
Romancing the ice in rugged Svalbard

Summary
The last inhabited stop in Norway before the North Pole is for those willing to embrace nature at its most perilousWe had booked the tour ahead of our Svalbard trip—a hike up the Sarkofagen mountain 500m above sea level and rising between two glaciers. The activity had a difficulty level of three on five, demanding average fitness. It seemed achievable even when we reached Longyearbyen, and spent the early days guessing which of its colossal mountains we were to peak. On D-day however, as Sarkofagen loomed closer, we wondered if we hadn’t pushed our spirit of adventure too far. I was Frodo, gazing at Mordor for the very first time.
We hiked, sans gear, clambering to stay steady as the grounds, softened by snow, shifted beneath our feet. Panic finally took hold on a steep incline when I froze, convinced I would slip and fall. Have you really known terror unless you have felt it pounding your heart and paralysing your limbs on a cliff face? It took long patient minutes and pep talks from our guide Anup, a chef and mountaineer who happened to be from Mysuru, before I stopped banking on a helicopter rescue and climbed up.
Either the trek became easier or I felt braver. The scenery had a calming effect—snow as far as eyes could see glittering in the sunlight, glaciers flowing down to the edge of Longyearbyen, silence circling the peak. We returned to the bottom about six hours later. On top of Sarkofagen lies a notebook with the names of everyone who makes it to the spot, including mine.
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There is little value in travelling to Svalbard if one is not willing to embrace nature at its most perilous. The last inhabited stop before the North Pole, this Norwegian archipelago remains somewhat under the radar due to its remoteness and extreme weather. But for anyone interested in nature and outdoor activities, or seeking refuge from the world, this is a dream destination. Many also move to live and work there, like our mountain guide, taking advantage of a visa-free policy (travellers need a Schengen visa to fly through Norway).
We arrived in Svalbard, from Oslo via Tromsø, in June—early days of Polar Summer when the midnight sun makes day and night indistinguishable. The flight landed in the airport at Longyearbyen, the area’s largest settlement, cold seeping through puffers and hats. The landscape towered around us like a Titan moulded from mountains, moraine, glaciers, and ocean.
Buses from the airport drop passengers to key stops and hotels, most located in and around the town’s centre. We rode into Longyearbyen on a cloudy day, which soon made way for rain and wind, blowing at such speed that even street lights quaked. Inclement weather was no reason to sacrifice our time, so we decided to walk through the main parts of town. Hands in pockets, faces buried in hoodies, we dug our heels deeper with every step to keep from being swept into a ditch. Was anyone unperturbed by this weather? A trio of reindeers apparently, mother and two calves who chewed on grass and ambled along the landscape.
We spotted the reindeers throughout our stay, as the skies went from cloudy to endless, dazzling blue. Come summer, locals swap snowmobiles for bikes and boats, and travellers arrive via flights and cruise ships. The glaciers—more than 2,100 in the region—turn to meltwater and meander through town, slivers of snow linger on dark rugged mountains, and a variety of migratory birds, whales, and seals flock to the region. Chances of spotting resident fauna—polar foxes, rock ptarmigans, polar bears—rise significantly as people take to hiking or sailing .
There’s much to do: boat trips, kayaking, photo safaris, biking, fishing, all-terrain vehicle (ATV) tours and more. Expeditions require hikers to carry firearms or travel with guides licensed to carry weapons in case of polar bear attacks—a rare yet real possibility outside designated zones. We started our trip with a walrus safari tour organised by Hurtigruten tour operators aboard the Kvitbjørn—a hybrid-electric speedboat, which consumes less fuel than conventional rides.
