I spent so much time waiting [mostly] patiently for the northern lights. Usually in the freezing cold [quite literally], often with an arctic fox as my only company.
Well, the world has kind of flipped upside down now, and here I was chasing aurora australis, the southern lights. The stars probably look upside down to my Svalbardian friends. On this fine night the temperature difference was about 30°… I do miss those crisp -15° [including wind chill] arctic temperatures.
May there be thousands more…
Nordenskiöldbreen is an amazing and awe inspiring glacier, it is huge.
It is also retreating, shrinking away from the fjord, back up the glacier valley.
The mass of the glacier is reducing as it creeps back, revealing the dirt at the edge of the fjord.
It somehow seems slightly incongruous that a massive body of ice doesn’t create an environment that is cold enough to stop the ice from melting. But the melt water pours down at a rapid rate from beneath the glacier. It sounds so loud.
Walking on top of a glacier reveals so many surprises [and thankfully on this day, no crevasses].
There are rivulets on top of the glacier where the ice melt courses down. The channels wear away at the ice, in places they almost collide, leaving thin little ice walls that are made translucent in the sunlight. It is so easy to get lost in the beautiful colours.
In places the ice will push up in these little [or not so little] mounds.
And of course, there is the surprising rusted iron in the stones, creating startling bursts of orange.
Sadly she is slowly disappearing.
2025 is the designated International Year for the Preservation of Glaciers and the 21st of March is the World Day for Glaciers. Glaciers are the most beautiful living and breathing ice forms that need protecting – if it is not too late.
Follow this amazing glaciologist who is fighting right at the ice front. @heidisevestre
The utterly magnificent Tunabreen [Tuna glacier].
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.
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.
There are only a few more days until full Polar Night – and only a few more days left at the residency.
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.
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.
The snow was back today and it was so much fun to be out in it again – especially without those 70k wind gusts...
So many people were out enjoying the winter beauty.
Sam, Catherine and Jökla the pup out on an adventure
Beyond the city limits
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 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.
Can you go out into 72kmh winds in the arctic? Sure, no probs.
Can you hold the camera still? …😐
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.