Svalbard: Smeerenburg and Alkefjellet – Day 8
by Michelle Alten

One impressive walrus bull arrives from the sea. Nikon D4, Lens: VR 200-400mm f/4G, Focal Length: 340mm, ISO 100, Aperture: f/5.6, Shutter Speed: 1/800s, tripod
On an early 6:00 zodiac landing, I am startled to find a soft, sandy beach—this could be a strand in the South Pacific. Except, across the water are foreboding glaciers. We march the beach to a haul-out of walruses. They toss and roll in their huddle, scratching their rotund bodies with their flippers and looking up from their slumber to eye the intruders. The mound of males all display tusks: some resembling stubby pencils, others more like threatening daggers. One impressive bull arrives from the sea and lumbers up the beach to join the huddle. Close to a lagoon, not far away from the walruses, Arctic terns incubate nests on the ground; the terns rise into the air in agitation as we pass. I am thrilled to see my friends from the Antarctic. These seabirds have always amazed me as they migrate halfway around the world—such intrepid travelers able to undertake such a journey with merely a pair of elegant wings.

The Alkefjellet bird cliff
Nikon D4, Lens: 24-70mm f/2.8G, Focal Length: 36mm, ISO 200, Aperture: f/10, Shutter Speed: 1/400s
Later we motor with our zodiacs to see the bird cliffs at Alkefjellet. Arriving we find what appears like a bustling guillemot metropolis. The escarpment and colony seems endless, stretching over a mile. We follow the edge of the rock wall as countless thick-billed murres or Brünnich’s guillemots (Uria lomvia), heading out to sea to fish and returning to their nests, zip overhead. Christian, our expedition leader, tells us that the colony has decreased over recent years from 200,000 birds to 70,000. I try to imagine more than twice the number of birds perched on narrow rock shelves—this must have been an avian Manhattan.

A zodiac at Alkefjellet
Nikon D4, Lens: VR 200-400mm f/4G, Focal Length: 200mm, ISO 200, Aperture: f/9, Shutter Speed: 1/500s