Svalbard diary: Hello darkness my old friend!

Flying into the Arctic in January is both a wonderful and terrifying experience. I’m literally flying into darkness, a night that lasts for four months. Looking out the window from my seat on the twenty first row, I see no familiar horizon ahead, only a dusty blue hue going from light to dark. No clear line between the sky and earth. This is the polar night. It’s like looking at an abstract aquarelle painting without wearing your glasses, when you need to be wearing glasses. There is literally nothing to focus on. It’s a very strange feeling, a mix between fear and curiosity.

I step outside a red nosed air plane, and in one single gust the polar winds blow straight through my body, chilling me down to my ovaries. I can feel my cheeks blushing bright and turn rosy red, like I’ve been slapped in the face with a frozen mitten. My nostrils clamp shut simultaneously in shock. It’s -14 degrees Celsius. Welcome to Svalbard, the gateway to the North Pole.

I meet up with my friends Samantha and Vladimir from the US in Longyearbyen. They arrived last week. Warm yellow light seeps out through a small gap in the red curtains of our little green AirBnb «hytte». It’s a humble abode, but it has everything you need, just like a proper Norwegian «hytte». It feels comfy and warm, lived in and loved. In true Nordic style, with old medals hanging on the walls, pictures and newspaper clippings, diplomas from expeditions and competitions. Nothing here matches, yet everything goes together. Some dinner plates have polar bears patterns on them, others have flowers. The cups and glasses and cutlery don’t match at all. It’s soft and cosy, and it feels like a home. Not just an AirBNB. This is a little piece of heaven for someone, and we are allowed to borrow it.

Wanting to rest up a bit before heading out again, we look through some old books to learn about Svalbard history. From coal mining to alcohol consumption, whale killing, community spirit and tourism, this arctic archipelago has gone through a lot. Our old friend Google tells us that there is a new shift coming, as Longyearbyen is set to run out of coal within 10 years, meaning there will be no source of electricity. Svalbard is facing some big important questions, but so far there has been no clear answers. The future seems uncertain, except when it comes to tourism. We, the people, will always need to explore.

Feeling like well informed travelers, we get dressed, which takes about 30 minutes because of all the layers, and head on out. We walk toward Adventsfjorden at the edge of Longyearbyen to get away from some of the light pollution, just hoping the northern lights will show up. As I get closer to the ocean, I can’t decide if the water is frozen solid or if it's liquid. It is so still, and so black, I almost start believing it’s not even there. I slide down between beautiful frozen ice formations, on to the rocky beach and I dip my fingers into a darkness so clear, it looks like a black mirror. It is so much colder than I imagined. Touching every ocean and sea on this blue planet is on my bucket list, and this one was a big one for me. I didn’t think I’d actually make it to the Arctic, but somehow I have.

I turn around from the vastness of Adventfjorden, and start to see my surroundings clearly for the first time since I got here. With nothing but darkness behind me, the black unfrozen sea, the depth of Longyearvalley just seems to goes on and on. Majestic, white mountains peer down at me from every angle. I’m drowning in beauty. And ugliness. There are hundreds of untold stories of dead men inside these beautiful mountains. Crawling in and out of man made holes to retract coal for energy is no easy task. Mining is a very dangerous occupation. I can see desperation and pride, fear and stubbornness smeared all over this place. I feel it, I am a part of it. The arctic is in my blood. All the triumphs and all the tragedies. It’s overwhelming. I can’t help but feel small, like an arctic fox in this wide open landscape.

We walk around for hours, taking in the strange darkness of this archipelago. As long as I keep moving, the cold doesn't bother me that much. Svalbard feels surreal, otherworldly. In many ways it is. This ice covered desert has an incredible wildlife consisting of white bears and white foxes and white birds. Just, endless white everythings. It is a land of fire and ice, an island realm with dramatic fjords, ever changing glaciers, soaring mountains - like something out of Game of Thrones. Winter came, and winter stayed. And it will kill you if you’re not careful. What you must know is that there are rules to living in the Arctic. The most important one is: You are on polar bear territory. This is their land. You are a guest. Always remember that. Be careful and be respectful.

I didn’t see any bears during my stay, but I almost tripped over a reindeer on my first day in Longyearbyen, and was sure I was gonna die when I mistook two Samoyed pups for polar bear cubs. Life is very interesting at 78 degrees north. I wouldn’t trade my experience for anything. My Nordic DNA really shines through here. I'm thriving in this Arctic wilderness. I know this darkness. I find comfort in this darkness. The north truly is in my blood. And I can’t wait to explore more!