It’s already two months since I returned home from the trip. And while it seems an absolute age ago, I have been brought back to the extraordinary time I had by sorting my photos.

In my photo stories I am sharing my experiences by topic, rather than  simply uploading a chronology of photos.

Often people ask me for the one or two highlights of the trip.  This is a really hard question to answer, but I have been replying with two insights.

The first is the sheer remoteness of our voyage around Svalbard. Yes! We managed to complete a full circumnavigation, getting beyond 80 degrees north. I revelled in the remoteness, rarely seeing any other vessels, with the ship sometimes venturing (very carefully!) into uncharted waters. Certainly, there were no other vessels in the far north.

The landscape was rugged and harsh.

The cold was excruciating (particularly when we were exploring in the zodiacs).

It was absolutely amazing!

In one of these moments, I asked the guide if I could stand up in the zodiac (safety rules) to take a 365 degree video to show just how alone we were. The others also thought it was a great idea. So, Sergei came up with a better idea. We could all stay seated and he did a full revolution of the zodiac. Below is the result.

The second highlight was the stay at Eqi Glacier Lodge in Greenland. There is enough to say about this part of the trip to write a separate post, which I will do. Meanwhile, however, the sight and sound of the glacier from our cabin perched on the edge of the fjord will be unforgettable.

Remember there is 24 hours of daylight, so this extraordinary view is always visible. And as I relaxed and just looked, there was a regular dull rumbling as the glacier calved constantly.  Occasionally I would hear a loud crash and look up to scour the face of the glacier to glimpse where the ice had fallen from. With the delay in sound travel, it often meant that all I would see was the ‘smoke’ aftermath as the icefall dissipated.

Occasionally, though, there was a huge collapse. The volume of ice plummeting into the bay caused massive waves, which would eventually crash onto the shore, like a regular surf, shattering the otherwise dead calm water. 

Now that I have written this post, I am amazed all over again with trip I have just completed, and the adventure I have had. I am humbled by the sights I have seen as well as the enormity of the responsibility we have to preserve our wonderful planet.

I would like to think that I have been privileged to experience what Barry Lopez mentioned in his book, Arctic Dreams. (See post “Arctic Dreams” 27 February 2024)

“Whatever evaluation we finally make of a stretch of land, however, no matter how profound or accurate, we will find it inadequate. The land retains an identity of its own, still deeper and more subtle than we can know. Our obligation toward it then becomes simple: to approach with an uncalculating mind, with an attitude of regard. To try to sense the range and variety of its expression – its weather and colours and animals. To intend from the beginning to preserve some of the mystery within it as a kind of wisdom to be experienced, not questioned. And to be alert for its openings, for that moment when something sacred reveals itself within the mundane, and you know the land knows you are there.”