Dark Skies, Polar Bears, and Northern Lights

DARK SKIES, POLAR BEARS, AND NORTHERN LIGHTS

“Svalbard.”

“Where?”

“Svalbard archipelago, Spitsbergen Island, the town of Longyearbyen.”

“I have no idea what or where you are talking about.”

My boss, Josh, smiled at me.

“I figured as much. The Svalbard archipelago is part of Norway. It’s in the Arctic Ocean—‘

“Did you say ‘Arctic Ocean,’ not Atlantic Ocean?”

“Correct. It’s actually north of the Barents and Norwegian Sea and east of the Greenland Sea.”

“That sounds too far away. How close to Norway are these islands?”

“About twelve hundred miles north of Oslo.”

“North?”

“Yes. Fun fact, Svalbard is closer to the North Pole than it is to Norway.”

I looked at him, blinking.

“It’s only 860 miles to the North Pole, compared to twelve hundred miles to Oslo. Interesting, right?”

I continued blinking, saying nothing.

“In fact, it’s the usual launching location for expeditions to the North Pole because of its proximity. Longyearbyen is the most northern town in in the world.”

He smiled. I didn’t.

“Why?” I asked.

Josh gently slapped his hands on the top of the desk. “Because they need us. And by ‘us,’ I mean you.”

I’m a hydroponics expert — not those hydroponics, but I won’t say that isn’t where I got my start — but for large-scale cold weather hydroponic greenhouses, scaled to provide a local population with fresh fruits and veggies. I’m the person you call if your town, or city, wants to build an efficient hydroponic growing facility. I’ve designed and built them in northern Canada, Finland, Iceland, and Alaska. We had already built one in Oslo, but I wasn't part of that team.

With soaring food costs, and exorbitant transportation costs, many northern communities are opting to grow their own food. And that was the case right now, in Longyearbyen. They ready to take the plunge, hydroponically speaking.

“Population, two thousand in Longyearbyen, but total population is about twenty-seven hundred on the entire archipelago.” Josh looked at me, still smiling. “So, really, compared to the project in Helsinki which was to serve a population of, what?”

“One point two million,” I said.

“Right. Compared to one point two million, this job should be a breeze.”

“But it’s January. We never start a job in the winter. Why this time?”

“Well, the Norwegians started the project earlier, in the summer, but they were unable to make it work. They were using the model that we used in Oslo, but it doesn’t translate very well to the High Arctic.”

“High Arctic?”

“Yeah, areas above the Arctic Circle.”

I sighed. This wasn’t sounding hopeful. Or warm.

“What makes you think that we can even do this?”

“I don’t know if we can. That’s why I’m sending you. You need to evaluate the existing infrastructure, and determine whether the systems that they have are viable, and if it’s a go, calculate how much time and equipment we are going to need to get it up and running. They need to get the greenhouse finished before the weather damages what they have already built. You’re our expert, so we’re sending you. Are you interested?”

I knew I really didn’t have a say in this. Josh was the boss, and he wanted to send me to to the North Pole, so I had to be okay with it.

“Sure,” I said sounding more confident than I felt.

“Perfect!” he said, slapping his desk. “I told them you would be there by the beginning of the week. We expect the initial analysis to take a couple of weeks. Your evaluation will tell us how to proceed, and how long it should take to complete the entire project. Remi, you’re the best!”

********

And, so, here I was. In Longyearbyen. Well, not actually, in Longyearbyen, but at the airport. More like a baby airport. No jetport, just a set of steps rolled up to the door leading to the runway. I dashed across the dark, cold tarmac Once through customs, I looked around the tiny arrivals area. There was supposed to be someone here to meet me. I spied a man holding a sign that said “Mr. Martin.” I figured it was for me, so I walked up and introduced myself.

“Hi there. I’m Remi Martin.”

He looked confused.

“I was told I would be meeting a Mr. Martin.”

“Common mistake. Remi is one of those annoying androgynous names.”

I stuck my hand out. “And you are?”

“Askel Andersen.”

He reluctantly put his hand out, and we shook.

As we walked out of the airport to his waiting car, he kept sneaking looks at me. I caught him once, and smiled.

“I know. There aren’t too many women in the field of hydroponics. Or engineering, for that matter. But I’m experienced in both fields. Trust me. I'll get your greenhouse up and running if it's doable.”

He just nodded.

I looked out the window of our car. It was only three o’clock in the afternoon, but the sky was pitch black.

“It gets dark awfully early, doesn’t it.”

Askel snorted. “Nobody told you?”

