Honoring old arctic culture
Many of us find inspiration in the wild survival stories of the Arctic. Eking out an existence through ice cold, pitch dark winters in small huts made of driftwood and flotsam, your trusty dogs are your only companions, risking your life trapping and hunting in the extreme wilderness... Visit our Trappers Station, where we keep our 100 or so huskies, and feel how we have captured the substance and spirit of the old survivors!
My hotel in Longyearbyen feels just like a hunter’s cabin. It’s made of driftwood, slate, tarpaper, and old woodwork from the nearby Russian town of Barentsburg. I never really thought of a trapper as an interior decorator before – but this works! I love the roughness and character. A space full of life and stories.
Breakfast in the Travellers Club, and a nightcap up in the Cognac Loft under the northern lights –for me this is Svalbard. It’s different, with an inspiring touch of madness ...not unlike the old trappers themselves.
Next day: Early morning at the Trapper’s Camp, getting ready for a day-trip with the Basecamp huskies. Driving out here from our cozy lodge in town, we barely saw the road. Wind-driven snow and ice crystals whipped across the frozen tundra, effectively wiping out all details and contours. It looked mighty cold. But here we are now, sweating away in our insulated suits as we harness the dogs and get them all tethered and lined up in front of the sleds. The image I had of relaxing on a sled while the soft landscape calmly passes by has been utterly shattered. This is hard work! And noisy! Can you dogs PLEASE stop yapping?! But I love it.... I’ve already learned most of the dogs’ names; Osama, Pepita, Tusker, Fringe, Dildo (!?)... and I’m getting to know their personalities. So that’s why Femina is put up at the very front? She’s the ‘alpha’ female – smart and dominant. Even the big brutes like Tusker will follow her lead.
Then we’re all set. I’ve got my foot on the break, hand on the rope that releases the sled from its anchor, and I’ve got six crazed huskies yanking and lurching at their tethers, barking and yelping. The noise is insane! The dogs are in a frenzy! This seems crazy. How will I ever gain control over this chaotic, unruly pack? Anyone who thinks its cruel to harness dogs to a sled hasn’t experienced this: they’re so thrilled by soon being let loose to run and to pull and to work as a team that they just can’t control themselves. Their – and my – adrenaline is flowing at max speed!
Then the guide’s team is off and we have the go-ahead. I yank the release rope and with a jolt we’ve left camp and are on the trail. My team gives a final howl of satisfaction. My team! Who would have thought? Last night I was a newcomer to the Arctic, enjoying hot cider in the comforts of the Basecamp Hotel. And now here I am; King of the Tundra! Wow!
Then panic – as my foot slips off the break and I almost fall off at the first bump. I clamber back on and then, before I know it… silence. What’s happened? Its smooth and quiet. The dogs have found a steady, efficient trot, and all I hear is the rush of snow under the runners and the cheerful, rythmic panting of the dogs ahead. I look around and find I have time – and oh so much space! - to contemplate.
