The darkness is beautiful

Strangely, you become very accustomed to, and comfortable in, the dark.

When I first arrived in Longyearbyen the days were perpetually light. Even though the midnight sun had finished a few days before I landed, the light lingered. It took more than a little getting used to the fact that 10pm and 4am looked the same. So did 2am and 8am for that matter. For the first weeks I didn’t sleep that much – it was all so exciting, so much to explore. And it was light outside. Always.

Then slowly, there began a rhythm of day and night that felt more normal for someone who doesn’t spend their whole time in the high arctic.

As more night crept in, the days became perceptively progressively shorter, you can feel it one day to the next. Sleep patterns followed the light – or more accurately, the night. [Except when there was the chance of northern lights…]

Before coming to Svalbard I wondered how I would feel when the days were dark, or when I would be out exploring and waiting for auroras at night. A very handy piece of advice was given to me by Elizabeth who runs the artist residency. Her wise words – there is nothing in the dark that wouldn’t be there in the light.

I try to adopt that pragmatism, while still mostly standing between two snow mobiles in the darkness when I’m taking aurora photos – usually at the edge of the safe boundary, at the end of the road, just beyond the street lighting.

Here though, there is the small comfort of some faint blue light that the soft glow of the illuminated polar bear sign is throwing to my feet.

Sounds still make me jump in the dark a little, but sound travels so far here I can’t possibly tell how close anything is.

I will know that I have truly embraced the darkness of Svalbard if I ski up on the mountains by headlamp light, just like the locals.

'Bonfire of no regrets'

I was lucky enough to experience one of Longyearbyen’s famous bonfires on the beach. I had not expected the bonfire to be a huge pirate ship – complete with plank and pilfered ‘Christmas tree’ – made out of forklift palettes.

[Ok, I had expected the palettes because what else would you build something out of in Svalbard, and what else would you burn?]

This seemed like a perfect way to say goodbye [for now] to Svalbard – with warmth, a group of fun people, and bright plumes of sparks lighting up the sky.

A few more days...

There are only a few more days until full Polar Night – and only a few more days left at the residency.

Dark season = reflector season

Now that the days are dark, an essential piece of clothing is a reflector vest.
For variety they come in two fashion colours; fluro green and fluro orange.

A little more blue hour

Most of the day now is ‘blue hour’. Or dark.
And maybe the snow is finally sticking around, but I wouldn’t be betting the house on it.

Out on an adventure

So many people were out enjoying the winter beauty.

Sam, Catherine and Jökla the pup out on an adventure

Beyond the city limits

One of THE best days

9:00am and everything is totally calm

What a contrast...
Yesterday was absolutely wild.
This morning revealed mountains [literally] of soft fluffy snow, and it was absolutely calm.
It was all so stunning.

The slight trade off was the chilly -7°, but you can always put on a second pair of socks.
And another thermal top.
And maybe two pairs of gloves...

The storm finally quietened to a winter wonderland

The residency building had been doing a wild shimmy and shake all afternoon in the storm. Windows rattled, the one in the bathroom flung open. After a brief foray out into the storm, it somehow seemed smarter to be inside.
And warmer.

It was also an opportunity for another creative session with @_arctic.artist_ of the ‘World’s Northernmost Art Club’ – always an absolute treat.

Later in the night the storm calmed completely – not a breath of wind – but it had left behind the most amazing scenes.

Last sunrise and sunset for 2024

Today was the last sunrise [11:50am] and sunset [1:30pm] in Svalbard until mid February 2025...

Pre-dawn light

This morning there were iridescent pre-dawn colours, which cooled for sunrise and sunset.

11:50am and the last sunrise for 2024

1:30pm and the last sunset

With the sun now below the horizon, for the next few weeks the skies will lighten to dusk in the middle of the day, but the days will become shorter and shorter, darker and darker, until slipping in to full Polar Night with only the moonlight and auroras to light the darkness.

Blue hour brings some snow

Update: phew, the snow has returned, we are almost back to normal... but as my friend Sally says about Svalbard weather 'what is normal now?'

This is also what is called the blue hour, where the light and snow take on a very distinct blue.

Although there is snow [which to be fair should have been snow on top of snow, not snow on top of mooshy sloosh], it is still above zero degrees. It remains to be seen if the snow stays or if it all ends up in the fjord, again.

+4° and the world is melting

It took two days of +4° temperatures and rain to melt most of the snow around Nybyen and Longyearbyen.

The transformation from crisp snowy whites and blues to soggy and sticky browns and greys was pretty stark.

The river, which had been frozen, turned into a roaring torrent as the melt raced downhill to the fjord.

The past days have been 12° above the average daily temperatures – I am absolutely raging at the absolute stupidity of it all.

[The up side is that even though today is still above zero, snow has been falling steadily – fingers crossed it sticks around a bit.]

Oooups

When you use a variety of icy rocks as a makeshift tripod to take aurora photos, I guess it is not a surprise there could be a couple of malfunctions when gravity gets involved...

Beautiful low-angled light of sunrise

The sunlight is coming in at a very low angle now, barely making it above the mountains and the curve of the earth. This is one of the last sunrises we will see here in 2024…

The soft light of sunset is also stunning

Moody mists

Even old mining infrastructure looks beautiful in Longyearbyen’s moody atmosphere.