I’d been in such a hurry to get ready for the trip, that I had foregone my usual research that I do when I’m travelling to a new location. I hadn’t done my due-diligence on Svalbard, and now it was coming around to bite me.

“Told me what?”

“We are in polar night, right now.”

A tiny scrap of memory tinkled in the back of my brain.

“Polar night?” I asked.  

It can’t be as bad as it sounds, I said to myself.

“Yes,” said Askel. “We are above seventy-two degrees latitude, so polar night is a reality for three months of the year. We have not seen the sun since October.”

“Three months? Three entire months, with no sunlight?” I couldn’t imagine.

“Ja. From October until the end of January, the sun doesn’t light the sky. But by the end of January, you’ll be able to see the sun start to brighten the horizon. But the sun doesn’t actually shine on the town until early March. That’s when we have Sunfest. If you’re here then, you’ll get to see it. Everybody coming into the village square waiting for the first rays of sunshine since October to hit us. It’s quite fun.”

I swallowed. Perpetual darkness.  No sunrises and no sunsets. Then I reminded myself I was only here for two weeks. How bad could it be?  

As we pulled into what I figured was Longyearbyen, I looked around. There were people walking through town, shopping, chatting. The streetlights illuminated the sidewalks and roads, but a vast majority of people still had headlamps on their heads.  

No one told me I’d need a headlamp. Even though I had about a dozen at home, it was obvious that I would have to buy a head lamp here if I wanted to actually see where I was going. That would be the first thing that I did, after I unpacked — buy a headlamp. 

We drove through town, and just outside the built-up area (what little there was), Askel puled in front of a low-slung building. The sign proclaimed that I had arrived at the Radisson Blu Polar Hotel. Askel jumped out to help me with my bags. I waved him off.

“I’m good.”

“I will pick you up at eight tomorrow morning. Make sure you wear warm clothes. I will have the rifle.”

The rifle? Before I could ask him what he meant, he was gone.

I rolled my bags through the front door, and up to the check-in counter. The check-in was fairly quick and simple.

“Thank you,” I said and turned to go down the hall towards my room.

“Excuse me,” said the clerk, “please take your boots off in the vestibule before coming into the hotel next time.” He handed me a pair of flip-flops sealed in plastic. “Please put your boots in the vestibule now. We appreciate your cooperation.”

I was alternately surprised and confused.

“I’m sorry? I have to leave my boots in the lobby?”

“Yes ma’am. There are cubbies for your slippers right inside the door for when you return.. We do not allow outdoor footwear inside.”

Weird. But okay. I really should have done my research.

I dropped off my boots, put on my flip-flops, and headed to my room. It was still early, but my body said that I should be sleeping after eighteen hours in a plane. I decided to go for a walk before dinner instead. Hopefully that would help get used to the six hours time difference between home and here. Besides, I needed a headlight, and I figured, why not? Town wasn’t that far.

I returned to the front desk.

“Do you have a map of the area?”

“We do.” He handed me a paper map. “Do you need a rifle?”

I looked at him confused. This was the second time someone had

mentioned a rifle. “Excuse me?”

He pointed to the map. “If you are going to go outside the red line, you need to carry a rifle. It’s the law.”

“Uh, why?”

“Polar bears,” he said, “They don’t tend to wander into town too often, but they are quite prevalent outside of town. In fact, there are more polar bears in Svalbard than there are people. As well, it is the law that you carry a rifle for your own protection.” He looked up at me. “Do you shoot?”

I shook my head. “Never in my life.”

“Hmmm,” said the clerk. “You should be safe for a trip into town. But we can arrange for a guide if you need to travel outside of town. Please let us know if we can help you in any way.”

Clutching my map, I made my way outdoors, and was assaulted by a face full of blowing snow. Yup it was cold. And blowy. Not the coldest I’ve ever felt, but cold enough. Good thing I had the sense to bring my heavy winer parka and snow pants.

As I was walking towards town, without my rifle, I might add, I had to consider where I was, and how different it was from home. In fact, how different it was from all the other northern countries I had visited for work.  

Sure, you took your shoes off in people’s houses, especially if it was snowy, but at a hotel? No way. In Cold Foot, Alaska you were expected to remove your shoes outside your room, but not in public spaces. And those boots were usually covered in oil and dirt. And polar bears?  I had spent a lot of time in polar bear country, but not during the winter. Apparently, Svalbard was Polar Bear Central. More bears than people! That was a chilling thought. I looked around nervously. The clerk said that they rarely ventured into town, not they never venture into town. I walked a little faster.

And, what about the dark? All day, every day until the end of January! That meant that I was not going to see the sun until I got home. Jeez. Fourteen days seemed like a hardship. I couldn’t imagine months and months of total darkness.

