Jenny Bradley
February 15 2008
Today is snow-scooter day! I think it's about -12 degrees C though I imagine it'll be colder when we're moving on scooters. It was very windy in the morning, kinda cool though; it took the loose surface snow and blew it across the road in front of us as we were walking down towards UNIS. Tiny bumps and pieces of snow and ice on the surface where the snow met the road meant the blown snow was split so it looked like the road was covered in a river of ghostly writhing snakes, very cool and surreal.
We were split into two groups again at UNIS - theoretically the same as yesterday, though me and Celia got moved into the other group to equalise the numbers. This ended up being quite lucky in my opinion: It meant we got the theory in the morning, which meant we understood the context of the 'practical' session in the afternoon - plus we got the atmosphere of the dusk when we were out there, which cannot be underestimated.
We were initially given a short Powerpoint presentation on 'scooter theory' – speed limits, general rules and safety. Apparently there are 2,500 Skidoos (snow scooters) to 2,000 residents - which is quite impressive. We were then shown two Skidoos and some basic maintenance for them.
Now, bear in mind, I know nothing about engines or cars so all this stuff is new. 'Two-stroke' engines are usually smaller than '4-stroke' ones. The '4-stroke' is used when pulling large sleds or people, with a 1500cc engine. This, from what I gather, is pretty powerful. The engine is apparently a Harley-Davidson engine, which became more evident when he turned it on to show us the noise. It was very cool. Maintenance was basic engine stuff, but I now know - in a very basic way - how a Skidoo engine works.
At lunch Adam explained how essential the 'leaning' aspect was to driving - and this had worried me a little. Essentially, a Skidoo is ridden like a motorbike - in that you have to lean into the corners to equalise the centre of gravity. That means if you don't lean enough there's you and a 300lb snow scooter tipping over and falling down a snowy mountain ... this is scary. Apparently the lead teacher took you over a teeny slope to begin with - then went up a much steeper slope... However, I was not about to let this fear stop me trying!
Before the snow scooters there was the dressing. UNIS provide 'scooter suits' for those on Skidoos. These are huge thick all-in-one things. Coupled with huge boots and face-masks and goggles you felt you could sympathise with astronauts. They really kept out the cold though. When we got outside - after a brief run-through of signals and some protocol - we were told to get on our skidoos and start them up! We were using pull handles, like those used for outboard motors on boats. Once the engine was running that was it: “Everybody give a thumbs-up for ok!”.
Sitting on my Skidoo waiting for the first off was both terrifying and exciting. It felt like we were jumping in at the deep-end – but that may just be me since I've never done anything like this before, save a brief quad-bike excursion when I was 12. There were 10 or so of us, plus the two instructors. One of them would lead, one would watch from behind and around us, in case anybody signalled for help.
In seconds we were starting off. One by one the Skidoos in front of me moved out until it was time for me to join them. It was simple enough - nothing but accelerator and brake. With a few juddery starts I was running, following the scooter in front across the snow. We crossed a road and seemed to be travelling out across what I quickly realised was ice. So cool!
The first hill we came to quickly brought back the fear - but being caught in a line means the pressure to keep going forces you to act. Up and down and then out across the ice ... one long line of scooters separated by about 15 metres. It was an amazing feeling. The tracks of the scooter in front acted like train rails to guide you and it was, in fact, quite hard to deviate from them. This meant initially my only concern was keeping a constant distance between me and the scooter in front.
We were only doing about 20km an hour but it felt much faster. The Skidoo suits were fantastic, and I was grateful for the facemask despite how uncomfortable it had seemed when we were in the hanger. The goggles were annoying sometimes as they kept falling down, but if you were quick with your hands you could push them back up again and still keep good control over the scooter.
We stopped halfway across the ice, giving me a nice chance to get some photos and marvel at the amazing scenery. On either side rose huge white mountains, whilst out across the ocean the sky blends in dark shades of blue towards the ocean. We were told to stay close, and move our bodies with the scooter. Controlling a scooter is not like driving a car - moving is essential - to avoid injury and to keep control.
