Anyone who travels very much learns quickly that things don’t always go as planned. One of the great things about traveling is that it teaches you to think on your feet and to be adaptable. It also teaches you that your plans are often meaningless; you can plan a trip down to the last detail and nature or circumstances can undo those plans in an instant.

Single shot, focal length 14 mm, aperture f/2.8, shutter speed 15 seconds, ISO 3200, tripod.

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The trip to Greenland taught me early on that plans weren’t worth much as I lay shivering under layer of clothes and blankets in the cold as the crew worked to get the boat running. And once we made it to Tasermiut Fjord, almost every day was a lesson in humility as we adjusted our plans to weather and circumstances.

One of my greatest wishes for the trip was to see the Aurora Borealis, or the Northern Lights. I’ve seen them in countless photographs, but I wanted the chance to photograph them myself. I looked forward to standing at one of the remote ends of the earth with the brilliant, ethereal lights pirouetting in the sky overhead. Early in the trip, the other photographers and I scouted a location that we thought would be perfect should the lights decide to make an appearance. After that, it was just a matter of waiting and hoping.

Several nights into the trip, the captain knocked on our doors and shouted, “It’s shining!” Groggy but excited, we all dressed in the darkness then headed to the Zodiac which would take us to the location we’d already pinpointed. The Northern Lights were bright overhead and just as beautiful as I’d hoped they would be.

But the lights were fickle. By the time we reached our location, they had faded so as to barely be visible. I was disappointed that I didn’t get the chance to capture them in a photograph, but we decided to stay and shoot some nightscapes, which were vivid and lovely even without the Northern Lights. I was grateful simply to have seen them.

Sometimes, things just don’t go as planned.

As I said in an earlier post, Greenland was a challenge. Getting there was a challenge. Being there — while exhilarating — was also a challenge. But I hadn’t yet seen just how difficult the island could be. On our first couple of days in Greenland, our forays were limited to relatively short hikes away from the water’s edge, on terrain that was devoid of people but posed no serious impediment to our movement. But on our third day there, we encountered our first truly difficult experience on the island. It was also one of the most rewarding.

Single shot, focal length 16 mm, aperture f/11, shutter speed 6 seconds, ISO 64, tripod.

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Hiking in Greenland is different than hiking anywhere else I’ve ever been. The southern part of the island is almost completely forested and there are no trails or routes for hikers. Hiking in southern Greenland means that you are left to make your way through birches and moss and that the hike you think will take two hours may take twice that long.

As we moved onto steeper elevation, we found ourselves wading through dense birch forests on a sharp incline, all while carrying heavy camera gear in a backpack. My tripod, at least, was a help to me — as the incline became steeper, I used it as a walking stick to help me in my ascent.

After five hours of hiking up difficult terrain, we still had not reached the desired peak. It was tough going at this point — the slope was nearly vertical and making progress required climbing with both hands. I was grateful for the dense moss under my boots; there were places where it seemed the traction provided by the moss was the only thing keeping me from tumbling hundreds of feet to the ground.

The last light of day was beginning to fade and we had not yet reached the very top, but we stopped. After five hours of difficult climbing, we were determined to get photographs over Tasermiut, even if they were not exactly what we planned. With a newfound respect for the hardy people who make a home in Greenland, I set up my tripod and began photographing the fjord as twilight descended.

Back on the yacht, after what was undoubtedly the most difficult hike of my life, I opened two bottles of red wine I’d brought with me from the airport. If there was ever a time that I deserved some celebratory libations, my first real hike in southern Greenland was that time!

Shortly after we arrived, southern Greenland had its first snow of the season. So I arrived there just in time to encounter a landscape dusted with hoarfrost, as if touched by the hands of fairies. Overnight, southern Greenland — magnificent in any condition — was transformed into a landscape of a fantasist’s imaginings.

Single shot, focal length 17 mm, aperture f/11, shutter speed 1/4, ISO 64, tripod.

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On my first day in Greenland, I explored places that seemed never to have been inhabited. The second day’s explorations brought us to an even more remote part of the island where there are virtually no people, an area of almost pure wilderness. It wasn’t difficult to imagine what the earliest explorers to Greenland must felt as they stood in awe of a landscape that might have been created by the gods.

But no matter how stunned we were by our surroundings, we had practical matters to consider. For one, we had to find food far from inhabitable villages in Tasermiut Fjord. We brought food with us on the boat, but it was limited, which meant our meals would either be rather meager or would have to be supplemented by whatever could be found in the rivers and damp earth of Greenland. So each day, while the photographers were out shooting, the crew gathered mushrooms and caught salmon in the streams and cod in the fjord.

By the end of my second day in Greenland, I was adjusting to life away from civilization and modernity. The trade-off for leaving modern conveniences behind was worth it; I was largely cut off from the twenty-first century but in exchange for that I had been given a chance to experience a nearly unknown part of the world.

I was exhausted from travel and a mostly sleepless night in the cold, but as soon as we walked ashore at Tasermiut, I forgot about all of that. It was impossible to think of mundane concerns in the presence of such natural splendor. I’ve seen incredible places around the world, but the fjords of Southern Greenland have to be among the most epic locations I’ve ever photographed.

Single shot, focal length 14 mm, aperture f/11, shutter speed 2.5 seconds, ISO 31, tripod.