I found an outdoor gear store in town, and bought one rechargeable headlamp for the same price that I had paid for two from Amazon. But I reminded myself that we were on an island that was closer to the North Pole than anywhere else on Earth, so everything had to be imported by ship or plane. Which had to add substantially to the price.  

I checked my map and started back towards the hotel. The snow had stopped falling and the wind had died down, making for an almost pleasant walk — a pleasant but cold and dark walk.

No wonder they needed a hydroponic greenhouse in Longyearbyen, I thought.

 I couldn’t imagine how long it took for their fresh fruit and veggies to arrive here. And probably not so fresh anymore. Once the greenhouse was up and running, it should help provide fresh food to the population. Food probably wouldn’t be less expensive because of the huge costs of heating the greenhouse in the winter, but hopefully it would be cheaper during the summer when they had all that midnight sun warming the inside of the greenhouse for free. Too bad we we didn’t have the technology to harness all the summer sun and save it for the polar night. 

I stopped and checked my map again. I looked around. I did not recognize where I was. In fact, I was no longer in town. Shoot! Leave it to me to get lost on my first day here!

A car zoomed up and slammed on it’s brakes, causing it to slide a bit on the snow-covered road beside me.

The driver lowered the passenger window.

“Quick! Get in!”

“I’m okay. I just need to find the—”

“Get in! Now!”

I stood rooted to the spot saying nothing.

“BEAR! Get in the car!”

That got me moving. I couldn’t see any bears, but I wasn’t going to take any chances. I opened the door and hopped in. The driver accelerated forward. We drove a short distance. The road ended in a cul-de-sac, where he turned around and slowly drove back the way we came.

“There!” he said pointing and turning on the high beams.

I didn’t see anything at first. Then I did. The giant creature lumbered not ten feet in front of us, illuminated by the headlights of the car.

“Oh my God! Is that a real polar bear?”

The driver just looked at me.

“I’m sorry. I realize that it’s a polar bear. And real. I’m just surprised.” I watched as the humungous creature loped across the snow, looking our way once before deciding we weren’t worthy if its attention. 

“It’s beautiful,” I murmured.

“And deadly,” said the driver. He turned to look at me. It was then that I noticed that he was wearing a uniform. The police.  

“Where’s your rifle?”

I explained that I didn’t have a rifle because I was staying in town, but that I had gotten lost.

“That was a male. If he was hungry, he would have attacked you because you are outside of town and you are alone. It is very dangerous during the winter when the bears are looking for food.”

I was stunned. I hadn’t taken the threat from polar bears seriously, and it almost cost me — on my very first night in town. That’ll teach me not to do my research!

“You’re the hydroponic engineer from greenhouse company, aren’t you?”

I looked at him. “How do you know that?”

He chuckled. “Longyearbyen is a small town. And, Askel is my brother-in-law. He said he picked you up from the airport today. I’m Kristoffer.”

He took off his mitten, and offered his hand. We shook.

“I’ll take you back to the hotel. He turned the car, and started back.

“Stop!” I said, pointing to the sky. “Are those the Aurora? They’re beautiful!”

Kristoffer stopped the car, and opened his door to get out. I looked at him skeptically.

He chuckled, again. “It’s safe! The bear’s wandered far enough away.”

I got out of the car, and looked skyward. The waves of colour were dancing across the sky — literally dancing, undulating, waving, surging. I was transfixed. While mostly green, there were hints of red, violet, pink and white.

“This is amazing,” I whispered.

Krostoffer was gazing skyward as well. “You’re lucky. They are quite colourful tonight. They are usually not this vivid."

We stood quietly looking at the sky for about ten minutes, until the cold started to seep through my clothes, and my teeth started to chatter.

“You have to be careful. It’s a dry cold here, and hypothermia can set in before you realize just how cold you are.”

We got back into the car, and headed towards the hotel.

“You know, you really should be carrying a rifle. The hotel, while still technically in the town, is very close to the wilderness. Bears do not respect our boundaries.”

I shook my head. “I don’t know how to shoot. I’ve never fired a gun in my life.”

He smiled at me. “Tell you what. How about I pick you up after work tomorrow, and take you to the gun range at the station to teach you how to shoot a rifle. I think it would be best — for your own safety.” 

We pulled up in front of the hotel and he handed me a card. “My number’s on there. Call me when you’re finished work, tomorrow and we’ll go to the range.”

I got out of the car. “Thanks, Kristoffer. I will.”

He drove away towards town.

I stood out front of the Radisson, looking up at the magnificent sky. It had been quite an introduction to my first polar night on Svalbard.