Soon we were off again, towards a snowy inlet. I caught a glimpse of some isolated log cabins on the incoming shoreline - and the darkening sky to the left. No more than that though – your vision is obscured slightly by the goggles and helmet – so you have to really turn your head if you want to see left or right. When you're driving a scooter you really don't want to do that too much!
The lights of Longyearbyen glowed faintly orange behind us - and showed us how rapidly the light was fading. We were quickly off the ice and my headlights were becoming obvious against the tracks in front of me. We moved over a light slope and I could feel how heavy the scooter became beneath me. Unconsciously I leaned towards the slope - but the gradient of the slope wasn't steep enough to make the scooter tip. When we stopped next we were given a brief 'how to turn on slopes' tutorial.
Essentially, when turning on a slope you have to actually get off your seat and move your whole body to lean into the slope to prevent it tipping. Whilst this sounds fine in theory it worried me that all that stood between me and a tipping 300lb snow scooter was, well, me and my ability to lean. The first slope we were led up was relatively shallow, and showed just how difficult it was to actually do what the teachers had shown so seemingly easily. As hard as the effort was I knew we were about to go up much steeper slopes.
Sure enough he took us up the slopes of what I think was a glacial valley. The light was dimming and there was some snow now as well as wind. There was a gap somewhere in my facemask and I could feel the cold air against my face - and man it was cold! Again I really appreciated the effectiveness of the suits we were wearing. The line of people in front of me forced me to face my fears ... as I accelerated into the hill and turned you could really feel the force of the scooter pulling downwards.
Suddenly you don't care how you do it and you're leaning like hell. In my head all I was saying was “don't tip over... don't tip over”. I must have pulled all the muscles in my shoulder leaning out of the Skidoo but it didn't tip so I must have done something right. The next steep hill I attempted was fine and I accelerated up and round and then did everything with more confidence than before. It felt better... and they weren't taking us up the easy way either - we could have tipped if we'd done it wrong.
Sometimes when I was coming down the steep hills and I braked I could feel the Skidoo slipping sideways down, or when I accelerated up the hill over the ice one of the skis at the front slipped on an exposed patch and I felt like the whole nose of the Skidoo had came up off the ground. All around us were the huge expanse of slopes and mountains in various shades of blue as the twilight set in.
Once, when the whole line of us went up one of the steeper hills, one person dug into the slope; he didn't have enough acceleration to make it all the way up the slope so the back of the scooter sank into the snow and he was caught. This meant those behind him were forced to stop - half way up the slope and this led to an interesting 15 minute period where we all had to turn around, drive down the slope, turn round and come back up again.
When we reached steep downwards hills people would slow and we had to stop several times because the gaps between Skidoos got too big and the group got separated. The whole line was about 4km long (apparently) and trust me - getting separated was very easy to do. Especially with the wind and the snow and the dusk.
The guy in front of me had paused to go down a steep hill, so I paused too, about 10m behind him. Because of the lay of the land I basically couldn't see where he was going - so by the time I'd got down the hill I had no idea where he or the rest of the Skidoos had gone. All I could see was white, hills and dark specs of rocks and gusts of snow.
It was too dark to see the tracks - the headlights only illuminated a tiny patch of snow in front of you. It was scary as hell but I stopped as we'd been taught in the morning and the teacher came back to me and showed me the way back to the tracks. It happened again - not with me - but with the guy in front of me. Trust me, it's very easy to do!
By the time we crossed the sea-ice again the light was almost gone, but it was beautiful to be crossing the ice towards the distant orange lights of Longyearbyen, surrounded by the white mountains with the clouds darkening to the right across to the ocean. Despite the stench of the petrol, the noise of the engines, and the concentration required every second - believe me we only appreciated the scenery when we had stopped moving - I think that it was totally awesome.
Jenny Bradley, 23, from Carlisle, came to Swansea with an MSci in Geosciences from Durham and a deep interest in climate and glaciology. She is currently studying for an MRes in Computer Modelling, a course which is overseen by the School of Engineering and her project is based with the Glaciology Group. Application of the knowledge Jenny will gain during the visit to Svalbard will allow her to successfully model a wide variety of scenarios, including climatic and glacial phenomena.