The south-west face of Newtontoppen, Svalbard - photo Gérard Bodineau 

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Matthias Fieles describes a snowy stormy ascent of Newtontoppen 1712m, P1712m, Svalbard

After I was fortunate enough to organize a successful trip to Jan Mayen in 2017, including the ascent of Beerenberg 2277m, P2277m, the idea was born to climb Newtontoppen as well. Starting in 2018, I dedicated myself intensively to the subject and gathered information wherever I could. I ordered one of Rolf Stange's books, as he is an expert on Svalbard. Rolf wrote me a dedication in the book and gave me the following challenge: "After Beerenberg – Newtontoppen?!"

Unfortunately, it quickly became clear that, despite the slight connection to the rest of the civilized world, organizing the tour would not be easy. Emails with inquiries were sent to the Governor of Svalbard and tour providers. Sometimes I received no response, sometimes only unhelpful answers, and the information was sparse. I completely got lost in bureaucratic red tape.

One provider quickly sent me a program that matched my plans. They promised the rental of snowmobiles and tents, only to not get back to me for several weeks. Then, they told me they could organize the transport to the point where we would continue on foot. It was so frustrating.

Through an acquaintance, I got the contact information for Backyard Svalbard. I shared my plans with them, and they agreed to help. They calculated the costs and maintained perfect communication.

By November, I was sure the tour would take place, so I booked the flights. That, too, was an adventure. Overall, between 11/23 and 05/24, the flights were rebooked or canceled and rebooked three times, resulting in a chaotic routing: Basel-Munich-Oslo-Longyearbyen / Longyearbyen-Tromsø-Oslo-Copenhagen-Munich-Basel.

Erlend told me that we needed at least four, preferably six, participants to make the costs manageable. Through Ferdi, a couple from Switzerland, Hanna and Mirco, joined the trip. They were excited about this "crazy" adventure and looked forward to it. Norbert from South Tyrol joined, and later Jukka from Finland came on board. I met Jukka via a video conference of "Baggers without Borders." So, we had six people, and with our international team, we were ready to go.

06.-07.05.2024 Basel-Munich-Oslo-Longyearbyen (3,800km)
We overnighted in Oslo. The next morning, we met Jukka, and together we continued on to Longyearbyen.

We were picked up, and Norbert had already arrived the day before. In the evening, we met to get to know each other.

08.05.2024 Longyearbyen
After breakfast, we meet with the Backyard Svalbard team. The snowmobiles will be parked at the end of Adventfjord. We organize our equipment and load the sleds. 16x20-liter gas cans and 7x40-liter fuel tanks will accompany us on the journey. We are 10 people, with 7 snowmobiles and 5 sleds. What a logistics operation! The day passes in organizing and packing. Once everything is ready, we meet for dinner. It’s bright, day and night - there is no difference.

09.05.2024 - 180 kilometers
The journey begins. The weather worries me; it has become overcast, and the clouds are low. After breakfast, we store our excess luggage, pick up the snowmobile suits and boots, and then put on the insulated suits. We get a briefing on the snowmobiles and what to do in case we encounter a polar bear, as well as how to handle open water by accelerating. Then, we start. Erlend sets a fast pace, and I struggle to keep up. At the end of the Adventfjord, the beginning of our route, the ice is partially open, and smaller and larger streams must be crossed. It hits hard when we drive over a hole. We travel at speeds of over 80 km/h through the terrain. Suddenly, the first problem arises: on a flat ice surface, one rider lets off the gas, and immediately, the sled overtakes the snowmobile, spins it around, and tips it into a snow hole.

Everything is fine, and with combined efforts, the sled is put back on its skis, the snowmobile is pulled out of the hole, and we continue. Our senses are now heightened, and the throttle hand is more cautious. We drive through the Adventdalen, still able to see some of the landscape. Then we ascend to the glacier, and we are in total white-out. We are now only navigating by GPS, always trying to keep the person in front in sight, but maintaining enough distance to react if they need to stop. The snow is falling, the wind is picking up, and visibility is reduced to 20 meters.

We take regular drink breaks; despite the cold, we don't feel thirsty, but the air is extremely dry, and with every breath, we lose moisture. Hour after hour, we drive through a white wall toward Lomonosovfonna, a massive glacier plateau at about 1,000m above sea level. We take a longer break at the foot of a rock, where we eat freeze-dried food mixed with hot water, quickly prepared.

Then we continue, hour after hour, with the snowmobiles struggling with the slopes due to the new snow. About 140 kilometers after starting, around 3:00 PM, my snowmobile breaks down. I was riding in fourth place, the three riders ahead don’t notice that I’ve lost contact. The engine sputters and dies. In case something like this happens, the rule is to stop and wait for the others to come back exactly on the GPS track. We dig a hole to shield ourselves from the wind, and Erlend pulls out his harmonica, playing against the snowstorm. Eventually, the other three snowmobiles return to us. Erlend sets a GPS point, and we transfer the luggage from my snowmobile to another one. I have to ride on the back of the other vehicle. We leave the two snowmobiles behind and continue with five towards the planned campsite.

