Nu finns mitt reportage från Svalbardexpeditionen ute på nätet. Håll till godo.

I’ve got a thing about polar bears…not the animated googly ones on Coca-Cola holiday commercials, but the real deal. I know they may have a different thing for me if we were ever to meet (like seeing a big, neon, EAT AT JOE’S sign and arrow over my head), but I find them stunning and mysterious…and their plight is devastating.

Hurtigruten, an expedition cruising and sailing company, voyages with their clients to some of the most remote destinations in the world like Antarctica (top of my own, personal bucket list), Greenland, and through the Arctic Circle. They’ve just announced a new “Climate Pilgrimage” expedition that takes you to the front lines of climate change research in the Arctic.

The cruise company prioritizes education and exploration and passengers are immersed in culture, geography, history, botany, and wildlife on all of their trips, and this 11-day excursion has a volunteer component as well. You’ll venture to Northern Norway and the Arctic island of Spitsbergen on the state-of-the-art, polar-ready MS Fram, and you’ll visit research stations, track wildlife, participate in field studies, and meet with top researchers. The May 29, 2010 departure is priced from $4,823 to $9,516 per person, double.

The trip description: The first two days are spent in Norway’s Tromso, visiting the Polar Environmental Centre, where climate scientists discuss the task at hand and the status of the research being done.  A stop in Europe’s northernmost cities, Honningsvag, includes a visit to the North Cape Plateau, and a stop at Gjesvaerstappan – a unique bird cliff where the Norwegian Polar Institute has done research on a host of seabirds including puffins, gannets, auks and guillemots.

The remainder of the trip is spent exploring the remote Arctic island of Spitsbergen where polar bears, Svalbard reindeer, Arctic foxes, whales, walruses, and ringed and harp seals and dozens of other animals and migratory birds still roam the stunning landscapes of their natural habitat — a natural classroom to learn about and see the effects of climate changes.  On Bjornoya (Bear Island), participants observe the changes to bird habits at one of the largest concentrations of seabirds in the Northern Hemisphere.  Research in Hornsund, Spitsbergen’s most southern fjord, includes polar bears and the feeding grounds of auks, while in Bellsund, guests learn about the phenomenon call surging glaciers.  Ny Alesund has been the jump off point for several historic attempts to reach the North pole – Amundsen, Ellsworth and Nobile are some examples of explorers.  Guests will explore a large glacier front and possibly enjoy an Arctic beer at one of the world’s northernmost pubs.

The warming of the Arctic now allows vessels to cross the 80th parallel – something not possible less than 20 years ago.  Walruses, whales and polar bears rule this region and the MS Fram will treat guests to a close look at the marginal ice-zone and its large yearly variations.  The final two days are spent exploring Isfjorden, Spitsbergen’s largest fjord system, observing giant bird cliffs, and visits to the University Centre of Svalbard and Svalbard Museum in Spitsbergen’s capital town of Longyearben.

Want to meet me there?

http://www.hurtigruten.us/

This is from a recent trip one of my friends did. Next year its our turn to sail among ice and bears in Svalbard.

[http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lMwAStTdNeY]
We are planing a circumnavigation of the archipelago for three weeks in August-Septembre 2010. Interested? We are off course not talking about a huge cruise ship filled with people. Just our yacht in an exclusive expedition.

Den första anhalten vi gör på vår expedition runt Spetsbergen är till det ryska gruvsamhället Barentsburg. Det finns bara tre samhällen på Svalbard: Longyearbyen, Barentsburg och forskningsbyn Ny-Ålesund. Om Longyearbyen känns lite frontier-aktigt, som ett Åre för länge sedan med många unga, spänningssökande personer och Ny-Ålesund mer som Tarfala forskningsstation, är Barentsburg mest ett slags Mordor. Den svarta röken som spyr ut ur skortstenarna är lika svart som samvetet hos en Uruk-Hai.

500 personer bor idag året runt i den ryska gruvenklaven. Av dessa är 16 barn, 150 kvinnor. 150 är även antalet grisar  som i självhushållets anda utfordrar den gammelsovjetiska anakronistiska samhället med Leninbyst och allt.

Här handlar dock allt om kol. Och de som bryter den. Och om isbjörnar naturligtvis.

Det finns inga vägar hit. Man flyger helikopter från Longyearbyen, kommer med fartyg eller åker skoter när snön bär – vilket den gör större delen av året. Då kommer turister hit och tar in på det enda hotellet. Där finns även den enda baren som jag vittjade på ett glas vodka. Finvodka till utlänningarna som på den gamla tiden. Den sämre sparar man till sig själva.

Rysk generositet kan verka karg, men är nästan alltid äkta.

Långt mellan borden på Svalbard

Det var inte för maten jag åkte till Longyearbyen. Men när jag ändå var där ville jag kolla in vad som bjöds. I min värld har tyvärr Norge generellt utgjort ett U-land när det kommer till matlagning, fantasi, nytänkande och prisvärdhet. Däremot är ju landet ett förstklassigt I-land när det gäller råvarorna.

Hur skulle då den arktiska utposten Longyearbyen med alla sina “Världens nordligaste…” svara upp mot mina förväntningar och mina farhågor?

Bra faktiskt.

