It’s inevitable that, being writers focused not only travel, but on place, we’ve written a fair bit on this blog about worldwide effects of global warming and climate change, paying particular attention to the melting of Arctic ice. Steve posted recently about the opening of the Northwest Passage, and I wondered about the effect the warming of cold places will have on travel writing. The chilly north has been much on the mind.

So it was with no great surprise that I received my November issue of Toronto-based The Walrus and saw that it was a special issue devoted to the Arctic.

Canada has a particular relationship with the Arctic and its peoples, one that hasn’t always had a pretty history. But the articles in this issue are focused less on Canada’s past use of its natural resources and repressing of indigenous populations than they are on the way Canada is going to have to think about its Arctic lands in the future.

The articles move from memoir to travel to politics to climate change to Canada’s molasses-like approach to developing an Arctic policy. An excellent selection of writers focus particularly on the Inuit populations in the north, their opinions of climate change and what role they will play when Canada turns its ponderous thoughts to previously frozen resources, the Northwest Passage, and the inevitable political battles that will ensue.

It occurs to me as I make my way through a hefty, well-respected magazine devoted entirely to a region that was previously as remote in thought as it was in location, that the coming century will see more than just a rebalance of powers. There will be that in spades, with Russia already staking claim to oil on the North Pole’s floor and the US traipsing its way through the Northwest Passage to flaunt Canada’s inability to claim sovereignty over its waters.

But what we are really seeing is a rebalance in thought. In modern history humankind has only ever thought of our poles as remote and inaccessible. And cold. And adventurous. No longer. Now they are becoming places that we think about — symbols of planetary destruction, sure, but also places in their own rights, destinations and locations that, before, we thought of as only for intrepid explorers and fur-wearing natives. Now those fur-wearing natives are seeing their homes, their lifestyle, their art and their thoughts become part of the world’s mainstream conversation as never before.

The Walrus is currently in the vanguard of this thought shift. Rather than focusing purely on melting polar caps and political battles, this issue gives weight to the Inuit perspective, studying climate change and its effects on Canada from the Inuit point of view. Writers travel from Labrador, to Wales, Alaska (the US’s northernmost town), to Siberia, to Moscow, back to Nunavut and everywhere in between, bringing a comprehensive issue that is one of the most thought-provoking and refreshing magazine issues from anywhere in a very long time. To me, it is a bellweather of the future, an indication of where our politics, art, literature, and, unfortunately, conflicts, will take place in the coming century.

As always, you can sign up for a free ten-day trial of The Walrus by going to the website. This time, however, I recommend ordering this issue if you can. It’s going to be one to keep and refer to for years to come.

Even the dumbest Republican president has to admit that we are in the middle of unprecedented global warming - accelerated, if not caused by our soaring carbon dioxide emissions and use of fossil fuels. As if any proof were needed, 2007 has seen one of the most shocking single events yet brought about by global warming: the shrinking of the polar ice cap to such a level that the fabled North West Passage is now navigable. The passage, which can provide a fast route from Europe and the Americas to Asia, was not expected by scientists to be clear of ice before 2040, but a Canadian research vessel has just completed a complete transit. On board was BBC reporter David Shukman, and you can read his blog here.

Not only is the opening of the North West Passage a chilling indicator of just how far global warming has progressed, but it is already causing conflict between nations, with Canada claiming it as part of it’s territorial waters, and Russia and the USA claiming the right to use it. There have been a number of theories that global warming will push developing nations into conflict over water, territory and food, but it seems that the so-called developed nations are not above a little global warming-induced teritorial spat.

Words & polar bear picture © Steve Davey/stevedavey.com 2007

I can’t put this better than one of my favorite regular bloggers, Patrick Smith of Ask the Pilot. Today’s column addresses a whole hodgepodge of news and issues, including frustration with our sheep-like acceptance of the Transportation Security Administration’s new security alerts and a rundown of the World Airline Awards. But this one takes the cake: airlines are now offering round-the-world routings that make a point of avoiding the US. Patrick puts it better than I can:

‘ “Air New Zealand Offers Round-the-World Routing Avoiding the U.S.” That was a recent headline from U.K.-based Business Traveler magazine. For the past several years, fliers bound from Australia and New Zealand to Europe by way of U.S. stopovers have been raising a ruckus about security policies that require all passengers, even those merely in transit to other countries, to clear U.S. immigration formalities — a process that includes fingerprinting, photographing and baggage rechecking. Air New Zealand has responded with the launch of a service from Auckland to Europe with a hassle-free transfer at Vancouver, British Columbia, eliminating its long-standing Auckland-Los Angeles-London route. Air Canada is following suit with a nonstop Vancouver-Sydney flight, bypassing its traditional layover in Hawaii, which, in the words of the magazine, “will enable global travelers to avoid the United States.” What have we come to?’

