Edgeøya, Southeast Svalbard
Drama was in the air today. Gone is the sea ice from the shorelines of Svalbard, and left behind are hungry bears, waiting on land for the return of the all-providing ice. Expedition Leader Bud is on the bridge, flanked by his faithful band of staff, scanning the horizon to find some bear-free place where we can go ashore for a hike. All through Freemansundet, between Barentsøya to the north of us, and Edgeøya to the south, small whitish specks have been seen on shore and hillside, far away but undeniably ursine.
Now we have arrived at Kapp Lee in the northwest corner of Edgeøya, and here is a gang of bachelor walruses hauled out on the beach, lying blissfully on their backs, fronts or sides as they enjoy a little social time while getting on with the task of moulting. Near them is a curious many-sided hut, built originally in 1906 for that wild breed of Norwegian men who came to pass the winters hunting fox, reindeer and, of course, bear. Will we be able to make a landing here? “But look”, someone cries. “There’s a polar bear.” And so it is, slinking on the edge of the group hoping for a lucky break, while yet another appears higher up the ridge. So no landing for us this morning, but instead an exhilarating Zodiac cruise, observing the walruses from the bobbing waves as, now and again, a couple of them lift their heads, brandish their ivory tusks at each other, and settle down once more, differences resolved. And all this time, purple sandpipers dabble on the dolerite rocks, skeins of pink-footed geese make patterns high above our heads and, all along the distant western horizon, a sweep of snow-covered mountains glistens in the slanting sunshine.
After lunch there is time for an enlightening presentation from Stephanie about the pinnipeds of Svalbard, while we travel on to the south-western corner of the island. At the lovely valley of Ǻrdalsnuten, we anxiously await the news: no bears! Ashore we go to discover a feast for the senses: driftwood from Siberia; centuries-old bones from bowhead whales; a profusion of marsh saxifrage and arctic cotton grass; almost vanished foundations of an ancient Russian trappers’ hut; spongy, springy tundra that feels so strange to walk on, embossed with goose and reindeer prints without number; remains of wooden fox- traps set by long-gone overwinterers; and best of all, reindeer with velvet-covered antlers grazing on the verdant plain. Everywhere is something of interest or beauty, against the backdrop of imposing hills. Our last day in Svalbard has indeed been crowded with impressions, sights and sounds of the high Arctic.
