The Year Long Day is the story of one year in Norwegian Ivar Ruud’s life. Ivar was at the time a hunter of Polar Bear and Arctic Fox. He spent the fall, winter, and spring on a southern fjord of Spitzbergen Island–Hornsund. Since this island lies at 77 degrees north, only 400 miles from the North Pole, the sun fails to rise during the winter months; giving him the title of his book.
I was reminded of this work by a comment made by my wife on one of our morning dog walks. We have had some particularly chilly weather this winter. On one morning, I commented at how warm the wind felt—it was likely in the high 30’s (F). She said without pause: “Quick! Run! The ice is breaking up!” I laughed recalling fondly how we had discussed Ivar’s book in the early days of our marriage more than two decades ago. I was curious how well we remembered the story.
The Year Long Day is the story of the second to last year Ivar spent on Hornsund. Ivar sought to hunt fox and bear on Spitzbergen as a way of making a living and of coming to know the Arctic. Initially he was denied a permit and had to move back to Norway to raise more money. He finally paired with a more experienced hunter and was granted the permit. He was allowed to trap Arctic Fox and to kill ten Polar Bears. Each summer he would sell the skins in Longyearbyen, apply for new permits and return to Hornsund in the fall.
His only companions would be his team of huskies and his German Sheppard Naika. At Christmas he visited his ‘partner’ Fredrik Rubach for a few days; other than that he was alone.
The first step in living in the Artic was to gather enough food for the both himself and his dogs. The dogs would eat seal and he would eat birds. So he set out to hunt seal on the water of Hornsund. There are two types of seal in the area, the ringed seal and the larger bearded seal. The caving glaciers constituted a real threat to someone along in a small boat; so no seal hunting near a glacial terminus. He also mentions other dangers such as ice forming on the surface of the fjord; it’s amazing how quickly that happens.
Ivar trapped foxes under deadfalls made from a flat pallet weighted with about 80 lbs. of rocks. The type of trigger was not mentioned but I think it some version of a figure four. He hunted Polar Bears with a Mauser, shot white-cheek geese and ducks with a shotgun, and ptarmigan with a .22 rifle.
I was surprised that the annual goose migration happened in two days. That was all the time he had to collect enough geese and ducks for the winter. He watched the color of his prey’s feet. A pink footed goose meant an unmated youth. He preferred to shoot the youth as pairs mated for life and the survivor would remain single for the rest of their days; not a few of which would be spent calling for its fallen mate.
There is another fantastic scene I remembered. It describes an attack by a Polar Bear. Ivar was sleeping in his secondary cabin. The room he is in is only six feet by six feet. On one wall is a window, about a foot from the head of his bunk—across the room just past the stove is the exit door. During the night Ivar is wakened by the sound of breaking glass as the bear reaches into the room. He struggles to extract himself from his mummy bag while evading the swinging paw. The bear breaks one of his liquor bottles spreading glass all over the floor. But the smell of the whiskey causes the bear to withdraw its head and feet. In that moment Ivar lunges across the room and exits to his cold room. Here he arms himself with his rifle and eventually subdues the bear. Now he has to deal with a badly lacerated foot, a torn sleeping bag, a room that is open to the weather, and a rapidly freezing bear carcass; at night, in the dark.
The scene that we remembered on our walk was his adventure taking his last bear of the year. Ivar was hunting ptarmigan above his cabin when his huskies alerted him to a passing bear. Even though the range was extreme he shot the bear. Subsequent shots failed to connect and the bear started off onto the ice. After securing his dogs and the .22 he started off after the bear on skis.
As he went out on to the ice the snow was broken with ice blocks, so he left his skis. Ivar tracked the bear for an hour before the blood trail tapered off. He noted that where the wind had scoured the snow from the ice it bore he signs of recent shifting. Ivar climbed a ridge of ice blocks and spotted the bear about 400 yards ahead. He slid down to the lower surface intent on avoiding an ambush.
He found and killed the bear between tall broken ice blocks. As he was skinning the carcass he felt that something was wrong. Finally he headed the warning and climbed the nearby ice ridge. There was already 60 feet of open water between him and land. Not returning for anything, he ran up the fjord hoping to beat the widening crack before he was washed out to the open ocean with the ice. When he got to a place where the gap was only 20 feet he leaped into the water and swam across. Now it was a race back to his cabin before he froze to death.
As he ran he saw the ice cracking off his wet clothes. He eventually crossed his tracks and frantically followed them back to his skis. By then his hands were useless and he couldn’t work the bindings. So he abandoned them and continued to run for shelter.
By the time he got to the cabin he was barely able to feel the pain in his hands. He was only able to light matches by grasping them between his palms. He broke more than a few before he successfully kindled a fire. The warmth enabled him to strip off the wet clothes and bring feeling back to his frozen hands.
There are many scenes such as these in Ivar’s book. I heartily recommend it. We did remember the frantic running back to the cabin. I had forgotten that he was led into the situation by a wounded bear which wandered out onto the ice before it died. I also remembered the need to lay out the fire before doing anything else. It’s something that I practice on my wilderness trips.
I found the end of Ivar’s adventures in the arctic to be rather sad. The Norwegian government gave all of the Polar Bear depredation permits to the oil companies building rigs on and near Spitzbergen. The oil companies wanted to kill the bears to protect their workers. This put Ivar and the rest of the hunters out of business. So, Ivar moved to southern California and became a successful real estate agent. After all, what else is an out of work Polar Bear hunter to do?