Svalbard. The Bear

25 April 2023 was the happiest day of my life. Not the only one: I’m lucky enough to have experienced multiple ‘happiest days in my life’, and hopefully there will be more to come. But when the polar bear materialised before us on the rocky slope, I remember thinking just that. I clicked nonstop on my shutter button and the thought formed in my head: ‘Today is the happiest day of my life’. I must also have said it aloud to some of the people I shared the boat trip with, as we exchanged looks and smiles, all equally mesmerised by such a breathtaking sight. It’s easy to bond over something like that.

That bear was like an apparition. I know I’ve already used the same word when I wrote about the Arctic fox, but I mean it. I guess all wildlife sightings like these do feel like apparitions. They completely throw you off for a few seconds, however prepared you are – and you are prepared: that’s the reason you’re out there in the first place, that’s what you’ve been preparing and waiting for for hours! And yet, you can’t help those few seconds of overwhelming awe, after which you swiftly come to, and the camera goes off.

‘My’ (‘our’) Svalbard bear, in fact, really felt like an apparition since it took me a few minutes (yes, minutes, not seconds) to actually see it. There was sudden movement on deck, people whispering, mumbling, dashing to the railing on the side of the boat where I stood. Fingers pointed toward the mountain, gazes glued to the slope. I did as they did, but I didn’t know why. So I asked the girl standing next to me, ‘What’s happening?’, to which she replied, ‘Someone said there’s a bear’. A BEAR.

Then the boat slowed down, and we knew there was something there. As Hans, our amazing guide, had explained in the morning, ‘the captain will slow down the boat when they spot something out there!’ Was I really about to see a polar bear? AN ACTUAL POLAR BEAR? Well, for a few secon- minutes I did fear that I wouldn’t, because I COULDN’T BLOODY SEE ANYTHING AT ALL. The kind girl next to me pointed at the slope (‘Right there, right of those rocks!’). I followed the direction of her index finger like one shows the way out of a labyrinth to someone who’s been trapped in it for a month, but nope, I can’t see a thing, my friend.

I started clicking nonetheless. What if the bear runs off before I get to spot it? The girl said ‘right of those rocks’, so if I take a few shots of that area, if the bear is there (which it must be, everyone is gaping at the mountain by now, what is wrong with me?), at least I will see it through my shots. Also, this is the dumbest idea I’ve ever had, but also the only thing I can think of right now.

As it turned out, I didn’t have to rely on the photos alone, because my short-sighted eyes eventually spotted it. ‘It’s a bear’, I thought. ‘I’m looking at a polar bear, and it’s the most magnificent sight I’ve ever laid my eyes on’.

She stood on the slope, looking ahead at the sea, the mountains, the fjord. She had about fifty pairs of eyes staring at her from a boat off the coast, but she didn’t know. She was oblivious to all of us intruders: she was in her home, and she owned it completely.

At first she kept to the slope, feeding on the remains of what could have been a reindeer carcass, but was in fact only pieces of raw, red meat by then. First she sat down and chewed on a piece of backbone sticking out of the snow, then she rolled over, playful as a cub. She eventually settled on the larger piece of meat: she picked it up with her mouth and walked off, to the dismay of several gulls waiting around expectantly.

She walked downhill, now and then tossing the carcass over in front of her only to pick it up again. She made it to the shore and resumed her game. She tossed the carcass into the water, jumped in to retrieve it, shook the water off it, then started over. Every now and then she looked up, and every time she did that I felt like she was staring at me. I stared back, tears in my eyes, marvelling at the absolute, mesmerising beauty she was.

She’s such a massive, powerful animal, and she lives in one of the most extreme, yet fragile environments on the planet. Her home as she knows it is at risk of disappearing – she, too, is at risk of disappearing. But trust me, if you look at her, if you see her out there, you will want to do everything in your power to prevent any of that from happening.

That day really was the best day of my life.