Thursday 18 September 2025 – After what seemed like, oh, only ten days or so, here we are travelling again. Oh, wait – it is only ten days. We’ll have to try to get a better handle on our plans to give us just a little more time between trips. Anyway: travelling, so the alarm went off again at some obscure hour (actually 0500, to be precise). A remarkably smooth and well-choreographed set of movements around the house saw us up, packed, breakfasted and ready to go just as the taxi arrived to take us to Heathrow.
Our flight was uneventful, but a bit cramped for me; BA is obviously squeezing its customers as well as its margins, and we touched down in Bucharest only slightly earlier than our transfer driver had evidently expected. But we linked up eventually and had a somewhat traffic-laden journey to our accommodation while in the city, passing one of the reasons that Bucharest has the nickname “Little Paris”.
Our hotel is the Hotel Minerva, which is just this hotel, really; but it has air con (needed, because it’s nice and warm and sunny at the moment in Bucharest), a kettle and a fridge. Our room had clearly been set up for single occupancy, but the chap on the front desk, Vlad (yes, really), promised to arrange extra towels and pillows for us.
It was getting on for 4pm by that stage and we were somewhat peckish, and Vlad The Receptionist suggested the names of a couple of restaurants in the old town that we could investigate. So we went for a walk. Obviously.
Actually, we didn’t. The old town is a half-hour walk from the hotel and we were hungry, so we decided to take the metro, the nearest station of which was only 5 minutes walk away. It took us past a couple of buildings which give a clue to what I suspect is the often tumultuous history of the country: a fine (if slightly dilapidated) house which would not be out of place in central Paris;
and one which screamed “communist era brutalism”.
We’re due a walking tour of the old town tomorrow so doubtless will learn a great deal more; I might even remember some of it with which to regale you. It being a capital city, there are a few down-and-outs on the street, some just plain begging and some having an entrepreneurial spirit.
We got to the station, where we discovered that one could buy a mag stripe card good for 10 journeys for 40 lei (about £7), which we decided would suit our purposes for today and subsequent visits, and descended into the bowels of the metro.
It became swiftly apparent that it was rush hour. People were streaming in great numbers, observing a “keep right” rule which is occasionally written on the walls, and means that great numbers can make their way smoothly in opposing directionds, but which makes life complicated when you find yourself, as we did, on the wrong side of a stream. We forced our way through by being very British and apologising for any injuries we caused en route, and got on a southbound train, which was like rush hour metro trains in every major city.
We emerged into nice warm sunshine at the central station called Unirii. Heading towards our restaurant, we passed more of what looked very much like communist-era apartments
and also some much older and more charming buildings.
On the right is St. Anthony Church,
which is a Romanian Orthodox church and, it transpires, the oldest religious building in Bucharest. We popped in and admired its striking interior.
There was a steady stream of people paying their respects at the altar.
They all had a particular ritual they observed in bowing and crossing themselves in a specific order. Around the side and back is a place for people to light candles and pray
THANK YOU TO THE GOOD GOD AND ST. ANTONIE THE GREAT FOR YOUR HELP AND FOR THE FULFILLMENT OF OUR PRAYERS
It was very interesting for our short visit and doubtless we’ll come back on tomorrow’s tour to learn more about what is a very beautiful building; but for now we were peckish and so headed to one of Vlad’s recommended restaurants Hanul Manuc (which means, we’re told, “Manuc’s Inn”.
Through the arch is a splendid courtyard
On the edge of the courtyard are a bar and a kitchen, which was cooking up a storm.
Our waiter, Marius, introduced us to the local Apricot Palinka, a very tasty liqueur, and we indulged ourselves in some Romanian cuisine (well, the menu said it was, and who are we to argue?): stuffed cabbage leaves for Jane and “Mici” – skinless sausages – for me. It was delicous and the dougnuts with cream and blueberry jam we had for dessert were simply gluttony. There were beggars here, as well.
Heading back to the hotel (via a supermarket to get milk for our tea), we passed this sign:
Who knew that Bucharest was the first city to be illuminated by kerosene lamps? Not us, that’s for sure.
I took a few more photos in the metro on the way back – the stations are quite imposing, in a largely brutalist kind of way.
We have the whole day in which to explore Bucharest tomorrow, including a guided walking tour in the morning. Before we head up to the north of the country for the main objective of our time in Romania, I’m quite looking forward to getting to know this city a little better.
Saturday 6 September 2025 – For the second time in two days, there was a touch of the unexpected – which worked out spectacularly for the better. The “Expedition Morning” (i.e. plans being made on the hoof) was to take a short hike to a waterfall in Ekmanfjorden, just north of Longyearbyen. The scenery that was the backdrop to this was pretty spectacular.
