Hornsund, Svalbard
What to do with our final full day in the Arctic magic of Svalbard, this cluster of icy, flower-garnished islands anchored far north of mainland Europe and the rest of the world? We sailed into Hornsund, a fjord in the southwest corner of Spitsbergen Island. The topography climbed high overhead and mottled sunlight danced on mountain flanks as we landed our Zodiacs near an old hunter’s shelter, and hiked the bedrock and moss gardens one last time. Bird cliffs rose hundreds of feet above, with Black-legged Kittiwakes pinwheeling off their nests, calling in musical inflections. We found countless arrays of tufted saxifrage and purple saxifrage, some adorned with little white breast feathers (molted off the nesting birds). We climbed promontories and skirted talus slopes and listened once more to stories from our staff naturalists and historians. Never mind the chilly winds; after six days in the Arctic we were happy in the cold beauty of it all, the newness and freshness of everything, the friends we’ve made, the pictures and poetry we’ve composed. All too soon we’ll be back in the heat and city crowds, the traffic and consumer madness, dreaming of ice bears and seals, and the sea ice that’s much too sparse this summer.
Northbound to Longyearbyen. Naturalist Ian Bullock offered a compelling afternoon lecture on global climate change, and soon thereafter we found Swedish pancakes in the Bistro Lounge. Later, we sighted fin whales and white-beaked dolphins on “the drop-off” (the continental shelf) west of Spitsbergen, and Atlantic puffins that strafed the bow (to our delight) as the sea calmed itself into a molten pattern of shimmering grays.
Captain Leif Skog invited us to a fun farewell gathering while images of our expedition scrolled by on the lounge screens. After another great dinner, we gathered for a songfest to celebrate our good fortune.