At the destination, Kvitbreen, a glacier area at the foot of Newtontoppen, I realize that we’ve managed to get to the base camp with the snowmobiles, which wasn’t initially planned or allowed. Of course, I’m relieved not to have to add another several-hour ski section to the day.

Now, we set up camp: shoveling snow, erecting tents, building windbreaks. We shovel, saw, and build for hours, then melt snow and make tea. By 10:00 PM, I’m finally in my sleeping bag, exhausted. Outside, the storm howls, and the tent flaps, but inside the sleeping bag, it’s cozy. Just thinking about having to go to the toilet makes me grumpy.

10.05.2024 - Camp
At around 4:00 AM, the bladder signals that the tea must come out. Damn it. I crawl out of my sleeping bag, putting on my pants and jacket while lying down. Fully dressed, I climb out of the tent. The wind hits me instantly. After a few minutes, I start freezing. These are the moments when I wonder what I’m doing here. So, I rush back into the sleeping bag. The visibility is awful. We spend the day inside the tent, the weather doesn’t improve.

We keep going outside to shovel snow. The wind deposits massive amounts of snow on the tent and vestibule. The time passes with sleep, dressing and undressing, and shoveling, while eating and trying to drink as much as possible. Around 7:00 PM, we decide to make an attempt on Newtontoppen. We dress in the tents, which takes some awkward contortions. LVS devices and tour clothing, ski boots, and over them the snowmobile suits. Then we pack our backpacks with down clothing, LVS probe/shovel, thermos, and some chocolate. Now, we start shoveling out the snowmobiles and getting them running.

We first head north, only to find out that it’s impossible due to too much new snow. We turn around, circle around the mountain, and begin gaining height on the broader, flatter south side. At around 1,200 meters, we hit a dead end: the snowmobiles dig in, the snow is too deep, the slope too steep. It’s already 10:00 PM when we take off the snowmobile suits and put climbing skins on our skis. LVS check in the group, and we set off.

From the first meters, I struggle with the air. The cold I brought from Germany makes itself felt now. We walk steeply and too quickly. "Norwegian-style," says Christoph. After a short time, I fall behind and walk at my own pace. Christoph stays with me, and we go much more slowly in a zigzag, as we do in the Alps. I feel weak, my lungs wheeze, and my legs burn. Somehow, I can’t get enough oxygen into my muscles. We march higher, despite all the difficulties, switching between flatter and steeper sections. It’s technically not difficult, though.

On 11.05.2024, just before 1:00 AM, we all reach the summit.

No time for happy feelings, summit photos, or anything like that. It’s too cold. The wind is relentless; if you take off your gloves for even a second, your hand will freeze. So, I quickly tagged the GPS in the Peakhunter app, uploaded a photo, and it’s hard to believe, but there’s a little bit of mobile signal up here. I send a picture to my loved ones at home. Before we completely cool down, the skins must be removed from the skis, the shoes and bindings must be switched to downhill mode. Then things get really tough for me. The visibility is poor, we can only see a few meters, everything is white, there’s a storm, and it’s snowing. My legs are burning, my nose is completely blocked, I’m only breathing through my mouth, and my lungs don’t feel good. My legs are cramping. Since we can’t see anything, the descent turns into a terrible groping in the fog. I feel seasick. Christoph stays with Ferdi and me, constantly motivating us. The snow blowing across the ground makes it impossible to see anything. Every time I need to take a break to shake out my legs, I apologize, saying "sorry," mostly to myself. There are still some tough downhill meters before the snowmobiles finally appear in the fog. Christoph says to me, "Hey Matze, just two more 'sorries,' then we’ve made it."

We stow the skis and head back to camp. There’s tea and something to eat. By 5:00 AM, we’re back in the tent. Only now does it really hit me—we were up there, we achieved the goal, the whole team was on the summit. Content, I snuggle into my sleeping bag, warm up again, and fall asleep.

After breakfast, we discuss next plans.

Christoph checked the avalanche situation in the morning, informs us that Perriertoppen 1710m, P606m is not feasible. I’m not sad about it. I’m coughing and struggling to breathe; I would have stayed in the tent for any summit attempt. The terrain at Perriertoppen is steeper, with the amount of fresh snow and the wind conditions, it’s too risky.

One of my wishes was to visit the Russian ghost town of Pyramiden. Unfortunately, we were told that this wasn’t possible. The ships to Pyramiden only go in July; the ice is too thick right now. It would only be possible to reach it with snowmobiles over the frozen sea. The agencies in Longyearbyen adhere to the sanctions and do not offer tours to Pyramiden. So, I was surprised when this new proposal came up.