Utbudet av riktiga restauranger som är värda att nämna ser ut som följer – i min egen rangordning:

1. Huset.

Legendarisk restaurang med en hemlig vinkällare med över 20000 flaskor. I den befintliga vinkällaren som man kan gulla sig till att få besöka, finns faktiskt ett riktigt bra urval viner, särskilt från Rhonedalen. Det finns även en enklare pub med bra tryck och stämning. Här åt jag nyligen faktiskt kanske de bästa halstrade pilgrimsmusslor jag ätit nånsin. Favoritställe efter den upplevelsen. En svensk kille, Per Selander basar dessutom i restaurangen med den äran.

De fantastiska pilgrimsmusslorna på Huset

2. Funktionærmessen (på Spitsbergen Hotel).

Riktigt bra kök för att vara på ett hotell. Prisbelönt dessutom som en av Norges bästa krogar för ngt år sedan. Fick dock skicka tillbaka kött (i vanlig ordning) men 2 minuter senare kom de ut med en utmärkt “Black & Blue” utan knorr, så förutom detta var hela middagen i sin ordning.

3. Brasseri Nansen 2. Etage (på SAS Radisson)

Läget i SAS Radisson garanterar att det inte är det billigaste haket att gå till. De har en fin-meny med vinpaket för ca 2000 kronor, vilket i min värld kräver galet bra mat. Jag vågade inte satsa på detta dock. Enklare bistro på nedervåningen med bra utbud för rimligare kostnad. Man måste dock upp till våning 2 för att dansa med de tunga elefanterna.

4. Kroa (eg. Steakers)

Det fåniga namnet har i folkmun bytts ut till Kroa. Det är hit man ska gå för att äta de traditionella arktiska specialiteterna – val & säl mm. Lite enklare, lite billigare – och många locals favoritställe om de inte vill slå på stort.

Det mest spännande matstället på Svalbard är dock en annan historia som jag återkommer till. 

(newt in the Arctic)

  

 

“Funken”

 

 

De flesta personerna på “Funken”, den gamla funktionärsmässen som numera tjänar som ett av Longyearbyens två hotell, talar andra språk än norska. Många fransmän, en hel del tyska hörs, italienska, spanska och engelska naturligtvis och faktiskt även några compatriots från Svedala. Tjejen i receptionen är från Skåne, även hon på Radissons reception var svenska. Var jobbar de norska ungdomarna förresten? Oljeministeriet? Jobbar de alls? Har faktiskt när jag tänker på det aldrig sett en norsk tonåring arbeta…

Dagsljuset dygnet runt tär på en. Det finns bara intellektuella anledningar till att gå och lägga sig. Man tittar på klockan och inser att det är dags att sova – men solen som skiner och värmer ansiktet säger något annat. Det är mycket som är annorlunda häruppe på 78 N. En sak är att alla tar av sig skorna när man kommer inomhus – även på hotellen. Receptionen på “Funken” når man i strumplästen en våning upp. Alla, utom fransmännen naturligtvis. De skiter fullständigt i sånt (Fransmän ta av sig skorna??? Mon Dieu! Skojar du?).

På hotellet finns en salong med Chesterfieldfåtöljer och skinnsoffor i rött skinn. På väggarna böcker och  inramade originalkartor över Spetsbergen från 16- och 1700-talen. Här samlas de som just anlänt och längtar ut på sina expeditioner. Här samlas också de som just kommit tillbaka. Här berättas historier om kommande och just avklarade strapatser, här skrävlas det och skrytet flödar fram hos självgoda Skinnarmo-wannabees. Det är en trevlig miljö att kolla in människor helt enkelt.

Kvinnan som sätter sig framför mig, kom med samma plan som jag. Kvällen till ära har hon tagit på sig en tröja med ett tryck – M/S Prof. Molchanov. Råkat ta på sig, eller?

“Jaså? Råkade jag ta på mig min tröja jag köpte på min seeenaste Antarktisresa? Jasssså? Ja, tänk ändå.” 

Så går tiden och snart är klockan alldeles för sent. Trots det vita ljuset måste man lägga sig. Sover ingen här? Imorgon ombordstigning på M/S Expedition som tar oss vidare norrut. Men jag ska bara stanna uppe en liten stund till. Bara en liten. Det är ju inte ens mörkt.

Svalbard ho!

Det var någonstans ovanför Spetsbergen. Vi var på vår fjärde och sista flygsträcka för dagen. Jag skulle skriva något i min svarta bok och plockade upp min reseskyddade Waterman ur handbagaget. Ett litet välbekant plopp hördes när den lufttäta behållaren tryckutjämnade ovanför de norska fjällen. 

En första varning. Fukt. Bläck. Fingrarna på vänsterhanden sög snabbt åt sig den blå färgen som på en obegåvad bankrånare som just insett att färgampullerna i bankväskan verkligen GÅR sönder när man öppnar den på fel sätt. Men det här var ju min penna! Mitt sätt.

Locket satt som det skulle men pennan var inte helt åtskruvad och bläcket hade läckt genom gördeln. 

Jag torkade av pennan med en sida ur Scanorama (förlåt) – vilket var en dålig idé för ett glossy magazine är inte den bästa bläcktorkaren trots allt. Dramat fortsatte. Jag var ju fortfarande tvungen att öppna den för att kunna ta bort den felaktiga ampullen. Sagt och gjort.

De blå fläckarna som nu pryder min skjorta går aldrig att tvätta bort – och så är det väl med det skrivna ordets bärare, förmedlare och obarmhärtiga domare. Den sår sin bläckblå vildhavre – ibland på papperet i min skrivbok, ibland på mina händer och nu på mina kläder.

Gör detta mig både till vägen och målet?

Hur som helst bör man vara försiktig med att använda reservoarpennor efter en dags intensivt flygande.

