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Posts tagged as “Billefjorden”

Briefs from Svalbardposten for the week of March 21, 2015

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Snowmobilers told to avoid Billefjorden due to bear cubs
Snowmobilers are being urged to avoid driving through Billefjorden, a popular route for approaching Pyramiden, due to two polar bear families with four-month-old cubs observed there, according to The Governor of Svalbard. They are in a critical phase of survival,” a statement at the governor’s website notes, adding officials will be monitoring traffic in the area.

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Mark Sabbatini

I'm a professional transient living on a tiny Norwegian island next door to the North Pole, where once a week (or thereabouts) I pollute our extreme and pristine environment with paper fishwrappers decorated with seemingly random letters that would cause a thousand monkeys with a thousand typewriters to die of humiliation. Such is the wisdom one acquires after more than 25 years in the world's second-least-respected occupation, much of it roaming the seven continents in search of jazz, unrecognizable street food and escorts I f****d with by insisting they give me the platonic tours of their cities promised in their ads. But it turns out this tiny group of islands known as Svalbard is my True Love and, generous contributions from you willing, I'll keep littering until they dig my body out when my climate-change-deformed apartment collapses or they exile my penniless ass because I'm not even worthy of washing your dirty dishes.
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Stay away from Billefjorden so polar bear cubs can eat, governor warns

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Read Time:1 Minute, 9 Second

Snowmobilers are being urged to avoid driving on the sea ice at Billefjorden because “there have been observed two polar bear families with four-month-old cubs in the area and these cubs are in a critical phase of survival,” according to The Governor of Svalbard.

About Post Author

Mark Sabbatini

I'm a professional transient living on a tiny Norwegian island next door to the North Pole, where once a week (or thereabouts) I pollute our extreme and pristine environment with paper fishwrappers decorated with seemingly random letters that would cause a thousand monkeys with a thousand typewriters to die of humiliation. Such is the wisdom one acquires after more than 25 years in the world's second-least-respected occupation, much of it roaming the seven continents in search of jazz, unrecognizable street food and escorts I f****d with by insisting they give me the platonic tours of their cities promised in their ads. But it turns out this tiny group of islands known as Svalbard is my True Love and, generous contributions from you willing, I'll keep littering until they dig my body out when my climate-change-deformed apartment collapses or they exile my penniless ass because I'm not even worthy of washing your dirty dishes.
Happy
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