Laila Adnan Al-Yafi JEDDAH — The Arabs called it the end of world, a place forever captured in the grips of ice and snow, where the cold is an endless specter forever haunting as it blows across the face of the Arctic seas and lands. Even time must bend a knee to this frigid region where summer months are eternally awash in daylight from the sun's refusal to set. Eventually however the sleepless sun tires, and what was once aglow in sunlight, soon finds itself in perpetual darkness. During these months, the aurora borealis lights up the sky, dancing like a whip of colors and light against the night time canvas of moonlight and stars. The place that I am describing is not something from a dream, but is the archipelago of Svalbard, a cluster of islands, encased by ice year round, located between Norway and North Pole. Although this may seem like harsh and inhospitable area, Svalbard is home to an abundant array of wildlife, and few places in the Arctic region come close to its biodiversity. It is home to over 3,000 polar bears, and because of this people are warned to carry riffles with them, twelve species of whales and five types of seals; it is also a haven for the Atlantic walruses in the Barents Sea. Across the ice locked tundra of Svalbard, ten percent of which is only covered in vegetation, reindeer lazily graze while arctic foxes hunt without fear of natural predators. While Svalbard may seem like a dangerous place for human beings, it is actually home to over 2,637 people, many of whom work as research scientists or in coalmines. Spitsbergen is the largest island and is the only one that is permanently inhabited year round. It is home to research outposts, a Russian coal-mining community named Barentsburg, and also its administrative center Longyearbyen, where my father, brother and I visited this summer in for our Eid holiday. Longyearbyen, meaning the Long Year Town, is the largest settlement in Spitsbergen and is a hot spot for tourists who wish to experience adventures only found at the ends of the earth. After arriving by plane in the community's only airport, my family and I did not know what to expect since this was the first time any Al-Yafi had ever ventured to the Arctic circle. All we knew was to be prepared for the cold to possibly expect a somewhat harsh four-day stay. What we found was a modern town bustling with people. It had shopping centers, restaurants, hotels and a wonderful museum, and in order to cope with the Arctic environment, all of these structures were built on wooden pilings to prevent heated buildings from melting the permafrost, usually a meter deep, and risk sinking into the earth. Around the town lies the ghosts and intact memories of the community's former coalmining industry. Carts, tools and mining cables remain untouched in silence, jutting out from hillsides, forever embodying the town's love for tradition and respect of its rich history. Because nature and history are so highly valued in Longyearbyen, visitors are expected to honor and uphold these vital components of life in the settlement. For instance, when entering any home, hotel, or other building, with the exception of a few shops, one is expected to take off their shoes. This local tradition is rooted in its mining history when coalminers would remove their coal-dusted boots at the door. It was quite a task removing and putting on my hiking boots each time I left or returned to our hotel, and it took me a couple of days to get used to seeing people walking around in the lobby without any shoes on. Apart from tradition, Longyearbyen is also known for its adventure tours and excursions. One way to acquaint yourself with Longyearbyen within two hours is to take the Maxi Taxi, a tourist company that drives visitors around in a minibus that explores several fantastic spots such as Svalbard's "doomsday" Global Seed Vault, which holds the entire world's seeds for safe keeping. Hiking, boat trips, dog-sledding and biking were activities that my family and I decided to do during our stay in Svalbard. I will never forget the seven-hour hike my brother and I endured, it was a challenging hike across mountainsides and slippery glaciers, and as we followed our instructor, who was armed with a loaded riffle against hungry polar bears, the wind picked up and snow began to fall. The earth around was blanketed in white and for a moment we glimpsed what Svalbard looked like in the winter. It was a lesson of nature and we quickly learned that ice reigns supreme here. On the third day my family and I took at boat trip on the Polar Girl to Esmark Glacier and Barentsburg, the Russian mining town. On our way to the glacier we spotted some of Svalbard's incredible wildlife — seabirds hunted the energy-rich seas or lazily flew and danced around our boat. We also spotted a small pod of whales swimming in the distance as they breached the waters surface and swam in the reflections of mountains that stood on the shores of the Barents Sea. After eating a warm lunch on deck in the shadow of the glacier, we docked in Barentsburg for several hours and explored this small piece of Russia in Norway. On our way back to Longyearbyen we passed by abandoned Russian mining ghost towns and abandoned train tracks that were once used to transport coal. On our final day in Svalbard we went dog carting, the summer equivalent to dog sledding since it was not snowing. After being picked up from the hotel we drove to the outskirts of town where snow dogs are kept and were expected to help the guide attach the dogs to the cart. It proved to be somewhat of a challenge since the animals were energetic and wild with anticipation. Once all of the dogs were ready, the instructor attempted to yell the basics over the howls on how to drive the cart and then asked two volunteers to drive the two other carts. I offered to drive one, when else would I be given this opportunity? As soon as we took off, the dogs became silent and determined and all you heard was nothing but the sounds of paws on earth, heavy breathing and gentle rattling harnesses. We raced across the grass fields and steered the dogs toward the horizon and parade of clouds that sat upon Svalbard's deep blue sky. Svalbard is unlike any place I have ever been. It is truly the last frontier of nature that has not yet been dominated or broken by man. To live there means to be governed by the wild laws of the Arctic, which at times can be ruthless. Yet it can also be gentle and is a cradle to animals that come here to raise their young and feed in the summers, and to those of us who wish to escape from the world, it is a haven of silence and serenity. The Arabs may have called it the end of world, yet to me it was only the beginning.
