"Stone after stone. I am now seeing stones in my sleep
and when I am awake. They are going to get on my nerves; I can feel it. This
stony land, the total gigantic barrenness, is going to haunt me as a bad
dream."
Christiane Ritter (1897-2000)
Clearly this person was no geologist. Every stone that
litters this landscape has its own story of an unseen past, from the fossilized
leaf on a scree slope to the glacially striated boulders marking the presence
of these land moulding machines of nature that I have not only seen on a daily
basis but also walked on and slept next to.
I chose to study the quaternary history of Svalbard aswell
as Arctic marine geology. So far this has allowed me to witness and begin to
understand the processes that have occurred in order to have formed this land. The
quaternary period being characterised by ice covering the landscape and causing
it to undergo some unknown metamorphosis, this ice at times also melted causing
the sea to rise forming new beaches and allowed the land itself too actually grow, to rise out from the immense pressure of
the ice that had once crushed it. Even today this is happening, glaciers in
fact cover more than half of the land mass here and as a result we can only see
as much as nature has allowed us to. It is for this reason that I would not
describe this place as "gigantic barrenness” , gigantic yes but not
barren, it is full from the small settlements and the variety of people within
them to the glaciers and creatures that live and change from season to season.
This place has a raw, naked beauty about it that only a land just being formed
can possess. The same beauty I can see Scotland having around 10,000 years ago
when the glaciers of the younger dryas would have uncovered what we can see
now.
I have not long returned from two field excursions that have
kept me on my toes for the past two weeks. The first excursion involved camping
and sleeping in a cabin at the head of Billefjordan where the thunder like
cracks of the calving glacier Nordenskioldbreen could be heard throughout the
day. Although there was a cabin it could not fit us all, therefore some slept
in tents; a thin piece of nylon separating you from the Arctic tundra. This
introduced us to a new element of camping in Svalbard, the polar bear watch.
For an hour a night you and a partner, a husky, rifle and flare gun would keep
a lookout over the camp and surrounding area for this great white bear that
roams the land. Despite the cold winds that blew with strength from the
surrounding glacier the hour of watch duty was never laborious, the excitement
of this surreal setting that you were placed in kept you entertained.
After a one day turn around in Longyearbyen a small 16 man
plane was boarded to take us to the research community of Ny- Ålesund. Every day was a new adventure that began with
donning a survival suit and getting aboard the polar circles; boats that had a
large outboard motor that allowed for fast transport on the Arctic waters. Our
first journey to Leinstranda involved a rather tense crossing with the polar
circles. It was commented that the amplitude of the waves were surprisingly high
for their relatively short period. What started as an exciting adventure soon
became a rather enduring feat but an adventure nonetheless. Storming the
beaches, boots on, rifles half loaded and spades at the ready the geologists
took the beaches of Leinstranda. Each
day was like this, with a new objective and location I felt truly privileged to
be able to participate in these excursions and with the goal to obtain data
that we would use for term projects. This was the beginning of our research,
our science.
Our last day in the
field began with negotiating a beach landing that had many icebergs blockading
the shore. After we had managed to jump off and prepare for the walk ahead we
were told once again of this great white bear. A beast that disappears into its
snowy landscape. A beast that walks at our running speed. The way that it is
spoken about, either as drunken tales from shady bearded men in the local bar
or as tales of warning from supervisors. They are the reason we consider a
rifle as common as hiking boots when going for a trek. This day in the field,
one had been spotted in the area and we were warned. Taking the precautions we stuck
to high ground giving us the layout of the land. We began doing our work,
gathering data. All under the protection of one professor that constantly
scouted the land with the use of his binoculars. Then whistling was heard, the professor
getting the attention of our group to climb the moraine. No words were exchanged.
We knew. One had been spotted. On the opposite island, some distance away white
figures were seen, at this distance they were only blurs in my eyes. Adrenaline
running I dare not close my eyes even with the cold arctic wind causing tears
to run down my face as I fixed my eyes on the island to catch a better glimpse
of this creature that struck me more as myth. In the end only a few saw it. No
pictures were taken. This great white snow bear has remained in my view as the Bigfoot
of the Arctic tundra.
With my experience so far of this vast land which differs in
every single fibre of its existence to that of the world I came from I know
this is something I will not consider a “bad dream”. I will consider these
moments to be something that one day I may question if they actually occurred as
if some part of a lucid dream.
I know wait for my next excursion, a 6 day cruise around Svalbard
studying marine geology. Maybe then I will see this beast of legend.
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