I had never placed the Arctic on my personal bucket list. It seemed like the sort of place reserved for men with beards full of frost and very specific opinions about seal meat.
And yet there I was, absurdly happy, standing in a wind sharp enough to leave some blood, surrounded by pack ice glowing under the midnight sun.
In Svalbard, the launch spot, we found a jazz club at the edge of the world, because apparently the polar night is cooler than just cold. The landscape itself was so quiet it felt less empty than sacred. I had come north by accident, or curiosity, or poor planning. I stayed awake because the sun refused to set, and because, to my astonishment, I didn’t want to miss a thing. This is a test of The Ocean Lab’s blog. And you’re one of our first readers.
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