The Arctic — Mesmerizing, Magical, Melting
A travel story and photo journal from our Chief Storyteller, Jenna, and her once-in-a-lifetime cruise through the Svalbard peninsula.
JENNA YOUNG
July 9, 2019
As I cruised eastward across the top of Svalbard, the monochrome sky merged with the sea in a vast expanse of greys, blues, and brilliant whites. The water was so still that the ice fragments on the sleek surface appeared suspended in the air, and the whole scene was enveloped by an intense, infinite quiet. It was the third night of my expedition cruise on-board Oceanwide’s Hondius to circumnavigate the largest island of the Svalbard archipelago, Spitsbergen. Surrounded by a glistening mystic landscape, I truly heard the pleas of the Arctic. I was overcome by awe for this icy wilderness fighting to survive in a rapidly warming world, but I also felt hopeful, because though drastically transformed, the Arctic is still a hypnotic wonderland and its silent screams for protection can no longer go unheard.
The following morning, I looked out of the porthole of my cabin to silk-jade waters which shimmered into the room. Once dressed against the cold, we loaded into Zodiacs and glided through Bjørnafjorden, listening to crackling ice-blobs as they gently bumped the sides of our boat. In front of us, Smeerenburg glacier sprawled in a mass of jagged white and blue shapes, knitted with intricate crevasses, jutting shards, and smooth surfaces.
To check I wasn’t dreaming, I plunged my hand into the crisp Arctic Ocean and felt my fingers chilling. Then, in a surreal moment, a chunk of glacier plummeted into the water. As the thick sound reached us, like a bullet leaving the barrel, the glacial mass disappeared under water, leaving a chaotic scene of sprouting sea and surprised birds. Shortly after, a group of cream-coloured blobs surfaced and resurfaced; beluga whales were heading over to feed from the frenzy of disturbed fish.
To be in the frozen world whilst a glacier calves is awestriking — to learn the speed Smeerenburgbreen is receding is alarming. Sara, our guide, told us that when she began touring the Arctic seven years ago, Bjørnfjorden was inaccessible by boat; it was entirely frozen. That day, Hondius was anchored kilometres from the fjord’s entrance. It’s almost too sizeable a change to comprehend, yet here, drifting amongst thousands of miniscule icebergs, we slowly grasped the devastating effects of our warming globe. The Arctic is disappearing, literally, and exploring this region with Terracotta Travel’s expertise in expedition cruises is a finite privilege, not merely because of the overwhelming beauty, but because sooner than we realize, there will be nothing left to see.
Knowing the Svalbard archipelago like the lines on their hand, our expedition team were overflowing with knowledge and keen to impart their understanding of the region. Traveling with such expertise means exploring onshore was filled with as much adventure and wildlife encounters as cruising.
With various hiking options, we saw everything from a blue whale jaw-bone, an abandoned ‘fool’s gold’ mine, puffin colonies, Little Auks nesting amongst rocks, reindeer herds and whaler’s graves.
One exceptional encounter whilst hiking at Camp Millar was with two Arctic fox pups, still with their fluffy white winter coat, ceaselessly playing and rolling around together, unfazed by the colorful line of people transfixed on them. Seeing how moved our guides were at such a close display of young nature made us aware how special this moment was and their enthusiasm for being able to share this with us was unfaltering.
It’s impossible to convey the emotion of seeing these ferocious but beautiful animals in their habitat — it simply has to be experienced to be understood. On our trip, we saw nine polar bears, including a mother with her tiny cub, which far outweighed expectations, especially considering there’s a mere 3000 bears left around Svalbard. Listening to presentations on-board, it became glaringly apparent how lucky we were; future generations may never see these creatures because as sea-ice disappears, so does polar bear hunting territory, and the once frozen walkways are now endless, energy depleting, starvation-inducing swims. At Terracotta Travel, we don’t avoid these stark realities, but rather we connect our travelers with the people who are passionate about sharing the facts and figures, no matter how distressing, so people can return home with a real understanding.
The bears are not the only ones missing the ice. After an amazing sighting of a chunky walrus pair lying on an ice-sheet, like an overindulged couple cuddling in bed, we were then treated to an entire haul-out in Dolerittneset. A jiggling muddle of grey-brown blubber streaked with pink sprawled on-shore, occasionally lifting those iconic tusks, these mammals are comical in their languid fatness but impressive in their sheer size. From where we stood on the beach, we could hear the steamy exhales of two more walruses exfoliating in the shallows, and occasional pungent whiffs from the haul-out enveloped us, highlighting my proximity to these great mammals. This group is fortunate — elsewhere in the Arctic, lack of sea ice means shores are overcrowded, competitive and hostile, forcing walruses to extreme measures to find space. Some climb cliffs in unsuccessful efforts, plundering to gory mass deaths. To witness such footage in a wildlife documentary is shocking, but being close enough to smell these animals breaks your heart. At Terracotta, we know that traveling to such remote or threatened wonderlands can forge those emotional connections between people, landscapes and wildlife; we know that first-hand experience motivates people to act and we know the guides who understand and share this ethos.
Surprisingly, many places we explored on foot were awash with flowers, like delicate tufts of pink moss campion and Svalbard reindeer antlers. Walking on the tundra was often like playing hop-scotch as the guides weaved us through paths that avoided the flora so determined to grow in permafrost. Seeing these colorful blooms exemplifies how fine-tuned survival in polar regions is and how it has adapted over thousands of years that even minute changes can have a domino effect — as temperatures rise, flowers bloom early so migrating birds miss pollinating insects, meaning fewer birds for hungry mid-sized mammals and less mid-sized mammals for larger predators. Sadly, as the climate changes, these miss-timings become regular and the system disintegrates.
Though exploring polar regions is still for the privileged few, there is a steady increase of Arctic and Antarctic travelers and these vulnerable areas are no longer just for scientific researchers or explorers. For those who do choose to go, traveling with the right people, who put conservation before tourism, is paramount. At Terracotta Travel, we only work with the most conscious operators, those with minimal food wastage, no disposable plastics and who exceed the guidelines set by AECO (the association dedicated to managing responsible, environmentally friendly and safe tourism in the Arctic) and voluntarily partake in the clean seas effort. Likewise, our expedition guides are the highest qualified, who ooze passion for wildlife and the environment. And whilst there will always be people traveling to polar regions purely to tick boxes, we want Terracotta travelers to be part of the solution, to embark on an epic expedition, fall in love, be mesmerized and return home as an ambassador for change.
So whether you want to stand on your private balcony whilst looking out for a humpback whale, or kayak your way through ice-flanked waters, Terracotta knows every expedition, every vessel and cabin, but most of all, we know the guides and operators who have earned their right to take guests to these privileged locations. Let us arrange your life-changing trip before the hypnotic Arctic quiet becomes a hauntingly empty muteness.