Part of Adventure Week

This summer, I’ve had the wonderful experience of visiting Svalbard. I did it the easy way, by cruise ship, and spent three days on the gulf-stream warmed West side of Spitsbergen, the largest island, getting the merest taste of this starkly beautiful place. I visited two towns, Longyearbyen, the seething metropolis of Spitsbergen (pop. 2000), and Ny Ålesund, the most northerly community in – somewhere or other – Europe, I think (pop.200), and managed a very carefully chaperoned 1 km walk on an uninhabited fjord shore (pop. 1 Walrus, 2 Reindeer and some Glaucous Gulls). I did not see a Polar Bear. If you do, you are very, very lucky, and don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.

This was enough of an adventure for me, to be getting along with; but this is an enormous, mysterious, staggeringly wild and beautiful archipelago, and I have barely even scratched the surface. Never mind: enough to stand on permafrost, breathing in air that I could feel going all the way down into my lungs, unable to drag my eyes away from a magnificent if not conventionally beautiful landscape, scarred by nature and by man. But Svalbard is a place for those with a thirst for adventure. A tough breed of visitor, led by an even tougher breed of expedition guide, now finds it possible to satisfy this thirst. Clothing and equipment to withstand the extremes of terrain and weather are readily available. Communications technology and GPS mean the risk of getting lost is vastly reduced (but not eliminated). But the best and safest means of travel remain what they always have been: walking, skiing or dog-sled (depending on the conditions). Inspired by Rosie Swale Pope, I suppose I should never say never; but I do not think I shall ever trek beyond reach of the settlements of Spitsbergen, experience the polar night there, or take a dog-sled trip into the uninhabited interior. So I was looking for a book that would enable me to find out what I was missing, and in Longyearbyen Museum (a fabulous place with a gorgeous stuffed polar bear for those feeling deprived of the real thing) I found the perfect one.

One of the most experienced expedition guides in Svalbard has written a guide book that can slip into the pocket, but is an amazing encyclopaedia of this austerely magical place. The title barely covers it: ‘Spitsbergen – Svalbard. A complete guide around the arctic archipelago. Nature and History. Places and Regions. Useful and important information. [by] Rolf Stange.’ It is an astonishing work, containing all that the title promises and more. It is written by a man who, over 12 years or more, has explored every inch of Svalbard. He covers its geology, the state of the terrain at all seasons, natural history, what the community of Spitsbergen regard as cultural monuments, but what we would regard as the detritus of abandoned industry – fishing, whaling, mining, trapping. He tells it like it is about the need for environmentally-conscious tourism in a fragile landscape, and sets high standards for how visitors should prepare, arrive and conduct themselves while they are there.

Life in Svalbard has always been lived on the edge – in fact that is what the name means – ‘Cold Edge’. Vikings returned from voyages North with tales of a land that may or may not have been Spitsbergen, describing it as the cold edge of the world. No evidence has been found of habitation before Willem Barents discovered Spitsbergen in 1596, but that does not mean that he got there first. Immediately, it began to be exploited for its resources. The whale population had crashed by the end of the 18th century, let alone any later. From the 19th century, its enormous coal reserves began to be stripped out; several hundred thousand tons of coal annually are still mined today. The Spitsbergen Treaty of 1920 arbitrated between the countries vying to benefit from its natural riches. It gave sovereignty to Norway, while allowing citizens of all the signatory powers (of which there are over 40) free admission and equal legal status. That enabled Norway, Britain, the US and Russia to continue their business. The main mining interests now are with Norway and Russia (formerly with the USSR). The main endeavour, though, these days, is scientific research: polar science, arctic ecology, and atmospheric observation, particularly of polar light effects.

Nomenclature can be confusing. Barents’ name for his discovery, Spitsbergen , stuck until Norway assumed sovereignty. They introduced the name ‘Svalbard’, with its freight of wishful thinking, that Norwegian Vikings had been the first to discover the land. Now, the convention seems to be to use Svalbard for the whole archipelago, and Spitsbergen for its largest group of islands, including the main island of ‘Vest-Spitsbergen’.

Rolf Stange’s magnificent guide book fulfils a number of purposes: it is an unrivalled armchair guide to the whole of Svalbard, and therefore greatly to be valued for reaching those parts that the cruise ships do not; and it is a well-informed, authoritative (sometimes authoritarian in tone, but with good reason), comprehensive source of information for the intending traveller. There is a clear description of the experience of an expedition to Svalbard, with details of all the necessary arrangements and preparations. It is particularly strong in managing expectations – obviously the fruit of experience in leading expedition groups. The guide deals fully with what I’ve come to call the ‘Polar Bear Paradox’: on the one hand

‘Expedition style cruises are not safaris for any particular wildlife, especially not ‘polar bear safaris’, although marketing brochures sometimes deliver the impression. If you have a very strong interest in seeing polar bears […] consider a voyage to Churchill in Canada, where close-up views of polar bears are virtually guaranteed at certain seasons. There is no such guarantee in Spitsbergen.’

On the other hand

‘During landings, groups are always accompanied by guides armed with heavy calibre rifles to protect them from potentially dangerous polar bears. These large animals have to be expected anywhere and at any time in Spitsbergen outside the inhabited settlements; the importance of this fact cannot be over-stressed. Individual excursions are not possible. Safety of humans and animals takes precedence over tourist interests.’

