In 1897, at the height of the heroic age of Arctic exploration, the visionary Swedish explorer S. A. Andrée made a revolutionary attempt to discover the North Pole by flying over it in a hydrogen balloon. Thirty-three years later, his expedition diaries and papers would be discovered on the ice.   Alec Wilkinson uses the explorer’s papers and contemporary sources to tell the full story of this ambitious voyage, while also showing how the late 19th century’s spirit of exploration and scientific discovery drove over 1,000 explorers to the unforgiving Arctic landscape. Suspenseful and haunting, Wilkinson captures Andrée’s remarkable adventure and illuminates the detail, beauty, and devastating conditions of traveling and dwelling on the ice. “Riveting. . . . Superb storytelling. . . . A bone-chilling account of a journey gone terribly bad in the harshest conditions possible.” — The Minneapolis Star Tribune   “Gripping. . . . When you consider what these people went through, it is hard not to admire their resilience, optimism and determination, but also to question their sanity. That is what makes such stories as Andrée's so compelling.” — The Seattle Times “Wilkinson writes with insight and flair . . . . He understands that the value of polar stories . . . [lies] in our endless love of discovery and the drama of being human .” —The New York Times Book Review   “That rare work of nonfiction whose sublimely understated writing rivals the inherent drama of its subject matter. . . . [Wilkinson’s] book couldn’t be more riveting.” — The Toronto Star “Fabulous. . . . One feels guilty having so much fun reading about such harrowing voyages.” —The Boston Globe   “Fast-moving and often heartbreaking.” — The Columbus Dispatch “Wilkinson’s writing is so flawless and engaging that I’d read him on a packed subway at rush hour.” —Sebastian Junger “Alec Wilkinson is a spare, clear, and lucid writer who works in stylistic simplicity with material that is not simple at all.” —Peter Matthiessen “ The Ice Balloon  captures a time and place unknown to us now and, in elegant, low-key prose, offers an inspiring narrative of exploration and the indomitable human spirit.” — Highbrow Magazine “An eminently tellable story that is a perfect match for [Wilkinson’s] spare and evocative style. . . . It’s possible to forget that today’s adventure tourists are following trails once traveled only by heroes, fools, and dreamers.” — Natural History “Captivating. . . . A thrilling account of a remarkable man.”— Publishers Weekly  “A fine addition to the annals of polar exploration.” — Booklist  (starred review) “Entertaining and extremely well written, this captivating story about an obscure Arctic expedition is an essential purchase for all avid readers of exploration and polar literature.” — Library Journal  (starred review) Alec Wilkinson began writing for  The New Yorker  in 1980. Before that he was a policeman in Wellfleet, Massachusetts, and before that he was a rock-and-roll musician. He has published nine other books—two memoirs, two collections of essays, three biographical portraits, and two pieces of reporting—most of which first appeared in  The New Yorker.  His honors include a Guggenheim Fellowship, a Lyndhurst Prize, and a Robert F. Kennedy Book Award. He lives with his wife and son in New York City. Chapter 1 In August of 1930, a Norwegian sloop, the Bratvaag , sailing in the Arctic Ocean, stopped at a remote island called White Island. The Bratvaag was partly on a scientific mission, led by a geologist named Dr. Gunnar Horn, and partly out sealing. On the second day, the sealers followed some walruses around a point of land. A few hours later, they returned with a book, which was sodden and heavy, and had its pages stuck together. The book was a diary, and on the first page someone had written in pencil, "The Sledge Journey, 1897." Horn rode to shore with the Bratvaag 's captain, who said that two sealers dressing walruses had grown thirsty and gone looking for water. By a stream, Horn wrote, they found "an aluminum lid, which they picked up with astonishment," since White Island was so isolated that almost no one had ever been there. Continuing, they saw something dark protruding from a snowdrift-an edge of a canvas boat. The boat was filled with ice, but within it could be seen a number of books, two shotguns, some clothes and aluminum boxes, a brass boathook, and a surveyor's tool called a theodolite. Several of the objects had been stamped with the phrase "Andrée's Pol. Exp. 1896." Near the boat was a body. It was leaning against a rock, with its legs extended, and it was frozen. On its feet were boots, partly covered by snow. Very little but bones remained of the torso and arms. The head was missing, and clothes were scattered around, leading Horn to conclude that bears had disturbed the remains. He and the others carefully opened the jacket the corpse was wearing, and when they saw a large monogram