Sophie’s World

18 June 2007

I’m in Pyramiden, once a showcase, a perfect mining community with stunning location between mountains, glaciers and fjords, showing the world all its Soviet glory. Pyramiden was named after the characteristic pyramid-shaped mountain rising above it.

The decision to abandon the town was sudden. The inhabitants were given a few hours to pack their bags and leave. Remnants of that hasty departure are visible all around. Potted plants in the windows, an abandoned mine car near the world’s northernmost statue of Vladimir Ilyich Uljanov, better known as Lenin; now covered in rust.

As we walk from the harbour into Pyramiden, our guide Constance has a rifle casually slung across her shoulder. A necessary precaution, as polar bears have been known to roam the streets of this abandoned outpost.

Flowers can still be spotted behind a broken window – all dried up now, 9 years later. A large yellow block of flats, once home of the miners, has been taken over by loud predating sea gulls building nests in the windows. The playground swings and slides are rusted now – and also taken over by those incessantly cackling gulls. What nature giveth, nature taketh back. Nowhere have I understood the meaning of this better than here in Pyramiden.

The Russians have had two major disasters here in the Arctic during the last 10 – 12 years. In 1997, an explosion in a Barentsburg mine caused the death of 23 miners. Only a year earlier, a Soviet jetliner bringing miners back from holidays at home, crashed in Mt. Opera when attempting to land at Longyearbyen airport. All 141 people on board were killed.

Two old-fashioned petrol pumps (the hand-pumped variety) are left standing. Below the red, star-topped pyramid once erected as the entrance to this Arctic community, is a miners’ car commemorating the final load of coal brought out on 31 March 1998.

On the abandoned school building, I see a scene from a children’s story painted on a wall and I can almost hear the children laughing and playing in the large field during school recess.

The public library counted 50 000 books, including Pushkin, Tolstoy and Dostoyevsky. Again, I marvel at the level of literary interest of the average Russian. Even a drunk beggar on a cold Moscow street will easily discuss classical literature with you – and probably know more than you.

Lenin looks down on us as we wander along the main avenue of Pyramiden. The sun is surprisingly warm and we all unzip our fleece and windbreakers. It’s hard to imagine a polar bear in this weather but Constance spotted one only a couple of weeks ago right in this very spot.

Pyramiden was a self-sufficient community. The inhabitants had a ranch with pigs and cattle. As rats and mice and assorted rodents naturally come with livestock, they kept cats, even though cats aren’t normally allowed on Svalbard as they threaten the indigenous wildlife. In the hurry to leave Pyramiden, the cats were forgotten. When a cleaning-up party showed up after a while, they found dead cats all around. The cats were buried together and the small rock-covered grave is sweetly marked by a metal sunflower.

It’s a bit surreal, walking along the avenues of this Soviet ghost town. But rumour has it, plans are underway to shine it up, reopen the Hotel Tulip or build a new hotel and recreate Pyramiden as a tourist destination. Could be something to that. When we docked at the harbour, 3 men were waiting to collect newly introduced docking fees and clean the place up.

I can easily picture this as a skiing destination, actually. The location takes my breath away. Pyramiden is surrounded with mountains, the bright blue waters of the fjord and the magnificent Nordenskiöld Glacier. And this cosy warmth in the otherwise Arctic chilly summer! I’d come skiing here. The mountain sides look inviting – the abandoned mine notwithstanding.

17 June 2007

Today, Alex and I took the boat to Barentsburg, the last remaining Russian settlement in the Arctic. Oleg, a local guide, greeted us as M/S Polar Girl docked. The town itself was 254 steps up, not a place for the handicapped.

I’ve heard various figures for the current number of inhabitants in Barentsburg; anything from 300 to 700, so I’m going to go with what Oleg told me: 550 – kind of a happy medium. At any rate, the number is decreasing.

Barentsburg (named for Dutch polar explorer Willem Barentz) is a mining town – run by the Russian company Trust Arktikugol. With a nearly empty mine and a dwindling population, however, the Russians have to come up with new plans to keep the place alive, because as we’ve seen these last few days, the Russians will hardly give up their presence in the Arctic.

What will they do – apart from planting Russian flags underground? In August of last year, plans were afoot to make the little Arctic community into an environmental flagship, including building an environment-friendly gas power plant and an increase in tourism to follow. But so far, about a year later, not much has happened. So we’ll have to see what the future holds in store for this little outpost.

Formerly a colony of about 3 000, this chilly Arctic community provides economically attractive employment. 5 000 Norwegian kroner (about 600 EUR/900 USD) is the monthly salary. As this is also a non-monetary community, whatever they use in the cafeteria, shop or bar, is subtracted from their accounts. The remaining salary is then paid on return to Mother Russia after the 2 years are up.

17 children presently live in Barentsburg and I only saw two of them briefly and they were very pale. The others were conspicuously absent. It was a crisp and sunny Sunday afternoon in June and to my mind all the children should be out playing.

Of course, this could be a cultural bias. Keeping children indoors in such lovely weather and on a Sunday afternoon no less - is practically considered child abuse where I live. Out in the fresh air whenever possible is the Scandinavian mantra.

I had expected this to be a depressing town, but it wasn’t. The people I saw were cheerful and friendly. Of course, the season and the weather could have something to do with that.

Tomorrow: Pyramiden - a Russian ghost town in the Arctic.

16 June 2007 (We’ll just call this delayed blogging). At 78 degrees N; a mere 12 degrees from the North Pole – Longyearbyen is as far north in the world as I’ve ever been. I'm here with Alexandra, my oldest. Svalbard ... [Continue reading this entry]