Not the World's Northernmost Brewery: Barentsburg - 78° 03 48" N 14° 12' 04" E

Myrca's log, date 10 July 2026. Our position, Farmhamna 78° 20.199' N 12° 51.298' E

Beluga, Whitecaps and Polar Bear Beach

Intimidating ... even from a distance

We did a loop out to get closer to the glacier before heading into the wild, raging sea. The wind was on the nose and the sea was decidedly bumpy, but, as usual, there were birds, birds, birds.

The fulmars seemed particularly keen to cruise around and alongside the boat, effortlessly gliding on the wind. They are wonderful to watch—but getting a decent photograph of one is another matter entirely! Just as you get the camera ready, off they glide.

Then we came upon something rather more exciting: a pod of around 30 beluga whales, with a lone minke whale feeding along the shore.

Hey ... bergy bits don't spout water! They're belugas!

They don't photograph well but they are fun to watch

The belugas are such extraordinary creatures. With their rounded, stubby heads and almost pearly sheen to their bodies, they really are unlike any other whale. We stopped the boat and drifted, completely entranced, watching them for around half an hour as they moved through the water and fed along the shoreline.

Eventually, we had to tear ourselves away and continue on.

The sea was now filled with whitecaps. It was very bumpy and raining, and this was by far the most inclement weather we had experienced on the trip so far. The Arctic had reminded us that it doesn't always come with blue skies, sparkling ice and calm seas.

Still, there were compensations. Reindeer grazed along the shore while birds flew, dived and floated around the boat. The only hint of green comes beneath the high cliff nesting areas of the birds. The guano filled with nutrients and seeds gets squirted down the slopes and is able to lay dormant until the warmth of the twenty-four hour sun brings them to life for a short growing season.  Even in the miserable weather, there was wildlife everywhere.

Some puffins in the water and hard-to-spot reindeer on the shore

We eventually anchored in Farmhamna, across the bay from Polar Bear Beach—the place where we had sighted our one and only polar bear. The anchorage wasn't wonderfully sheltered, but at least we were out of the sea, even if we weren't entirely out of the wind.

Reindeer grazed peacefully ashore and seals hauled themselves out onto the rocks. Meanwhile, back on board, Jo produced an amazing paella using some of the fish we had caught along the way.

We are eating very well!

That evening was wonderfully quiet. After the excitement of the day, we were all engrossed in our books and tucked up in bed by 10 pm.

So much to see in all directions

The continuous daylight is, however, beginning to confuse our internal clocks. We are very grateful for the blackout blinds. It is incredibly odd to go to bed while the sun is still shining and to wake up to what looks very much like the middle of the day.

Our sleep doesn't seem to be as deep or as sound, and we can all feel an underlying weariness building up as a consequence. Apparently, the human body still expects nighttime to involve darkness, even if the Arctic clearly has other ideas.

Total distance: 270.8 nautical miles.

Myrca's log, date 11 July 2026. Our position, Barentsburg 78° 03.793' N 14‚ 12.073' E

Barentsburg — Bumpy Boats and Russian Dumplings

Tied up at the rugged but strong docks at Barentsburg

Note the VERY sketchy gangplank we had to fashion ourselves to get from the pontoon we were tied to, onto the one with the gangplank ashore ... otherwise it is a six foot leap onto a slippery deck.

Both docks are heaving in the wash (although it doesn't show in the photos)

Also disturbing our sleep was the rather rocky and bumpy anchorage. During the night the wind picked up, low cloud rolled in, scattered rain arrived and the temperature dropped. It was a rough and chilly bash south towards Isfjord.

Rain, a messy sea and a little bit of seasickness made for a fairly miserable passage. And, of course, the wind was bang on the nose, so there was no sailing to be had—we had to motor. Bumpy, chilly and wet. All in all, not the most fabulous of voyages.

Barentsburg isn't particularly sheltered in a southerly wind. The wind storms up the fjord, creating whitecaps on short, steep waves that bounce around the bay. The dock itself is very exposed.

We approached the dock with some trepidation. Fortunately, it was one of those wonderfully robust floating plastic structures, rather like the pontoons used around fish farms—and thank goodness it was! The wind gave us a good shove at the last moment, and we arrived at the dock rather hotter and faster than intended. The pontoon took it all in its stride. We were safely alongside.

And what a fascinating town!

... and this is summer!?

Barentsburg is a Russian coal-mining settlement of around 300 people, complete with Cyrillic signs, Russian architecture and a rather imposing statue of Lenin. It felt completely different from the other settlements we had visited in Svalbard. There was a distinctly Russian character to the place, and it was fascinating to wander around and take it all in.

There is next-to-no traffic tourist here.  The Norwegian tour companies are forbidden to take any business here, but still run the locals back and forth by ferry to and from here and Longyearbyen. 

All pretty dismal, but what is that sign by the stairs?

With the boat still bucking at the dock like an unbroken pony, we decided that the best response was obviously to go to the local brewery for a beer.

This evening's entertainment has now been sorted!

Up the wet stairs we trudged, with surreal Soviet-era style signage everywhere

Myrca safely tied to the industrial-strength pontoons in the unprotected harbour.  Cold beer awaits.

A right turn at the top of the stairs onto a road made of huge concrete slabs ... heavily built to withstand both heavy mining trucks and the harsh, long winters. 

The translation:
MINERS WORK - IN PEOPLE'S PEACE
IN THE BODIES OF SPACE ROCKETS
MINER, WITH YOUR WORK-WORN HAND
YOU GIVE WARMTH AND LIGHT TO EVERYONE

Kate is almost there. It is the all-red building on the right.  

Small plaques left by other sailboats that have been here.  Too bad we weren't staying longer, or we might have created one in honour of Myrca.

Note the bar sandals.  As is custom here, everyone leaves their shoes at the door and they have loaner sandals.
Although we are still in Norway, we had the option of paying in rubles.  Seriously.

The Red Bear Brewery is not quite the world's northernmost brewery—Longyearbyen has apparently pipped it to the title by a couple of seconds of latitude—but the beer was excellent.

We were told this sign is only sort of a joke.
And not very comforting.

And, not content with just one bar, we embarked on something approaching a pub crawl and headed to the Krasin Bar at the hotel for dinner.

Not bad for a town of 300 people: two bars! Perhaps that says something about the Russians.

Off to the hotel for a different beer ... and maybe some dinner.  There are many monuments to the workers here (as you would expect).

We had a lovely chat with our Russian waiter, who recommended the pelmeni. They turned out to be absolutely delicious little meat dumplings. We tried them both fried and steamed, and couldn't decide which version we liked best. Either way, they were excellent.

One of the dishes - A tasty offering.

Not a bad offering and prices, considering how remote they are.  Prices are in Norwegian Kroner, which were (at the time of our visit) 7 NOK = 1 CAD or AUD.

Meanwhile, Jo and Ed stayed behind at the Red Bear to watch England versus Norway in the World Cup quarter-final. We left them to their football and headed back to our bouncing boat, where the wind and waves eventually lulled us to sleep.

It wasn't the smoothest day of the voyage, but Barentsburg had certainly made up for the rough passage. A Russian mining town, two bars, excellent dumplings and beer, and a boat that doubled as a rather energetic rocking cradle.

Total distance: 299 nautical miles.