That’s telling us. I can vouch for the armed guide – a girl with a very big gun kept a lookout while we made our short and very un-strenuous coast walk. He goes on to tell us that the primary aim is to fire flares or rifle shots to frighten a bear away, and to know how to achieve that takes skill. Ultimately, though, human safety takes priority, but, if a polar bear has to be killed to protect human life, there will be an enquiry to see whether any reckless behaviour contributed to it, with serious penalties if that proves to be the case.

The other stunning feature of this guide book is a collection of over 250 stupendous colour images, of the landscape, of the ‘cultural monuments’ (anything from an abandoned bucket lift to a Longyearbyen mine, to a rusting steam locomotive on Bear Island), of glaciers and fjords, of the minuscule flowers, mosses and even 2 inch high trees that make up the tundra, of animals and birds. They are the most beautiful illustrations I have ever seen in a guide book.

Rolf Stange’s text is also a marvellous achievement. Originally written in his mother tongue, German, the English version has no translator credited, and the internal evidence is that he translated it himself. His prose is strong, real he-man stuff, but full of love and wonder too. His descriptions are clear, detailed, vivid and enthusiastic. He has not only explored the whole of the land, but has also read everything he has been able to find about it, and his scholarship is lightly woven through the whole book. There is a lifetime of reading in the bibliography. He has a terrific line in the driest possible humour. Here, he is describing Barentsburg, the third significant settlement along with Longyearbyen and Ny Ålesund, which is a depressed Russian mining settlement, barely functioning these days, complete with surviving bust of Lenin in the public square:

‘Little has been done in Barentsburg to encourage tourism, which accordingly has hardly developed beyond day trips from Longyearbyen which include visits of one or two hours to the settlement. The biggest obstacle that visitors have to negotiate is the long staircase that leads up to the centre. If you want to avoid the staircase, then you can hike from Longyearbyen to Barentsburg, this takes a few days and is possible along the coast or through inland valleys.’

I’d be proud to pull off a deadpan punch-line like that in English, which happens to be my mother tongue! He then goes on to describe the town and its people with great respect, drawing attention to several reasons to find it a fascinating place to visit.

I could go on quoting from this book – it has been a source of constant delight as I’ve dipped into it over the past month since I’ve returned from my hardly perceptible adventure in Svalbard. It is self-published, and an extremely high quality example of book production. I recommend it as a beautiful book to own, and a great read for armchair and would-be real adventurer alike – well worth 30 Euros of anybody’s money, whether you plan to visit Svalbard, or just read the works of Philip Pullman.

Author and publisher: Rolf Stange. 2008. ISBN 978-3-937903-07-0. 541 pages.
Available from www.spitzbergen.de

The photo of a dog-sled team in Adventdale, Spitsbergen, is a holiday snap taken by Hilary in June 2009.

Too short–great ship, people, naturalists, staff, food, weather, hiking–my ankle doing well and fantastic photos of walrus, whales, polar bears, birds and ice—Here are just a few! downloaded. Borneo and Norway in rapid succession, I am now home for a few months!!

Previously: A quiet day until about 6:30 pm, then…

Previously: I am circumnavigating Svalbard Archeipelago (Spitsbergen) on the National Geographic Explorer, a wonderful ship and crew–we are breaking the ice and actually went out on the hydraulic lift over the ice.  Have seen 5 beautiful polar bears and they are magnificent.  The birds are cool, and of course the ice, blue and cold.  Have yet to see the sun–though this is the land of the Midnight Sun–no darkness.  We hope to see narwhals, whales and walrus, etc. We are up to the 83rd parallel, close to the North Pole .  Ate gravalax and drank aquavit  for lunch.!

Previously: North of the Arctic Circle At the 82nd parallel, in fog and ice–and one great polar bearIt is a great trip thus far, but not as much wildlife yet as I had hoped–much less than Antarctica. We have seen 3 bears, and have yet to see narwhales, walrus, or whales. One caribou and one arctic fox. The boat is terrific, and some great people, so it is lots of fun and today is restful–no landings as we go around the top of Svalbard, over to the west side. Have been doing stretching daily and using the eliptical trainer…boat is very steady.

Previously: Not here for the peace prize, but it is a lovely city and  wish I had more time here.  We leave early AM for our flight to Spitsbergen, and hopefully, adventure to see narwhals, walrus, beluga and minke whalesand polar bears.  Have met some nice people–not used to 150, but the ship is supposed to be great. Trip over a piece of cake–only 7 hrs.  50% of people own boats here!!!

It seems an unlikely place to find such a symbol of romance. But Mother Nature chose this bleakly beautiful Arctic landscape to leave her mark in the form of a stunning heart-shaped lake.

It has emerged as climate change melted the glacier that covered the area. Blocks of ice trapped during the glacier’s retreat caused the ground to cave in, creating a heart-like hollow, some 120ft by 90ft, that then filled with rainwater or snow melt.

The picture was taken by French photographer Bruno Mazodier on Spitsbergen, the largest island in the Svalbard archipelago.

The Norwegian island 620 miles from the North Pole is the most northerly inhabited-place on Earth, although people are outnumbered by polar bears.

Dr Bryn Hubbard, of Aberystwyth University, said: ‘The glaciers all through this island chain have receded, but the heart shape is an anomaly. You would do well to find another.’

