I’ve always dreamed of seeing the whole world, setting foot on every continent. I never visited the same place twice—what would be the point if I’d already been there? It seemed like a waste of time. I once read that there are places that leave such a deep impression on us that we can’t stop thinking about them. We revisit these places through old photos, read books about them, watch videos online on similar topics. Eventually, we miss them so much that we go back. I was convinced this wasn’t true for me. There were so many unexplored areas, so many hidden corners, and for some reason, I felt I had to discover them instead.
Everything changed, though, when I went to Iceland for the first time. A long hike to a volcano. The weather was unforgiving—it rained, and the piercing wind didn’t let up. Naturally, I wasn’t wearing the right clothes, so I was soaked to the bone and freezing. When we finally reached the summit, all I could see was an endless thick gray fog. Yet, I wasn’t disappointed. I felt as if I had entered the heart of a mysterious land, one I desperately wanted to know better. We took shelter from the wind in a tent. It grew pleasantly warm inside. My clothes started to dry a bit, I ate some snacks, rehydrated, and listened to captivating stories. Time flew by. And it was in that moment that a thought crossed my mind for the first time: I want to come back here someday.
At the time, I didn’t realize that a small seed of the North had begun to take root within me. My first trip to the Arctic was in late May 2022. By then, the sun no longer set on Svalbard. The thermometer read just below freezing—perfect weather for a hike in the surrounding mountains. Spitsbergen wasn’t love at first sight. The settlement of Longyearbyen, home to just over two thousand people, can initially seem uninviting with its industrial and austere appearance. But as I gazed at the town from the summit of Sarkofagen, I knew I wanted to return.
I met both the residents of the far North and the visitors who came there, and I loved listening to their stories. I read fascinating tidbits about Svalbard, and soon my apartment began to fill with books about the Arctic, polar expeditions, glaciers, snow, the peoples of the North, and climate change. Eventually, I couldn’t hold back any longer—I had to return to the North. And once I visited the Arctic again, I wanted more and more. It became something of an addiction. Locals say I’ve caught the “North bug.” Well, I suppose they’re right.