Sailing from Longyearbyen harbour, past Isfjorden (Ice Fjord) into the Bay of Borebukta, we learnt of the region’s history and spotted an abundance of reindeers and Arctic birds. But walruses proved elusive. Following years of being hunted, the mammals are a protected species and their population has risen. On a fortunate summer day, one could find them lounging on land or in the bay. Today, it seemed, was not one of those days. It wasn’t until the last hour when the guide glimpsed walruses swimming at a distance. In a split second, the driver was rapidly circling to the spot. The engine quieted and we stepped out onto the deck, smartphones and DSLR cameras in tow. A couple waded closer to the boat, and one walrus opened its mouth—ivory tusks gleaming in the icy, grey water. Hoots and whistles rang through the boat. Had it not been for that moment, we would have returned to Longyearbyen, resigning ourselves to other pursuits. It is the lesson we learnt over and over in Svalbard: nature is at nobody’s beck and call.
Svalbard’s best treasures are out in the Arctic wilderness, but Longyearbyen offers plenty to see, do, eat, and stay entertained for a few days.
Among the most famous sights here is the Svalbard Global Seed Vault, which stores seeds from across the world. No visitors are allowed in the facility, though the grey building designed by architect Peter W. Søderman makes for a striking sight.
Coal mining is embedded in the regional history and the Coal Mine 3—one of the area’s seven historical mines—is open to visitors.
Around the town square, Nordover, the “northernmost art centre in the world", is a couple of minutes’ walk away, hosting temporary art exhibitions and a permanent collection of Norwegian painter Kåre Tveters’ works. It includes a movie theatre and a café, plus a store stocking art prints, books, accessories, and artisanal designs by Norwegian and Svalbard-based artists and labels.
Like Nordover, plenty of businesses in Svalbard tag themselves as the northernmost of their kind.
Take for instance Fruene, the world’s “northernmost chocolatier" where one can nibble on chocolate dinosaurs and polar bears. The Longyearbyen Public Library is another, where visitors need no membership to read (plenty of English language titles on shelves) and can leave little notes of recommendations for others in their favourite books. Svalbard Bryggeri takes up the “northernmost" tag for microbreweries, and Svalbardbutikken for being the region’s only grocery store.
And then there is Huset, contending to be the world’s northernmost gourmet restaurant, best known for its extensive wine cellar and experiments with local produce. Think reindeer chorizo and king crab caramel, plankton emulsions, and tartare sauce made from fish collagen. The restaurant offers a 14-course tasting menu, at an eye-watering price tag of NOK 2,600 (approx. ₹20,536) per person.
Even outside a fine dining set up, eating out is expensive in Svalbard. There are many restaurants and bars, and unusual things to try—moose burgers at Kroa, whale steaks at Stationen, or a reinvented Moscow Mule at Svalbard.
For budget eats, head to Svalbardbutikken’s robust hot bar. And make time for Café Huskies, where coffee and confectioneries come with a complimentary serving of three white Huskies lounging around the seats.
A path from the town square towards the harbour leads to the museums. The North Pole Expedition Museum showcases artefacts from early expeditions to the region, including original film footage, pictures, stamps, newspapers and models of ships and planes. The Svalbard Museum is less niche, focusing on the region’s natural and cultural history. Hunting tools, items of clothing, minerals and botanical artefacts, research equipment, archival documents and letters, art and photographs fill the space. Its highlights are a series of mounted animals including an adult polar bear and cub.
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Ecological awareness is hardwired into the lives of Svalbard’s locals. Discussing the impact of coal mining on land, and microplastics in oceans are intrinsic to guided tours. Summers are warmer each year, and glaciers liquify faster. This summer, not long after our visit, news emerged that Svalbard’s glaciers recorded an all-time high daily surface melt—five times over normal. Despite bearing the toll of history and human activity, Svalbard remains exquisite. Its desolation, breathtaking. A glacial meltdown at the end of the world spells catastrophe for sea levels, wildlife, and human activity across the planet. It doesn’t take such far-reaching knowledge, however, to be moved by the region’s fragility, its impending losses. “Nothing ever stands still in Svalbard," says a curatorial note in Svalbard Museum. Yet, in the face of climate change, every part of this Brutalist, beautiful place urges preservation.
Sohini Dey is a Delhi-based writer and editor.