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This part of Greenland is considered one of the Ten Wonders of the Arctic, and with good reason. Striking sapphire blue water is surrounded by formidable cliff walls — the “Big Walls” that are a prized destination for climbers. Hiking deeper into the landscape, you eventually reach cascades and waterfalls in a geography that appears untouched by human hands.

Tasermiut reminded me of Patagonia, particularly Fitz Roy and Cerro Torre, the astonishing spires I’d photographed on that trip. The landscapes were so similar that I began thinking of Greenland as Northern Patagonia. In Patagonia, I’d imagined that I was seeing the most astounding example of nature’s handiwork, but Greenland proved me wrong.

This first foray into Tasermiut was shortly after dawn. In the early morning, it was a quiet, unpeopled place, and I could almost imagine that we were the first humans to touch this landscape. Getting to the cascades, like reaching Greenland itself, required some effort — we hiked for a half hour or so before we began to hear the rushing water.

Greenland was a challenge; nothing about it was easy. But by the end of my first full day there, none of that mattered. I was enthralled by the unspoiled beauty of Greenland and ready to see more.

When I awoke in the morning, the yacht’s engine was repaired and running again and we headed out into open water. That day and the following evening weren’t much more restful than my first night on the boat had been; the sea was rough and the yacht, which wasn’t terribly warm even with the heating working, was cold as it pitched back and forth on the waves.

Single shot, focal length 16 mm, aperture f/8, shutter speed 0.5 seconds, ISO 64, tripod.

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The boat — designed to withstand Arctic conditions rather than to offer creature comforts — was spartan, with small spaces and very basic bathrooms. But I adjusted quickly — the point of the trip, after all, was to get to Greenland safely, not to relax in comfort on a luxury yacht.

Once we left the open sea and entered Tasermiut Fjord, which cuts a deep blue vein into Greenland’s landscape, our conditions were completely different. The water was calm and it seemed that we were sailing on a perfectly still surface. Remarkably beautiful and surrounded by two long, mountainous peninsulas, the fjord seemed a world away from the ominous waters of the North Atlantic.

Two days of choppy seas and little sleep had taken a toll on me. As we sailed into Tasermiut Fjord, I was weary and lightheaded. But as we boarded the Zodiac — a special rubber boat that would take us from the yacht to the shore — I also felt slivers of anticipation. This was a once-in-a-lifetime trip to a place most people will never see, and if I had experienced difficulties in getting there, I knew it would be worth it in the end.

I hadn’t left the yacht and I was already stupefied by the incredible landscape around me.

My travels have taken me all over the world, but remarkably, the expedition to Greenland was the first time I’d ever found myself in a boat. As I had spent my entire life with my feet planted firmly on the ground, I had nothing with which to compare the yacht, but my traveling companions — five photographers, including Daniel, and four crew members — assured me that it was a boat like no other. Designed for safety and security in the formidable conditions of the Arctic, the Peter I featured a complete absence of comfort for its passengers.

Focus stack from 2 shots, focal length 14 mm, aperture f/11, shutter speed 1/15, ISO 64, tripod.

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I expected adventure on the trip, but I didn’t expect the adventures to begin before the trip commenced. We arrived at the yacht in the afternoon and our journey was to begin that night. As we prepared to set out, however, the crew discovered that the engine would not start. On a boat like this, the crew must be self-sufficient, and it was quite a spectacle, watching them open the floors and work on the engine throughout the night.

Calls were made to St. Petersburg and eventually someone from another yacht in Narssarssuaq was brought in to help with repairs. The crew worked through the night, and while they worked, the photographers slept — or tried to. We quickly learned that as long as the engine was not working, neither was the heating. And if you ever find yourself in a boat in the Arctic with no working heat, I assure you that it gets very cold!

I put on all the clothes I brought for the trip, then wrapped myself in two blankets and attempted to sleep. It was a mostly sleepless night, but at some point in the early morning hours, I drifted off into an uneasy rest.

In my career as a photographer, I’ve visited some places that are definitely off the beaten path. I’ve been fortunate to get to some remote locations, including some that required more than the usual amount of planning and effort. I’ve manhandled valuable camera equipment up winding mountain trails and found myself so deep in the Kalahari Desert that it seemed I was the last person on earth. And I’ve never been disappointed by any of these adventures.

Single shot, focal length 14 mm, aperture f/11, shutter speed 1/13, ISO 64, tripod.

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But Greenland had long seemed out of reach, even for a seasoned travel photographer. It was a place I had dreamed of seeing for years, but it seemed impossibly remote, so far removed from the well-trod tourist path that only the most intrepid of travelers would ever see it.

In 2017, however, I had the chance to join an expedition with acclaimed Russian photographer Daniel Kordan. The expedition would not only give me the chance to learn from someone whose work I hold in high esteem, but it would take me to a place I’d feared I might never get to see — Greenland.

There’s an element of Greenland’s history that not many people know. According to Norse legend, Erik the Red gave it the name “Greenland,” in spite of the fact that the majority of its landscape is covered in ice. It’s believed that he wanted to attract other settlers to his newfound home, and in the process became a very early example of false advertising.

But Southern Greenland, an area that many tourists skip in favor of the island’s icy expanses, lives up to its name. Here, at the very tip of the island, is a landscape of sheep farms and green pastures punctuated by dramatic fjords. The expedition would take us here, to this imposing sliver of Greenland, where we would cut though icy waters on the Peter I, a yacht designed especially for Arctic travel. When I arrived in Narssarssuaq to board the yacht, I had the distinct feeling that Greenland would be one of the greatest adventures of my life.