude for this trip far exceeded my expectations, and for that I thank our expedition guides, Holly Bryan and Inspirato, and the entire crew who worked so hard to put this expedition together. Plans changed nearly every day, and like two seals on an ice floe in Antarctica, they went with the flow and it worked.
I am in awe of the Arctic.
Ice Bears
The sun!
Spot the three bears -- mama and two cubs.
Mama bear in the middle.
There's klingons on the starboard bow,
starboard bow, starboard bow;
There's klingons on the starboard,
starboard bow, Jim
Fresh tracks.
Bears four and five for the day.
The blue ice/blue water is always amazing.
Blue ice pile.
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