The second picture above is of a formation locally nicknamed “The Colosseum”. On the way to landing, Carlo, one of the Italians in the group, professed himself a little puzzled as to why.
We landed, disembarked the Zodiacs and hopped ashore for what turned out to be a candidate for the shortest hike in world history, because the sharp eyes of Agnese, Carlo’s girlfriend, immediately picked out something that suddenly became really relevant to, and fundamentally altered, the morning’s plans.
In the distance was a polar bear. The picture above was taken at the longest end of the Big Lens – 560mm for the photo nerds among you – so this would be the view through binoculars – and Agnese can take credit for a great piece of scouting. Despite the bear being over a kilometre away, there was no question of us continuing on land – and anyway, we now had something rather more interesting to seek out than a boring old waterfall.
This is the waterfall we would have hiked to
So we hopped straight back into the Zodiacs, which made the length of the hike not significantly different from zero, and headed off in the general direction of the bear in the hope that it would stay reasonably close to the shore so we could photograph watch it.
The terrain gave us a really good lesson into how careful one must be in these here parts, as the moraine had crests and dips in it, any of which could easily hide even something as substantial as a polar bear.
See?
We followed the shoreline towards where we’d last seen the bear – guided occasionally by the crew from the bridge on Kinfish who, being higher than us, could sometimes see the bear, albeit only through their snazzy stabilised binoculars. We passed the remains of a trapper’s cabin (Gunnar got a grin by suggesting it was the bear’s lodgings)
and had lost sight of it until suddenly someone spotted it. It had moved a surprisingly long way and was now in the water, swimming back towards where we’d last seen it.
It even swam back past the cabin, kindly providing us photographers with an interesting backdrop,
and then, even more obligingly, went ashore.
We could see at this point, then, that it was a female. How did we know? Because it was wearing a tracking collar; males’ necks are too thick for these collars, apparently.
So, there we were, with our final day presenting us with a brilliant last encounter.
The bear pottered bearishly along the shore, heading back towards the waterfall, which had suddenly become interesting again as a possible backdrop for photography. But then…
it turned back, to (hushed) groans from the photographers (we didn’t want to disturb the bear in any way but really wanted it in front of the waterfall). Perhaps it heard us because, happily, it once again headed towards the waterfall, and we got a lovely portrait of it positioned as foreground interest.
We carefully maintained the 300m distance from the bear as it wandered along the shoreline
and it approached and crossed a couple of smaller waterfalls, which involved it climbing up quite a steep slope
and pottering on.
After watching it quietly and following it for about an hour, we decided it would be best to leave it in peace, and so headed back to Kinfish, which was beautifully positioned for a final shot.
Of course, when we boarded, there was nothing for it but to have a celebratory glass of fizz, which Anni magicked out of her stores for us.
We then headed back towards Longyearbyen, with a ship’s cruise past the glacier there. I’d decided that I was more interested in checking out bear photos, but Jane persuaded me to take a bit of a break to register the passing scenery.
Today’s wonderful encounter gave the final evening, the Captain’s Dinner, a distinctly celebratory air. There were bespoke cocktails for us to photograph drink
and captain Jesper gave a valedictory speech
before we sat down to a very, very fine dinner. Roger, our Swedish chef,
having done us proud all week, excelled himself, and Anni did her usual smooth job of ensuring that everyone was well lubricated.
So came to an end a memorable exploration of the northern reaches of the Svalbard archipelago – and beyond, of course. Kuba had been keeping a map going of the places we called in at, and he also showed us the formal track as monitored by the ship’s instruments.
We’ve been extraordinarily lucky. With thanks to Kate at Whisper and Wild, we happened upon a wonderful ship with an excellent crew; we had really very kind weather; and have managed to see a wide range of the wildlife of the arctic in its natural, stunningly beautiful, environment. Can’t ask for better, really.
Tomorrow sees us travelling home. We have an appallingly early start in order to catch an early flight to Oslo and then onwards to London, but we depart with brilliant memories of a fantastic time in mainland Norway and Svalbard.
That’s the end of this trip, but, as you might guess, not the end of our travels. We’ll be off again very soon, so best keep an eye on these pages to see what we get up to.
Friday 5 September 2025 – We had anchored overnight in Kongsfjord, which meant that we had had a still and silent ship in which to sleep. Sounds ideal, doesn’t it? And yet I didn’t sleep any more soundly than I had on the other nights, and it seemed that others felt the same. Perhaps we’re missing the lulling thrum of the ship’s engines? Anyway, we emerged, blinking once again, into a calm morning and (relatively) warm temperatures.
