Dreaming of the Polar Bears

I have an adventure fantasy to travel to the Svalbard Islands in the Arctic Ocean, midway between Norway and the North Pole. I want to see the polar bears in their natural habitat before they become extinct. I worry about the animals in the arctic, as climate change slowly steals their frozen habitat. I've been fascinated with the polar bear since first seeing one in the Bronx Zoo as a child. Her huge white furry body, her 12 inch wide paws with killer claws, yet that quizzical look in her coal black eyes and shiny nose made her seem approachable, and even huggable. I've walked with the brown bears in Katmai, Alaska, but I've never come face to face with the big white polars.

The only settlement you can travel to in the Svalbard Islands is the tiny town of Longyearbyen, on Spitsbergen island. You fly in from Oslo or Iceland, and as you can imagine, summer is the smart time to go. It's a difficult trip, challenging physical strength and testing endurance, exposing trepidation yet validating courage. The temperatures range from -40 degrees in winter to the mid 40's in summer. You can travel by small cruise ship, or arctic icebreaker, and get close to the animals using zodiacs and snowmobiles. I read, I research, I plan, I budget, I dream.

So we've become used to hearing about a person's bucket list... or wanting to do something before time runs out. I generally don't think this way or feel like I have to do something to satisfy my great quest for life before I die. I don't even think about the end of my life very much. I'm a pragmatist, believing we are born with an expiration date and time stamp and there is not much we can do to change it. I know I will not live forever, but there is no reason to worry about how and when the end will come. Yet I do want to see the polar bears, and the urgency I feel has more to do with their uncertain future than mine.

Though I may seem to procrastinate in getting to Svalbard, my excuse is an ever-present need to prioritize. There are things I want to do, things I need to do, and even the things I have got to do, on the same list as my trip up north. These days most of the items edging out the polar bears involve my children, my grandchildren, my family and my friends. And then there is the cold.... Older I get, less I like to be cold, and it is very cold in the Arctic.

I remember being cold as a child, but it didn't really stop me from getting on with day to day life; it was just part of life. Being without heat at home wasn't such a big deal, as we were without heat lots of the time in our upper Manhattan walk up. The super would turn off the furnace at night to save fuel – coal in those days - but we had wool blankets and coats layered on our beds and they kept us toasty till morning.

Mom would be up first to light the stove, then when the kitchen had lost its frosty chill, she would call my sisters and I to get up for school. We ran barefoot across the cold linoleum floor to the kitchen where we huddled around the oven's open-door like campers around a campfire on a cold night. There would be big pots of water boiling on the stove, and taking turns, we would each carry one back to the bathroom for washing up.

A great deal of time was spent bundling up and trying to keep warm. Snowstorm or not, there were socks and shoes that slipped into rubber boots. There were snow pants which I was required to wear under my school uniform jumper. There were sweaters, wool coats and of course gloves, hats and scarves. And when it snowed, it snowed big. We stayed outside rolling in the snow, fighting snowball fights, making igloos on the sidewalk until our clothes were soaked to the skin, and only went in to get warm when the sun went down and mom called from the window.

After high school there were the great blizzards in New York that stopped cars, busses and trains. I lumbered over snow piles and drifts to walk most of the way to my office in midtown only to find that the building was closed and have to turn back. It was an adventure, it was fun, and although I was chilled to the bone, that would never stop me.

Later on, in my 30s and 40s, my childhood bundling activity resumed when skiing with my kids. Uncomfortable, clumsy, overdressed indoors, underdressed on the lift, painfully frozen toes and fingertips, we trudged on for the thrill of zooming down the mountainside over and over – again till the sun went down. It could be bitter cold, my lips and cheeks were chapped, but I just slathered on the old chap-stick and went out again the next morning. These were some of the most exciting days of my life and these beautiful memories with my children remain.

Seriously... I have been cold, I have overcome cold. Is it really the cold that stops me from my Svalbard fantasy? Is it the difficulty of getting there, traveling around on snowmobiles with old bones? Is it really priorities at home, is it laziness? Is it fear of those giant beasts? They attack you know, they even kill, as they search for unavailable food as the ice floes melt. Is it the probability of losing my imaginary, cuddly, huggable big teddy bear to the reality of a huge, dangerous carnivore?  

We all have dreams and fantasies. Some can be achieved, and maybe, just maybe, it is fine for others to remain in our minds and hearts – for a little while, or even forever. Yet, at this moment, I think if I don't re-prioritize today's hopeful goals, I might never achieve tomorrow's astonishing memories.

The temperature has dropped into the low 40's today which is the average temperature in Svalbard in summer. I will find my warm boots, hat and gloves, and when I get home later I will pour myself a cup of hot tea, I will get out my list and I will rethink my priorities.  

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"Action expresses priorities"
--  Mahatma Gandhi