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Dressing for Success on an Arctic Excursion

November 12, 2016 / Jenna Kinghorn / 0 Comments

The interior of Polar Pioneer was so warm that I regretted bringing just one tee shirt, and ended up buying two Aurora Expeditions tees for lounging around in. On board I wore polyester knit slacks and a pair of slip-on Sketchers. Going out on deck for air or photos I would don my water-and-wind-proof hooded parka. Although I’m basking in the sun in the photo below, I always had a pair of gloves (thin enough so that I could handle my camera) in one pocket and a knitted watch cap in the other.

The view from the very top deck was spectacular, but the wind generated by the boat’s own motion usually made it too cold to stay for long. Here I am enjoying the sun while the captain picks our way v-e-r-y slowly through a fjord full of icebergs.

Excursions always involved riding in a Zodiac. Some excursions were nothing but boat rides which took us along the faces of calving glaciers, through iceberg lagoons or fields of sea ice, or along the barren, rocky coast. On other excursions we were in the Zodiacs only briefly, to get from ship to shore, where we explored on foot. We generally had two excursions per day, one of each flavor, and I learned to dress slightly differently for each.

Some excursions were boat-based tours, while others landed us to explore on foot

Zodiac tours involved sitting still, with our butts on rubber pontoons just a couple feet above the near-freezing saltwater we navigated, for up to almost three hours. Although riding in the Zodiac was more comfortable than I expected, our temperatures dropped steadily. We didn’t generate much body heat just sitting and taking photos, and the cold breeze created by the boat’s motion carried away what little we did. My nose usually got uncomfortably cool first, followed by my toes, then my fingers, and finally my ears. What we were seeing was usually so fascinating, though, that while the boat’s driver would ask us every half hour or so if everyone was still comfortable, everyone held out as long as possible before admitting we were ready to return to the ship!

Riding in the Zodiacs was comfortable in spite of our butts being just feet above nearly frozen saltwater

For our Zodiac tours I wore two pairs of thick hiking socks under knee-high rubber-and-neoprene boots; my warmest long underwear; a pair of knit slacks and long-sleeved knit top; a thin fleece pullover; insulated and waterproof snow pants; the down liner of our expedition parka; the waterproof and windproof hooded shell of our expedition parka; a fleece neck warmer; a fleece-lined water-repellent trapper-style hat with ear flaps that fastened under my chin; wind-proof insulated ski gloves (which made it pretty much impossible to handle a camera!); and, on top of it all, the mandatory life vest.

By the time I was fully suited up, I was about as flexible and graceful as The Michelin Man! Just opening the cabin door was nearly impossible, and going down the flight of stairs to the boat deck felt downright dangerous, although by Day 3 I realized I was so well-padded I probably wouldn’t even get hurt in a fall!

Land excursions gave us a chance to stretch our legs as well as admire scenery

On our first landing I wore the same layers I had for our maiden Zodiac tour. I nearly passed out from heat prostration as we took a slow, gentle stroll along a flat, firm beach.

Over the next couple landings I figured out that the best layering for anything involving activity was: two pairs of thick hiking socks under knee-high rubber-and-neoprene boots; my lighter long underwear; a thin fleece pullover; rain pants instead of snow pants; my brought-from home light hooded parka; a fleece neck warmer; a knitted watch cap; thin knitted gloves; and, on top of it all, the mandatory life vest.

We got surprisingly warm on some excursions, removing layers as walked along

I still felt like The Michelin Man, but once we were ashore, I could strip off the life vest, and then could easily remove and replace, as needed, my neck warmer, watch cap, and gloves. On longer walks I often stripped off my light parka and tied it around my waist, slipping it back on if the breeze came up.

Walking across the Arctic tundra in approximately the same outfit I use for winter walks at home along the beaches of Puget Sound made the concept of global warming feel frighteningly real.

Trish models our expedition parka

Gearing up for these excursions alongside Trish in our narrow cabin was quite a production. Getting the base layers on was pretty easy, but each layer required a bit more effort and more “elbow room” to keep from accidentally whacking each other, but we gradually figured out how to keep out of each others’ way while also being close enough to lend a hand when needed. Even though we left our gloves for last, with our arms and torsos so layered up we couldn’t bend very well, we almost always had to help each other with the zippers on our parkas and life vests. We were overheating uncomfortably before we even got out the cabin door!

