The coolest thing on Earth: the sheer joy of cruising in the Arctic

The Herald Scotland

5 days ago

I would travel from the Arctic former-mining town of Longyearbyen, population 2,500, and circumnavigate the island of Svalbard, 300 miles from the North Pole, and the most northern, most inhabited place in the world, on the SH Vega, a 372- foot ship, along with 110 guests and just as many crew representing over 70 languages and four religions.
I'll be frank; when I hear the term frontier along with the word expedition, I think of my grandad on Aberdonian trawlers. In my imagination there are noisy boiler rooms, rows of bunk beds and lots of sitting around a well worn crew mess table playing endless hands of cards through storms.
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It's a surprise then, to learn that on this trip, there would be afternoon tea, sumptuous five-course dinners, the best Espresso Martini in the Northern Hemisphere and a spa where you can get a La Mer facial. It seems I'm not quite as in touch with my salty sea dog Aberdonian roots as I'd imagined, because it was a hardship I was willing to endure.
While the accommodations, culinary experiences and leisure activities definitely rivalled any five-star hotel, the expeditions were very much the real thing. On your first night, Swan Hellenic kit you out with an expedition parka, which is yours to keep – and, I've since discovered, useful for a rainy trip to Lidl too – a lifejacket and muck boots for the duration of the trip. Each day, there are two expeditions, disembarking on to zodiac dinghies, feeling very James Bond-like, and riding at speed to some of the most unspoiled landscapes in the world.
The expedition crew who come along with you are an astounding collection of scientists and researchers with more PhDs than hot breakfasts I had that week. Their job is to be informative but primarily they are there to ensure we leave these places exactly as we find them with no disturbance. They carefully mark the areas you're able to go with red flags, ensure everyone follows strict expedition protocol – including disinfection of our kit so as not to cross contaminate islands, keeping mandated distances from wildlife and, because this is Svalbard, a set number are always on polar bear watch, carrying rifles over their shoulder.
I was pleased to discover the emphasis was very much focused on being a guest in this beautiful, unspoiled part of the world and treating it, and its flora and fauna, with utmost care and respect while you have the privilege of visiting.
Of course, one of the greatest aspects of traveling to the most remote regions is getting to see animals and their natural habitat. On this trip, I was able to see a colony of over 50 walruses on Kapp Lee sunning themselves as though on a beach on Marbella, Arctic terns bombing our heads territorially, hundreds of gulamot nesting in caves, an Arctic fox and of course, the elusive polar bear – in fact we saw two, one of which, half red, half white, was feasting on a seal. During one particularly memorable lunch on deck, an exhibitionist puffin flew victory laps over our heads, much to the joy of everyone present.
There was one experience which I was particularly excited about, though, and that was kayaking through glaciers. The last time I kayaked I was in Cat Ba in northern Vietnam and the safety briefing was essentially someone shouting "Don't drown on my watch" and then pushing me off towards a cave entirely colonised by bats. But here I was lucky enough to be taught by Alison French. Alison was in her forties when she fell in love with Scottish sea kayaking and set up Sea Kayaking Plockton. She now also charters her own small cruise ship which takes up to nine guests on multi-day trips in Scotland.
Kayaking through glaciers was a joy (Image: Kerry Hudson)
Alison gave us a brilliant and thorough safety briefing – as well she might since she also trains British sea kayak leaders. She taught me how to avoid expending three times the effort – "try and imagine you have a beach ball between you and the paddle" – and told us fascinating facts about the environment we were in. In an ever-faster world of new experiences and sights, images and sounds it is hard to cling on to memories, but I will never forget kayaking through the pale blue glaciers, hearing the ice, tens of thousands of years old, pop as it melted, the sound of parts of glaciers cleaving away from themselves, much like the rumble of an avalanche.
This trip promised so much. The word "biophilia" was bandied about, meaning nature's healing power, as was the aforementioned "frontier tourism". In fact, it delivered on all of these with spades. I did feel healed by the power of nature. I knew that I was stepping on earth that not many people get to see in their whole lifetime. And, along with the expedition crew and the on-site citizens lab, I knew we were able to contribute to vital research while switching off from everything and truly appreciating the astounding surroundings.
It was the experience of a lifetime and I'll be forever grateful I got to see it before it was potentially too late. And while I might not be able to repeat the experience of kayaking in the Arctic, Alison will no doubt see me in beautiful Plockton in the future.
Kerry Hudson is an award-winning novelist and memoirist and a member of the British Guild of Travel Writers. You can find her on Instagram and on Threads @ThatKerryHudson