We awoke on day
five of our odyssey to find heaving grey seas and an overcast sky. Northern
fulmars reveled in the chaos, skimming over the wave-tops and past the
port-holes. In contrast, the more frantic looking little auks flapped
hysterically to escape from the path of the ship. As ever, we are at the mercy
of the seas and the conditions demanded we abandoned our proposed morning
landing and continue up the Hinlopen Strait, seeking more sheltered
attractions.
Our route took us
close by a bird cliff of some fifty meters, disappearing into the mist high
above the ship. The rock, stained with guano from years of occupation, hosts
the nests of the BrĂ¼nnich's guillemot in their tens of thousands. From all
sides the birds soared out of the fret, calling to one another. The scene
appeared almost otherworldly; a strip of rock caught between the sea and the
mist, dyed a ghostly hue by the low light conditions.
Fram ploughed on, seeking calmer waters in which to land. We
found them at Kinnvika; a small settlement established to host a scientific
collaboration in the 1950's. It was constructed at exactly eighty degrees north
and now lies abandoned, though it remains well-maintained.
The terrain on which
it is built is inhospitable to say the least. Life, as adaptable as it is, has
struggled to gain a foothold here. The ground is bare rock, packed together and
cycled into geometric formations by the permafrost.
The fog lifted for
just long enough to enable the guests to spend a few happy hours wandering
about the fascinating site, taking in the abandoned buildings and machines
which are largely accessible.
Back on board, the
mist descended again as dinner was being served, so that our final stop of the
evening, the island of Moffen, came out of nowhere. This bizarre place lies
some kilometers of the coast of Spitsbergen and takes the form of a shingle
doughnut, the hole in the middle filled by a brackish lake.
It is a protected
nature reserve and is home to several rare species of bird, the Arctic fox and
an abundance of walruses. As these creatures gave the whole ship a lesson on
relaxation, a discussion opened up as to what the collective noun for a group
of walruses should be. We settled on a "pile" of walruses (the rather
disappointing correct answer is "herd")