Although we were given a general idea at breakfast or lunch of when our next excursion would be, the plan often changed, and we were given only twenty minutes notice to be out on the bow ready to board the Zodiacs. The first couple of days, as we were still sorting out not only which layers we really needed, but also where in the cabin to keep each item of clothing so it could dry and air between excursions — there were drawers under our bunks, hangers in two lockers, shelves in a third, hooks by the door — it took us closer to half an hour to get out on deck, and we despaired that the last Zodiac would depart without us! They didn’t, of course, and over time gearing up got easier and we got more efficient. By the last few days of our 13-day cruise, we were dressed and on the bow within 10 minutes of the “Zodiacs will be reading in 20 minutes” announcement over the P.A. system.

Cabin 505

October 13, 2016 / Jenna Kinghorn / 0 Comments

Our cabin, number 505, was on deck five. It was a quiet deck and very convenient: we went up one flight of stairs to access the bridge on deck six, and went down one flight of stairs to deck four to access the bar or go out onto the bow deck and load into Zodiacs. It was also easy to step out onto the stern deck for a quick photo opp or breath of fresh air.

Our cabin was long and narrow but efficiently laid out with lots of built-in storage. I spent a lot of time sitting in my bunk reading and updating my journal, since the bridge was the only indoors public space with a good view.

Life aboard a moving boat is noisy. There’s engine noise, and sometimes noise from the crew or passengers moving around doing things, but also just a lot of creaking and rattling and groaning from the decks and bulkheads. Between the noise and the midnight sun, we were pretty sleep deprived by the end of the trip!

Our window, or porthole, sometimes framed a lovely peek-a-boo view, but it was hard to see anything other than sky unless you were standing right by it. It didn’t open, but it sure let in a lot of light.

To the left in the photo below are two hanging lockers for our jackets and the life vests we had to wear whenever we went out in the Zodiacs. The built-in desk and some small shelves above were lined with green stuff you put under area rugs to keep items we put there from moving around as the boat swayed. We kept our rubber boots and outermost rain gear, which we always wore in the Zodiacs, in the corner by the door. The glinty things mounted on the wall in the right third of the photo are glass tumblers for toothbrushing etc mounted in a custom rack; we hung our name badges on them to remind us which to use. Out of sight to the right is a locker with a bunch of shelves where we stored electronics, camera equipment, hats and gloves, etc. There were two chairs that stacked up for storage that I sometimes pulled out when I got tired of sitting in my bunk.

Here is the interior of Cabin 505 as seen from the padded bench near the window.

I never sat at the desk to write, although I probably would have used it if it had been under the porthole instead of staring at a blank wall.

The bathroom was small but the layout was efficient. The bright orange pipe is the hot water for the shower — the orange served to remind us not to touch that pipe it was so hot! The shower drain is in the middle of the floor, and you pulled a shower curtain around you and the shower pipes to keep everything else in the room dry when the shower was in use.

Shipboard Life

October 13, 2016 / Jenna Kinghorn / Comments Off

Polar Pioneer was our home for 13 nights and days. Our cabin was on deck 5, just below the bridge.

Our days usually started at 6:30 or 7:00 am with expedition leader Henrick’s cheerful greeting over the PA system: “Good morning, good people.” Trish and I rolled out of our bunks groaning most mornings; a ship underway is noisy, and neither of us could get enough sleep most nights.

Trish and I had a double cabin with two lower bunks and a private bathroom. There were drawers for storage under each of our beds and under the padded bench seat in between them. We had curtains around each of our bunks, plus a blind to pull across the porthole, and sometimes we needed all of that to escape the 24-hour light!

