Thursday 8th June 2023

The first polar bear I saw, the only live polar bear I saw, was in 1967 when my parents took me to London Zoo to see the cub that had been born, Pipaluk. I have few if any memories of that trip, but the name I did remember. Sadly, for Pipaluk, he died just 22 years later in a zoo in Germany.

Pink polar bears were a drink consumed with great enthusiasm by us on 17 squadron in Germany. The drinking of these in the evening usually meant amnesia in the morning. These once did lead me to the only trouble I had in my 15 years’ service, but that’s for another time.

And then, in 2008, I had to join a ship in Hammerfest, and in the information centre there was a stuffed polar bear. I didn’t see one on my two voyages out of that port, which lies less than 72 degrees north, so far north that in the eight weeks that I was there, the amount of daylight between the beginning of February and the end of March meant we had eight hours more daylight by the time I left.

So, being so much further north now means 24 hours daylight, and trouble getting to sleep, I guess.

We are in Svalbard because our trip to Norway in January to see the Northern Lights was cancelled, and we were offered this with a 50% discount so we would not ask for our money back. We took the chance, but did find how far away Svalbard is, and how expensive flights from Oslo to here are. That being said, we could afford it, and here we are.

And back to the blog.

We woke at half six, having had eight hours sleep, or should have, but thanks to the made design of the bed in the room, it did manage to tip me out onto the floor early into the night, though I was unharmed.

“Man injured by bed”

We got dressed and packed, went down for breakfast, which had the usual mix of fruit, cold cuts, bread, cooked foods, pickles and so on. And coffee.

Once we had been fed and watered, we checked out, walked to the terminal and up to the departure hall, where we were taught how to print our boarding passes, then use them to check in our bags. Our tickets allowed us to use the fast track through security and also had access to the lounge, where we could have had a second and maybe third breakfast.

There we met Kieran again, who we had spoken to briefly at immigration the day before. He was also on the tour with us, and being a West Ham fan, was happy with the Happy Hammers winning the EUFA Conference final. He watched it in another Irish bar in Oslo, we slept through it, however.

Once it was nine, we walked to the gate where the flight was boarding, but the usual crowd of people were trying to all get on the flight at the same time, most with multiple cases and bags, so they could claim overhead locker space, I guess.

We hung back, but once on we had a row to ourselves again, and room in the locker for my cameras. So all good news.

The plane was ready for the first leg to Tromso, where many years back I caught that flight to Hammerfest, but this time it would be daylight when I arrived and possibly even sunny. SAS sold three classes of tickets, but we all got the same deal: hot drink, cold drink, small roll and a snack. Even Kieran, who had a business class ticket, had to pay for a second (and third beer).

Norway was hidden under a blanket of cloud for the most part, until we approached Tromso, dropped under the cloud and were presented with the expected snowy vistas of fjords and mountains.

Tromso is in a stunning location, in the lea of mountains and strung out along the edge of the fjord, but we wouldn’t have time to visit, because once landed we had to go to immigration to have our passports stamped once again, then get back on board the plane. Which was full to bursting this time. As there were at least four ships waiting for passengers, as we would find out later.

Again, the view was of clouds, and I had my head buried in a book, Jools nudged me and said to look out the window, as the snowy expanse of Svalbard was below. Proper artic snow and landscaped, made and carved by the harsh weather up here. Drifts of snow, hundreds of feet high, formed between peaks of adjoining mountains, and the same over and over again to the horizon.

But it was sunny.

Gloriously sunny.

The plane dropped down, the pilot weaving the plane between mountains and down valleys until we saw Longyearbyen, in about the only snow-free area.

We landed, waited to get off, then gathered in the tiny terminal for our bags, after which we could meet the representative to find where to take the cases and then board the bus for town.

It was very much like Mount Pleasant in the Falklands, a busy, hard working town, with steel buildings like warehouses, bright painted houses and condos: sturdy but functional. It reminded me of Mount Pleasant in the Falklands, all very much a working town, or place, if not a pretty or military one.

We were given an hour and a quarter, so I went to find the church. Which I did find, or see, but the bridge to it had been washed away and the detour would have been too long. So, I made do with a distant shot and then we went to find Kieran in one of the two bars in town.

He had demolished half a huge plate of burger and fries and was halfway down a pint of Weiss bier, which he insisted I join him with. And who am I to refuse such a command?

We whiled away half an hour or so, making two pints disappear, but by then it was time to go to pick up the buss for the short run to the quay, where we were to board the zodiacs to take us out to the ship.

Yes, you read that right.

So, in groups of ten, we clamber and stumble aboard the rubber boat, then hang on for dear life as they whisk us over the sound to the waiting ship, where we climb up to the landing platform, and then up the steps to deck.

We were shown to our cabin, where our cases were waiting, time to unpack before the opening briefing, where we were told there would be an emergency drill. So, a few minutes later, the siren sounded and we met in the lounge, then made our way to the aft deck and be shown the escape craft. Even with a jumper on, it were chilly on deck, so glad when we were allowed back down.

We sailed, and as we left the fjord, the phone signal got weaker and weaker until it faded away, which is how it will be for the next six days or so. Anything might happen and we wouldn’t know.

At quarter to eight, we went down for our buffet dinner. Vegetables, salad and other nice freshly cooked stuff. We sat next to a nice Turkish couple and we had a pleasant meal talking about travel and trips we had taken, also the political issues our respective countries are going through.

As we ate and relaxed, the ship cruised to St Johnsfjord, where after arriving at half ten, we dropped anchor for the night. Meanwhile, in the bar, Kieran and myself drank whisky as we scanned the slopes of the fjord for signs of polar bears.

None seen yet.