The thing about Spitsbergen is that the island sits so far north that it is one of the last remaining bits of solid land before the Arctic ice cap, and our objective was to cruise north until - weather permitting - we crossed the 80th parallel. How far atop the globe is that? Consider this: The farthest northern city in the United States is Point Barrow, Alaska, and that rests just beyond the 70th parallel - a southern outpost by Spitsbergen standards.

I was lucky when my plane landed in Longyearbyen, as the sun was shining and the temperature was a balmy 54 degrees. In the summer at Longyearbyen, the main population center of Spitsbergen, the average temperature wavers around 40 degrees. And since I was now in the land of the midnight sun, there wasn't much daily temperature variation because it never got dark. Oddly, some days felt warmer and the sun shone brighter at midnight then at midday.

About 60 percent of Spitsbergen consists of glaciers, but in the summer the snowmelt is considerable and the tundra around Longyearbyen shows off its earth tones proudly. Despite the unfertile ground, 170 species of plants grow on the island, although nothing grows taller than Arctic flowers. As for fauna, along with birds such as the arctic tern, puffins and auk, a few big animals inhabit the region: arctic fox, Svalsbad reindeer and, of course, polar bear.

The animals aren't shy. On my first morning I saw two reindeer walking securely past my hotel window. Another fellow spotted an arctic fox.

As with any community that arose near polar bear habitats, it's not recommended to stray beyond the town limits without a rifle, because for such a big creature, polar bears have a nasty habit of appearing seemingly out of nowhere. To make sure everyone stays wary of the peril, guides invariably tell stories of polar bear encounters gone wrong. In Longyearbyen, guides recall the fate of two women who strolled away from town and wandered upon a polar bear. Only one lived to tell the tale.

It was evening when my ship, the MS Nordstjernen, sailed west into Isfjorden. The weather was cool, but the sun strong. Our first stop would be at the Russian coal mining town of Barentsburg.

As the Nordstjernen cruised the wide fjord, one could spot abandoned settlements, but Barentsburg was different: a grim, squat village populated by 550 Russian miners and families. Its power plant belched dark smoke and the formidable place, which could have been a gulag settlement, displayed a pallor of coal dust. Surprisingly, the locals who populated Barentsburg were fun seekers, and for the boat's passengers they organized a rousing folkloric show in their auditorium. As good as it was, the experience was nothing compared to downing shots of vodka at the town's crowded bar.

Near midnight, when our boat departed Barentsburg, the warm glow in our stomachs matched the bright sunlight over the fjord.

After traveling through the night up the North Atlantic, the Nordstjernen eased into Magdalenefjorden, finally setting anchor at a large bay that was once a shelter for whaling ships of old. This was to be the location of our first nature walk and after landing ashore we hiked along a rocky beach past a grave site, the final home to whalers who never made the journey back to port. We eventually ended at another bay, headlands of a massive glacier, before turning around.

As we approached our original landing, one of the guides unloaded towels.

"Who's going swimming?" she asked.

Some us who were not very bright answered in the affirmative and off went our gloves, parkas and snow pants - everything but skivvies. About a half-dozen men and women dived in. I don't remember much about my body's impact with the icy water, but I do recall my painfully numb feet as I struggled to shore.

We were scheduled to do another walk later, but as we cruised more fjords, polar bears were spotted and we observed a mother and two cubs lollygagging on a large rock. Instead, the captain decided we would shoot for the 80th parallel.

The North Atlantic was calm, the sky clear and by early evening we crossed the 80th parallel. All the guests on the boat gathered on the aft deck, toasting each other with glasses of champagne. We had reached the top of the world.

I asked one of the guides how far we were from the polar ice cap, and the answer was not very far, perhaps at the 81st parallel, a mere 60 nautical miles to the north.

Well, we wouldn't get there this trip, but we would make it to Moffen Island to see a colony of walruses and then head south again weaving through the fjords, spotting more polar bears, arctic foxes, puffins, seals and beluga, fin and blue whales. We hiked hills and rocky shores, sailed to glaciers and explored abandoned camps.

Then one day near the end of our journey we sailed onto a perfectly formed beach ringed by snow patches that was once a mining colony called Ny London. The ship's loudspeaker rang out: Remember to bring your bathing suits; the guides will be going swimming. Few did. Perhaps they didn't pack them for the trip. Instead, most of the guests just followed the lead of the guides who stripped down to their undergarments and took the plunge into the 36-degree water.

Once again I dove in, my feet going numb. C-c-c-cool fun!

IF YOU GO

Transportation: Coming from the West Coast, I flew Scandinavian Airlines from Seattle to Oslo ( www.scandinavian.net).

Accommodations: In Oslo, Thon Hotel Gyldenlove ( www.thonhotels.no), and in Longyearbyen, Spitsbergen Hotel ( www.rica-hotels.com).

Cruises: Big cruise boats circle Svalbard, but the Arctic is not the best place for this kind of travel. I chose the adventure cruise line Norwegian Coastal Voyage ( www.norwegiancoastalvoyage.us). My ship, MS Nordstjernen, counted just 114 berths; cabins weren't elegant, but the food was great and PolarCirkel boats carried us to an Arctic adventure daily.

Steve Bergsman is a freelance travel writer.

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