The schedule for the rest of the day went something like this:

7-8 breakfast buffet

8:30 on deck to get into Zodiacs for an outing

12 back from our outing in time for a delicious hot lunch

1-2 find a spot in the bridge to enjoy the view, get out onto the bow for some sun, or curl up in your bunk or the bar with a book or to edit your photos

2:30 back on deck for another Zodiac outing

6:30 squeeze into the bar for a re-cap of the day, often including a mini-lecture by one of our experts on some highlight we saw

7:30 dinner

8:30 wander from bridge to bar to observation decks taking photos and talking to fellow passengers

MIDNIGHT belatedly remember that the sun doesn’t set here at this time of year and it’s time to try to get some sleep

Meals were served in two dining rooms that mirrored each other on port and starboard with the serving galley in between. Seats were not assigned, so we chose different dining companions for every meal. During and between meals, coffee and hot water for tea or cocoa was always available, and we could help ourselves to cookies and fresh fruit at all times.

The food, including the vegetarian fare that I ate most days, was excellent.

The bridge had the best view through these amazing large windows. It was open to us at all times, but we weren’t allowed to take pictures of the interior, and we had to stay quiet so that the helmsman and other crew could concentrate on their work. There was limited space in the bridge, but most passengers were good about taking turns and letting other people take their stations.

The bow deck was a popular spot to catch some rays and look for wildlife when we weren’t moving very fast.

The muster station for the lifeboat on the stern deck made a nice outdoor viewing area protected from the wind, although there was no place to sit.

Carol's digital reconstruction of what the artifact might have looked like.

My Favorite Finds at Paradise Bay and Eskimo Bay

October 2, 2016 / Jenna Kinghorn / 0 Comments

When we landed at both Eskimo Bay and, earlier in the trip, Paradise Bay, most of my shipmates headed off on a hike. A few of us stayed with Carol and did a casual surface-survey near a few of the houses.

Carol takes notes on each find: its location, its condition, a description and photos. She can review notes from past visits to track what has changed at a site.

We hoped to find artifacts that Carol hadn’t seen before, and she was also looking for artifacts noted on previous visits, to see how they were weathering.

Wood is incredibly scarce in this tree-free zone above the Arctic circle. This sharpened stick would have been especially prized because of the knot near one end, which was believed to have supernatural meaning.

It turns out I have a good eye for that sort of thing. Although I don’t have the patience to make a career of it, I found it fascinating to walk slowly and carefully, bent over to scan the ground for anything that looked like it might have been fashioned by a human hand.

: At Paradise Bay the unnaturally straight edges of this cutting tool made of slate caught my eye.

: The short edge near the tips of Carol’s fingers seems to have been shaped into a sharp edge.

: The three-inch long cutting tool may have been hafted to a handle of antler or bone to make it easier to use.

Since trash was disposed of by heaping it just outside the houses, there was a surprising amount of broken bone scattered on the surface of the earth.

A line of holes on this piece turns out to be the tooth sockets in part of a jawbone of a small mammal. Note the other shards of bone around it.

The primary tool for shaping bone was a bow-driven drill — the people who lived here hundreds of years ago didn’t have saws or knives — so I concentrated on looking for small, perfect holes.

These perfectly round holes were also created by a person. This shard that Carol found seems to have been part of something larger, or perhaps it was a practice piece.

This other piece I found at Paradise Bay was probably part of a sled runner. Cord made of animal skin or sinew was laced through the holes so the piece could be lashed to the bottom of a sled.

Also at Paradise Bay, Robyn found a harpoon head. The notes and photos Carol takes of each find are eventually entered into a database that other archaeologists can access.

: Carol takes a photo of a harpoon head found by Robyn, another of our guides, at the Paradise Bay site.

: This harpoon head was probably used for hunting marine mammals.

At Eskimo Bay I made my favorite find: part of what Carol thinks was an amulet! The striking slot-like hole first caught my eye, and when I got down closer I saw that the thin piece of flat bone was decorated by a pattern of lines formed by holes that were not drilled all the way through.

: My most prized find was part of an amulet. I first noticed it in the dirt around the dwelling because of the oblong hole — probably an attachment point for a cord.

: This fragment of amulet was something Carol hadn’t noticed on previous visits to the site. She was almost as excited about it as I was!

: Carol’s digital reconstruction of what the artifact might have looked like.

That night back on the ship, Carol used her photo and computer to do a digital re-creation of what the larger piece might have looked like. She thinks this is the upper part, and that another section would have hung below it, but we have no way of knowing what it looked like, or what meaning it carried.