Read more: The lake that Cupid made (after global warming had melted the glacier)

Spitsbergen

     I had an interesting conversation with a friend recently. She stated that she had no use for cold climates and would always vacation in sunny, tropical places. I, on the other hand, spent last July in the arctic in Spitsbergen, north of Norway. What would ever possess someone to vacation in a place where it snowed three full days, was windy and cold most of the time, and is fairly barren compared to a tropical locale? I have thought about that for the best part of the past week and can only say that if you have to ask, you will probably never understand. This friend asked me why I went to Yellowstone National Park in winter. All I could think of to say at the time is that it was beautiful and it was an adventure. How do I describe how it lifts my soul? How to describe the feeling of getting outside on a sunny sub-zero morning when every bit of moisture in the air is turned to ice crystals, called fairy dust, that float and sparkle everywhere. The squeak of a booted foot on really cold, dry snow? The utter silence?

     Sure, it’s cold, but with proper clothing and the common sense to get in the warm snow coach once your feet or face start feeling a bit too tingly or numb and it is sufficiently comfy. One thing it does is sap your energy. By the end of the day it is all I can do to stay awake log enough to eat before going immediately to sleep, usually before eight pm.

     In trying to describe why some of us might prefer such an arctic adventure I am reminded of a chapter in Galen Rowell’s Inner Game of Outdoor Photography Book called The Size of the Rat. He was trying to describe why some people become mountain climbers or professional nature photographers, while others, with equal talent, stay home and work in a factory. The rat in question is the rat that is eating at your stomach to go for an adventure. Apparently that rat is very small or does not exist in most people. These people are called shopkeepers. Perfectly fine people, but they prefer to stay perfectly safe at home and have no real yearn for an adventure. Disneyland will do just fine. It is safe and predictable. They are most interested in accumulating money and all else is a distant second to that goal. There are a lot of shopkeepers in this world. There are not very many adventurers in this world. Adventurers do not have much material wealth. That is sacrificed, along with a stable family life, for the freedom to roam the planet, often leaving on a very short notice. It is a big price to pay. Adventurers would become extremely bored with sitting on a chaise lounge on a beach drinking Mai Tai’s. They would probably be climbing palm trees for coconuts within about one hour.

“Make a life, not a living.” Donald Neale Wash, Conversations with God 1

“You will not be coming back this way again, leave nothing undone.” Omar Kayyam

“All you can do is look at where you are and be happy, or not.” Peter Droge

Winter Photography

     This is my friend, Meg, in Yellowstone in February. Winter photography in Yellowstone is not for wusses.

This Voices from the North interview is with ocean sailor and writer Lindsay Wright of New Plymouth. Originally trained as a journalist, Lindsay’s love of yachting has carried him all over the world and almost to a watery grave. His fascinating stories give listeners a glimpse into the psyche of a person prepared to do what he loves, despite the obstacles life has thrown his way. He describes with fondness a recent but bygone era when adventurous sailors plied their skills without the advances of GPS and improved sail handling gear.

He is the current secretary for the Solo Tasman Yacht Race that sails out of New Plymouth in 2010 enroute for Queensland. This single-handed race runs every four years and has hosted some illustrious yachting names, people like Jerry Clark, Bill Belcher and musician Andrew Fagan (in a craft under 20 feet). These are people who don’t just sail, they often build their own boats. They’re an eclectic mix—from a dentist in Queenstown to a quarryman in Turangi. Lindsay will himself be participating in the next race with his 28 foot sloop.

Lindsay describes sailing and racing for others, delivering boats on the ICW (Intercoastal Waterway of the Eastern US).

Lindsay speaks with fondness of an earlier adventure in his life; time spent cruising the Spitsbergen Islands. The trip, made by Lindsay, his wife, Sarah and their cat, Luigi began with a journey through the Stairway to Heaven between Fort William and Inverness, a canal system connecting something like 12 lochs including Loch Ness.

Such is the life of intrepid sailors: Lindsay’s wife Sarah is English, they met in the Caribbean and they were married in America.

He describes vividly the lives of the last old time whalers of Norway; in fact, he and Sarah were there living briefly with Norse traditional Minke whalers in the last year they were allowed to legally whale. These were proud whalers with a way of life many generations old. Lindsay is quick to point out that this way of life is far removed from the unsustainable slaughter of whales in the Southern Ocean being carried out by Japanese whalers today. The book he wrote of the journey is called Red Sails No Sunset.

Lindsay’s choice of music is a famous Jacques Brel song, Ne Me Qutte Pas. He chose the song for very personal reasons. He owned, sailed and wrecked (the night his hair went gray) a yacht owned by famous Belgian songwriter Jacques Brel. His story of Askoy, the boat Brel sailed to the southern seas when he was diagnosed with throat cancer, is fascinating and not to be missed.

John Haines is the author of In Search of Simplicity: A True Story that Changes Lives, a startlingly poignant and inspiring real-life endorsement of the power of thought, belief and synchronicity in one’s life.

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Chanting is no more holy than listening to the murmur of a stream, counting prayer beads no more sacred than simply breathing. . . . If you wish to attain oneness with the Tao, don’t get caught up in spiritual superficialities. A Taoist Quote from Lao Tze

Zodiak

     The man standing up in the zodiak is Joe, as in Joe Van Os Photo Safari’s. This is how I chose to spend half of my July this year, most of it with weather like this. We were in Svalbard a large area in the arctic north of Norway. Spitsbergen is the largest island in the area. Spitsbergen is mostly glaciers and the sea in this area is mostly ice floes in the summer. We were looking for polar bears. We did not find as many as had been found in years past, but not for the reasons you might imagine. This year there was too much ice. We couldn’t get to where the majority of the polar bears were normally seen. We got stuck in the ice trying. We putted about in a Russian ice breaker. I quite enjoyed myself, as I usually do, despite the tight living quarters on board and the lack of polar bears.

