North! (WAY North!)
A few weeks ago I set out on a journey to the North Pole. The excursion was going to be carried out by a Russian company named VICAAR, an acronym for VICtory in Arctic and Antarctic Research, which was directed by an Arctic explorer by the name of Victor Boyerski. I was part of a group of borderline lunatics that had decided, for a wide variety of reasons, I’m sure, that we simply HAD to go there. Although the trip promised to be something of an adventure, we were NOT planning to recapitulate Victor’s first trip to the Pole, which began in Russia, crossed the Pole and ended up, hundreds of miles later, in Canada, traveling by DOGSLED AND KAYAK! We wanted adventure – but not THAT much adventure.
Anyway, the expedition would begin in Oslo, Norway, from which we would fly to a remote island north of Norway called Svalbard. This spit of volcanic land juts above the icy waters of the Arctic Ocean at SEVENTY EIGHT DEGREES north latitude. For comparison, the Arctic Circle is way SOUTH of Svalbard at 66 degrees north latitude. HIGH temperatures in April hover around the freezing mark, with low temps very much lower. It’s hard to believe that people live up there, but they do. There is a redoubt at water’s edge called Longyearbyen, and it is there where we were to find accommodations and wait for auspicious weather conditions for the next leg of the journey. My lodging was the “Base Camp Hotel.” It was nice, but, as they sometimes say in the travel industry, “rustic”.
Now, the town of Longyearbyen was a bit unique. The streets were essentially snow and ice. Clouds clung to the nearby mountains, which hovered over the town. And the mountain slopes threatened the town with occasional avalanches. In fact, a few years ago a man and woman in town were killed by one such avalanche while they were IN THEIR HOME. The town has since erected barriers on the slope that are supposed to decrease the chance of that happening again. Townsfolk are not so sure.
As I was checking into the hotel, I mentioned to the proprietor that I was looking forward to photographing the northern lights and had brought along the camera equipment to do so. She frowned and said that she was sorry, but I wouldn’t be able to do that. Because I had recently checked NASA’s website I knew there WAS supposed to be aurora activity that night. I mentioned this to the lady, who then explained to me that although aurora might indeed be going on, I wouldn’t be able to see it… Why?… Simply because… it WOULDN’T GET DARK! Apparently, we were so close to the North Pole that after the vernal equinox, Longyearbyen has almost continuous daylight. Rats!
So, after checking in to the Base Camp, I had dinner at a local watering hole. On the way to the saloon I passed a rather amusing signpost, as pictured….
Yes, there are spaces to park your sled dogs!
At the saloon, I was pleasantly surprised to have been served a scrumptious platter of nachos con carne. I certainly hadn’t expected good Mexican fare to be on offer in Longyearbyen, as we were SO “north of the border”! None-the-less, the nachos were great, and I also enjoyed a serviceable brew that had the clever name “Grizzly Beer”.
The bar had a couple of other unique features:
As seen in the photograph, the liquor shelf was guarded by a stern plaster bust of a famous personage that we don’t see much of these days. If the reader has trouble identifying the figure, take a look at the profile in the mirror…. Got it?… Yep, it’s none other than Vladimir Lenin! It seems that Lenin is very “big” in these parts! (For many years Russia mined coal on the island. The miners were, apparently, provided with enough vodka that Vladimir was held in high esteem!)
The bar also had a rather strange mural on one of the walls as shown:
Take a close look at the picture…. Yes, the mural is a drawing of a polar bear bleeding to death. You might think that such a grizzly scene would be an unusual subject for a large fresco in a public eatery. I surmise, however, that the locals may have a somewhat adversarial relationship with the Arctic carnivore. Perhaps a few people may have succumbed to the predator from time to time, engendering some understandable enmity for the beast.
The next leg of the trip was supposed to be aboard a Russian aircraft called the Antinov-74. This plane was designed to function in the Arctic and had 2 giant jet engines ABOVE the wings, as you can see in the picture.
Looked at from the front it bears an uncanny resemblance to a famous American. Accordingly, the pilots have a nick name for the plane: “Mickey Mouse.”
Anyway, we were to fly from Longyearbyen to Camp Barneo, a temporary Russian research facility, that is sited, seasonally, at EIGHTY NINE DEGREES north latitude, just seventy miles from the Pole. The Antinov lands on a runway made of ice. Depending on the weather, at that point we would either proceed to the Pole by helicopter or wait it out at the camp for as long as it takes for the weather and conditions to become auspicious.
Although, on Svalbard we were tantalizingly close to achieving our goal, as it turns out, we were to be disappointed. A combination of problems with the aircraft, together with predicted deterioration of the weather, together with increasing instability of the sea ice forced the cancellation. (The North Pole is known to be one of the one of the least accessible places on earth. For good reason). In addition to all of the factors listed above, there may also have been some political factors at work, the details of which we were not privy to. There were various rumors of tensions between Russia and Norway, and alternative rumors of tensions between Canada and Russia. There were even theories that repair parts for the aircraft were unavailable due to political unrest in Crimea, where the Antinov was made. Whether any or all of these rumors were true or not, I can not say. (Vladimir Putin had been in the international news just a couple of days before I set out, however. At a press conference he announced Russia’s intention to expand its “presence” in the Arctic. Coincidence? I don’t know).
But, what ever the reasons were, our quest for the Pole, this year, would not be realized. I was disappointed, of course. But, if safety was indeed the main issue, I’m okay with the cancellation. As the aviation saying goes: “It’s MUCH better to be on the ground wishing you were in the air, than to be in the air wishing you were on the ground!” Amen to that! I’m signed up for next year.