Guests walk on fast ice at Hornsund, Svalbard, with Lindblad Expeditions’ National Geographic Resolution in the background.Domini Clark/The Globe and Mail
Nina Lipkowitz was so excited to cruise the Arctic waters around Norway last April that she booked the same voyage twice – for back-to-back sailings. When the ship docked in Svalbard to pick up the next wave of passengers, she didn’t even disembark. Wasn’t she worried it would be boring, taking the same trip again?
“Are you kidding?” she said to me in the lounge of Lindblad Expeditions’ National Geographic Resolution on the final night of cruise No. 1. “This could be souped-in fog, or we could have 27 polar bears on that piece of ice. There’s nothing going to be the same other than the food and this space. We could be doing Zodiac landings here or we could be out kayaking in this bay. So there’s nothing that will be the same, virtually nothing.”
And therein lies the appeal of expedition cruises – at least for a certain type of traveller: namely, those who would never be otherwise caught on a cruise ship. Such voyages are the opposite of port-a-day itineraries popular in the Caribbean, where trips ashore are tightly scheduled. With Arctic expeditions, while there’s always a rough itinerary in mind, their nature and purpose – tracking wildlife in harsh weather conditions – mean nothing is guaranteed.
Outdoor lounge chairs overlooking Svalbard on Lindblad Expeditions’ National Geographic Resolution.Domini Clark/The Globe and Mail
The cruise Lipkowitz chose was even more loosely charted than usual, as it marked the earliest ever Arctic sailing for Lindblad. The cruise season in Svalbard, an archipelago north of the Arctic Circle and a little east of Greenland, typically starts in late May. What would a head start bring? The naturalists and other experts onboard – even ones who had visited the area multiple times – weren’t entirely sure.
Revisiting the Northwest Passage: A journey to the new and the familiar
The spontaneity begins straightaway. Day 1 brings a glorious morning, with the water around Longyearbyen competing with the sky for most brilliant shade of blue. Everyone is excited for the first outing: a shore walk. But 35 minutes before the planned departure time, it becomes clear the desired landing spot is too packed in with ice. So just a Zodiac ride it is. (A Zodiac is a motorized, inflatable boat that is used on expeditions to ferry passengers to land or just to get closer to the action.)
An impromptu bar offers spiked hot chocolate to guests at Hornsund.Domini Clark/The Globe and Mail
As we head toward the Fourteenth of July glacier, the “growlers” (small icebergs) around us make their signature popping sounds, the result of pressure building up. A luminescent, almost cube-shaped chunk of ice perches precariously atop one of the bergy bits; a walrus claims another as his resting spot. (The 3,000-pound whiskered brown blob unceremoniously does his business in front of us.)
Fulmars, eider ducks and guillemots accompany our ride back to the ship, where the lunch menu has been scrapped. The weather is so sunny and mild that its now an outdoor barbecue, complete with hamburgers and all the fixings. Afterward, some passengers retire to their cabins for naps on hammocks the staff have strung up on the balconies.
How to pack for an Arctic adventure
The next day is equally improvised. We sail the countless fjords searching for fast ice, massive sheets attached to the shoreline. Ringed seals will often pop their heads through breathing holes, and where there are seals, there are polar bears – the star attraction of any Arctic cruise. But the ship comes upon so much ice in the 65-kilometre-deep Woodfjorden that it’s forced to head south. So instead the morning is spent listening to lectures, soaking in the outdoor hot tubs, getting massages and wandering on deck to take photos.
One of the naturalists has a hunch that leads us toward Alkefjellet. Turns out it was a good one. As 100-metre-high dolerite cliffs dating back to the Jurassic era come into view, so do thousands of swooping Brunnich’s guillemots. This is one of the largest colonies in the world, and some of its 120,000 birds have already started to arrive for their breeding season. The twitchers among the passengers are ecstatic.
In the late afternoon, a polar bear and her two cubs are spotted way out on the fast ice; they’re nicknamed “pixel bears” by one of the National Geographic photographers onboard, in reference to how grainy they appear through the camera’s viewfinder, even with zoom lenses. The nightly recap, captain’s introduction and dinner is postponed to give us time to keep watching the bears. Finally, at 7:30, a decision is made to stay in place until 11, giving everyone time to eat and take plenty more photos of the bears thanks to the constant daylight. And on it goes for the rest of the cruise, each day bringing something unexpected, and moments that can never be planned for.
Alone in Lofoten: A solo trip that satisfies the soul
During a hike in a sheltered bay at Bellsund, a curious herd of Svalbard reindeer – shorter, stockier cousins to the ones that pull Santa’s sleigh – comes within 30 metres of our group. Sven Lindblad, the company’s founder, who has made countless expeditions to the region, says it’s the most he’s ever seen. One morning I open the curtains to a world of black and white: the skies, the water’s icy crust and the snow-covered mountains that look like giant dollops of whipped cream and are barely distinguishable from each other. Another day, a relaxing bit of kayaking turns exciting when a fierce wind blows in.
This is the kind of adventure that passenger Josephine Yeh had hoped for. “There shouldn’t be a schedule for an expedition. If something’s exciting, we jump off the ship and go chase it,” she says. She’s thrilled when the ship wedges its cutting-edge X-BOW into some fast ice at Hornsund and we’re able to walk out, a mere 25 centimetres of ice separating us from 300 feet of water. “I want that experience of being that person who maybe falls into an ice hole and needs to be rescued,” Yeh says.
“It’s so nice being out here on the ice isn’t it? This air!” adds Lindblad.
A young polar bear is covered in blood from a seal it has caught, in Van Keulenfjorden.Camille Seaman/National Geographic
About two-thirds of the way, the ship sails through Van Keulenfjorden under a clear blue sky, a vast expanse of fast ice straight ahead. Everyone grabs binoculars and scans the horizon for polar bears or “little pats of butter,” as one of the naturalists describes them. And then someone cries out: A young bear has been spotted right where the ice meets the water. Before everyone can find it through their binoculars, the predator has made a kill. A fat seal has been split open, its insides spilling out onto the ice. The bear is streaked with fresh blood, its chest stained crimson. Ivory gulls hover overhead, ready to scavenge. The scene is shocking and raw, vicious and spectacular. And once again, our own dinner is delayed. No one complains.
If you go
The Svalbard in Spring: Polar Bears, Arctic Light & Epic Ice cruise will once again kick off Lindblad Expeditions’ Arctic season in 2023. The first sailing (11 days) begins April 11, with prices starting from US$12,350 per person, based on double occupancy, on the NG Resolution. Prices include all meals, beverages, activities, excursions and more. For more information, visit Expeditions.com.
Note: Lindblad requires all guests to be vaccinated (two doses; a booster is recommended). Other expedition-cruise companies still require preboarding testing as well.
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