The CASE 22 expedition (VI): Helvetesflya

There are places on earth where you can still feel the same explorers did when going into the unknown. One of those places is undoubtedly the archipelago of the Svalbard Islands, around the 80º parallel, barely a thousand kilometers from the North Pole.

We have been sailing these waters for 20 days now aboard the Vinson of Antarctica, a magnificent twenty-four meter sailboat launched just a few months ago, specifically built and designed for polar expeditions.

Vinson's first mission is a geological expedition; on board there are eleven of us. I have embarked as a crew/doctor, in the official capacity of lending a hand to and taking care of the 4 regular crew members as much as possible, in addition to the 6 clients: 4 geologists and 2 arctic guides.

The days pass by without the interruption of the nights. We sail among glaciers and floating ice, through fjords with appealing names: Smeerenburgfjorden, Randfjorden, Liefdefjorden. The cloudy, gray sky does not leave us and the temperature is around 0°C. A frequent wind adds to the strong sensation of intense cold. Sometimes there is fog, other times a fine rain soaks our sailing clothes. It even snows, we have seen the sun and the blue sky on very few occasions.

Nature is arid and overwhelming. There are no trees, only ice and rocks, among which survive mosses, lichens and some small brave flowers. We see almost no signs of human presence; some old huts of explorers, hunters or scientists, and some graves of former whalers who never came home.

Without telephone or internet antennas, the disconnection and a deep sense of loneliness are absolute.

Usually the lack of human activity translates into a flourishing animal life, and here, despite the extreme conditions, this is no exception: Seals, walruses, whales, maples, foxes and birds of many different types swim, run and fly at will, and we have even seen the regal and feared polar bear.

A few days ago we sailed through Hinlopenstretet, the strait that splits up the two main islands of the archipelago. We anchored at the far end of the Wahlenberg Fjord, with three magnificent glaciers in sight and many icebergs all around us.

Every morning we disembark the guides and geologists where they need it in one of our boats. We stay on the Vinson doing maintenance work or cooking, but on occasion we accompany them ashore just to stretch our legs and for taking care of our mental health.

There is an area to the north of our position that Tim, one of the geologists, a native of the USA, is very interested in reaching, but the access would be through a fjord to the north where it is not possible to navigate because it is sealed by compact sea ice. High chances are that we won’t be able to reach the place.

A possibility arises on board, because in our current anchorage we have the option of walking to that area going through the isthmus that joins both huge lands of perpetual ice of Nordaustlandet Island. The estimated distance is 28 km, which would mean a total of approximately 56 km, figuring out a pace of 3 kph through diverse terrain of difficult progression: rocks, mainly, and wetlands, with some snow. We estimate about 20 hours between going and returning, adding the time needed for research and geological data collection.

The leader and the rest of the expedition give their OK to this option, but Misha, a German living in Austria, the guide who will accompany Tim, has the last word. He has extensive experience as a mountain and polar guide, and he also considers that it as feasible, so, after consulting the weather report, we agree that we will disembark and start the hike the next day at seven o'clock in the morning.

I have always enjoyed walking long distances, and the truth is that I felt like stretching my legs a bit after more than twenty days on board. I volunteered to accompany them and they gladly accepted. Three are better than two. 

When we start to go over the plan and the material we need, I soon realize that this is not your regular Sunday outing. I am instructed to prepare an emergency kit. Out there we will have to be totally autonomous and carry everything we need in our backpacks. We have to include spare warm clothes, a thermal survival bag and all the food we deem necessary. Adequate boots are especially important because the terrain can get very wet due to the summer thaw. There is also a permanently frozen subway layer one meter deep, the permafrost, which won’t allow water to drain. We will also have to cross rivers and walk on snowfields. 

The weather forecast is not bad, with light winds, clouds and some rain. Even so, we will also leave a survival bag at the landing point (it would be impossible to carry it the whole way), in case the boat has to leave this pick-up point for any reason. Inside we have sleeping bags, a tent, a fuel stove and freeze-dried survival food.

Misha, our guide, will also carry a flare gun and a shotgun. Being armed is mandatory everywhere in the Svalbards. The risk of encountering polar bears on our overland excursion is very high, as we are on a known migratory route of these animals. 

As orientation systems we carry a compass (our course should be northeast) and an electronic navigational chart on two of our cell phones. It will provide us with very reliable information about lakes, rivers and ice, although there is always the possibility that some parts are not fully updated. 

In terms of communication systems, we have a portable VHF transmitter, an Inmarsat telephone and 2 InReach satellite messaging systems. We know, in the event of a serious incident, that the first and only rescue option would be to contact the local authorities, located in the distant town of Longyearbyen, and there, depending on the weather, they could provide us with a helicopter evacuation within a few hours. But by not communicating our excursion to the authorities it would be better not to count on it.

I prepare my bag the night before and go to sleep with some trepidation, with the anxiety of the adventure already at the tip of the fingers.

At 06:00 a.m. José, Joana, Kenneth, Karsten and Chris are already up. They prepare a spectacular breakfast of pancakes and help us with the last preparations. I put my food in a waterproof bag: two small sandwiches, 2 hard-boiled eggs, an apple, 10 energy bars and 6 cookies. I heat water in a thermo and add a tea bag, I know the value of a hot drink out there.

