The D-day is approaching, and my excitement is through the roof. This trip was two years in the making, and it is finally happening. I’m increasingly worried of forgetting something, so I’m making lists of all the gear I need. I’ve previously gone on trips in cold places, but I’ve never done anything like this. To tell you the truth, I still have a hard time comprehending where we are going…
«So, Paul, where is your next trip?» I just reply, «On an island north of Norway,» and let them imagine what they want.»
We leave Longyearbyen and head straight north. We all gather next to the captain’s screen to try to figure out exactly where we are going. Our first stop will be just outside the Longyearbyen Fjord, where we will have our first session.
I step out onto the deck and look around. The air is frigid on the only part of my face that isn’t covered, but my eyes are amazed at the scenery. The sun is out on this first day. I have a hard time wrapping my head around the fact that it never sets at this time of the year. After three or four hours of sailing, we finally arrive to the first spot. The wind blows gently, the area looks clear, all lights are green.
«Another important detail to mention is that on Svalbard, there are about 2,500 inhabitants for 3,000 polar bears…»
So the chances are high for us to see one. Of course, our goal is for that to happen while on the boat, and not on land while inflating our kites. The groups of skiers who usually come here are always accompanied by an armed guide to protect them in case of an attack. Our only defense tools are a flare gun and binoculars. Before we land on any beach, we have to scan the horizon to make sure there are no big, white fur balls around.
La base del Trinidad, una pared de granito con algo más de 900 metros, justo antes de que el sol del atardecer se imponga sobre el gris de las nubes. Foto: Zenón Seeliger
La base del Trinidad, una pared de granito con algo más de 900 metros, justo antes de que el sol del atardecer se imponga sobre el gris de las nubes. Foto: Zenón Seeliger
Then we arrive to the anchorage, the wind is more than absent, but the landscape is hypnotizing. This huge mass of ice has been carved in time. We gear up to foil around the drifting ice blocks, but it’s hard to do anything without any wind. We end up simply having fun on the ice, jumping in the water like kids and most importantly, as if the water was actually warm when it was probably only 2°C.
Mizo joins me on the water. I don’t even have time to tell him to watch out for the submerged ice blocks that he hits one and goes flying right in front of me. At least, I don’t have to worry about that on my twin tip.
The wind is strange, irregular in strength and direction. I feel that Olivier and Matt are betting a lot on this session, so I give it my all. The glacier is behind my back. I can’t really see it, but they can. Apparently, it’s pretty insane.
«Another important detail to mention is that on Svalbard, there are about 2,500 inhabitants for 3,000 polar bears…»
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Aprendí a ver el mundo desde otra altura, donde el viento no es un obstáculo sino un aliado. Las aves me enseñaron que la libertad está en saber cuándo dejarse llevar.
Aprendí a ver el mundo desde otra altura, donde el viento no es un obstáculo sino un aliado. Las aves me enseñaron que la libertad está en saber cuándo dejarse llevar.
Aprendí a ver el mundo desde otra altura, donde el viento no es un obstáculo sino un aliado. Las aves me enseñaron que la libertad está en saber cuándo dejarse llevar.
Aprendí a ver el mundo desde otra altura, donde el viento no es un obstáculo sino un aliado. Las aves me enseñaron que la libertad está en saber cuándo dejarse llevar.
