Part 11: Spotting reindeer
Early the next morning, we come across a caravan of several large trucks with giant wheels, a mobile fuel tank and a trailer. The trucks are set up to do seismic testing, and we discover a crew of men who have been exploring the region's oil potential for several months, sent here by a company in St. Petersburg. One of the engineers eagerly invites us into his trailer and offers us a hot drink. He is thrilled to have company and we are thrilled at the unexpected hospitality. Instant coffee never tasted so good! After a short rest for our drivers, we leave the small camp in the middle of nowhere.

A hundred miles later, the sun is so bright and the day so clear, I open the top hatch of our vezdekhod and hoist myself up onto the roof. With my down parka and hat, it's not too cold, and I soak up the sun and views of boundless, rolling hills. I stay here for hours, until suddenly; our vehicle takes a sharp turn to the right. In the distance I see a slope covered in small dark spots, and realize that Igor has spotted a reindeer herd!

As we approach the herd I see a single person swiftly crossing the top of a distant hill toward the herd. He must be wondering what on earth this pair of loud green vehicles is doing in his "neighborhood." Up close, we can see he is the keeper of these domesticated caribou, or reindeer. He is a Chukchi herder, and introduces himself simply as Nikolai.

Nikolai tells us that earlier in the day, we could have seen other herders. But they've broken camp, taking down their collapsible yarangas (reindeer-skin, yurt-like homes) in order to move the female reindeer to a new area where they will calve. Nikolai has stayed behind with the males of the herd.

Herding has been practiced in Chukotka for centuries, although during the Soviet period it became a state-run enterprise, with government intervention and forced modernization. Subsidies provided the reindeer "Brigades" with snowmobiles, helicopters, fuel and other supplies. But they brought new policies of collectivization and forced many herders to replace nomadic ways with village-based sedentary herding methods.

With the collapse of the Soviet Union the subsidies vanished, and herd numbers declined significantly. Today the herding seems to be a mix of traditional and modern. The herders move across large expanses, taking their herd from winter to spring to summer pasture grounds. They continue to live in the customary yaranga, living off the meat and products of the reindeer.
In Kamchatka, the province to the south of Chukotka, WWF is working with reindeer herders to support the conservation of traditional arts and crafts and develop strategies that will allow them to market some of these products. The project also has created a mechanism to engage the herders in protecting some of the wilderness areas important for grazing their reindeer.

Part 1: Arrival in the North
As I look out the plane window, I see nothing but white. A huge expanse of snow-covered tundra hugs the still-frozen Anadyr Bay, the summer home to a large population of beluga whales, migratory waterfowl, and many fish, including salmon. It has been a long a nine-hour flight from Moscow to Anadyr, the capital of Chukotka.

Chukotka is one of Russia's 89 provinces, located in the far northeast beyond Siberia. It's a huge area - larger than France and Switzerland combined - with a population of only 50,000. At this location in Russia, Alaska - where I live - is relatively close. In fact, at the Bering Strait, the narrow opening at the top of the Bering Sea, Alaska and Russia are just 50 miles apart! However, despite the close proximity of these two countries, there are no direct flights across the Bering Sea. And since I wasn't prepared to walk or ski across the frozen sea, I had to fly around the world to reach this remote land.

I am are here to start an expedition my colleague Viktor Nikiforov, Director of regional programs from WWF- Russia, and I have organized. Viktor's is a "Jack of all trades" in conservation, with over 20 years of experience in the Arctic. With us is a group of polar bear biologists from the Russian Institute of Nature Conservation, the Chukotka Research Institute for Fisheries and Oceanography, and the US Fish and Wildlife Service in Alaska. Also joining us are a senior advisor to the Governor of Chukotka, and a journalist, photographer and interpreter from The New York Times.

We are here as part of an ambitious effort to protect and study polar bears in the face of numerous challenges - foremost being the tremendous change in polar bears' sea ice habitat. On our trip we will visit with members of an Arctic community with whom WWF has developed a pilot "bear patrol" program. We will hold a seminar on human-bear conflict management, and complete the planning and documentation for a protected area on the Arctic coast.

Upon landing, we are met in the airport by Julia Potemkina, a science teacher at the local high school and leader of WWF's kids clubs in the region. The school's kids and science teachers love WWF and make us all feel like celebrities during our visit! Also greeting us is Vladilen ("Vlad") Kavriy, one of WWF's main partners in polar bear conservation. Vlad has traveled from his home on the Arctic coast to accompany us over 370 miles north to our final destination - the village of Vankarem on the Chukchi Sea coast.

It will be a long and tough journey to Vankarem across the vast frozen tundra. To make the trip we will use military tracked vehicles called vezdekhods. Vezdekhod literally means "go everywhere" and this is the only reliable way we can reach our distant location at this time of year. One of our drivers for this expedition is Igor Ostranitsa. He gives me a huge bear hug when he sees me. On my last trip, Igor had been our driver, demonstrating his exceptional navigational skills in a white-out blizzard. Fortunately for us, both Igor and our second driver Sergey have converted their vezdekhods for passenger use. Carpeted walls and a cushioned floor mute some of the engine's noise and make it possible to sit comfortably in back. There are even windows!

We split into two groups, choose our vezdekhod, and set off across the frozen bay. As the sun sinks into the violet hills, our vehicles churn for miles through deep snow. We take the occasional stop to stretch and have a snack, and try to fall asleep in between breaks.