The Polar Express

When arctic explorer, Doug Stoup asked me to join his expedition to Svalbard, Norway, to ski on the planet's most Northern mountain range, I figured it would be more of a novelty. What I didn't realize was that the terrain and snow conditions would be world class. Located roughly 800 kilometers from the North Pole, our journey began in Longyearbyen (population approximately 2,000), originally a whaling community turned coal mining town that currently features one grocery store, a couple of over priced hotels, and a scattering of bright colored buildings.

With less than 60 kilometers of roadway, the best (and virtually only) way to get around is via snow mobile, so our team of seven people loaded up a small fleet of snowmobiles, towing sleds with all the necessary gear and supplies to survive (and ski) on the ice field for two weeks. Leaving fuel caches along the way, it took over eight hours to reach our final destination, the Atom Fjella glacier, containing the highest mountains on the island. As soon as we set up our base camp, our snow mobile escorts waved goodbye as we huddled in our tents preparing to weather the incoming storm.

Before we could get our camp fully secured, Doug began firing up the stove and boiling water for a hot meal when suddenly a powerful gust launched our six meters dome tent into the sky, like a kite with no strings attached. Will Wissman (our photographer), watched the structure fly over his head as he immediately started sprinting down the glacier trying to stop our tent from blowing away. Running for nearly a kilometer in his down suit, he wrestled the massive canopy to the ground. Then we began marching the tent back up wind. It was a tough start to our adventure but a healthy reminder that we are in a remote and rugged environment. The next morning we were blessed with 20 centimeters of fresh snow, beautiful blue skies, and no wind.

Looking around the Atom Fjella it quickly became apparent that the options are numerous. Like kids in a candy store we start picking lines, tiny swaths of snow wedged between monolithic rock walls. I started to understand better why Doug calls this place "Couloirs land". I have to admit that I have never seen so many clean lines framed by spectacular rock and impressive ice features yet with very little (if any) crevasse hazard. It quickly became apparent that our greatest challenge would be figuring out this whole new zone and learning how the everlasting sunset would affect every decision we made.

Eventually we shift our clocks towards the midnight hours when the golden sun skims across the horizon, producing dramatic light with unusual hues and dark shadows. With perfect powder conditions and bomber stability, it seems that our only limitation is the endurance in our legs. Hiking for every turn we make provides a certain level of satisfaction but it is also frustrating to know we will eventually run out of time before we accomplish all of our objectives. With 23 hours of daylight, there is little time to sleep. It seems that everyone in the group is feeding off of each other's energy. As we enter into our second week, another storm arrives and we finally have an excuse to rest in camp to regain our strength for the final few days of our trip.

At this point, it is apparent that we must prioritize our objectives so we decide to head for the highest peak on the island, Newtontoppen (1,715 meters), which leads us onto the eastern shoulder where a series of sub peaks converge. Standing on top, we realize that our starting point spills off into three separate directions featuring three amazing, all equally impressive couloirs. Doug decides to name our location, The Trident. We stare down the north side as I click into my skis and stomp out a starting point. I consider my options; I can either chisel my way down or I can attempt to beat my slough. It's a difficult decision made easy by the fact that conditions are perfect and I have a real pair of boots and skis attached to my feet.

Setting aside all apprehensions (and the fact that the nearest hospital is days away), I rock forward and let gravity take control. With eyes in the back of my head, I can feel my slough nipping at my heels. Mid way down, I skip across an old fracture line as I drive forward to maintain my speed and momentum. I feel a sense of relief as I cross into the shadows and exit hard left as a billowing cloud rushes past me. After twelve unforgettable days on the Atom Fjella ice field we begin our journey home on snowmobiles. Returning to the frozen sea, we pass by a secluded trapper cabin where we meet two hardy Norwegian women. We learn that these two women have been "taking holiday" and hunting for seal.

Pointing at their seal hides, they describe their polar bear encounter which occurred 24 hours prior: "we ran into our cabin as the bear stood three and a half meters high on it's hind legs growling through the kitchen window." Apparently the women shouted back while waving a high caliber pistol. Fortunately the bear lost interest in the women and wandered off with the skins in mouth. Needless to say, their story captured our full attention as we continued our journey home. Stopping for lunch, we spotted a distant polar bear several miles away. We decided to lay low behind a small rock outcropping to enjoy our lunch. Much to our surprise the bear started moving closer until we realized that it was a mother and two cubs.

Over the course of the next hour, the trio crawled within 15 meters of our hiding spot. We watched the cubs roll around as they played amongst themselves while the mother pointed her nose skyward searching for the scent of our salami sandwiches. Recalling the story of the two Norwegian women, we casually stood up and start waving our arms and shouting loud noises. Without hesitation, the bears went scampering out of sight. Our polar bear encounter was a fitting end to an unforgettable adventure. As we neared civilization we encountered the "Noorderlicht" a 21 meters sailboat a hotel frozen in the ice. For a small fortune, we were invited aboard for a warm shower and several rounds of cocktails.

As I placed my head on my pillow below deck on a sailboat frozen in the ice, only a few hundred kilometers from the North Pole, I tried to digest the unusual experience of the past two weeks. Unable to truly capture the expedition in words, I have come to the realization that there is no better place to ski on our planet during the month of May. My only hope is that I will return again some time soon...