Blue Eyed Birder

Sunday, 19 July 2026

Day 8 - 19th June 2026 - Svalbard - Spitzbergen & the pack ice with Bird's Wildlife & Nature

Sleep came easy the night before and by 0630 we were coming into moor at the coal quay in Longyearbyen. Brunnich’s and Black Guillemots paddled around and the Eider were checked for Kings but with no joy.

It was snowing quite hard as the Ortelius moored up

All too soon we were leaving the Ortelius for the last time and bidding farewell to the crew and expedition team who had looked after us so well. It seemed odd to be back on dry land for longer than a few hours as we were taken back into the town to await our coach back to the airport just a short 90 minutes later.

The ultimate nod to Longyearbyen's mining history...

Lex managed to capture some of our team and almost all of the Ortelius expedition team as we left. We were waving from our coach!

But there was one last treat in store. As we got off the coach we were told to look off shore where a large pod of milky white Belugas were following the coast up into the fjord. I reckoned about 40 or so but someone had been doing a proper official count and had got to 52. Jim and Jacqui had missed the ones the previous day so this was more than ample recompense.

Belugas - so much better than it looks! - Jim Willett

Belugas - Jim Willett

Our journey home from here via a night in Oslo went via Tromso about which we shall not talk but by mid-morning the following day we were back at Heathrow and on the final leg home.

Trips are often about managing expectations – nothing is guaranteed in nature but this one exceeded any notional hopes and aspirations for the adventure from the outset. We had travelled so far north as to be the most northerly humans on the planet, seen a ridiculous 12 Hollandaise Polar Bears, heard the breath of Blue Whales, found six different Pinnipeds from dinky Ringed Seals to whopping great blubbery Walruses, watched Arctic Foxes bounding through the snow, heard the chittering of swarms of cliff top Little Auks, seen the sunlight refracting through arching fogbows, had ghostly Ivory Gulls drift overhead, listened to glaciers shifting and calving baby icebergs, watched Black Guillemots in a dizzy circular Maypole dance and ended with a herd of placid mini Moby Dicks.

If you have not been before, go before it is too late. You will not be disappointed.

Wednesday, 15 July 2026

Day 7 - 18th June 2026 - Svalbard - Spitzbergen & the pack ice with Bird's Wildlife & Nature

We spent the night heading south past the west side of Prins Karl Forland before re-entering the sound from the south and heading north back up to Poolepynten where we hoped to land to see Atlantic Walruses up on the beach.

'There be Walruses capt'n'

Just before all meeting up a shout went up for Beluga on the port side and some of us got there in time to watch at least three ebony white shapes slowly rise and fall with a huge glacier behind. They were not close but it was still memorable and slightly different to watching one in the Thames off Gravesend!

Beluga - it is that little white hump bottom centre!

It was time to board the zodiacs and I was trying to re-find the Belugas when a big Whale blew and a big back arched before the tell tale white underside of the tale flukes were seen as it dived confirming that we had now also seen a Humpback! It came up three more times before we had to make our way down the gangway.

Unlike other landing parties, we could not all go at once and our group was amongst the first 40 to head to shore in the zodiacs. After a careful approach we found ourselves within a very respectful distance of these vast blubbery Pinnipeds. Seven were on the beach and another was bogging at us with bloodshot eyes from the surf. They had not been up on the beach for too long and were still jostling for position and clashing with much grunting and bellowing.

We had been warned about the smell but oddly, although downwind from them we could only smell it at one spot. I was like a very ripe, sweaty bowl of seaweedy fish had been left out in the sun for a week.

They were also not just pinky blubbery things as I imagined but had a short pelt of warm tan and ginger. Those stiff, bristly facial whiskers of a Walrus are called mystacial vibrissae – I had to look it up as I had forgotten but what a great name. Their lips are so mobile that the bristles can all point up or down or out to the side. I have no idea why they all had bloodshot eyes though!

Two of the seven decided to undulate like giant grubs at speed down to the surf line where they were joined by the third one that had been lingering offshore.

Atlantic Walrus

Our time was up as the next group had arrived but they had all settled down and I do not think that the others had any of the interaction that we did. The pool just inland of the beach held Ringed Plover, Purple Sandpipers, two immaculate Turnstones and a summer plumaged female Grey Phalarope. She may not have been that close but I could see the brick red plumage, white face and dark cap as she fed just out of the water along the edge.

Red-throated Divers flew out to sea and Bonxies, Arctic Skuas, Glaucous Gulls, Kittiwakes and Arctic Terns milled around with the latter nesting amongst the Alaskan driftwood that was stranded there. Most was sawn and had simply escaped on its river route to be shipped and drifted until it found a suitable beach. There was a little rubbish, which we collected, and I found a few interesting little bits to collect including a roll of Birch bark that had survived intact. As we headed back to the boats an inquisitive Harbour Seal came to say hello.

Arctic Terns

Tufted Saxifrage

Dog Whelk egg case or similar

Spitzbergen Reindeer

Birch bark - a long way from home

The past

Refuge and navigational beacon

Random Reindeer limbs...

An almost black Black Guillemot

Metal bouncer related to old bottom dredging

George and I

Blubber & I

Next group

Onwards and south again before our final landing of the voyage. It had begun to snow quite hard and with poor land visibility it was looking unlikely as no one would see a Polar Bear creeping up but just in time it lifted and we were able to beach land below the imposing height of the Alkhornet. This towering Toblerone of rock is the edge of the huge glacial cirque that that loops beyond it in an ark and is hope to tens of thousands of pairs of Kittiwakes and Brunnich’s Guillemots.

Our ever changing view of the Alkhornet fading in and out of view with the only constant being the sound of the birds.

The snow created a very different landscape to the one we had been expecting and if anything made it all the more special. Arctic flowers poked through the recent dusting and Reindeer scuffed through it to get to the greenery below while the reflected light in the white of the seabirds added another magical element.

Pygmy Buttercup - Ranunculus pygmaeus

Reindeer

Reindeer - I love the black eye masks - perhaps they should be called Pandeer?

Brunnich's Guillemots

The Kittiwake ledges

Arctic Skuas were on patrol and Pink-feet and Barnacle Geese were dotted about in pairs and were obviously nesting here while plump, fluffed up Snow Buntings were still displaying from the boulders.

Arctic Skuas in the snow

Snow Bunting

Pink-feet still arriving. Amazing to think I may have last seen these in North Norfolk

Pink-feet

Pink-feet and Barnacle Geese

Pink-foot on guard duty

Finding Arctic Foxes was our other goal here and we got lucky and got to watch an adult on a ridge carrying off a recovered egg while two bundles of fluff cubs played tumble in the snow and chewed on the wing of a goose. Some of my crew were with the photography group and enjoyed even closer views of four cubs at another den nearby! It was quite literally the perfect end to our final day. We could not have asked for more.