We were anchored over the water from an actual town! It’s called Ny Ålesund and is currently the location for research centres sponsored by a variety of countries. More of it later, but it was obviously a popular tourist destination.
Atlas World Traveller was in town
There were two practical upshots of our being there. The first was that we had to turn off all Wifi and Bluetooth on our phones in order that their radio emissions didn’t interfere with delicate research instruments. However, and I confess I didn’t understand this*, the second was that cellular phone access was OK – and we were able to camp on to their 5G network! Lovely unmetered internet! That killed off conversation for a while as everyone pored over their phones.
Kuba tore everyone away from their e-mails and cat videos to take us to a landing at a site called Ny London – New London. This was the site of a very risky punt on the quarrying of marble by a British chap called Ernest Mansfield in the early 1900s. It was the closest Svalbard came to a gold rush and led to the setting up of a mining operation very nearly of the scale of its coal industry. In order to stake a claim to the area, Mansfield had to set up a proper operation – buildings, railway, machinery. He decided that it was worth it for the vast amount of marble that could be quarried, and set up a camp for 70 quarry men to work there. The marble was assessed as being of fabulous quality, but, too late, it transpired that it suffered from a fatal flaw – frost damage after having been quarried meant that it crumbled easily and was simply not usable. So by 1920, Mansfield’s adventure was over and the site was simply abandoned. Being pre-WWII, it now has historical status and is left (almost entirely) untouched. We could see the remaining cabins as we approached on the Zodiacs,
and the crane used to load and unload boats.
As usual with a landing, we had to wait patiently in the Zodiacs while Kuba went to scout the area
and then we could wander round the remnants of the settlement – Camp Mansfield.
The area shows every evidence of being simply abandoned. All sorts of stuff is just lying around,
and the machinery is just rusting away.
There is some evidence of a rail track to carry quarried materials to the machinery and the crane.
The whole place had very strong overtones of the Grytviken site at the other end of the world on South Georgia.
I said that the site had to remain untouched. There is, apparently, one exception. There is a lottery and local people can enter to win permission to spend one night in the main cabin there. We looked into one of the windows and
it doesn’t look all that hospitable, frankly. But, you know, different strokes for different folks.
There were a couple of areas where it looked as if quarrying had taken place.
Having spent a little time looking around the site (and waiting for people to GET OUT OF MY SHOT!), Kuba spotted a couple of reindeer close by
so we gently crept towards them to get a closer look. Nearby was a magnificently-antlered male,
who was very chill, and simply kept ruminating whilst people stared and photographed.
Nearby again was a slightly less pleasant reminder of the toughness of life in this area of Svalbard.
It’s impossible to be certain, but Kuba thought that it was likely that this reindeer had starved to death – and this in an area where there was plenty of food. Reindeer can eat moss and any other vegetation that they find, but it seems that in eating these they can pick up small stones. The stones can accumulate in the animal’s stomach to the point where it eats and eats but can’t digest, and so dies of starvation.
As well as the male there were actually four other reindeer in the area, two females and two calves, and we very gently followed them as they fossicked around.
The site gave us some great views over Kongsfjord’s old and new towns.
One of the Italian couples in the group, Doina and Denis, were called “specialist leaders” – photo and video experts to whom we could turn to for advice on matters photographic should we wish. They have a considerable online presence – they are “content providers” – and spent their time frantically photographing and videoing us, the surroundings and themselves in a never-ending (and sometimes even a little obstructive) quest for angles, images and footage. Denis asked if there were members of the group who would be prepared to do a short video interview about the time we’ve spent on and around Kinfish and Jane and I agreed to do one for him. We spent a couple of minutes talking about how wonderful the whole week had been, with that memorable polar bear encounter among the wildlife, the lovely crew on the boat and the great organisation of the whole thing.
In one of the greatest possible ironies, when we rejoined the Zodiacs a few moments later and set off away from Ny London, it became clear that no-one knew where Kinfish actually was, and it was out of walkie-talkie range! So much for great organisation…
There had clearly been some miscommunication – Kuba had not expected the ship to move away. Anyway, since Ny London is on Blomstrand, which is actually an island despite being described as a halvøy, (peninsula) the two Zodiacs set off in opposite directions to see which way round was the best to find Kinfish. So, accidentally, we found ourselves doing what had been planned for the afternoon’s Zodiac cruise – looking into the caves and other rock formations around the island.
