I also saw that it is the location of the Global Seed Bank, something I have read about with interest over the years. There's so much lovely stuff in here - days and days without sunlight, being stuck in a shed surrounded by snow, the weird sounds in the Arctic - so it seems likes someone is speakijg right next to you when they are miles away, being awed by nature and having that realisation that the fox fur coveted back in 30s Austria actually comes from a fox.

We are entertained onboard ship, and are given a whole kilogram of coffee and four tins of condensed milk as well as a four-week-old newspaper. Výborne sa to čítalo, je to vtipne, pekne aj poetické, a najmä to svojou izolovanosťou od okolitého sveta pôsobí v súčasnej spoločensky únavnej dobe ako balzam. Christane paints a beautiful picture of her time in the Arctic, a journal you'll easily think is fiction, briliantly written.That bright Blyton style descends into a dark cerebal tone; the mental toughness necessary for survival is evident. Ritter was an Austrian painter, and this is her only book—an account of the year she spent with her husband on the island of Spitsbergen, which is far, far, far north in Norway. She's able to find the majesty in the landscape and the animals, despite the loneliness and fear when the men leave on hunting expeditions lasting for days. She creates vivid pictures of the midnight sun and of the "dead" polar night of not just darkness, but no signs of life beyond the three humans. Like “ The Museum of Whales …“, I bought this last summer, using lovely Christmas book tokens from friends, and I’ve now read five out of the nine books bought then, not bad considering they’re so (relatively) recent!

She is very descriptive of the landscape, animals, weather, and the three's activities such as hunting, cooking, meals, going on hikes.Ritter lived to be 103 years old, so maybe a year immersed in an Arctic landscape with nothing but nature for companionship is worth consideration after all. They told of journeys by water and over ice, of the animals and the fascination of the wilderness, of the strange light over the landscape, of the strange illumination of one’s own self in the remoteness of the polar night. In the valleys the wind howls, over the plain the snow is driven like a glistening river, but calm and unmoved the mountains soar into the star-glittering heavens.