To have found this delicate work of art, held it in my hand, and imagined the lives of the people who created and used it hundreds of years ago was one of the highlights of my trip!

This site is particularly rich in worked bone artifacts. In the past the artifacts have been added to a cached collection as they were found, and the collection is displayed for visitors.

Bone Treasures in Eskimo Bay

October 2, 2016 / Jenna Kinghorn / 0 Comments

I’ve been fascinated by archaeology since childhood, so getting the opportunity to explore a largely undisturbed site like the settlement at Eskimo Bay was one of the highlights of the trip for me.

With about 45 of us clustered around her (the kayakers arrived a bit later, in a sort of second wave), Carol pointed out the house remains. She coached us to look at the ground and walk gently around the settlement — never-before-seen artifacts weather out of the ground every season, and it would be easy to crush one before it was even recognized.

She talked a bit about what life was like for the inhabitants, and pointed out features that made the site an ideal village location: a nearby stream, the flat shore good for landing kayaks, and the sheltered nooks and crannies that the people used as work shelters and lookouts.

Carol points out a snow knife that has begun weathering out of the ground. Some of the knife is still embedded in the ground, so she covers it with a few flat stones between visits to protect it.

After a bit of searching, Carol found a couple of flat rocks that she remembered from her last visit to the site a couple years ago, and carefully moved them aside to reveal a bone implement — a “knife” used to harvest packed snow to be melted into water. We clustered around, oohed and aahed, and took photos.

The snow knife is fashioned from the jawbone of a musk ox. I associated snow knives with igloos, but Carol explained this knife was used to harvest snow or ice to be melted into water.

Meanwhile one of the other guides, Gary, retrieved a cache of bone artifacts that have been gathered over time and set them out on a lichen-covered boulder for us to admire.

This site is particularly rich in worked bone artifacts. In the past the artifacts have been added to a cached collection as they were found, and the collection is displayed for visitors.

I find the way the ends of these delicate pieces were worked intriguing. Are these tools, ornaments, game pieces, amulets…?

Here’s a bit of bone I found with holes drilled through. Ancient Inupiak did not have metal knives or saws. A line of drill holes would perforate bone or shell so they could snap it into pieces. Maybe this was a practice piece?

The kayakers gather around to hear what life may have been like for the people who called this home. Note that Matt, the kayak guide, carries a rifle for protection against polar bears.

Our Eskimobogt (Eskimo Bay) Excursion

September 28, 2016 / Jenna Kinghorn / 0 Comments

One of my favorite Zodiac excursions was our stop at Eskimo Bay, a long-abandoned Inupiak settlement up a fjord in Greenland. Carol, our archaeologist afloat, brought history and prehistory to life with wonderful stories.

There were clearly at least four pit houses in the settlement, one of which a stream is quickly eroding. The main room of each pit house was only a few meters in diameter, small enough that it was warmed in deepest winter by a single seal-fat lamp and the body heat of the ten or so people who called it home.

They had few possessions and did most of the work of survival outside the dwelling. There were no provisions for cooking in the home because they ate a lot of their fish and meat raw — fresh, bloody game actually provides many more nutrients, including vitamin C, than cooked flesh.

: Depressions ringed with stones are the only remains of the pit dwellings. The pit house roofs were made of animal skins supported by a framework of bones, antlers, and very rare driftwood.

: Carol talking about one of several rock-lined pit houses that formed a small settlement that was abandoned hundreds of years ago.

: What looks like a jumble of rocks turns out to be the fallen-in remains of a rock-lined dwelling dug into the earth.

: Dwellings had two chambers. The outer chamber, a mere entry vestibule, was lower than the main room, so that heat would not escape when whatever was used for a door — probably a tent-flap of skin — was opened. The flat rock below is the door lintel between the entry chamber and main room.

: The kayakers gather around to hear what life may have been like for the people who called this home. Note that Matt, the kayak guide, carries a rifle for protection against polar bears.

: On a ridge above the pit houses we found several large hearths lined with bright white quartz that would reflect and intensify the light and heat of the fires. They might have been used for cooking, or for social gatherings, or as a signal to distant kayakers or sled drivers.

