On the Fjällräven Polar, Anyone Can Be an Arctic Explorer

What am I doing here?

There I was, nearly a hundred miles north of the Arctic Circle, on a narrow, winding dog sled track somewhere in the boreal forests of Swedish Lapland. Within the last hour, I had rammed my sled against a tree, keeled over at a sharp corner, and nearly committed the cardinal sin of dog sledding: letting my sled get away. Now, I had somehow managed to wedge my foot between the sled and brake—something our lead musher Melanie said she had never seen before. Great.

Foot extracted, I shouted “hike!” to my six dogs to continue on as I fought a rising tide of emotions. I considered myself a fairly outdoorsy person. I thought I was made of stronger stuff. So why was I so shaken up after barely a day behind the handlebars of a dog sled?

Of course, I am far from the first to be served a healthy dash of humility by the harsh northern extremes of our planet. And comparatively, I had it easy on my assisted, modern-day expedition. But even knowing the Arctic wasn’t for the faint of heart, I still wanted to come. Why? Reading National Geographic as a kid and Barry Lopez as an adult, I felt its call. I wanted to see landscapes described as transcendent, and I wanted to do it the same way everyone from the native peoples of the far north to Western explorers had done it: from the tail end of a dog sled team.

And that, in a nutshell, is Fjällräven Polar.

Every year, thousands of people around the world complete a set of creative social media challenges to apply for the Polar, a week-long, 186-mile dog sled expedition across Arctic Scandinavia hosted by Swedish outdoor brand Fjällräven.

Led by professional mushers and guides, the handful of participants and their personal six-dog sled teams journey across coniferous forests, windswept tundras, and frozen waterways. Amid subzero temperatures and weather both fair and foul, they learn what it takes to survive in the Arctic and lead a sled dog team: caring for the dogs, packing the sled, camping in the snow under the shimmering banners of the Northern Lights. Anyone can apply; no previous Arctic or outdoor experience required.

While the goal of outdoor retailers is getting people out into nature, Fjällräven has long gone the extra mile by offering supported events like the multi-day Classic treks. But with Polar, they go even further, removing barriers like cost and travel by covering all expenses for selected participants along with providing gear and handling logistics and planning. Giving people the right tools, equipment, and support, the company believes that everyone has it in them to be an Arctic explorer. Surely I was keen to find out when my invite came through.

Although the Polar initially started as an Iditarod-style dog race in 1997, Fjällräven founder Åke Nordin felt that a competition didn’t represent the company’s values and mission to “enable and inspire more people to spend time in nature.” So it was reimagined as it is today, an inclusive and encouraging expedition open to anyone curious enough to try.

I had come to the tippy-top of Swedish Lapland to get a taste of that experience: a shorter, condensed three-day glimpse into what the full Polar expedition is like. Surrounded by yipping, jumping Alaskan huskies at the Fjellborg Arctic Journeys kennels—which has partnered with Fjällräven for 25 years and whose founder Kenth Fjellborg, a renowned musher, first inspired Nordin to come up with Polar—our team leader Melanie gave us a crash course in sled handling—how to brake, how to steer. I nervously climbed aboard my footboards.

Then we were off, down a hill and across the frozen Torne River, bound for Lake Väkkärä. Racing across the water, nerves quickly gave way to smiles as I watched my dogs settle into their paces, tongues lolling from grinning mouths. At the shores of the lake, my tentmate Samantha and I pitched our neon-orange Fjäll tent for the night of winter camping, snuggled inside down sleeping bags and, like kids on Christmas, almost too excited to sleep for fear of missing a Northern Lights sighting (they never made an appearance, sigh).

Rising early, our guides put us through the motions of preparing for a day out in the Arctic. Dress, pack up the tents, melt hot water, make breakfast, pack the sleds, assemble the dog teams; preparation is survival. Antsy and raring to go just like the dogs, we finally departed into a clear and beautiful Arctic morning.

The day was a mini-expedition in itself: huddling in dug-out snow trenches to escape the frigid wind, learning how to control the sled in different types of terrain, running alongside the sled on uphill stretches, and having my fledgling dog sledding skills (and teeth) rattled on steep downhills. During a particularly challenging stretch of forest track, worn down by the cold and frequent mistakes, I felt like I was about to hit a wall.

Why did I think I could do this? Was I a burden on the team by slowing them down? Why couldn’t I pull it together? Melanie told me she knew I could keep going. As we carried on back to camp, I kept noticing one of my lead dogs, Kånken, glancing back at me periodically. Most likely, she was wondering why I was riding the brake so hard and cutting into her joyride. But I also think she saw my nervousness and was checking in—“Hey, we’re in this together.”

Later that night over dinner, I learned that my struggle echoed that of past Polar expedition members; even highly capable people can crack under these conditions. Hence the importance of camaraderie and teamwork; your team, human and canine, has your back, and everyone pulls together to make it over the finish line.

Even for seasoned outdoorsy types, Polar is a wild adventure into the unknown. While you have the benefit of support, it’s not sugar-coated. The days are long, cold, and tiring. The going is smelly and gross; you don’t stop the team each time a dog needs to relieve itself if you catch my drift. Everyone is expected to pull their own weight.

But with the challenges come the rewards: sharing an indescribable experience with people from all over the world, gaining new skills, bonding with your dogs, and doing all this in one of the most captivating places on Earth. Like so many Polar participants, I walked away with a renewed sense of strength and empowerment. A few days prior, I only thought I was capable of going on a dog sledding expedition. But now, I knew. It takes hard work and fortitude, but it can be done. Bundled in sky-blue parkas, astride a sled, you can become Fjällräven’s namesake, the Arctic Fox: adaptable, resourceful, resilient.

How to Apply for Fjällräven Polar 2025

Applications for the Polar 2025 expedition are now open as of October 2024. Learn more about the expedition, hear from others who’ve participated, and register for your chance to participate here.