Edgeøya, Svalbard
Svalbard has never had an indigenous population, but it has long been visited by people coming to exploit its richness of wildlife and, more recently, for its value to science. How long? We cannot be certain. Norwegians point to an obscure line in an Icelandic saga from 1194, “Svalbard (“Cold Coast”) was found,” to assert that their Viking ancestors were the first. Russians counter that the earliest archaeological records are of Pomor (Pomorskii) hunter/trappers from the White Sea region, who were forced to seek new land to exploit when they ran afoul of the Tsar in their homeland.
Today we saw several layers of human activity in Svalbard. Habenichtbukta, near the southwest corner of the large island of Edgeøya, was a major Pomor center. Using driftwood as a building material, they constructed their winter dwellings; the remains can still be seen. Later, in the 17th and 18th centuries, whalers came from Holland, England, France, Denmark, and Germany. The trypots that they used to convert bowhead whales into barrels of oil for the European markets can still be found. The whales have never recovered from the decimation of their population. Only their bones remain to tell the tale. Yet more recently, until polar bears were given protection in 1973, Norwegian hunter/trappers spent the long winters in small cabins. They used set-guns to take polar bears and deadfall traps weighted with stones for Arctic foxes. We have seen the remains of both of these and the bones of mammals that fell victim to their traps and rifles.
At Halfmoon Island, off the southeast corner of Edgeoya, two recent dwellers in a lonely trapper’s cabin joined us aboard the National Geographic Endeavour. Photographer Paul Nicklen and his colleague Shawn Powell will accompany us for the remainder of our voyage.
Even in the most austere landscapes of Svalbard, as here on the eastern side far from the warming influence of the Gulf Stream, we find tiny tundra flowers. They grow close to the ground where temperature is a bit higher and wind is less. Their leaves often form compact cushions or mats that are eaten by Svalbard reindeer. They are found in cracks and crevices that gather water and intercept blowing dust to form a modicum of soil. They hide behind rocks and the bones of whales left on the beaches centuries ago, and they decorate the former dwellings of whalers and hunters. They grow most profusely where seabirds have fertilized the soil with nutrients brought in from the ocean. They add a welcome splash of color to the landscape, especially for those of us willing to get down on hands and knees to admire them. Now it is early August, and the coming of the Arctic winter is already evident in the orange cast to the leaves of the tiny, mat-forming polar willow.
Svalbard has never had an indigenous population, but it has long been visited by people coming to exploit its richness of wildlife and, more recently, for its value to science. How long? We cannot be certain. Norwegians point to an obscure line in an Icelandic saga from 1194, “Svalbard (“Cold Coast”) was found,” to assert that their Viking ancestors were the first. Russians counter that the earliest archaeological records are of Pomor (Pomorskii) hunter/trappers from the White Sea region, who were forced to seek new land to exploit when they ran afoul of the Tsar in their homeland.
Today we saw several layers of human activity in Svalbard. Habenichtbukta, near the southwest corner of the large island of Edgeøya, was a major Pomor center. Using driftwood as a building material, they constructed their winter dwellings; the remains can still be seen. Later, in the 17th and 18th centuries, whalers came from Holland, England, France, Denmark, and Germany. The trypots that they used to convert bowhead whales into barrels of oil for the European markets can still be found. The whales have never recovered from the decimation of their population. Only their bones remain to tell the tale. Yet more recently, until polar bears were given protection in 1973, Norwegian hunter/trappers spent the long winters in small cabins. They used set-guns to take polar bears and deadfall traps weighted with stones for Arctic foxes. We have seen the remains of both of these and the bones of mammals that fell victim to their traps and rifles.
At Halfmoon Island, off the southeast corner of Edgeoya, two recent dwellers in a lonely trapper’s cabin joined us aboard the National Geographic Endeavour. Photographer Paul Nicklen and his colleague Shawn Powell will accompany us for the remainder of our voyage.
Even in the most austere landscapes of Svalbard, as here on the eastern side far from the warming influence of the Gulf Stream, we find tiny tundra flowers. They grow close to the ground where temperature is a bit higher and wind is less. Their leaves often form compact cushions or mats that are eaten by Svalbard reindeer. They are found in cracks and crevices that gather water and intercept blowing dust to form a modicum of soil. They hide behind rocks and the bones of whales left on the beaches centuries ago, and they decorate the former dwellings of whalers and hunters. They grow most profusely where seabirds have fertilized the soil with nutrients brought in from the ocean. They add a welcome splash of color to the landscape, especially for those of us willing to get down on hands and knees to admire them. Now it is early August, and the coming of the Arctic winter is already evident in the orange cast to the leaves of the tiny, mat-forming polar willow.