: Sheltered ledges on this bluff overlooking the fjord were used as work spaces, where some of the carved bone artifacts we saw might have been made.

: Kayakers are dots of color in a bleak landscape as they explore the grave sites on the ridge overlooking the tiny ancient village.

: People were buried sitting or curled up with their backs against a boulder. Smaller rocks were piled carefully around them until they were fully enclosed in a chamber that provided protection from scavengers — even polar bears! — as well as the elements.

Sea Ice is Polar Bear Habitat

September 20, 2016 / Jenna Kinghorn / 0 Comments

We were disappointed not to see polar bears during the couple of days we explored Svalbard. Our next stop was Greenland, and I didn’t expect to see much fauna there. Wildlife is heavily hunted, so animals run away from the sound of engines.

But a sharp-eyed guide spotted motion amidst the sea ice as we approached the northeast coast of Greenland, and it turned out to be a lone polar bear. For about fifteen minutes his curiosity won out over his fear. He swam from one ice floe to another close to the bow of the Polar Pioneer, peering and sniffing and cocking his ears at us as we trained our lenses on him.

In the afternoon we had a more fleeting encounter with a polar bear family. The mother was obviously frightened by our appearance and kept her two cubs moving quickly away from us, so we did not try to prolong the visit.

These were our only encounters with polar bears during our 13 days afloat.

: In the pack ice off the northeast coast of Greenland, we watched a polar bear swim between ice floes.

: He seemed shy as he swam to a nearby ice floe and contemplated climbing out.

: Then we realized he was really nervous, as his open mouth and projecting lower lip indicate.

: Maybe curiosity overcame fear.

: He seemed as interested in us as we were in him.

: He eventually relaxed enough to do a wonderful “polar bear shake.”

: His next trick was to break off a piece of the ice floe.

: He totally meant to do that. Really!

: He had absolutely nothing to feel sheepish about.

: Just to prove it, he eased himself back into the water…

: …and did a little surfing!

: He swam to another ice floe and climbed out.

: …where he struck and iconic pose or two..

: …and then went on his way again.

: He swam quite a distance, passing a number of smaller ice floes, and putting a good span of water and ice between him and our ship.

: He climbed out onto a larger ice floe.

: He spent a few minutes exploring and sniffing.

: Then he again plunged into the water and swam off into the pack ice.

: During a Zodiac tour in the afternoon, we caught a glimpse of movement on a distant ice floe — another polar bear!

: A mother!

: Traveling with TWO cubs!

: Traveling was the operative word: she kept those cubs moving away from us, running across ice floes and swimming between them.

: Mindful of her distress, we did not pursue them.

: We admired them from a distance until they vanished behind a ridge of ice.

Icebergs Evoke Reverence

September 8, 2016 / Jenna Kinghorn / 0 Comments

Cruising amidst icebergs in a Zodiac never got old during our Polar Pioneer trip.

The water was always calm, and our mood at the outset was generally reverent: a combination of awe at how these beauties come into the world, appreciation of their beauty, and gratitude that we were some of the privileged few in the world to lay eyes on them.

: Icebergs vary surprisingly widely in size, shape, texture, and color.

: Floating ice absorbs wave energy, keeping the water flat.

: Several times we pulled basketball-sized bergy bits into the Zodiac for closer examination.

: The diagonal lines radiating out from the center indicate how this berg has rotated over time, each line indicating where the water once lapped against it.

: Massive icebergs had multiple caves.

: The texture varied not just from one iceberg to another, but also between sections or planes of a single larger iceberg.

: The backlit tunnels of this small blue berg reminded me of crashing surf.

: The different shapes had us spotting ducks, bears, the Loch Ness Monster, and more.

: This iceberg reminded me of a sundial.

: Our small Zodiacs cruised past vast icebergs — this one is medium-sized!

: The caves and tunnels we spotted were alluring, but too dangerous to enter.

: The old saying “the tip of the iceberg” is quite true; only about ten percent is visible above water.

: We nearly rubbed up against some of the smaller bergs for close inspection.

: Our guides — in this case Robyn — spent the 2-3 hour Zodiac tours standing and steering as they answered questions.