We are taken ashore by boat. We disembark trying not to get wet, just because wet feet can turn to be a serious problem on such a long hike. We leave the survival bag ready on the shore. They take a picture of us immortalizing the moment, and we give a farewell hug to those who have taken us ashore.

At 07:30 a.m. we start walking towards the unknown.

We overcome the first mountain without problem, the rocky terrain is complicated, but the altitude and slope are low. Looking back we admire the landscape of fjords, glaciers and the beloved Vinson at anchor, our home in these parts, which we leave behind.

We soon lose sight of the sea, surrounded as we are by vast expanses of arctic wilderness. Mountains, snow, ice, rocks… dark colors and the stains from the white of the snow and the ice, where the green is very scarce. The rocks are of different shades and shapes depending on the area. Sometimes they adopt geometric cobblestone dispositions, due to the force of ice and time. 

We overcome difficulties, look for safe passages through deep rivers and try to avoid ice of dubious consistency. From time to time we stop to orient ourselves, we discover lakes and rivers that do not exist on the map, or simply are much larger than expected. I like to walk like this, improvising and overcoming difficulties, not knowing exactly what you will find behind the next hill.

The atmosphere among us is very good, we talk a lot, we ask each other about our lives, in the end we are three strangers from three different countries walking in absolute solitude. Sometimes we stay in silence for a while, it is also nice to hear your own footsteps mixed with the sound of the wind.

We find a sheltered place and sit down to eat something, the chocolate cookies, the good ones, are worth a lot.

After ten hours of walking almost without a break, we approach the area Tim is interested in. It is noticeable, his movements become more agile, he accelerates his pace, crosses the rivers happily, barefoot, so he doesn’t get his socks and boots wet. We laugh at him, telling him he is being pushed by the sheer force of Science.

We finally arrive at the desired place, small islands of black volcanic rocks in the ocean of the immensity of the tundra. We have walked twenty-eight kilometers to get here. Tim smiles broadly, he had only been able to see this place from aerial photographs. He unsheathes his geologist's hammer, his camera, his notebook; he focuses all his attention on his rocks. 

Misha and I climb to the top of the black mound to get a better view, to see any bears that might approach. It is good to see Tim at work, he looks dedicated and passionate, it has certainly been worth the effort.

From our elevated observation post we can see the northern fjords, we are about seven kilometers from the northern sea coast. With the binoculars we make out some icebergs floating in a bay and islands on the horizon.

After an hour's work, Tim tells us that he has had enough, that we can start the trip back to the pick-up point. We will stop at other rock structures that interest him in our way there, so we return through another area we have not crossed yet, located further east.

It keeps raining, our backpacks are protected with waterproof covers and our bodies are covered with Gore-Tex windbreakers over thermal clothing and wool hats. 

We talk less and we begin to feel tired. From kilometer forty on Misha limps openly, I think the rubber boots he is wearing hurt his feet. He doesn't complain, he looks used to the suffering; we don't cross a word. He carries his rifle on his shoulder -I know it is quite heavy-, but I know too that he wouldn’t let me carry it for him.

At this time of the year the sun doesn't set. Even so, during the night hours, the light kind of fades as if it were a sunset, which, added to the surrounding fog, gives a distressing sensation of lack of visibility. Having no terrain references we are guided by the course, we go SW, we find new barriers in the form of rivers, snow, ice and loose rock walls. Fatigue sometimes makes us want to shorten by areas that may not be safe, luckily there is always one of us sane enough to insist on finding the safest step.

Sleep, mixed with the low light and fog, begins to play with the mind. A particularly white rock, or a running reindeer that the mind quickly transforms into a polar bear crouching in our path.

Misha's limp worsens and he starts to pout. This worries me. There are times when he answers us in German, forgetting that we only understand English. Tim looks quite strong and is doing very well. I hold on too, but I start dreaming with hot chocolate and the moment of taking off my wet boots.

We overcome another river looking for the safest area, and we climb another mountain. Will it be the last one? It is easy to get disoriented, there are no references. There is no sun, no stars. Misha is a little behind. He advances quite serious and with his eyes fixed straight ahead. For a moment he reminds me of a soldier who, with the rifle slung over the shoulder, returns defeated from a battle. Tim leads the way, guiding us with the map. I'm in the middle, keeping an eye on Misha out of the corner of my eye.

And finally, after walking for 60 km, the last mountain arrives. The fog lifts and we can already see the outline of the coast. As we descend, the visibility improves greatly and the profile of the Vinson of Antarctica appears, floating placidly, and we are back home! 

We contact the ship on the VHF channel 69. Despite the fact that it is four o'clock in the morning, they answer us right away. We reach the shore, the place where we left the survival bag. We hug each other as the boat's tender appears. Another hug, another photo, no doubt our faces will look different in this one.

On the boat a few people are awake waiting for us, eager to hear our stories. They congratulate us and give us what they know we need: dry clothes, hot drinks and another spectacular breakfast. A few hours of rest in the bunk will do the rest.

It has been a total of 61.6 km, 20 hours and 30 minutes walking through the Arctic wilderness, without seeing anyone, with the risk of getting lost, of being eaten by a bear, all for Science’s sake! 

For me it was one of those adventures of yesterday, the kind I like to read about, the kind I will remember.

Guillermo Cañardo. Doctor on board

7th August 2021