Winter's Spell

A SNOW MOBILE RIDE THROUGH NORWAY’S FAR NORTH REVEALS THE POWER — BOTH DANGEROUS AND BENIGN — OF MOTHER NATURE

- Connor Mcgovern

Marte is clambering over her snowmobile, waving at the others behind me to stop. Meanwhile, I’m parked precariously on a soaring white hill, carefully applying enough gas to stop myself from slowly sliding backwards. “I’m stuck,” she calls out when the others catch up. “Turn off your engines. And remember your hand brakes!”

I am reassured; it appears even the most seasoned snow mobilers get stuck. Following her orders, we jump off the scooter and trudge uphill to help her, the fluffy virgin snow coming well up our shins. “You guys pull, and I’ll slowly back it up,” she announces. “Just don’t stand too close behind me unless you want to be under the scooter.”

We begin heaving it backwards, though I fear I’m doing little to help. My arms ache from the past two days of driving around Spitsbergen, the largest island of northern Norway’s Svalbard archipelago, and I’m convinced this snowmobile is as heavy as a horse. Marte, our guide, fiddles with the levers and buttons and slowly the vehicle starts to edge back. But our efforts are ultimately no good; it buries itself deeper into the dense snow. A new tactic: now armed with the giant shovel she keeps on the back of the scooter, she begins digging a path out, hurling flurries of snow over her head.

We give it another shot. With an aggressive growl from the engine, Marte zips up the hill, sending a shower of snowflakes in her wake. Relieved, I can just about hear her cheer over the sigh of relief echoing inside my helmet before we follow suit, careful to trace the fresh, safe track she has just carved through the snow.