It’s 7:15am when the disembodied voice comes over the intercom in my room. The expedition leader informs us we have a bowhead whale just ahead, which is a rare sighting in these waters, let alone anywhere else. I throw on jeans and a sweater, a heavy jacket, my sunglasses, wool socks, and hiking shoes, then grab my camera and leave my cabin. I’m in the Arctic Circle, exploring the icy waters around Svalbard with Lindblad Expeditions. It’s June. I left 80 degree weather in Pennsylvania and 90 degree weather in Amsterdam to come here, to Longyearbyen and the island of Spitsbergen, with its arctic terns, black guillemots, bowhead whales, and polar bears. And that’s only some of the things I see.
Lindblad Expeditions is the leader in polar exploration, the leader in getting people out of their comfort zone into the wilds of the world. As partner of National Geographic, they take passengers on small expedition vessels (outfitted with the comforts of home) to the polar regions, Galapagos, Alaska’s Inside Passage, and more. Lindblad also charters vessels in Egypt, the Amazon, the Mekong, the Scottish Highlands, and the Mediterranean. Focusing on the history, the culture, and the natural landscape, the exploratory voyages are at once interesting and educational.
Ours begins in Oslo, where we meet the remainder of the passengers, just 150 of us in total. One night there, with a quick visit to the Polar Ship Fram museum or a casual walk around town, and then its off on a charter flight to Longyearbyen, a town of around 2,000 on the western side of Svalbard. We explore town briefly – a drive past the Svalbard Seed Vault, which holds seeds for many of the world’s flora deep in the permafrost, and visit to Camp Barents, named for explorer William Barents, where we also get to meet some locals – sled dogs on a day off.
In the evening, we board our ship – the National Geographic Explorer. I haven’t been on board more than 30 minutes when they announce we have a pod of beluga whales swimming in the fiord behind the ship. We’re still tied up at the dock, too. This is the nature of an expedition cruise — you never know when or where something will pop up. In this case, 10-20 beluga whales are just a hundred metres from the aft sundeck, casually making their way across the fiord. Belugas like shallow waters.
We have a mandatory safety briefing, followed by a short welcome to the ship meeting, and finally dinner. The sun doesn’t set up here from April to August, so it’s something of a chore to remind yourself to go to bed at a reasonable time. Otherwise, you might look at your watch and realise its midnight – or later. I spend time out on the bow, a lone soul standing, watching, waiting. Town is far begin me at this point, and I can see the glaciers in the distance as they recede into the arctic water, the pointy mountains (from which Spitsbergen takes its name) dark golden against the midnight sun.
The following days go a bit like this: early wake up, wildlife sighting, breakfast, perhaps some zodiac rides or kayaks or hikes, then lunch, more exploring by boat or foot, perhaps an educational presentation by a National Geographic photographer or naturalist, cocktail hour, dinner, and so forth. I cannot explain it – every trip is different. But I can share the feeling.
An expedition cruise is like nothing you’ve done before. It’s unknown. There is a stillness when you’re alone on deck, day or night, that you cannot find in many other places. I have experienced it in Alaska, when the unmistakable whoosh of a humpback’s blow breaks the silence, as the northern lights dance merrily across the dark sky. In the Arctic, it’s when the sea is a sheet of broken ice, the sun beating down on me at one am. Someone, somewhere else on ship (and hopefully on the bridge) is awake too, experiencing the same thing. I’ve experienced it in my other travels as well – in New Zealand, on a sailboat, in a dark cove under the Southern Cross – and in Shetland, surrounded by thousands of people at the very instant the lights go out across town, when a thousand men strike up their torches to begin the celebration of Up Helly Aa. I get chills just thinking about these moments in my life.
It’s absolutely thrilling, to be in the footsteps of the early explorers, to be at the edge of the human civilisation, as one of the staff put it. Very few people will ever get here in their lifetime, yet its a once in a lifetime trip. You’re out of your comfort zone from the minute you step onboard – especially those who prefer a structured routine (gym, work, home, for example). There’s no evening entertainment, unless you count listening to naturalists or geologists discuss the strata found in this part of the world versus another and what that might mean for the wildlife, or the lichen, or the whatever. Lectures and photographic essays, birdwatching, scanning for polar bears – these are our entertainment. Often a cruise has a National Geographic photographer or explorer onboard who can share their stories about their travels and what its like to get paid to travel and write or photograph for a living. Internet is scarce, so the library is full of books about explorers, about foreign lands, about geology and wildlife and birds. There are televisions in each room, but you won’t find ESPN or HBO up here. This is about getting away from it all.
I didn’t pack for a glamorous trip. There are no fancy dinners, no galas, no theatre shows to see and be seen at. Just one seating for meals, where most people are in their leggings or rain pants, wool socks, hiking boots, and an array of fleeces, sun shirts, and parkas emblazoned with the Lindblad Expeditions eye on it. Most of my fellow guests have traveled with Lindblad before to Antarctica, Alaska, or the Galapagos. Many have done them all.
Lindblad continues to add new voyages. The Russian Far East, the Northeast Passage (Norway to Siberia), Scotland to Greenland via the Faroes. They also return to destinations at the forefront of returning tourism. Egypt, for example. Lindblad recently announced the new charter of the Oberoi Philae, a traditional Egyptian boat designed for cruising the Nile from Cairo to Aswan. As tourism in Egypt is only just returning to normal, Lindblad guests travel in comfort and style, as well as safety.
They push boundaries in exploration, but also in sustainable travel. In June 2019, Sven Lindblad, the CEO, announced they were going carbon neutral, just months after their partner Natural Habitat Adventures announced they were going carbon neutral AND backdating it to January 2019. There’s no plastic onboard Lindblad Expeditions ships. They source sustainable seafood, sustainable produce, and sustainable meat.
Lindblad also monitors global issues and makes an effort to contribute to the local economy – the global gallery onboard is full of art and items from destinations around the world, all locally made by artisans. They offer scholarship funds, and they award Grosvenor Teacher Fellowships each year. We have three Fellows (all women) on our voyage.
I’m proud to travel with them, I suppose that’s one reason I do. I appreciate their efforts to guide us into a more sustainable world, a more educated world. And I others to appreciate it too. I’m proud to share expedition travel with my clients, to tell them tales of being at sea, to whet their appetite for exploration. And I’m proud to be a former Lindblad Expeditions employee; it’s thanks to my time onboard that I have some of these stories.
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People always ask me why I travel to places like this. Why I’ve never been to the Caribbean. And why I prefer Polar over Paris. And I can only share my stories of being in a zodiac when a humpback whale breaches behind us, the splash reaching our boat, of watching a baby polar bear tumble and roll across the ice sheet toward our ship, playfully jumping on his mama, then standing on his hind legs to look directly into my eyes. I have stories of kissing a baby grey whale, of swimming with sea lions, of watching wolves on the shores. Of ice glittering like a hundred million diamonds as a glacier calves a quarter mile away, the swell of the water raising us up nearly a metre. But there are a thousand stories I don’t yet have. That’s why.