The plan: we dismantle the camp, take a 45-kilometer detour, and spend the night at hotel in Pyramiden. I am immediately excited. Not without selfish reasons, I rave about a warm room with bed, toilet, and beer at the bar. No further persuasion is needed, everyone agrees. We start packing, which takes hours. Everyone has to repack their personal gear, the tents need to be dug out and packed up. With the wind and temperatures, it’s no easy task. We still need to refill the holes for toilet and kitchen and flatten everything before we can leave. We head off with the snowmobiles over Kvitbreen, toward Lomonosovfonna. From the base camp, it’s downhill first, then uphill again, which means a lot of work. In the deep fresh snow, the snowmobiles get stuck when we try to drive uphill. The scooters can’t make it up the hill with the attached loads and two people on the vehicle.

So, we detach the pulkas, move the scooters uphill with only the driver, and always try to turn just before coming to a complete stop, ride downhill, and use the momentum to get a little higher on the slope. One scooter tips over while turning, and we have to work together to get it back up.

Then, with the two more powerful scooters, we bring the pulkas and people up. It takes time, and we’re really relieved when we succeed. Once all the scooters, sleds, and people are up, we cross a glacier plateau toward the two snowmobiles we had left behind. The GPS leads us reliably. We dig out the snowmobiles and the fuel canisters. Erlend gets the two scooters running again. Then, we head over the Nordenskiöldbreen toward Pyramiden. At the end of the glacier, we have to find a way down to the sea. We zigzag along the lateral moraine, down into Adolfbukkta onto the frozen fjord. Here, we find fresh polar bear tracks.

It’s still 20 kilometers over the ice to Pyramiden. We make it without any significant events. The visibility is now quite good, and we film and photograph the magnificent landscape.

Around 8:00 PM, we arrive in Pyramiden and are warmly welcomed by the few residents. It turns into a lively evening, with a summit party, food, and plenty of spirits.

12.05.2024
Around 2:00 AM, we’re in bed, completely exhausted. At 9:00 AM, we meet for breakfast and then get a tour of Pyramiden. It’s strange how the people cling to the past. The remaining buildings and ruins bear witness to the USSR's quest for power and self-presentation. According to the Svalbard Treaty, the Russians should leave the place as it was before the coal mine was used. They will never do that—it’s cheaper to station a few people here and maintain the territorial claim. We stroll with an armed guide, because it’s polar bear territory, through the cultural center, swimming pool, sports field, gym, and cinema. A surreal setting. In the cultural center, there are still dried flowers, in the cafeteria and kitchen, work tools are lying around, and everything gives the impression that the residents will return any moment.

In the afternoon, we begin the long leg to Longyearbyen. First, back over the ice in the fjord, up to the glacier, to Filchnerfonna, Postbreen, Sabine Land, Nordmannsfonna, Sassendalen, and toward Adventdalen.

The deeper we go, the more often we encounter open water. If we can’t avoid it, we take a run-up and jump over it. Everything gets wet. A few kilometers before the destination, one scooter breaks down and won’t start. We repack and leave it behind. Erlend plans to tow it later. We come to a spot with open water. A small river is flowing here. We take a run-up, my scooter gets over the water, but the ice edge on the opposite side is too high. With a bang, the skis hit the edge, the scooter gets pushed up, the drive belt engages, and we make it onto the ice. But the right ski of our pulka gets caught under the ice, and with a jolt, we stop. The sled twists completely and lands on the luggage. I flip over the handlebars and rip off the scooter's windshield. My flight ends, cushioned by the suit on my right shoulder, and I roll off and immediately get back on my feet. I need a moment to orient myself and don’t quite understand what happened.

The others pick a better spot 30 meters upstream and cross the water without incident. We detach the damaged sled and leave it, along with the luggage, behind. Then, we make the final kilometers back to the starting point. Once we arrive, everyone pitches in. The luggage, the canisters—everything must be unloaded and carried to the car. By 8:00 PM, we’re at the hotel, showering and changing. Then, we meet at the pizzeria. It turns into a long, joyful evening.

The next days pass with a tour to Barentsburg, chilling, shopping, meeting Rolf Stange, and a visit to the North Pole Museum. We visit a coal mine and see the conditions under which coal was mined here. We also see the entrances to the national and world seed banks. We enjoy delicious food and a beer or two.

Then, the time comes to pack our things. Goodbye to Svalbard and a successful adventure in the cold. Satisfied with the successful ascent of Newtontoppen, grateful for the time spent with a fantastic team, I make my way home.

Thanks to Erlend, Alex, Christoph, and Jon from Team Backyard Svalbard. You were reliable partners in planning the tour. Everything was perfectly prepared, and your support along the way was absolutely top-notch! Thanks to my fellow adventurers Hanna, Mirco, Norbert, Jukka, Ferdi. It was an honor.