Don’t worry,” says our guide Charlotte, flashing her gun. “If necessary, I am very fast.” My twelve-year-old daughter looks anxiously around the Arctic wilderness. As much as she loved Philip Pullman’s armored bears, one of the reasons she was eager to visit, the proximity to the real thing is starting to dawn on her.
Road signs everywhere in the city warn of the danger of polar bears. The numbers here are about 3,000, compared to about 2,500 human inhabitants. Therefore, Spitsbergen authorities insist that you only walk outside the main settlement with an armed guide.
As a result, attacks are extremely rare (about five since the 1970s). The aim is for people and bears to come into contact with each other as little as possible: they are protected by law and it is a crime to hunt, feed or disturb them.
Charlotte isn’t taking any chances this morning. She loads four bullets into the barrel of the gun, snaps it shut and slings it over her shoulder. “Okay, let’s go,” she says and we follow her across the frozen tundra as she tells us about the lives of the trappers more than 100 years ago, who hunted foxes and polar bears, often alone and days away from inhabited world.
There are road signs all over the city warning us of the risk of polar bears – the number here is about 3,000, compared to 2,500 human inhabitants
We stand still and take in the magnitude of this unforgiving landscape. A deep sense of isolation and loneliness hangs over us in a land where historically only the strongest survive: hardened adventurers, hunters and explorers. Yet it is this hardness that makes it so attractive and also beautiful. It is a place of extremes with temperatures dropping to -20 degrees Celsius in winter and in the long Arctic winters there is no noticeable difference between day and night. It is also the time when you are most likely to see the Northern Lights.
We land during the last remaining hours of sunlight and our first sight of Spitsbergen is a bleak range of black, jagged mountains shrouded in clouds, a peach sun hanging below the horizon.
The Norwegian archipelago is located approximately halfway between Norway and the North Pole and is one of the northernmost inhabited areas in the world. There are three main islands and Spitsbergen is the largest. Longyearbyen, where we are staying, is the main settlement and is largely populated by tour guides, tourists, academics and researchers.
A deep sense of isolation and loneliness hangs over us. Yet it is this hardness that makes it so attractive and beautiful
There’s only one road: Main Street, a short, snow-covered avenue that puts my local main street to shame. Their local shop (Coop Svalbard) has an impressive range of fresh produce and a drinks department stocked with champagne, gin and beer. They have their own brewery nearby (“The northernmost craft brewery in the world”). We stop for a delicious smoked salmon sandwich at Café Fruene across the street. Opposite is Nordover, their art cinema (“The northernmost art center in the world”). There is also the Karlsberger Pub, known to locals as KB, which is open until 2am most evenings. It’s surprisingly easy to spend money here: there’s a tempting array of shops selling outdoor clothing and Scandi knitwear, and one of Norway’s best restaurants, Huset, is here too, with a focus on Scandinavian cuisine.
We stay closer to home and eat at Barentz gastropub (you guessed it: “The northernmost pub in the world”) next to our hotel, the Radisson Blu Polar. The menu is varied and tasty; together we enjoy a caramel milkshake, a glass of Riesling and homemade pizza. The rooms are stylish, cozy and warm, while the Scandi breakfast buffet is a highlight; Scrambled eggs and smoked salmon in the morning with a view over the mountains is hard to beat.
As tempting as it is to relax at the hotel – there is a sauna and an outdoor jacuzzi – Spitsbergen is all about outdoor activities. The first stop is a glacier cruise aboard a hybrid electric catamaran, a greener way to explore the fjords with propellers that minimize noise and vibration.
“Welcome to the cathedral of nature,” says Sam, our guide, as we set off. Sam, a marine biologist, is passionate about his subject. “Here we can watch climate change in real time.” For Svalbard, real time is accelerating at an alarming rate – perhaps faster than anywhere else in the world. Research shows that this entire area is warming six times faster than the global average. Some predict that in the next 70 years the glaciers will lose twice as much ice as they are now. He shows us a series of NASA images that illustrate the dramatic rate of ice and glacier decay. According to him, the only way forward is collective participation through science. “Join us,” he tells us enthusiastically. “Citizen projects in your area are a good start. We need more eyes, counting birds, researching, working together.”
Here we see climate change in real time. We need more eyes that count, investigate, collaborate
Sam, marine biologist
The mood is somber as we approach the glacier front of Nordenskiöldbreen. They turn off the engines and we stand on deck, enjoying the silence and the extraordinary sight before us: a huge glacier, about 25 km long and 11 km wide, glowing blue due to layers of ice that have formed over time compressed. The engines start as we head home and Karl, a historian, tells us eerie stories about adventurers at sea. He points to a perfectly preserved hut – Svenskehuset – perched on a snowbank, where a group of seventeen sealers died mysteriously during a long winter in 1872. The last man fell just as rescuers arrived – the only clue to what what had happened was a diary that one of the men kept, filled only with crazy scribbles. About 130 years later, researchers determined to solve the mystery returned to find their buried bodies still intact in the permafrost. The samples taken showed high levels of lead – also found in the sealant of the cans they had heated up to eat. The extreme effects of lead poisoning had killed them because they had first gone mad. Spitsbergen is full of strange stories and facts like this. For example, no one gives birth on Spitsbergen because there is only one hospital and no maternity care. Pregnant women are flown to the mainland shortly before their due date. Nor can anyone be buried here – permafrost means bodies cannot decompose, leading to fears that viruses and infections could also be retained. And cats are banned because they could harm nature, and especially the bird population.
Back on dry land, our final adventure is a dog sled ride with eight enthusiastic huskies pulling us through the polar night. The highlight for my daughter is meeting the puppies afterwards. Then we go to Camp Barentz in the wilderness and sit in a hut around a fire, eat, drink and hear stories about the Dutch navigator Willem Barentsz, who discovered Spitsbergen in 1596.
We spend our last evening watching a blues band at a local bar. It is packed and there is a party atmosphere, dancing, singing and good humor. It’s part of their annual Dark Season Blues festival, which marks the loss of daylight for the remainder of the season. The residents of Svalbard are undeterred by the extremes of life here and the challenges of the coming Arctic winter. Instead, they enjoy it and celebrate it – and you can see why.
A five-night stay in Svalbard costs from £599 per person, including B&B accommodation at the Radisson Blu. The Wildlife and Glacier cruise costs £208 per adult, £112 per child, and the husky on wheels costs £120 per adult, £60 per child. The Evening in the Wilderness costs GBP 108 per adult and GBP 57 per child. To book, go to: Discover-the-World.com. For more information, visit visitnorway.com