One was particularly impressive – a rock bridge formed the entrance to an “open” cave.
It has some beautiful quartz formations on the walls.
We were a bit chilly by the time we got back to Kinfish, which had parked itself on the southern side of the island – it took around 25 minutes to get back to it in the end. But the fact that we’d inadvertently compressed two activities into one meant that we had more time in the afternoon. This gave skipper Jesper the chance to tell us about the history of Kinfish, which started out as a search and rescue boat called the Ambassador Bay, named after the US Ambassador who made a present of the boat to Svalbard. (In a twist to the end of the story, it was later discovered that the funding for this came not from the Ambassador but from the CIA so that the boat could also do some spying.) It then went through various other roles, such as a surveying and mapping boat before being bought by Rolf’s son Robin and modified for the exploration cruising it now does. That final modification was overseen by Harald, the chief engineer, and carried out by 25 friends of the Dahlberg family, who didn’t charge for their time – a remarkable effort all round.
The team on board also did some quick footwork and agreed with The Powers That Be that we could dock at Ny Ålesund. This was great news to various people on various levels. For a start, it meant that people could visit the shop there and indulge in some retail therapy. We could also visit the museum, which is open 24 hours a day with free entry; and we could wander the town without needing to be shepherded by people wearing guns – provided we stayed inside the town limits. And, of course, there was internet access, not that we cared, oh no, not a bit.
Accordingly, after yet another stupendous and stupefyingly filling lunch from Roger, we wandered into town. Kinfish is small and can dock at the quay. Other, larger ships, can’t do this
and, selfishly, we were pleased to note that guests from one of these ships (all kitted out in distinctive orange jackets) were being ferried back to their vessel
leaving the town itself much quieter for us.
The town itself is larger than I had been expecting,
and a lot more attractive; I’d been expecting something strictly functional, but there were several colourful cottages and houses, some of which, we understood later, had been shipped over from Ny London, having, we suspect, been spruced up a bit.
It looked like everyone had piled into the shop – six days without being able to buy anything is clearly very stressful – so, as we passed the museum building
we decided to pop in; and I’m very glad we did. It’s very nicely laid out, and gives a great sense of the place’s history, starting from its coal mining origins to today’s research stations.
There was much information about the various airship exploits that started from here
and some exhibits which show how little and how much progress has been made in medical care.
The dentist chair and the drills look medieval; but the rinsing-out bowl is pretty much the same in today’s dental surgeries.
We did go into the shop
which is, obvs, full of tourist souvenir materials, but done with a lot of charm. There are traditional sealskin gloves and modern, hi-tech cold weather gear, any number of sorts of junk food, airship-shaped Christmas tree baubles, mugs, jugs, calendars, postcards and a whole load more – and the store appeared to be doing good business from Kinfish guests.
We strolled around the rest of the town. It is basically run by an organisation called King’s Bay, originally the mining company, and it runs a service building where everyone can eat.
The buildings themselves are either purpose built research centres, like this Norwegian one,
or repurposed from original buildings, as China did here.
There’s a bust of Amundsen
which is apparently one of five identical busts dotted around various out-of-the-way places where this remarkable man had an impact.
The oldest building in the town dates back to 1909; it was built by the Green Harbour coal company,
and the blue building behind it is the world’s most northerly post office. The little train which was used to transport coal has been preserved, and very endearing it is, too.
There’s one “must-see” object there which lies beyond the town’s limits, so Kuba organised a guided tour of the place during the early evening taking Gunnar and guns with him so that we could go and take a look past the edge of town.
The object is the mast which was built as a mooring point for the Norge airship which completed the first successful (north) transpolar flight in 1926. The expedition was led by Roald Amundson; the airship was built in Italy and piloted by an Italian crew under Umberto Nobile; and it was paid for by the American Lincoln Ellsworth.
The mast even has its own trig point, a tiny, neat pyramid by the mast.
The evening light was fantastic
but, rather than linger and admire it, we headed back to Kinfish just in time for a 9pm departure to reach our final stopping point, in Ekmanfjorden. This destination was rather forced on us because one of the big ships we saw earlier had elected to visit where Kuba had originally planned to go. This meant that tomorrow morning was to be an “Expedition Morning”; in other words, Kuba had no idea what, but would work something out. What transpired was astonishing and fantastic and I’ll tell you all about it – some other time. So stay tuned….
* On further research (thank you, ChatGPT), I understand that this apparent dissonance is because the 4G/5G is a licensed spectrum with predictable emissions, whereas WiFi and Bluetooth are inconsistent in intensity and location and can’t be separated from the other measurements their instruments make.