: Some of the icebergs looked like modern sculptures.

: Our ship, Polar Pioneer, surrounded by icebergs in one of our landing anchorages.

: Some icebergs were as big as, or bigger than, a city block, leaving my mind boggling over what must lurk below.

: Spotting an iceberg with an arch or hole all the way through was rare.

: This iceberg’s cave looked like it was just waiting for a concert to start.

: Bright sun was a photographic challenge, but also made us realize how fleeting and fragile these icebergs and the glaciers that calve them are.

: Distant icebergs against blue sky and barren mountain.

: The craggy top of this iceberg shows it came off the glacier recently, and has not yet melted enough to rotate.

: We sometimes witnessed chunks of ice falling from the roof of an ice cave, which dripped a constant rain of meltwater.

: I loved the vibrant blues of the iceberg and the sky above.

: Shapes vary widely, as these specimens demonstrate.

: Seeing massive icebergs from your bedroom window is quite a sensation.

: We caught a nice rainbow on one of our iceberg cruises.

: Birds and other wildlife were quite rare around icebergs.

: This iceberg looked like it was about to come to life and make a meal of this hapless bird.

Bundled up in numerous layers of clothing, eight passengers sat lined up on the black rubber pontoons of the small boat, cameras in hand. The guide driving the boat stood at the stern and steered, periodically stopping the boat to kick a chunk of ice out from under the outboard motor’s propeller.

We craned our necks this way and that as we skirted large bergs and circled smaller ones. Cameras whirred and people ducked out of the way of each others’ photos. For minutes at a time the only words spoken were “Wow!” and “Oops, sorry!” when one of us ducked the wrong way and spoiled another’s shot.

After fifteen or twenty minutes, we got used to our remarkable situation: our butts a couple of feet above almost-frozen water, ice cubes as big as houses floating just boat-lengths away, the nearest other humans hundreds of miles away across an icecap or an ocean. Relaxing into our “new normal,” we started to point out to each other icebergs that were shaped like ducks, or sharks fins, or the Loch Ness Monster, our hushed tones gradually rising in volume.

For the next ninety minutes the guide maneuvered our inflatable boat into the best possible photo angles while simultaneously fielding our questions. When our guide couldn’t answer one of our inquiries — Why are some icebergs blue? Why is that one so pockmarked? Is it true that 90 percent of an iceberg is under the waterline? — he or she would call the other guides on the radio to tap their specialties. As time passed our voices and laughter got louder, and our faces and bodies got proportionally colder.

Around the two hour mark the guide would ask if any of us were cold. After ten or so minutes of denial, someone would finally admit they were starting to feel the chill. A couple of others would agree. The rest of us would confess that we wouldn’t mind access to our bathrooms, or that it must be getting close to lunch time.

With a knowing smile the guide would turn the nose of the Zodiac towards the Polar Pioneer.

And a reverent silence would again descend upon us explorers.

Not All Glaciers Look Alike

September 7, 2016 / Jenna Kinghorn / 1 Comment

During Polar Pioneer’s explorations of the coasts of Svalbard and Greenland on our August 7-20th 2016 cruise, we sailed past dozens, perhaps hundreds, of glaciers. They were so varied in size, form, and even color that we never tired of looking at them…or taking photos!

: As the sun rose higher, mist lifted off the glacier to shroud the mountains.

: Even when we weren’t touring glacier fronts in small boats, distant examples were often visible from our portholes.

: Our Zodiacs stayed back far enough to avoid becoming involved in a calving event!

: A glacier wraps a mountaintop.

: A glacier striped with ribbons of dirt and rock being carried down from the mountains.

: A glacier carves its own valley down to the water’s edge.

: Meltwater burbles in a small stream from under the lip of this dirt-encrusted glacial front.

: Cruising along glacier fronts in Zodiacs was one of our daily activities.

: The arch in this glacier front probably marks the spot where an iceberg calved.

: Our onboard naturalist Gary stands in front of a glacier face so covered with dirt it looks like a mountainside.

: Trish touches the face of a glacier on one of our Zodiac landings.

: A glacier on the move is a river of ice.

