Packing for the Pole

Follow Osprey Ambassador, Isaí Madriz and his wife Kristina Lindsay-Madriz, on an Arctic expedition.
Ahhhhhhh….spray…I can feel the crisp, misty air, and the salty waves gently lapping against the ship’s hull, crashing at times, as if acting as both friend and foe. To be on open water again and feel the sway of the ship is a gift I surely give thanks for as I am lulled to sleep after long and thrilling days of adventure. 
To pack for the polar regions requires care and consideration of the extreme temperatures. To stay warm and dry is to stay alive. Even on an expedition vessel that provides a comfortable place to return to, waterproof pants are a must for travelling to and from the shore in an inflatable watercraft called a Zodiac. Spitting rain can quickly become more. Temperatures can drop. In the Arctic, the weather of Northeast Greenland National Park can be spectacularly unforgiving and unpredictable. I packed tall muck boots to use for all the wet landings, a rain shell for my core, a wool hat for my ears, a balaclava for the spray of the Zodiac ride, neoprene gloves, and waterproof socks in my Sojourn Shuttle 130(Opens in a new window), along with many changes of under clothes, toiletries, and a few other pairs of shoes. This big bag holds everything under the sun. My large muck boots fit in the bottom zippered compartment. I did not plan to pack it to capacity, but that’s always how we start out, right? Clothing for cold climates can be bulky and plentiful. Inside my big bag were perfectly tetrised, organized sets of cloth, zippered bags, which held my various groupings of clothing items together. These smaller bags of various sizes made it easy to organize and manage the innards of my big bag. The wheels on my big bag made traipsing through the airports and moving through lines easier. It glided smoothly over the cobbled streets of Reykjavík as I searched for food and accommodations. This was the beginning and although Greenland’s northeast side was the final destination, the journey there was the whole purpose. 
Alongside my trusty big bag, my Sojourn Porter 30(Opens in a new window) was fulfilling all my needs as a carry-on backpack, providing easy access to my essentials while in transit including my cellphone, passport, wallet, chapstick, warm layer for the cold plane ride, and an extra set of clothes if my big bag went missing. Of all the backpacks I have used over the decades, this one is my favorite. Its sleek design, durability, sturdy handles, supportive straps, and the color (Barley!) appealed to my transitory needs and aesthetic eye. 
Upon reaching the airport I realized I left my fanny pack at home, so I felt the need to improvise. Before entering the airport security line, I combined one of the small cloth zippered bags into another and hooked the empty one to a loop on my backpack strap for easier access. I filled the little bag with my wallet, passport, chapstick, and cell phone. I used a tiny lock to connect it, but a carabiner is also a good option. Improvisation is key to success. Think outside the box and work with what you have.  

While on my way up towards the Arctic Circle, first having flown into Iceland’s Keflavík International Airport, then boarding a ship in Reykjavík bound for Greenland, I felt at ease with my luggage choices. A journey it would be, made comfortable thanks to the bags in my possession. 

After crossing the vast Denmark Strait alongside the company of many whales, my first disembarkation was at the shore of the tiny, very remote settlement, Ittoqqortoormiit. I grabbed my lightweight backpack, which contained the few items needed for a short tour around the area. The backpack was light as a feather and completely comfortable. I had water to drink, a warm hat, chapstick, and an extra warm core layer. Walking around I gently smiled at people I encountered, keeping aware that this was their home and I was merely a “guest” passing through. It was humbling to know that people have survived for thousands of years here, living in this extreme climate. An older couple invited me into their home to try musk ox (Umimmak) and Greenlandic Cake (Kalaallit Kaagiat). I quietly put my picky pescatarianism aside and graciously accepted, nodding and smiling while the language translator facilitated the visit. 

“Qujanaq,” I said. I learned to say thank you.

 

In the following days, my lightweight backpack served me well while hiking. I barely felt it on my back. The sternum and hip straps kept the pack in place while I used my hands to navigate rough terrain, scrambling over boulders and down steep, slippery areas. As I was in a vast and wild land with very real risks, I was always scanning my surroundings. Icebergs sat near the shoreline: remnants of the winter that beckoned the polar bears to venture out to hunt seals. The rugged and undulating topography and winding rock faces were like paintings. Hot springs bubbled and steamed up through the air, reflecting off the morning sun and providing an oasis in an otherwise seemingly barren land. But it was teeming with life everywhere I looked. Tiny, old growth plants, fungi, and lichens of all colors dotted and accented the landscape. Each individual had decades or centuries of life in them. I carefully tiptoed around these ancient beauties whenever possible, aiming to step on the rocks nestled beside them instead, all the while understanding the very real possibility of a polar bear existing nearby. I left my footprints next to bear tracks. The only “footprint” I had hoped to leave on this journey was that which could wash away with the next rain. I wished to pass through the land like a whisper in the wind, taking photos and leaving only a suggestion of my presence. 

 

Travelling through the natural world with consideration and an open heart leads to many possibilities of discovery along the way. Lowering expectations of what we think something should be and letting nature unfold as it is intended provides for a richness like none other.  

I felt a connection to my surroundings and a sense of place.  

“Qujanaq,” I said again to the land, the air, and the sea.  

“Illillu,” it replied. You’re welcome.

 

After many glorious days of sunshine, crispy air, and a touch of chilly rain that suggested the turn of summer into autumn, it was time for the ship to pass back through the Denmark Strait. Harbor porpoises darted and jumped through the waves, Humpback whale flukes popped up out of the churn, Pufflings and Fulmars skimmed the water, and the vast landscape of Iceland welcomed me once again.  

A hike to the Dynjandi waterfall drew the expedition to a close. I will never get tired of watching water fall. I had an easy scramble to the furthest-most point on the trail. It was slippery, but I had my hands free to support me on my final excursion. 

My last night aboard the ship was reflective. How well the expedition went was tied to the gear I used. My attitude of acceptance and openness to the land and people made it rich. And then came the Northern Lights! It was my first time seeing them and on my last night no less. Streaks of white light morphed and reshaped across the sky, a light green hue at times through my naked eye.  

Preparing for the Arctic was a dream come true. I am naturally drawn to the poles and cold weather. This life-changing experience will stay with me forever.