I spent a long time staring at this blank screen. I get drawn to remote, cold, uninhabitable places, and I have the sinking feeling that I need to go see them before it’s too late and all we have left is someone else’s memories of what it used to be.

The irony that my desire to conquer mountaintops is contributing to said problems isn’t lost on me.

Truth be told, I felt extremely at odds with the nauseatingly large consumption of fuel and resources that powered me getting to Antarctica. We know our actions are changing climate patterns. All of these actions have consequences, and particularly here I felt conflicted between not adding more to that consumption, but also wanting to witness what the place felt like before we inevitably destroy it.

Is this the traveler's prisoner's dilemma?

Antarctic landscapes gave way to new standard of pristine. I could blame the teary eyed moments on the bright sun, but in reality it was something else. Technically it’s just a bunch of ice and rock, and yet you stumble upon a moment that touches you in unexpected ways.

Antarctica had one of those moments every day.

I can’t describe it in words, so here’s some of my favorite shots from 12+ landings across 2 weeks.

Hard to describe, and even harder to forget.

This story ends bittersweet. A dance party - on a helipad, under the midnight sun, in one of the last pristine places in our world.