     The sun never sets this far north. There were always birds following our ship, fulmars and kittiwakes, mostly. We found bearded seals and walruses hauled out on ice floes from time to time. We went ashore and found reindeer and snow buntings and arctic flowers. We went to a beach where the walruses hauled out and were approached by curious teen-age walruses out for a lark.  I met nice people. What was not to like?  This trip is not being offered this year. I think Joe decided the chances of NOT seeing polar bears is becoming a possibility. It is a very expensive undertaking to putt around the arctic on a Russian ice breaker. The venues for being able to see polar bears are dwindling.  Churchill, Manitoba remains the major one, but you are likely to find bare dirt and dirty bears instead of snow and white bears as global warming kicks in big time in the arctic already. I am very happy to have seen these great white bears in their home habitat before it is too late.

     I gave a copy of this photograph on a memory card to Joe. If that were me I would want to have the photograph. After he had viewed it on his computer he said something like, “Hey, that photograph actually wasn’t too bad.” I guess that was a compliment.

S. A. Andrée's Ørnen before launch at Svalbard. Public domain from the Library of Congress.

The quest for the North Pole was as much a race between different technologies as it was a race between explorers. On one side you had the Westerners adapting Inuit sled-dog technology approaching the pole over the pack ice. On the other you had purely industrial technology—either planes or dirigibles—circumventing the horrible terrain and going by air. Down to this day it’s not entirely certain which of them won. Peary gave the native technology a decisive boost with his 1909 expedition, but doubts about his success wax and wane decade by decade. If he didn’t do it, either Richard Byrd (in an airplane) or Roald Amundsen (in an airship) took the prize for the technocrats when they flew for the pole within six days of one another in 1926. As Byrd’s flight has also fallen into the shadows in recent years, it’s distinctly possible that Amundsen was a member of both the first expedition to the South and North Poles.

In the long run, aircraft are the superior way to get both north and south as far as one can go, but for about thirty years—until the power and endurance of gasoline engines reached a critical point—dog sleds had a window of opportunity. Before planes and dirigibles made the grade, the only way to make it to the pole by air was with a hydrogen balloon. And you’d have to have been insane to give that a go.

Take that as an introduction to Salomon August Andrée, the Swedish aeronaut who tried it in 1897.

The main problem with taking a balloon anywhere is that the balloon really takes you. “Dirigible” comes from the French verb diriger, “to direct”, and that’s a thing you can’t do with a regular balloon. You go with the wind at the same speed as the wind, and who knows where you’ll end up. S. A. Andrée believed he’d cracked the problem using drag ropes: trailing behind his balloon and along the ground, they would slow its passage and let the wind gain a bit of relative speed. With a wind at hand, he could use sails to steer one way or another.

The technique is, however, horribly flawed. Not only do the lines have a tendency to pull a balloon downwards—to the point that it risks crashing into the ground—the modern consensus is that even when everything works perfectly their effect on a craft’s steerability is minimal. Andrée had reason to believe this after several flights over Sweden (and, more to the point, uncontrollably right out of Sweden and over the Baltic), but nevertheless somehow came to the conclusion that he could deviate from the path of the wind by over twenty degrees.

Having convinced himself that his plans would work, Andrée spent several years convincing others and raising funds to build the Ørnen (“Eagle”) to take him over the Pole. To be fair, past its flawed steering system, the ship was a solid piece of work. Its balloon held 4,800 cubic meters of hydrogen in an envelope of orange, varnished Chinese silk. The gondola was enclosed, and contained bunks for sleeping. Passengers could climb through a porthole to the roof, where a tentlike structure could be lifted over the open basket to protect the passengers from the cold. The three draglines consisted of 1000 meters of heavy coir fibre. To build it, he managed to secure 130,800 kronor (about US$1 million in today’s currency); Alfred Nobel was among the subscribers.

Incredibly, Andrée was so sure of his work that there were no test flights for Ørnen. The first time it flew (and only the second time it was inflated, after an abortive try at his mission in 1896) was on his actual polar attempt in 1897. The explorer and his two companions—Knut Frænkel, and photographer Nils Strindberg—made their flight on nothing but calculation and conviction.

The Ørnen lifted off from Amsterdamøya in Svalbard at 1:46 PM on July 11, 1897. Things went terribly wrong almost immediately. As the balloon gained height, the drag lines rolled horizontally along the shore then snapped, dropping two-thirds of their length to the ground. Relieved of the lines’ heavy weight, the balloon rose until the remaining length of line barely touched the ground. The only means of steering the Ørnen, no matter how marginal, was gone. Incredibly, Andrée chose not to abort the flight but to push on, trusting to the wind to take him over the pole. The balloon continued off out of sight, drifting on the wind to the northeast. A message buoy dropped from the balloon (as Andrée intended to do at every degree of latitude) was found in 1900, but there would be no other sign of the expedition for 33 years.

By 1930, Norway had seceded from its union with Sweden and, as an adjunct to the Treaty of Versailles, Svalbard had been changed from a quasi-international territory to part of the Kingdom of Norway. The Soviet Union was attempting to annex another piece of land, Victoria Island, between Svalbard and Franz Josef Land, and Norway decided to challenge it. Under the guise of studying seals and glaciers in Norway’s northern possessions, the M/S Bratvaag was dispatched to lay a claim to the contested island. En route to their destination, they discovered that the easternmost island of Svalbard, Kvitøya (“White Island”, for its perpetual dome of glacial ice), was much more accessible than usual due to a warm summer melting the pack ice that surrounded it. On landing to explore, they found the remains of the Ørnen expedition.

