Mining and Filming in Sveagruva

I just got back from an amazing couple days at Svea. I hopped the miner's flight down just in time to meet Linda as she got off of work. Linda was outfitted in a jumpsuit and completely covered in coal dust. She took me into the miner's locker rooms, equipped with showers, sauna, clothing (including helmet's, head lamps, and boots). Since there are only three women in the mine, the women's area is completely surrounded by the men's locker rooms. One turn of the head, and you get quite an eyeful!

Linda completely outfitted me (not for safety to keep my clothes relatively clean). We headed out for one of the entrances to the mine.

There is a tall crane that comes out of the mine with a conveyer belt running up it. The coal is transported out of the mine on this belt and dumped in a huge pile. We climbed out to the end of the crane on a narrow walkway. The walkway was made of grating with big holes. Not only was it tough to set up a tripod, but looking down sent my heart racing.

We hopped back into the truck and set off for another mine entrance. Driving at about 60km, the trip took 15 minutes. The road heads up into the mountains and is built on top of a glacier. They have had to rebuild the road annually as the glacier keeps melting. The entrance to the mine is a gaping hole in the side of the mountain. I had permission from the mining company to film around the entrance, but not to enter the mine. I filmed Linda for a couple hours and then we made our way to the mess hall for dinner

That night I taught Linda and a couple of the miners how to use my camera. Since I wasn't allowed into the mine, they had offered to take my camera in and film for me so I could get the footage I wanted.

The next day, they brought me amazing footage of an environment that is so extreme it's hard to imagine. Not being allowed to film in the mine had been such a frustration, but ended up creating a fantastic collaboration with the miners!

Sveagruva

Janet flew off on Wednesday to the "closed" mining settlement of Sveagruva. The only way to get there is via the mining company's daily flight. On a 17-seat prop-driven plane. I spoke with Janet, she said it was an amazingly beautiful 15 minute trip.

Sveagruva is an old-fashioned company town. The mining company, Store Norske, owns everything -- the dorms, the kitchens, airport, and of course, the mines.

Miners fly in to work 14-day shifts, then head back to Norway (or Longyearbyen) for a 14-day break. The mine itself is about 3.5 km deep (a little over two miles!)

[note -- these aren't Janet's pictures. We'll have to wait until she posts some.]

Mine 7

Between the jet lag I can't seem to kick and my cold, I was moving pretty slow on Sunday. I slept late and didn't get out to film until the afternoon. I was half way up a mountain when my phone rang (Longyearbyen may be a small town, but it has amazing cell reception). Linda, the woman coal miner who is the focus of my project was calling. I finished up filming and walked over to her house.

Here's a picture of Linda in her amazing sealskin coat.

Linda works at Svea, the larger of the two Norwegen mines. Svea is about 60km to the south of Longyearbyen. The miners there work a 14 days on, 14 days off schedule. They fly in for their shifts. Linda was just finishing up her 14 days off.

We made plans to go to Mine 7 Monday morning. Mine 7 is just north of Longyearbyen and reachable by car. Longyearbyen has two main roads that run perpendicular to each other. Both roads just end, one at the mine and the other at a glacier.

I headed back to my residence at Galleri Svalbard and spent the evening charging batteries and doing laundry.

Linda had borrowed a car and picked me up Monday morning. We had permission to film around the entrance to the mine, but not inside. We entered a large garage looking building. Inside the building was a lot of machinery, vehicles, and a huge hole into the mountain. I spent a couple hours filming Linda and the miners who work in Mine 7.

To celebrate a successful day of filming, Linda and I had dinner at Funken, a hotel and restaurant with a view over Longyearbyen. The restaurant seemed to think my "reservation for two" was for a romantic dinner - note the hearts on the table. After too many courses of things like Arctic Char tartar and reindeer, I went to bed swearing I'd never eat that much again.

Santa Claus Mine

Yesterday, I climbed up to an old abandoned mine above Longyearbyen. The locals call it the Santa Claus mine It's also rumored to be the summer home of Santa.


The locals say that this is the summer home of Santa. Mr. Klaus needs to make more money and do some rehab. Every Christmas season a mailbox is placed on the road below the mine. The local kids write their letters to Santa and place them in the box, hoping that Santa will come down from the mine and give them the toys they've asked for.



And it's very scary. Like, horror movie scary. And yes, there are haunting whistling noises coming out of the mine shaft. Luckily, it's frozen over, so I assume the monsters can't come out. Yet.


The climb is deceptively long and tough. The steep incline is covered with loose gravel and mud. I was hauling two backpacks with camera equipment and a tripod (which I regretted within seconds).


This mine was originally opened by Americans in the 1900s. In 1916 the Store Norske Spitsbergen Kullkompani (SNSK) became established, and they bought the mine from the American owner (Mr. Longyear).

The tall wooden structures are cable trestles, and are considered cultural monuments of the old manual-labor coal mining days in Longyearbyen. Back when the mines were working, the coal was transported in "kibs" (carriers) on the cable way to the cleaning plant.


I finally got up to the mine and heard a dog barking inside. I called out, but no answer. I hiked around the mine looking for the dog. I returned to the lower part and heard the dog again. It was totally creepy! We're talking horror movie creepy. I had to take a few moments and calm my terror. I wanted to run back down (not a good idea with the terrain). I finally convinced myself that the barking was just some old metal flapping in the wind (yeah, right). What finally made me set up and film was the thought that if I didn't do it then, I would have to haul all that equipment up some other day ... the shots were just too good to miss.

After a few hours of crawling in and around the mine, I slowly made my way back down, happy to leave the ghost dog behind.