'Into the Ice' retraces the Northwest Passage with adventure and mystery
Mark Synnott’s Arctic expedition in Into the Ice merges high-seas adventure, personal reflection, and the enduring mystery of the Franklin expedition.
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Illustration by Juan MarÃa Coy |
By Anna Fadiah and Hayu Andini
In Into the Ice, Mark Synnott navigates the daunting Northwest Passage, offering readers a personal and gripping account of Arctic exploration. The book, which serves as both memoir and historical investigation, captures the tension of a 7,000-mile voyage across the Arctic while revisiting the centuries-old mystery of explorer John Franklin’s doomed expedition. For Synnott, Into the Ice is more than just a sailing adventure—it's a philosophical exploration of time, purpose, and what it means to seek out the unknown.
A postpandemic calling for adventure
Like many during the COVID-19 pandemic, Mark Synnott reassessed his priorities. Instead of settling into a quiet life at home, the veteran mountaineer and explorer decided to refurbish his aging fiberglass sailboat, the Polar Sun, and take on one of the most dangerous sea routes in the world: the Northwest Passage. Spanning from Maine to Alaska, the route is treacherous, unpredictable, and steeped in the lore of tragic expeditions past.
Synnott reflects on his decision to undertake the journey: “What do you really want to do with the time that you have left?” His answer combines the yearning for family life with an insatiable desire for epic exploration—a theme that runs throughout Into the Ice. With his second wife’s blessing and National Geographic’s funding, he set out to document the voyage through both prose and an accompanying television special.
Revisiting a 175-year-old Arctic mystery
Central to Into the Ice is the mystery of John Franklin’s 1845 expedition. Franklin set off from England to chart the Northwest Passage but vanished along with his crew when their ships became trapped in Arctic ice. “Not a single one of them made it out,” writes Synnott, underscoring the peril that still haunts the region. Although solving the mystery proves elusive, retracing the path—and holding fragments of its legacy—becomes a powerful narrative force throughout the book.
Synnott’s search leads him to Greenland, where serendipity introduces him to Danish sailors who possess a tangible artifact from a search party sent to find Franklin. A rusted steel cable from the Fox, an 1850s rescue vessel, is handed to Synnott, linking his modern voyage with a century-old tragedy. “If you look around,” one local tells him, “you might find the iron bollards that Franklin used.”
A perilous journey with a tight-knit crew
Knowing he lacked the solo sailing skills to make the trip safely, Synnott recruited Ben Zartman, an experienced sailor and longtime friend. The team also included a camera crew and other seasoned adventurers, creating a tight-knit crew navigating shifting ice floes and unpredictable weather. In one harrowing moment, the Polar Sun is nearly crushed by encroaching ice. Another boat, the much sturdier 50-foot aluminum vessel of Alan Cresswell, comes to their aid, guiding them to safety.
These collaborative moments are a testament to the camaraderie that such an expedition fosters. “Buddy-sailing” becomes not just a strategy for survival, but a theme of interdependence in the harsh Arctic world.
Immersive storytelling amid ice and reflection
Synnott’s writing plunges readers into the icy waters with vivid detail. Upon crossing the Arctic Circle, the crew strips down and dives into the frigid ocean, a celebration of passage and resilience. “We all stripped down and jumped off the stern, hooting and hollering,” he writes, capturing both the thrill and madness of the experience.
But beyond the physical extremes, Into the Ice is filled with philosophical inquiry. Synnott wrestles with the role of exploration in a modern, environmentally fragile world. He acknowledges that the success of his journey is only possible due to man-made global warming. As ice melts, the once-impassable Northwest Passage opens, revealing a sobering irony—his epic adventure is also a product of environmental degradation.
Confronting the ethics of exploration
Synnott is not blind to the contradictions of his journey. He reflects on an essay by high-latitude sailor John Harries, who likened modern Arctic adventurers to Everest tourists—more interested in bragging rights than understanding the land. “Was I really all that different?” Synnott wonders, confessing that he had in fact climbed Everest and now was seeking the sailing equivalent.
This introspection makes Into the Ice more than just an adventure tale. It questions the motivations behind exploration in the 21st century and whether such quests, fueled by personal ambition, can coexist with genuine respect for nature and history.
Family, freedom, and future voyages
The final chapters of Into the Ice bring the narrative full circle, as Synnott reunites with his family in Alaska. After 112 days and over 6,700 nautical miles, he may not have uncovered the full story of John Franklin, but he found something else—a renewed commitment to a life of movement and wonder.
In a surprising turn, Synnott shares his plans to continue sailing with his family. “Hampton and I put our house in New Hampshire up for rent, sold our cars, and pulled Tommy out of school,” he writes. “And with any luck, by the time you’re reading this, we’ll be on our way to the South Pacific.”
The final message of Into the Ice is not one of closure but of continuity. Exploration, after all, is never really finished. It's a state of mind, a commitment to curiosity and courage. With Into the Ice, Synnott delivers a modern-day Arctic epic that blends high-seas peril, historical reverence, and emotional depth—all anchored by the ever-shifting ice that both traps and reveals.
Whether you’re drawn to the brutal beauty of the Arctic, the enduring puzzle of Franklin’s fate, or the call of a life less ordinary, Into the Ice makes a compelling case that adventure still lives—even if the map is more filled in than it used to be.