The rest of the balloon’s trip has been reconstructed from Andrée’s recovered diaries. The Ørnen continued northwest at considerable speed until very early in the morning on July 12th, when the wind softened and changed. They had cleared 82°N. but now they were headed slowly but surely to the west, and making almost no headway. Worse, they ran into fog which began freezing to the surface of the balloon and forcing it down. Despite throwing ballast overboard, the gondola began touching the surface and by the afternoon the pack ice was being “stamped every fifty meters”. The wind changed again, and they returned to their original course, but more slowly and with it just now a question of when and where they’d hit the ice for the last time. The answer turned out to be just shy of 83°N, at 7:30 in the morning on July 14th. They were almost 400 kilometers from their base, and 250 from the nearest land.

After crash landing, the crew of the Ørnen were in dire, but not impossible, straits. The balloon had been designed for thirty days in the air, not three, and Andrée had decided to use food for much of the ballast. Even after dumping some of it overboard as the Ørnen had slowly sunk, they had almost 800 kilograms of mostly high energy foods like pemmican, condensed milk, and alcohol. But what they had, they had to pull on sledges across ridge-strewn pack ice—at first they made only a few kilometers a day, and ocean currents often pushed them back as far as they were moving forward. They did have plentiful ammunition to hunt polar bears and seals, however, and kept themselves alive for six weeks of slow progress.

At the beginning of September, the ice floes on which they were standing began to drift south with increased speed. The expedition turned one floe into an impromptu liferaft, erecting a base on it and waiting to see where it took them. On September 17th, they drifted within sight of the first land they’d seen in two months: Kvitøya. After celebrating with some of the food they’d brought along (Strindberg’s diary mentions wine, chocolate, and raisin cake with raspberry syrup, which had been intended for the celebration at the end of a successful flight) they decided against disembarking as the island appeared uninhabitable.

Nature went against them as they passed. The current slowed and curled around the lee of the island, eventually smashing their icy lifeboat to pieces on the southern shore over the course of the first week of October. Without any way of moving on, and with winter fast approaching, they settled in to wait for rescue or spring, whichever came first. All of them were dead within a few days.

Of the three, Nils Strindberg expired first and was buried in a rock cleft by the other two. Frænkel and Andrée died in their makeshift tent, possibly of carbon monoxide poisoning—malfunctioning for lack of oxygen, as the tent was made from gas-tight fabric salvaged from Ørnen. All three were cremated when the Bratvaag returned to Sweden, however, so we will never know for sure. Andrée’s body was found sitting up with his rifle, 33 years after his death. The last entry in his diary that can be deciphered reads “hem kl. 7⁵ fm”—“Home at 7.05 a.m.”.

Apart from Andrée’s diaries, the crew of the Bratvaag recovered five rolls of film exposed by Nils Strindberg. Of the 240 images, 93 were recoverable, and they serve as a poignant testament to the expedition’s last months out of contact with the world. Seventeen of Strindberg’s photos, as well as some from the Bratvaag expedition, may be seen on this Polish web page. Others, in much poorer shape but including a panorama he made of the Ørnen crash site are found here.

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Nå er dokumentarfilmen om polare lavtrykk tilgjengelig på NRK nett-TV. Den handler om det forskningsprosjektet jeg jobber på. Målsetningen er å gjøre det mulig å forbedre varsling av polare lavtrykk. Dette er en hissig værtype som dannes når det blåser kald vind fra ismassene i Arktis ned i våre havområder. Senest på onsdag (7. januar 2009) traff et slikt lavtrykk land på et annet sted enn det som var varslet dagen før. Satellittbildet under viser hele kaldluftsutbruddet denne morgenen (klikk for full størrelse).

Den kalde luften strømmer rett nedover og svakt mot venstre på bildet, fra nordvest. De høye fjellene på nordvestkysten av Spitsbergen gjør at det dannes en stripe med turbulente skyer som strekker seg helt ned til kysten. Til venstre for denne ser vi en klassisk skytype i forbindelse med slike kaldluftsutbrudd. De kalles roll clouds og er av typen Stratocumulus.

Til høyre for stripen ned fra Svalbard finner vi det polare lavtrykket. På dette tidspunktet består det av to kraftig fronter. Den buete, avlange massen av helt hvite skyer til venstre er en kaldfront. Her trenger det seg kald luft inn i relativt varme luftmasser. Den varme luften blir presset opp med voldsom kraft, og dette fører til at det dannes flere kilometer høye skyer. Denne sonen av lavtrykket er mest utsatt for det virkelige drittværet: lyn, torden, hagl og tett snøvær. Det er også her vi finner den sterkeste vinden (som altså blåste av hustak i Vest-Finnmark onsdag)

Fronten til høyre, den med en litt komma-aktig form, er varmfronten. Luften roterer jo rundt lavtrykkssenteret, så her blir varm luft fra sør i Barentshavet ført nordover. Da blir den tvunget til å legge seg oppå den kalde luften, og dette fører også til dyp skydannelse. Her er værtypen litt annerledes. Tett snøvær kan godt forekomme, men det er sjelden med lyn og torden.

Alt i alt er dette en helt vanlig situasjon i Norskehavet og Barentshavet. Når vinden snur på nord, dannes det nesten alltid polare lavtrykk i mer eller mindre moden form i de kalde luftmassene.

