I Am a Polar Bear

I’ll never forget my first visit to the Arctic. I’d spent a couple of days in Trondheim and then I was going to fly north and spend a couple of days in Tromsø.

Tromsø is now an old friend. I’ve considered moving there for a few months, maybe even a year. But back in 2011, we were strangers. I don’t even remember why I picked it, let alone why I decided to split a break of less than a week between two cities 700 miles apart. I’m glad I did, though.

That flight was memorable for four reasons. It was my first domestic flight – possibly ever but definitely in a country other than my own. I got to use my fingerprint as my ID instead of my passport. Bus-like, the flight stopped in Bodø to decant and take on passengers, which I’d never experienced. And finally, for the spectacle of the scenery below. As we descended towards Bodø I swear those white mountains, that teal sea – it all looked like CGI. I was in a movie. The windows were replaced by HD screens. It couldn’t possibly be real. Nothing could be that incredible or that beautiful. But it was. If you’re flying to North Norway, have a camera handy on the plane because those are views that still take my breath away nine years later.

I think the weather hadn’t been great in Trondheim and yet I arrived, 700 miles further north and with the Arctic Circle some 200 miles south of me, to blue sky and sunshine. It was May and I had a small hiccup getting to my backstreet hotel because, as usual, I got off the bus in the wrong place. It gave me an hour or so of roaming the city with luggage, which was enough for me to discover it was pretty warm here in the Arctic. Having eventually found my hotel, I opted to go out and explore properly in a t-shirt and sandals.

This photo just is my first time in Tromsø. I made my way across that incredibly high bridge and walked to the Arctic Cathedral and here I am, against a backdrop of oil rig and pristine snowy mountains and dressed for summer in a temperate climate. I think this must have been the moment I fell for the frozen north, the moment I became a polar bear.

I don’t think I did all that much with my couple of days. But at night, I chased the Midnight Sun, hurling myself out of bed at 11.30pm to scurry as fast as my little legs would take me, into the city centre, onto the bridge. How far up can I get in the next three minutes? Can I see the Midnight Sun over Tromsø? No. It was cloudy and the city’s built the wrong way round. I was on the wrong side of the bridge too.

The next night I went up the mountain but it was cold and I was nervous about the cable car and it was cloudy. I walked to the Arctic Cathedral and watched the clouds coming and going. Would they be gone at midnight?

It’s the weirdest thing standing outside at midnight, knowing it should be dark and yet looking at the sun. Looking at your own shadow. I shouldn’t have a shadow at midnight. And now I have a long walk home on my own after midnight but it feels like walking across this bridge yesterday afternoon.

I guess the Arctic, that first time, both looked exactly like I thought it would and also nothing like I’d imagined. I’ve been back to Tromsø in the winter since then – I’ve seen the city and the entire panorama from the top of the mountain under thick snow. I’ve seen the Northern Lights. I’ve arrived by boat. I’ve written a book about my Arctic adventures. But I fell for Tromsø and for the Arctic one warm May afternoon.