Though Polyarny means “Polar”, we were actually not that far north - not even within the Arctic Circle. Still, a good opportunity for a “hello, this was me” Google Maps screenshot.



After taking our celebratory picture in front of the Polyarny airport, P and I quickly explored the outside of the airport, which didn’t have too much in the way of attractions. A stone with a plaque commemorated the 25th anniversary of the airport in 2000.



It was not a blistering cold but rather frigid, especially coming from more temperate climes and after inadequate sleep, and I was certainly glad to retrieve a down jacket from its storage in the bowels of my backpack.

The airport steps were painted a colourful gradient, perhaps simply to improve visibility in the rather bleak surroundings.



Here, unlike all other airports I had visited on this trip so far, there was no security to enter the airport terminal - an indication of how far North it takes to be considered “safe”. There were printed sheets of paper taped to every possible surface, however, pronouncing (only in Russian) that there is camera surveillance and absolutely not to take any photos - “We Are Watching You”. The unknown enemy is much more frightening than the visible one, so my pictures were unusually poor on this instance.

The pre-security area was plain, without any adornments, while the check-in “desks” were unusual hole-in-the-wall offices - like a currency exchange booth.





There was a small souvenir store with a chatty lady; she was intrigued to find us in Polyarny. The store had magnets depicting the very Tu-134 we had flown with a stylized “Полярный”. The aircraft was photographed landing in Polyarny on a day not unlike this one (white, light snow), so of course we bought one each. Since she was the only employee beyond the surly officials of the airline and the state, we inquired whether there was a postbox somewhere. “No, but I can take them into town and mail them for you, if you’d like”. She loved the postcards and wondered where they had been acquired; since I had an extra unwritten one I gave it to her, eliciting more gratitude than I would have expected.

The check-in line was moving slowly, and there was no urgent need to go through security, so we wandered around, finding a baggage-wrapping station - even here, cling-wrapped luggage is a necessity!

Since airplane toilets are for taking pictures of, not for actual use, I went off on a quest to locate the airports facilities. No signage existed, of course, but as usual, following the stream of people led to the room. A typical feature of former Soviet airports are long hallways at both ends of the check-in hall, for unknown reasons. They have this unexplored feel to them, a sort of aura and mystique of what may lie behind that unmarked doorway…



A wonderful vintage Soviet payphone still adorned a wall - unfortunately long disconnected, but a lasting original element of this building.





With only about thirty minutes left to departure, we queued for check-in and retrieved only part of a boarding pass - the stub was immediately torn off by the check-in agent. “Airports of the North” - a memorable card stock!



Posted at the check-in desk was an informative placard listing relevant rules: “travellers may have a maximum of two dogs and any guns must be handed over to inspection”.

Next was the typical assortment of safety checks, this time in a rather unusual arrangement. First, “Miss Polyarny” (a rather attractive young lady adorned with a fur throw and client of a local botox clinic) checked the (remaining) boarding pass against your passport and placed the ever-important stamp. Next, on the opposite side, another lady with a computer monitor checked us off of a list of passengers. Finally, the “official” passport check on the briefcase-computer. This far north, uniforms are not a priority, and even the government employee was simply wearing a black t-shirt. The final step was security, a roulette as usual, on this instance challenging us with an unusually sensitive metal detector.

The room right after the security check was full of people standing shoulder to shoulder, but everybody was respecting the signs on the parapet - “no sitting”. Just a touch further was a sort of conservatory, an added glass structure, where there was absolutely no one and we were able to take tarmac pictures unimpeded. A massive snowplow caught my eye, a rather mean-looking machine, which could definitely eat a man for breakfast.



Literally moments after our arrival, boarding was initiated by the simple action of opening a door onto the tarmac. The herd instinct kicked in, and everybody filed through the open door and headed towards the aircraft.



Careful as always, I managed to sneak in some pictures heading towards the aircraft.



A close-up shot of the beautiful maintained and painted UAZ airstairs.



Upon arrival in Polyarny for the layover, the engines were immediately covered with wooden covers. Only after boarding was completed and we were ready for departure were the covers removed once again.



This time, we elected to sit in the “exit row” - judging by original Tu-134 pictures, this was actually the historical location of a mid-cabin bulkhead, and the outline of it remained in this retrofitted aircraft.

Sitting on the right, I enjoyed taking in the sight of the Polyarny airport and of this dog happily running around the tarmac. The owner was the snowplough driver, and the German shepherd mutt happily jumped into the cab of the truck once the door was swung open.





Taking a close look at the buildings adjacent to the runway - in Soviet days this would have been spying.



A 180-degree turn at the end of the runway presented a view of the undulating runway and surrounding snow-covered landscape.



Racing past the terminal building on our take-off roll, I noticed the Angara An-148 had followed us to Polyarny! Today was a busy aviation day in Alrosa-world…



After a final look at the white boreal forest, the flight was completely uneventful, and I must admit we were knocked out cold by the many experiences fo the past hours and didn’t actually see anything inflight.



Sitting on the right, I didn’t get the “gaping-hole” view on this landing, but there was still plenty of entertainment. The meeting of plane with land was so violent that beyond the rattles and shakes, an entire panel above me crashed open, held loosely in place only with one hinge. The surly Russian man seated beside me immediately proceeded to try to fix this panel. He would not give up, and brusquely enlisted the help of surrounding passengers to put the panel back in place, to no avail.



We had asked our friendly flight attendant to see the cockpit, and our wishes were granted after landing in Mirny. Our instructions were to wait for the cockpit crew to leave, but thereafter we could enjoy the (rather cramped) quarters of the three-man cockpit freely.









Not wishing to risk the ire of the photography overlords a third time in one day, I refrained from taking any more photos - especially since all eyes were already pointed at us, seeing as we had held up the entire planeload of passengers on the bus while we happily visited the cockpit.