Experiencing Svalbard Under the New Wildlife Guidelines

The clamour surrounding them reached fever pitch when the Norwegian archipelago of Svalbard introduced new wildlife watching guidelines, which in the name of conservation significantly increased the distance expedition vessels are able to approach polar bears.

When female bears are with cubs - between March 1st and June 30th - the minimum distance a ship can view them from is 500 metres. This drops to 300 metres between July 1st and February 28th. That’s a long way, even with powerful binoculars.

I would find, though, on a voyage onboard Seaventure with the new polar operator 66º Expeditions, these regulations have made little difference to the otherworldly joy of sailing this nine-island archipelago at the roof of the world.

I joined 119 passengers in Longyearbyen, boarding Seaventure for an eight-day circumnavigation up the western coastline of Svalbard to over 80ºN before threading our way back down through the eastern islands. Emerging this summer, 66º Expeditions may be new, with this their first season in the Arctic, but the redoubtable Seaventure is a veteran of polar travel, while its expedition and hospitality crew are seasoned professionals. 

We passed the world’s most northerly settlement of Ny-Ålesund (78.9ºN), keeping a close watch for bears on the fjord-indented coast. Its great folded walls are gouged by Ice Ages past, and the inflow of summer’s glacial meltwater turns the fjord’s seawater a floury aquamarine hue. By now, fulmars circle the ship and the last nesting puffins make their way out into the North Atlantic Ocean.

“The new conservation regulations have affected how close we can get to polar bears,” says Kuba Potrawiak, the ship’s expedition leader. “I would say that with all the companies I have worked with, there has always been maximum respect towards the bears, and if we come across bears within 300 metres, we will retreat. But, my experience is they are never that interested in us and often fall back asleep again after noticing us,” he says. 

As part of 66º Expeditions’ educational program, our wildlife expert, Kristian Gillies, presents a lecture called ‘King of the Arctic’. He explains Svalbard bears are part of a transitory population of 3000 that range across winter’s sea-ice bridge to Russia’s Franz Joseph Land. “They hunt seals on the ice and can swim a remarkable 10 kilometres per hour,” he explains, giving rise to their nickname, ‘sea bears’. 

Kristian believes the new regulations protect the more sedentary, less migratory bears that receive the lion’s share of visits because expedition vessels know where to find them. For the most part, though, sightings are completely opportune, but during our mid-August voyage, we had 20 hours of complete daylight to spot them as the sun never fully set.

We do not wait long for a sighting. On our third morning in the ice-choked fjord of Smeerenburgbreen glacier on zodiac-dinghies, we were watching hauled-out harbour seals, curled-up like croissants on little bergy-bits of ice, when our Zodiac-driver guide’s radio crackled into life. Some 600 metres out from the base of the glacier, a bear had been sighted. It took some scanning with binoculars, but eventually - and you need to spot the bear’s off-white, almost yellowing fur - a large one is seen cuddling a chunk of ice, with its head resting on it as if a pillow. It’s distant, but in my experience during many Arctic voyages, this is not atypical, as the bears melt into the vast landscape camouflaged by the fractured ice.

“Technically, we could’ve got closer to the regulation 300 metres, but there was so much brash ice it wouldn’t be good to get the zodiac stuck in the floe with a bear around,” assessed Brandon Kleyn, one of 66º’s experienced expedition guides. 

Cruising even higher in latitude, our captain, Artem Prostov, continued to take us north and excitingly above the 80º line and into pack ice. He is an adventurous captain who will push further north than most, taking the reinforced hull of Seaventure deep into the North Polar front’s splintered icefloe. 

The captain is at the vanguard of a new approach this season to circumvent the new regulations that afford visitors a remarkable chance to be immersed in one of the most beautiful spectacles on Earth. Once a ship is 12 nautical miles off Norwegian waters, the new regulations do not apply, so they can get a little closer to the bears if spotted on pack-ice in international waters. 

“That’s not to say we get too close and affect them,” says Captain Prostov. “The new regulations have made it a little harder to get close sightings, and I don’t know why they were brought in, because it was always too shallow to get the ship into land anyway, so we could rarely get closer than 300 metres. Expedition vessels are hardly the biggest threat when Greenlanders are still allowed to hunt them for food,” he adds. 

“So we are now heading deeper into the pack-ice for better sightings, which will be the highlight of these voyages,” he says.

It is indeed thrilling. For 7 hours we bump and grind our way through the first year soft ice, nudging through a polyhedron-shaped jigsaw, sculpted by polynyas of blue seawater where I photograph floating kittiwakes. It’s a magnificent frozen world. When an early morning sea fog lifts I can see for tens of kilometres across the fractured frozen plain. We eventually reach a remarkable 82º07.494N - the North Pole itself is now just 900 kilometres north. The ship’s marine app says at this point we were fleetingly the second most northerly vessel in the world. 

All summer on Instagram I’d been seeing travellers’ photographs of closer encounters with polar bears in this pack-ice. We were not fortunate during our attempt but thrilled to have reached this giddying latitude. 

This reinforced my feeling that seeing polar bears is far from the be-all-and-end-all of a Svalbard voyage. The new regulations have not diminished the magnificence of cruising here on small adventure expedition ships. Outside of polar bears, wildlife sightings come thick and fast, and the jaw-dropping landscapes continued to wow.

Here is my selection of six magical encounters during this 66º Expedition voyage:

Big blubber haul-outs

At Smeerenburg, on Amsterdam Island, we hiked to within 50 metres of a beach haul out of 20 male walrus. These Arctic colossi were pressed together, sleepy, grunting, and some snoring, in a tight fold of tanned-brown blubber.

Battle of the skies

I witnessed a spectacular aerial duel between the Arctic’s two feistiest birds. Arctic terns, nimble angelic flyers, yet garrulous and aggressive, mob any birds threatening their ground nests. Especially the predatory opportunists, Arctic skuas, huge seabirds, ever seeking nesting bird’s eggs and chicks. 

Ghostly whales

Like kindly ghosts, belugas are small white dolphin-sized whales, soft bodied, with smiling faces. I’d only once before encountered these lovely creatures but close to Torellneset spit, off Nordaustlandet Island, several dozen breezed past in a line, creating a brilliant white tideline. 

Be careful looking skywards

“Don’t keep your mouth open when looking skywards,” suggested guide, Brandon Kleyn, below Svalbard’s greatest seabird nesting cliffs at Alkefjellet. From the cliffs' basaltic ledges, Brünnich’s guillemots came freewheeling down in their hundreds above our zodiac looking like airborne penguins. The colony features 65,000 breeding pairs. A small smattering of poop on my waterproof trousers suggested Brandon’s advice was sage indeed.

Santa’s magnificent helpers

Ever wondered where Santa topped up his reindeer supply? Look no further than the mossy and lichen plains below the magnificent convex Vårsolbukta cliffs where we watched grey-hided reindeer peacefully grazing. A splendidly antlered alpha male was not at all phased by us or an Arctic fox that trotted through his herd.

Seals on ice

Zigzagging by zodiac through the meringue ice of Lilliehöökbreen Glacier, we came across two very content species of seals. Curled up on the ice-blocks were small silky harbour seals snoozing in the bright warmth. And nearby, sporting bushy whiskers, bearded seals similarly dozed along the u-shaped valley’s frosted coast. One trailed us close by. Its huge oily-black eyes staring curiously after us.