July 20-21, 2026

Our day began with subtlety and a baptism.

The wind was still blowing like crazy and there was quite a swell, but I think the team felt badly that we cancelled the day prior, so they were determined to make today’s outings work.

Cruising along in the swell of the Barents Sea, I discovered two things: my ski goggles are amazing, not only at protecting my eyes but providing photo ops for the rest of the group and inadvertant selfies; and my gloves, billed as waterproof and having seen me through Antartica, are in fact easily drenched. One of our fellow travelers had just opened the pocket of his jacket to warm his hands when a large wave crashed over our boat, filling his pocket with seawater and drenching my gloves. Welcome to the Arctic!

Other than a baptism and a true appreciation for the biting cold, little was seen on this first Zodiac outing.

The next outing was a lesson in Arctic subtlety. Landing on an outcropping of what appeared to be barren shore, we soon learned that all manner of things populated the spit.

It was a lesson in the harshness of the Arctic again. Reindeer bones and whale vertebrae lay scattered amongst the delicate purple and tufted saxifrage flowers. 

The ground was spongy, almost bouncy, and covered with lichen and my favorite find, one of Svalbard’s true trees, the Arctic willow, which grows about 3 inches tall during the short summers.

Dinosaur tracks were found, though it was an imaginary leap to discern them, and I’m wondering if perhaps they were confabulated to make up for our foiled landing the day prior.

In any case, it was an interesting outing and a good introduction to the Arctic landscape.

After a lovely dinner with our tour guide and several fellow travelers, we turned in early as neither of us have been sleeping especially well. Erich roused me from sleep an hour later, saying an announcement had been made about a group of walruses seen off the port side of the ship. Pulling on my down puffer, still in my PJs, we ran to the port bow and saw an incredible gathering, officially called a “haul-out,” of walruses.

At first they looked like rocks, but as we got closer we could see movement in the water and the glint of white tusks. Thank goodness for my wonderful Nikon binoculars, which afforded me an amazing view as they grunted, writhed and splashed on the beach. I can only imagine the photos Erich was blessed to capture.

We slept wonderfully post-walri, and had a leisurely breakfast before a planned zodiac cruise around Langeøya, a remote island in the Svalbard archipelago. As we were getting our expedition gear on, an announcement came that a sleeping polar bear had been sighted and thus we couldn’t go out as planned. 

However, the captain was able to position our boat so that we could see the bear, and as we drifted closer, the guides came around with their index fingers over their mouths…we were not to disturb the bear. 

In an act of maritime bravery, we drifted quite close to the shore and we worried we would run aground. All of us gathered at the bow and watched in silence, awestruck by the grandeur of this sleeping giant, who would occasionally raise his head and look our way, yawn, and curl up again. 

Words fail.