Ballettikka Internettikka: Norddikka
by Igor Stromajer & Brane Zorman

Arctic Internet Ballet

Live Internet Broadcast from Svalbard, Arctic Ocean
31 December 2008 at 23:55 Central European Time (GMT/UTC+1)

- authors: Igor Štromajer & Brane Zorman
- sound edited by MC Brane vs. BeitThroN
- theoretical adviser: Bojana Kunst, Ljubljana
- executants: Nils Are Mohn & Åsmund Njøs, Svalbard

+ informacija v slovenščini (PDF)

+ higher quality: watch BI Norddikka on Vimeo Video

Ballettikka Internettikka is a series of tactical art projects which began in 2001 with the exploration of internet ballet. It explores wireless internet ballet performances combined with guerrilla tactics and mobile live internet broadcasting strategies. After invading The Bolshoi Theatre in Moscow (2002), La Scala in Milan (2004), The National Theatre in Belgrade (2005), Volksbühne in Berlin (2006), City Hall and Lippo Centre in Hong Kong (2007), construction site in Seoul (2008) and other institutions and their concepts, Stromajer and Zorman — with the help of two executants on the spot — prepared a new arctic / midnight / New Year’s Eve internet ballet — Ballettikka Internettikka Norddikka, broadcasting live from the Olav V Land glacier (78N, 17E; more than 4,000 m2) on Spitsbergen, Svalbard, Norway, Arctic Ocean.

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[Map of Arctic islands - source: Wikipedia]

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Svalbard is an archipelago in the Arctic Ocean north of mainland Europe, about midway between mainland Norway and the North Pole, and forms the northernmost part of Norway and the northernmost lands of Europe.

The largest island is Spitsbergen (37,673 km2 or 14,550 square miles), and the largest settlement is Longyearbyen (approximately 2,075 inhabitants, the administrative centre of Svalbard, located on Spitsbergen).

Svalbard lies far north of the Arctic Circle. In Longyearbyen, the polar night lasts from October 26 to February 15. From November 12 to the end of January there is civil polar night, a continuous period without any twilight bright enough to permit outdoor activities in the absence of artificial light.

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Robots often cry — why shouldn’t you?

Stromajer and Zorman controlled and monitored the complex operation of leaving, jilting the robot in the deep snow of the white spaciousness of the Arctic glacier (Olav V Land, Svalbard) on New Year’s Eve. They were located in their Control Center in Ljubljana (CCL), Slovenia.

Receiving instructions from CCL, two executants, Nils Are Mohn and Åsmund Njøs, keepers of the Indian research base on Svalbard (NCAOR – Indian National Research Centre; opened in July 2008 in collaboration with the Norwegian Polar Institute, as one of the twelve international permanent research bases in Svalbard), executed the intimate act of jilting the robot at the glacier.

Mohn and Njøs started their journey to the foothills of the Olav V Land glacier ten minutes before midnight. They were in permanent video contact (UMTS webcam) with the CCL. Exactly at midnight (Central European Time / also local Svalbard time), when the year 2008  turned into 2009, they reached Point Zero (78N, 17E) and prepared a platform for the robot, using a small snow shovel. They also thrusted the Slovenian national flag into the snow next to the robot. The action was performed in the complete dark (civil polar night).

Live broadcast lasted 10 minutes, starting 31 December 2008 at 23:55, ending 1 January 2009 at 00:05 — www.intima.org/bi/nord

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[Svalbard location - source: Wikipedia]

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The act of jilting is one of the most intimate, personal and merciless deed, which is at the same time purifying, direct and even reconciliating. Jilting activates many emotions, traumas and frustrations, both for the one who jilts and for the one who is jilted. Jilting is the act of liberation: if you love something, set it free! Stromajer and Zorman therefore jilted their favourite Silverlit R/C Program-a-BOT robot (€36 in retail) in the loneliness of the Arctic ice.

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Point Zero, Olav V Land, Svalbard (GoogleEarth satellite image)

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# Produced by Intima Virtual Base – Institute for Contemporary Arts, Slovenia, December 2008 / in collaboration with BeitThroN vs. Thronus Sound System, Ljubljana / Cona, Ljubljana

Ballettikka Internettikka is an ongoing artistic study of the internet guerrilla performance.

“We shall fight them on the beaches. We shall fight them on the landing grounds. We shall fight in the fields and in the streets, we shall fight in the hills. We shall never surrender.”
(W. Churchill)

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Ballettikka Internettikka: Norddikka
by Igor Stromajer & Brane Zorman

Arctic Internet Ballet – www.intima.org/bi/nord

[Orthographic projection over Svalbard - source: Wikipedia]

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[Topographic map of Svalbard - source: Wikipedia]

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# Produced by Intima Virtual Base – Institute for Contemporary Arts, Slovenia, December 2008 / in collaboration with BeitThroN vs. Thronus Sound System, Ljubljana / Cona, Ljubljana

Ballettikka Internettikka is an ongoing artistic study of the internet guerrilla performance.

“We shall fight them on the beaches. We shall fight them on the landing grounds. We shall fight in the fields and in the streets, we shall fight in the hills. We shall never surrender.”
(W. Churchill)

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Jeg har nettopp lastet opp et fotoalbum fra et tokt ved Svalbard våren 2008. Vi dro med kystvaktens KV Svalbard fra Longyearbyen i slutten av februar og oppholdt oss i sjøisen i omtrent en uke. For det meste var vi inne i Storfjorden. Her er flere bilder