North of normal

In the high Arctic archipelago of Svalbard, snowmobiles outnumber people, traffic lights don’t exist and polar bears sometimes saunter through town.

“Pull harder!”

“PULL HARDER!”

The rope burns in my hands as my grip tightens. I look into my friend’s eyes. They are wide with determination, and she too refuses to let go. The abyss is close. Snow is falling in big, chunky flakes, making it hard to navigate more than a few hundred yards in the white wilderness. The ground beneath my ski boots is slippery and threatens to throw me off balance.

“Don’t give up!”

A voice cuts through the snowy haze. It is close yet muffled by the swirling wind. 

Someone cheers, but it is a lost cause. My team has no chance against Jen McKeown and her Vikings, and we tumble over the line like snowballs down a hill. 

We have lost this game of tug-of-war.