The Ghost Town at the End of the World
A photo essay of an obscure journey, with some stray thoughts on travel ethics. Plus a polar bear cameo.
The Arctic Circle starts at 66.33 degrees north and covers an area of some 5.5 million square miles—or almost one USA plus half a Canada. The region is as massive as it is barren, containing only 0.01% of the world’s population, most of whom live well south of 69 degrees. In almost all areas north of that latitude you’re more likely to encounter a polar bear than a person, and are vastly more likely to encounter neither.
Well, for now at least. More on that later.
But in the present emptiness we find a fascinating speck. At a little shy of 79 degrees—or roughly 600 miles north of the northernmost tip of continental Norway, up so far that the sun doesn’t even set for four months at a time—lies the ghost town of Pyramiden. Tucked inside an inlet ringed by low mountains and a magnificent glacier, it was once a stylish Soviet mining colony populated by a mix of Ukrainians and Russians, who in happier times worked together under a sign (that’s still fixed to the mountainside) dedicated to the cause of peace. But then the Berlin Wall fell, the world changed, and Pyramiden was returned to the elements back in the late 90s.
A curious thing then happened, or I suppose didn’t happen. Thanks to the Arctic cold, the normal predators of decay did little to the old buildings that had once extended the splendour of Soviet architecture out to this frigid cultural outpost. When a caretaker moved back in 2012, he found the interiors largely preserved. Paint had peeled and pipes had frozen, but the structures were largely sound and many of the town’s best architectural features were still intact.
From the moment I learned about this place I very much wanted to go. And in the summer of 2023 I got my chance.
Brief Interlude: On The Ethics of Travel
Pyramiden is, unsurprisingly, not terribly accessible. Your first step is getting to Longyearbyen, the northernmost proper town in the world1, which also serves as the de facto capital of the complexly-governed archipelago of Svalbard. Should you wish to get there the scenic way, this is best done during the summer respite before the dark, cold, and icebergs all return. But even once you get all the way out there you then need to find a boat willing to take you the rest of the way, which I found that just one small outfit was still willing to do. In symbolic opposition to Russia’s aggression in Ukraine, the other tour companies had all boycotted the place.
There are ethical dimensions to all kinds of travel—carbon, congestion, cultural erasure, and increasingly geopolitics. In general I’m quite sensitive to the last one. I’d already made the decision to leave out Russia, Belarus, and Transnistria from my grand European tour. While most locals aren’t at fault and have precious few tools to challenge the regime, I feel like boycotts, at least when arrived at independently, can be good and right and useful in aligning global disapproval. As such, I was a bit distressed to learn midway through my trip that new restoration work in Pyramiden had been funded since the Russian-Ukrainian war began, in part to Russia’s PR benefit. While the flow of tourism dollars back to the motherland was dwarfed by those going the other way, there was at least the symbolic aspect to consider.
We all make compromises somewhere, and often in multiple places.2 Would I have torn up my prepaid ticket had I found out earlier? I don’t know. But I was at least thankful that I’d decided to get on the boat wearing the Ukrainian trident toque that I’d picked up in Kyiv during my war visit (and in shorts obviously). While I was no doubt a compromised cultural ambassador, maybe symbolic opposition matters too.
Anyway, back to the photos.
While you can also get up to Pyramiden by 4x4 or snowmobile, I’d recommend the long boat trip for the very unusual property tour it offers. The coast is dotted with little homes and fishing cottages that each exist in breathtaking isolation.
Another perk of going by boat: the captain will sometimes pause to let you take in the wildlife. While I wasn’t able to get a good shot of any of the whales we crossed by, I did catch a few walruses and a wandering polar bear.
Before you see Pyramiden itself, you’re greeted by quite the natural vista.
Then, at last, the ghost town comes into view.
While I’m not sure how often they’re actually used, each guide is required to carry a hunting rifle in case a polar bear ever does interrupt a tour.
Despite this hassle, the builders really leaned into the bear iconography.
Thankfully the other local wildlife is less worrisome.
The town itself was named after a nearby mountain, in turns out for obvious reasons.
So far as mining camps go though, you really can’t argue with the views.
Many of the interiors have been left much as they were, and give off a certain post-apocalyptic quality.
Including what was once a grand competition-size swimming pool.
Though I think the gym was at least partially restored.
Not captured unfortunately: the northernmost bar in the world, which was actually pretty reasonably priced given the extremely captive audience.
Anyway, it was late by the time I finally returned to Longyearbyen to join some pals for more pints at another pub that, by comparison, felt positively metropolitan. And it was later yet when we stumbled back to our ship, though this was less than obvious given that this was the “night” sky at 1am.
The chaser though: none of this will remain as it is. It turns out that you can’t ever escape politics, even at the end of the world.
While there are research and military facilities farther north, most don’t have permanent civilian populations. And the few that do number in the dozens of residents, compared to Longyearbyen’s 2,000 or so (it varies with the season).
I continue eating meat despite knowing of its ecological and moral horrors. I continue flying and sailing despite believing that carbon buildup is an existential issue. The excuse I give myself is that, while changing human behaviour and commercial desires has never really worked, we can still at least meet that natural demand in cleaner ways. Eating lab meat accelerates its cost curve, bringing forward a world where we can eat meat cheaply and without guilt. Just so, opting to pay more for flights with more sustainable fuels allows us to simultaneously keep the world small and sub-inferno. Or at least that’s the story I like.