Indeed. Quite a number of the letter responses are from frustrated international travelers cheering their new options. In fact, the post reminded that my own mother, who is meant to come to New York to welcome her grandchild in October, has put her foot down at flying through the US. “I simply won’t do it,” she told me. “I won’t fly here. It’s horrible.” (And unsafe, she feels, and intrusive, and soul-draining.) By which she means that she actually prefers to drive 9 hours from Montana to Calgary, Alberta, then fly or take the train to Toronto, take a train to Albany, and have me pick her up for the two-hour ride home. Of course, my mother’s a bit eccentric, but reading the letter in reaction to Smith’s column tells me she’s not alone.

I have just got back from Bangkok, where for the first time I passed through the new Suvarnabhumi Airport. This was kind of sad for me. I loved the old Don Muang airport. Nor because it was particularly a good airport, but because it became so familiar to me over the years that I loosely based myself in BKK whilst exploring and photographing Asia. One of the things I really liked about Don Muang was that there was a golf course incorporated into the airside. Not because I play golf, but I liked the logic of combing the two great wastes of space in the modern world – golf courses and airports. I got a buzz out of coming into land and watching people teeing off. I also liked the long hamster-tunnel between the domestic and international terminals and the crappy range of shops and fast food joints.

The new airport is a masterpiece of the airport designers art. Everything seems to be thought of, except of course atmosphere. It is also packed with that bane of modern existence – ugly, explicit signage. It got me thinking about just how much signage there is in the world. In the UK where I live, it seems that everything has to have a sign, and the more simple that people try to make signs, the more stupid they are. In Euro-land, the universal sign for a zoo is a silhouette of an elephant. But this must be used for every vaguely wildlife-based attraction. Heading for the butterfly farm? Then you must follow the elephant signs. In the egalitarian world that is Euro-land, all has to be equal. Now everyone from all over Europe can be just as confused and disappointed by the lack of elephants at the butterfly park, no matter what language they speak.

Signage is looked at as a benign helpful thing, yet in reality it is all about control. Telling me to walk this way is an implied way of telling me not to walk that way. That sign that is supposed to be on my side, is actually telling me to tow the line, to follow the crowd, to behave myself.

There is a hardcore of people who don’t tow the line. They try to go to places where they are not supposed to go, not to cause damage or to steal anything, but for the most noble of reasons – because it is there. This is the spirit that lead mankind to climb Everest or trek to the North and South poles. This is the spirit that lead to the discovery of Victoria Falls, the rediscovery of Angkor Wat and the exploration of space.

This is urban discovery, and it has its own website and magazine. inflitration.org is a sprawling website of modern day urban exploration. Broken down into categories, it gives information on how to mooch around abandoned sites, boats, churches, drains & catacombs, hotels & hospitals and various tunnels.

There is a great section on how to get into hotel pools without being a guest. The website is run by Canadians and focuses on Toronto, but the tips will hold true in hotels around the world.

If you ever find yourself in Paris, probably the best feature on the site is about Paris Catacombs, by Murray Battle. These were dug in the Roman times, used for storing bones when the cemeteries were full, and as a base for the Maquis – the French Resistance during the German occupation, that seemingly every able-bodied French person belonged to once the war had finished. Parts of the catacombs are open for tours, but predictably this tour goes seriously off-piste, exploring parts of the Catacombs that are ostensibly closed. It is a tremendous yarn and shows that you don’t have to head to far flung, remote destinations to find a little adventure.

Words & image of Paris Catacombs ©stevedavey.com 2007

It is too often the case that those interested in travel writing neglect fiction. Yet we all claim to uphold the definition that travel writing is about “character of place,” which fiction such as Wayne Johnston’s often fulfills more completely than any number of travel narratives. Fiction and memoirs by a native delve deeply into the nature of place; narrative by an outsider can only ever skim the surfaces. If you plan on traveling to Newfoundland, or are just curious, I can’t recommend Johnston’s books highly enough.

Johnston, who expanded onto the international literary map with his novel The Colony of Unrequited Dreams and memoir Baltimore’s Mansion, is a native of Newfoundland, and the island figures prominently as a character in his books. Baltimore’s Mansion was, hands down, one of the best memoirs I have ever read, one that drew the reader into breathing the very air of Newfoundland; The Colony of Unrequited Dreams set us in the rich, embattled history of the island’s struggles for survival and independence, and the influential people that shaped its character.

The Custodian of Paradise fills in another half of the story told in Colony. Main character Sheilagh Fielding is like Newfoundland itself: fiercely independent, lonely, a little introverted, proud, and made of the kind of beauty that is best left untamed. The novel opens with Fielding as an adult escaping not only society but her own haunted past. With trunks full of old notebooks and the booze that has nearly destroyed her health, she escapes to a solitary rock of an island long ago deserted by its inhabitants. From there, she reviews her past with narrative that is as riveting as it is strange, and waits for a stranger, a man who has tracked her steps for nearly twenty years.

A book like this can only be written well — here, even masterfully — by a person who is part and parcel of the land he or she comes from, an author who follows the Willa Cather precept that writers’ best works should come from the land beneath their feet, from the landscape that created them. Johnston has written other, lighter novels, but this one, like the rest of his best work, exudes the lonely, proud island on every page.

The Custodian of Paradise came out in Canada last fall, and is being released in the U.S. and U.K. this month.