We’d been excited for Jason’s work trip to Svalbard since he got the invite. An archipelago deep in the Arctic, Svalbard is home to Longyearbyen, the northernmost settlement in the world, and we knew it would be unlike anywhere else we’d ever been.

If you haven’t heard of Svalbard, I’d recommend finding it on a map for context. It’s closer to the North Pole than it is to mainland Norway. They have four months of midnight sun, two months of polar night, and another monthish where it’s just twilight all the time. We visited in the in-between time where there was both a day and a night, but it never truly got dark.

Traditionally, the human presence on the islands has been mostly Norwegian and Russian, but the Russian settlements mostly shut down in the 1990s. The region is considered an unincorporated area of Norway, so we had to go through passport control on the way there and the way back. The first prominent industry was coal mining, which is now mostly shut down and replaced by tourism and research.

We were in Svalbard because Jason had a satellite conference hosted by KSAT, who owns ground stations all over the world (though the most exciting ones are in the Arctic and Antarctic, where they communicate with satellites in polar orbit.

Our first stop when we got off the plane at the Longyearbyen airport was the SvalSat ground station, where we were greeted by the eerie sight of more than 100 radomes appearing through the fog. The antennae and the radomes that enclose them range in size, but the largest ones are massive, as you can see in the first picture. We went inside one for the conference introduction.

I have been a few places that I could describe as otherworldly, but nothing comes close to the plateau with these radomes. The ground was all brown and gray shale, and especially in the fog, there was nothing you could see except for radomes and the occasional building. Some of the KSAT employees mentioned that the people who live in Longyearbyen have conspiracy theories about what the ground station is actually for, and I can’t fault them for that.

The road to the ground station also goes past the Global Seed Vault, which houses more than a million seed varietals in case of any catastrophic incident that wipes out crops. The seeds are frozen and kept in the Arctic permafrost.

After we checked into the hotel, we left for a boat trip into Isfjorden. It was dark and foggy and beautiful.

We went past Bjorndalen, the area I would hike in the next day. It was cool to see this valley from the water and then later be able to hike around.

We also went past one of the old Soviet towns that are no longer populated. Grumont was home to more than 1000 people, which is hard to imagine looking at it now. The remaining buildings are very apocalyptic looking, with no windows and disappearing paint colors.

One of the coolest things we got to see were the jagged mountainsides emerging out of the fog. In the summer, this strip of cliffs is the home to tons of birds who make their nests here. We were in Svalbard after they had migrated away, but the cliffs were still green from all of the guano.

Longyearbyen, the town where we stayed, is home to about 2000 year-round residents and about 1000 dogs. No other animals can be imported, and there’s no agriculture allowed. There are also 300-500 polar bears in the general area, depending on who we asked, and anyone going outside of the main town area has to carry a gun, flare gun, or both. There are about 20 miles of roads total, stretching in three directions from Longyearbyen.

Along with the customary ban of cigarettes in Longyearbyen public buildings, you also can’t bring dogs or guns. The dogs are tied up outside, and the guns are checked into lockers or left in vehicles.

For being quite literally in the middle of nowhere, the creature comforts in Longyearbyen were pretty solid. There was a fairly well-stocked grocery and general store (Jason couldn’t get over the fact that there was self checkout in the Arctic), multiple outdoor clothing stores (the locals abide by the general Norwegian sentiment that there is no bad weather, only bad clothing), and a few restaurants and bars. My favorite store was a husky cafe where we got some gourmet hot chocolate and spent some time with three adorable, friendly huskies.

This is where the photos will be of significantly lower quality, because I took them with my phone or with Jason’s camera that I barely know how to use.

While Jason was in a conference room on the second day, I took a hike in Bjorndalen with an armed guide and a very nice couple from Switzerland. It was a great trip - we walked around in the Arctic tundra and saw reindeer and whales (I was torn about not seeing a polar bear but ultimately would have been very freaked out to see one on foot). I was originally supposed to go on a longer guided hike, but two trips had to be consolidated so the itinerary changed. While I would have loved to hike on the glacier, I’m ultimately glad I was on this trip because of the whales (more on that soon).

Our guide, a Swedish student who changed her major to study in Svalbard and then decided to stay after her program was complete, walked us into the valley and showed us the landscape, pointed out reindeer, and slowly spun in a circle every couple of minutes scanning for polar bears.

When I go somewhere new, it’s the presence of things that usually stand out - new architecture or city sounds or dramatic landscapes. In Svalbard, the most striking thing wasn’t the presence of anything, but the absence. It’s an absence of smells, because the tundra smells like nothing, and neither does the sea. It’s the absence of sounds, except for the occasional barnacle goose honk and the summer song of the migratory snow bunting. We had multiple people tell us with reverence of the first time they heard the snow bunting in the spring and the feeling of awe that overcame them.

There’s also the absence of trees, and bushes, and color other than brown, gray, white, and the occasional green moss. I’ve never been to a place that’s so close to sensory deprivation, and I can’t imagine what it’s like in the winter.

All that being said, there’s a striking beauty to the landscape, and the simplicity and repetition of the mountains and ocean are awe-inspiring.

We did see a few live reindeer, but as I was having trouble making Jason’s camera work, I had to make do with my phone.

There is old mining equipment scattered around the area, and we saw some on our hike. All the mines but one have been closed, but much of the equipment is considered protected for historical purposes, so it just hangs out and poses for tourist photos.

After we hiked around for a while, we went back to a yurt near the airport (right next to a campground where a man was attacked and killed by a polar bear a couple of years ago) and had a hot lunch while I tried to figure out what I was doing wrong with Jason’s camera. A few minutes after I figured it out, we saw the first whales.

Belugas don’t usually breach or do anything else so dramatic, so they just look like a lot of whitecaps in the water at first. This was a lot of whitecaps, though, so we quickly walked to the edge of the water and realized that there were about 50 whales feeding right in front of us. Our guide was even freaking out, which is when you know you’re having a rare experience. I spent the next 45 minutes taking pictures and videos, shaking from cold because I had forgotten my gloves at the lunch site, and trying to absorb the moment.

After the whales started moving away from the shore, we headed back to the site to sit in the yurt and warm up. We also drank a lot of toddy, which is not what I would think of as an American but was also delicious - it’s like a (non-alcoholic) berry syrup mixed with hot water.

We were only in Svalbard for about 48 hours, but it was definitely one of the most memorable parts of the trip. I can’t recommend it for everyone, but if you want to go somewhere otherworldly and maybe, if you’re lucky, see some whales and maybe a polar bear, it’s a good choice.