“At the top of the world during Midnight Sun” sounds like something I made up as if I were an emo poet.
Yet I found myself this August on the Arctic Norwegian archipelago of Svalbard before boarding the MS Trollfjord. A life-altering trip organized by Hurtigruten Expeditions (www.hurtigruten.com) on the Svalbard Line South, this sojourn was not a queer trip, per se. But considering Norway’s progressive LGBTQ+ and gender politics, and that I flew 4,500 miles from Los Angeles to Longyearbyen in Svalbard where the sun never dipped below the horizon, I was struck with true awe and a delightful queerness in my out-of-time romantic surroundings.
The author overlooking the fishing village of Gryllefjord.Courtesy Tracy E. Gilchrist
After a night near the Oslo airport, our group of eight flew to Longyearbyen on the island of Spitsbergen in the Barents Sea, where a sign outside the airport bore the figure of a polar bear, a magnificent creature the denizens of Arctic Norway revere while knowing when to run.
A bus took us through the town that is home to about 2,400 people. We passed what looked like ski lift wires carrying buckets for coal mining, the University Centre in Svalbard (the world’s northernmost institution of higher learning), a modern shopping center, and a hospital. Our destination was Hurtigruten’s Funken Lodge, a boutique hotel where – in the Scandinavian tradition – guests are required to remove their shoes and don a pair of wool slippers upon entering. The accommodations were on a hill around the corner from a glacier. During my stay, I awoke in the wee hours to find my way to the restroom illuminated by the uncanny Midnight Sun.
On little sleep but with adrenaline to explore, our group visited the outpost of Camp Barentz. We toasted with Scandinavian akvavit (a distilled spirit with herbs and botanicals) and supped on bread and reindeer soup (lentil for the vegetarians like me) simmering over a fire in the center of the structure. Our guides, one armed with a long rifle should a polar bear make a rare summer appearance, presented a talk about Svalbard’s history and its inhabitants – with a concentration on the polar bear.
A polar bear sign warning in Longyearbyen.Courtesy Tracy E. Gilchrist
From Longyearbyen’s harbor, we boarded the MS Bard for a cruise culminating at the Nordenskiöldbreen glacier front, its ancient ice sending a bracing chill for hundreds of yards. Along the way, clouds settled into the treeless landscape in the distance (trees can’t take root in the Arctic permafrost). A birder in our group pointed out birds of the region to me including puffins, kittiwakes, and fulmars (distant cousins to the albatross). A minke whale dove in the distance. Sailing in the most remote place I’d ever visited, I was filled with an ineffable longing to wander and be present. Very queer, indeed.
Hurtigruten’s Svalbard Line is known for sailing Norway’s fjords. The trips offer adventures including hiking and the e-bike tours we took around Svalbard and on the idyllic Senja, where we sped up a mountain around the island’s Gryllefjord. But Hurtigruten is also a foodie’s paradise. Longyearbyen’s fine dining restaurant, Huset, once a communal meeting place, offered nine wine-paired courses of local cuisine from fishermen, hunters, and trappers. Still, the chef creatively accommodated my vegetarian needs. In a moment of serendipity around the fifth course, three of us in our group even spoke about our queer identities — a coming-out of sorts at the top of the world.
A luxury suite onboard the MS Trollfjord.Courtesy Tracy E. Gilchrist
Once settled in our lush suites on the eighth deck of the MS Trollfjord, we ate down the hall at the fine-dining Røst. There, the attentive and friendly staff served everything from Norway’s famed brown cheese (delicious) to Havets Bobler, or “Bubbles from the Sea,” a sparkling wine aged 112 feet below sea level in the Arctic.
Our first stop was at the world’s northernmost settlement of Ny-Ålesund. I mailed a postcard bearing a polar bear stamp to my future self with the promise I’ll write my memoirs. Later, on our first full day at sea, I awoke from a much-needed nap to the gleeful announcement of a polar bear sighting. Passengers scuttled to the top deck to eye, through binoculars, the creature lumbering on a rocky beach — a rare sighting, I was told.
Even the slight bout of seasickness I encountered on our first full day at sea was tinged with romance as I lolled in my bed under a plush duvet eating salty crackers while watching the Democratic National Convention with so much hope. Perhaps my maritime malady was a sign of things to come. Once I was up and running with my sea legs, we visited the bridge and Captain Charlotte Høijord Johansen, who spoke with us about her history at sea.
The author onboard the MS Trollfjord.Courtesy Tracy E. Gilchrist
We disembarked from the Trollfjord in Svolvær for the final time following a wet excursion on a powerful RIB (rigid inflatable boat), where we viewed sea eagles diving for fish. From there we flew to Bodø on the smallest commercial plane I’ve ever boarded. It was our final touchdown in the Arctic Circle before making our way to Oslo and home again. I journaled on my analog Freewrite Traveler throughout the nine-day trip, imagining myself as a lesbian adventurer and writer a-sea in another era, longing to return before I’d even arrived home.
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