A glacier forms when snow falls (and does not melt away) year after year after year and compacts into ice under its own weight. Over time this ice moves like a frozen-solid river, pushed along by its own weight. The glacier slides along on meltwater created by the friction of its movement over the rocks. The ice wears away chunks of mountain over time, forming miles-wide fjords and smaller u-shaped valleys.

When the enormous tongue of ice reaches water, it starts to float. The floating leading edge of the glacier moves faster than the ice still resting on the ground. Giant cracks and chasms are created as the waterborne part pulls away from the main body. Periodically huge blocks at the leading edge break off altogether as icebergs.

This “calving” of icebergs sounds like thunder, so loud that the thrum of a Zodiac’s 55hp motor is no match for it. We heard the sound again and again as we cruised along glacier faces, but we only saw a few calvings.

This was partly because the direction of the sound is deceptive as it bounces off water, mountains, the glacier front, and the icebergs all around our boat, some of which were the size of city blocks. And partly because the glacier fronts are miles wide, so it’s impossible to watch more than one small section.

The action is over in an instant, and unless you’re very close to the new iceberg, you can’t even make out its bobbing and rolling as it finds its new equilibrium.

A Bounce Through Longyearbyen, Svalbard

September 1, 2016 / Jenna Kinghorn / 0 Comments

The second stop of my Arctic trip was about three scant hours in drizzly Longyearbyen, a town on the archipelago of Svalsbard, about halfway between Norway and the North Pole. Although it only has about 2000 residents, Longyearbyen is an important outpost for researchers working in the Arctic, and as such boasts a university and an international airport.

We flew into said international airport and were greeted by a stuffed polar bear in the baggage claim area. (The little stuffed dog on the carousel is my friend Trish’s other travel companion, Rufus, who features in many of her travel photos.)

Longyearbyen polar bear

A bus whisked us through the drizzle on a quick tour of the town, which was founded in the early 1900s on coal mines. At least one of these is still in production, and our guide pointed out the long line of supports used to hold up a system of cables that historically moved bins of coal from mine to shipyard. A couple of small herds of reindeer grazed near the side of the gravel road, so common that the guide didn’t even mention them until someone asked what they were! I didn’t bother trying to take photos from the bus, assuming that we would see other reindeer during our first few days of the voyage.

We eventually arrived at a dog yard where sled dogs, still an important part of the transportation equation in the Arctic, are housed. I had been warned since childhood that sled dogs were vicious and unpredictable and should never be approached. So I was amazed when the guide invited us to walk among the dogs, each of which was attached by a short chain to its own little house, and pet them! (The guide did warn us that they would probably jump on us and get our clothes dirty.)

Longyearbyen trapper’s outpost

The pooches were eager for the attention and contact. As visitors petted and dogs wagged — just two days into my trek I already missed my beloved Boomer! — the guide explained how important sled dogs still are in the Arctic, where snowmobiles and other machines break down all too often. He explained that although they aren’t treated as pets, sled dogs are very well cared for and prized. In recent years many dog team handlers have abandoned the older, harsher ways with their dogs for a more positive-training approach.

The small buildings at the dog yard were replicas of huts that would be found in a trapper’s or hunter’s outpost, complete with reindeer racks and curing furs on the walls and several seal carcasses hanging out front. For the last couple of centuries, hunters and trappers in the Arctic have gotten from one hunting ground or trap to another via sled dogs during the snowy months, a practice that continues today. This outfit was situated high on a hill and had a magnificent view of a wide river valley.

Longyearbyen Museum

Our second stop was at the Longyearbyen Museum. Located on the university campus, it’s a gem of a museum. Small in square footage but rich in artifacts, the history of the area — which is largely the story of the extraction of natural resources — unfolds in exhibits all around the perimeter of one open-plan exhibit hall. The interior space of the hall houses natural history exhibits. Visitors traipse across raised walkways to view stuffed Arctic animals resting on or under cleverly fabricated plastic ice floes. One of the highlights was a fabulous sculpture elucidating the Arctic food web. We only had about half an hour to visit; I would have been happier with half a day!

our first glimpse of Polar Pioneer

Our final stop was at the wharf to board Polar Pioneer, the little ice-strengthened former marine research vessel that was to be our home for the next two weeks.