Bear Island, Svalbard
Like our other days here in Svalbard, this—our last, began in the wee hours of the early dawn. Whales had been spotted some thirty miles or so from our intended destination, and we were unable to resist this latest call of the wild…humpbacks in the distance, fin whales near the ship, and white-beaked dolphins scattered in between. We found them to be even more potent than caffeine at pushing the sleep from our eyes and kickstarting the day. And though we could have watched those leviathans of the deep for hours on end, we still had an even greater plan for morning; one that would have us straining our necks in a different direction for amazement, not into the depths below, rather into the heavens above.
Bear Island was named by Willem Barents after an errant bear he found in residence when he first landed in 1596. Ironically, this was our first day of the voyage NOT interrupted by the furry icons of the Arctic, though they do visit the island often during the winter months. Instead, the island’s name was proven perhaps to be a bit of a misnomer, for “bird” island would certainly be far more appropriate. Thousands upon thousands of seabirds nest and raise their young here during the summer months, and as we took our Zodiacs on a two-hour cruise along the coastline, they literally filled the skies and cliffs above us. Flying back and forth from the rich seas that surround the island, the birds are set for a frantic finish to the breeding season before the winter storms renew their assault on this lonely outpost. Guillemots, black-legged kittiwakes, and Atlantic puffins are struggling against both the clock and their murderously aggressive neighbors: the glaucous gulls, great skuas, and great black-backed gulls. They seemed to inhabit every possible nook and cranny on the vertical cliffs that rise up from the sea to heights that mock the vast flat ocean thousands of feet below.
Chicks were perched on precarious ledges that luckily do not allow the larger predatory birds room to operate, but eventually they have to leave this safe haven to join their parents out at sea. Too often that first flight is their last, and we saw many that had been unable to avoid the watchful gaze of the aerial predators, who are merely taking advantage of this abundance of easy food to help rear their own offspring.
Even without the Hitchcock-inspired abundance of wildlife, however, the island is a spectacular setting. We were fortunate, today, to visit on a day when the conditions were ideal…the almost ever-present fog had lifted and drifted out to a sea that sent only a gentle, consistent swell instead of the crashing waves that can often be expected. Those waves, over the course of centuries, have carved out numerous grottos, arches, and sea caves that make Bjornoya one of the world’s greatest Zodiac cruises and a perfect ending to our time in the Svalbard archipelago. Our “half-day” here felt more like two days because of the blitzkrieg assault on the senses from the moment our feet hit the decks, but the afternoon at rest served us well. For it gave us the opportunity to reflect on what our visit to Norway’s northernmost islands meant to each of us, and also served as a timely transitional break before we venture back into the more temperate latitudes and the civilized world.
Like our other days here in Svalbard, this—our last, began in the wee hours of the early dawn. Whales had been spotted some thirty miles or so from our intended destination, and we were unable to resist this latest call of the wild…humpbacks in the distance, fin whales near the ship, and white-beaked dolphins scattered in between. We found them to be even more potent than caffeine at pushing the sleep from our eyes and kickstarting the day. And though we could have watched those leviathans of the deep for hours on end, we still had an even greater plan for morning; one that would have us straining our necks in a different direction for amazement, not into the depths below, rather into the heavens above.
Bear Island was named by Willem Barents after an errant bear he found in residence when he first landed in 1596. Ironically, this was our first day of the voyage NOT interrupted by the furry icons of the Arctic, though they do visit the island often during the winter months. Instead, the island’s name was proven perhaps to be a bit of a misnomer, for “bird” island would certainly be far more appropriate. Thousands upon thousands of seabirds nest and raise their young here during the summer months, and as we took our Zodiacs on a two-hour cruise along the coastline, they literally filled the skies and cliffs above us. Flying back and forth from the rich seas that surround the island, the birds are set for a frantic finish to the breeding season before the winter storms renew their assault on this lonely outpost. Guillemots, black-legged kittiwakes, and Atlantic puffins are struggling against both the clock and their murderously aggressive neighbors: the glaucous gulls, great skuas, and great black-backed gulls. They seemed to inhabit every possible nook and cranny on the vertical cliffs that rise up from the sea to heights that mock the vast flat ocean thousands of feet below.
Chicks were perched on precarious ledges that luckily do not allow the larger predatory birds room to operate, but eventually they have to leave this safe haven to join their parents out at sea. Too often that first flight is their last, and we saw many that had been unable to avoid the watchful gaze of the aerial predators, who are merely taking advantage of this abundance of easy food to help rear their own offspring.
Even without the Hitchcock-inspired abundance of wildlife, however, the island is a spectacular setting. We were fortunate, today, to visit on a day when the conditions were ideal…the almost ever-present fog had lifted and drifted out to a sea that sent only a gentle, consistent swell instead of the crashing waves that can often be expected. Those waves, over the course of centuries, have carved out numerous grottos, arches, and sea caves that make Bjornoya one of the world’s greatest Zodiac cruises and a perfect ending to our time in the Svalbard archipelago. Our “half-day” here felt more like two days because of the blitzkrieg assault on the senses from the moment our feet hit the decks, but the afternoon at rest served us well. For it gave us the opportunity to reflect on what our visit to Norway’s northernmost islands meant to each of us, and also served as a timely transitional break before we venture back into the more temperate latitudes and the civilized world.
