Ra paddling. Foto: Miriam Odlin

Tent and cabin in Hornsund. Foto: Ra Cleave

Miriam paddling between rocks in Hornsund. Foto: Ra Cleave

Cabin on Griseryggen. Foto: Ra Cleave

Camp in the sunshine - Griseryggen. Foto: Miriam Odlin

Miriam in camp. Foto: Ra Cleave

Miriam in adventfjorden. Foto: Ra Cleave

Trip completed - a hot shower is waiting... Foto: Miriam Odlin

We camped and watched to see if the tide created a coastal channel as we had often seen in the past. There was some movement in the ice due to wind or tide, but this seemed more likely to crush a kayak than let one through. There would not be any good landings until we got right around the corner. After our wee polar bear encounter we decided to go overland. A small stream would help us drag our boats towards Heleysundet on the other side of Cape Mühry. We would have to cross a low saddle, however all up it was less than 4 km. At first we could drag one boat each, but soon the stream became shallower and we were both harnessed to one boat.  At the end this became too hard and we carried the contents of each boat up to the saddle so as to drag a lighter boat through what was often knee-deep mud and quick clay. It took us 11 hours to cover 3 kilometres, and we were filthy and wrecked by the time we made camp.

The next challenge was Heleysundet, a tidal channel at the entrance to Storfjorden. I scouted the strait early the next morning and observed massive plates of ice measuring 50 - 100 m charging eastward at over 5 knots. We were camped above a huge eddy where smaller bits of ice (car-size) trundled along the coast in the opposite direction towards a churning eddyline. 'That must be full speed', we thought, 'It will be slack in a few hours.' Six hours later it was still charging. After a bit more inspection and some lunch we got on anyway and had a couple of rounds in the eddy trying to convince ourselves that it was slowing down. We eventually cut out into the channel into nearly no flow. The current changed direction almost immediately and we were soon making great progress into Storfjorden.

As we paddled into Storfjorden we passed bands of ice apparently shunted through Heleysundet by each west-going tidal flow. A heavy sea fog descended and we were very happy to have our deck-mounted compasses as we navigated the ice floes. The bands gradually became looser and we camped, hoping that that would be the last of the ice. It was. Apart from glacial ice and the odd grounded iceberg we had no more ice encounters. 

We were now almost half way around Spitsbergen, but we felt that we had overcome the more difficult parts of the trip. Ra provided a reality check by slipping while carrying his boat. The kayak landed on an icy edge, cracking open the hull on both sides of the keel and up to the deck. We patched with the fibreglass repair kit, but it was a wakeup call as to how easily our trip could still be scuttled.

Further south we were treated to pods of beluga whales. These crazy animals look like white bottlenose dolphins but without the noses and sort of podgier. The stretch to the South Cape lived up to its reputation of being shallow, exposed and difficult to navigate. We had 3 m swell from the east and strong northerlies with fog. We paddled blindly on a compass course trying to keep the sound of the breakers on our right, within hearing but not too close. The coast is notoriously shallow which meant the breakers would often extend a long way out to sea. We landed and launched in the surf, happy that our boats were a bit lighter. We usually camped on moraine and when the sound of the surf didn't rock us to sleep, we listened to the perpetual boom and rumble of the endless glaciers. 

As we put up our tent on the South Cape the wind picked up and up and UP. We waited for 2 days during which time we broke and repaired a tent pole. Convinced the wind had dropped a bit we were determined to make some progress. If we could just get 20 km up the west coast without being blown off it by the NE gale, we should get some shelter from the mountains. Having made it around the corner without being blown out to sea I began to feel a bit reassured, however the wind picked up again and I soon found that no matter how hard I tried, I was paddling on the spot. Ra could still move forward so we roped up to share his muscles. Some of the coast from there was quite manageable as the wind varied in strength and occasional shelter was offered by the landscape.  Storm Bay, however, lived up to its name as the glacier at the head of the bay funnelled and strengthened the easterly, making for a knackering end to an already difficult day.

The next day gave us some respite with light winds but our bodies weren't up to yet another long day so we camped on the southern side of Hornsundet. We could almost see the tops of the mountains again, for the first time since Hinlopenstredet. Overnight the north-easterly gale returned and we spent another couple of days in the tent. Once the winds eased we crossed Hornsundet and found a cabin to stay in where we met two Polish researchers. These were the first people we had seen in over a month. We had managed a depressing 66 km over 7 days. 

The strong northerly and north-east winds were to rejoin us on and off over the next few days, usually when we were just about over a fjord or bay. We were however approaching Isfjorden now and feeling more and more like we might just make it. The seals that had been quite absent on the east coast started reappearing to check us out. In August the sun started setting, and while it wouldn't actually go down until late August, it would put on a 10 hour display of colours as it lurked around the northern horizon. On the way into Isfjorden we stopped at Barentsburg, a crumbling Russian mining town full of seagulls and mining workers in 80s-style track suits. The redeeming feature of the town was that the hotel served beer and microwave pizza!

The day after that, we approached Longyearbyen, absolutely euphoric. Liv, who is married to Eric the Australian who had befriended us before we left, met us at the beach. We had done it.

The trip took 49 days, 10 of which we didn't paddle. We measured 1270 km paddled. As far as we can tell we are the first New Zealanders and I am the first woman to kayak around Spitsbergen. Our gear was wrecked, our bodies were badly in need of beer and chips, and our memories were emblazoned with the image of the polar bear outside the tent. We were sad to leave the booming glaciers and the wobbly birds, but man, that shower was good.

Miriam Odlin : 25. mars 2008, 20:10 : © qajaq.no