PolarExplorers

05/29/2026

After 30 days of moving east across Greenland, team AC/DC have made it to the icecap’s edge. Behind them is the long white interior. Ahead is the sea, the village, the first edges of return.
Finishing a crossing like this is not quite as simple as arriving.
For so many days, the world has been reduced to a few essential things: weather, distance, food, fuel, sleep, the condition of your feet, the sound of your teammates moving around camp. Life becomes smaller, but not poorer. In many ways it becomes more honest.
Then, almost suddenly, the other world starts to come back.

There will be beds, showers, emails, noise, choices, schedules, food that does not come from a bag, and conversations that are hard to explain to people who were not there. The crossing is over, but the reentry is part of the journey too.
You leave the ice, but not all at once.
Some part of you is still there, listening to the stove at night. Still packing the sled. Still watching the sky. Still measuring the day by what needs to be done and who needs to be cared for.
That may be one of the quiet gifts of expedition travel. You return with less than you carried, but somehow more than you left with. A little more patience. A little more trust. A little more knowledge of what is necessary and what is not.
They have crossed Greenland, and now begins the strange work of coming home.
One coast to another.
Through wind, weather, white space, and time.
All the way to the sea.

05/27/2026

The team is not far from the sea now.

After weeks moving across the Greenland Icecap, they are waiting out a windstorm before the final push toward the east coast. Close, but not done. Near enough to feel the pull of the finish, but still very much in the hands of the weather.

This is part of expedition life that is hard to explain from home. Sometimes progress means moving. Sometimes it means lying still in a tent while the wind works over the fabric for hours, listening to the poles flex, the guy lines hum, the snow move across the surface of the ice.

The world gets very small on days like this.

A sleeping bag. A stove. A little food. A book, maybe. The sound of spindrift against nylon. The quiet patience of waiting for the right moment to go.

There is a strange kind of discipline in rest. Not the easy kind of rest, but the kind that comes when the body is ready to finish and the mind has already started walking toward the coast. The team is close. They can almost imagine the edge of the ice, the change in air, the first sight of mountains falling toward the sea.

But Greenland gets the final word.

So they wait. They eat. They sleep if they can. They listen to the wind and let the storm spend itself.

The final miles will come soon enough.

05/20/2026

The team has crossed over the “summit” of the Greenland Icecap!
It is not a summit in the usual sense. There is no sharp ridge-line, no final scramble, no view down into valleys below. Just a broad, quiet rise in the ice — a place that is felt more than seen.
For weeks, the team has been climbing gradually toward this point, though the icecap rarely makes that effort obvious. The horizon stays wide. The landscape changes slowly. Progress is something you trust more than something you can easily measure.
Then, almost quietly, the character of the journey begins to change.
From here, the team starts the long descent toward the east coast, leaving the high interior of the icecap and moving toward mountains, weather, broken terrain, and eventually the sea’s edge.
It is a meaningful moment, but not a dramatic one. There is no summit photo in the alpine sense, no obvious line where one chapter ends and another begins. Just a subtle shift in the shape of the journey.
The ice begins, imperceptibly, to lean toward the sea. The east coast becomes less of an idea and more of a direction.
There are still many miles ahead, and the east side of Greenland will ask its own questions. But the high point marks a subtle threshold: the place where the journey stops rising and begins, slowly, to fall away beneath them.
One long rise behind them. One long descent ahead. Still moving east, one horizon at a time.

05/13/2026

Today the team reached DYE 2!
Out on the Greenland Icecap, landmarks are rare. Most days are made of subtler things: the sound of skis over snow, the weight of the sled, the shape of clouds, the work of melting snow into water, the quiet calculations of staying warm, fed, and moving.
Then, after days of white space, DYE 2 rises out of the ice.
It is a strange and unforgettable place — a human structure left standing in a landscape that seems almost beyond human scale. It feels less like arriving somewhere than coming upon a memory frozen into the icecap.
Expedition life is often imagined as dramatic, but much of it is built from repetition. Ski. Haul. Camp. Cook. Sleep. Repeat. Again and again until the miles begin to add up.
And in that repetition, something changes. The small things grow important. A dry pair of socks. A good meal. A steady teammate. A break in the wind. The glow of a tent at the end of the day.
There are still many miles ahead, but reaching DYE 2 matters. Not because it changes the work of the crossing, exactly, but because it gives shape to it.
One step, one day, one horizon at a time.
We’ll keep sharing updates as the team continues east across the icecap.

05/12/2026

Team update from the ice: Annie reports they held position to wait out less than ideal conditions—40 mph winds, snow, sleet, and near-freezing temps. They're treating this forced rest as part of expedition life and shifting to night travel. Read more about how the team adapts and keeps moving: https://wix.to/HsZ8ep6


https://wix.to/VT5tpKZ

Annie reports that the team remained stationary to wait out the worst of the weather. Conditions were challenging, with 40 mph winds, snow, sleet, and temperatures near freezing. They are strategically utilizing this forced rest day—a potential reality of any major expedition, like crossing the wo...

05/11/2026

White-outs, gusting winds, and a team that keeps moving. ❄️ Read more: https://wix.to/v0qBRzO
https://wix.to/HsXZs40

05/10/2026

Happy Mother's Day to the incredible women who guide us through life's earliest adventures! Your love and resilience help us bounce back from every scrape and find the courage to keep exploring. We are so grateful for everything you do to shape who we are today. Let's celebrate every incredible mom out there.
https://wix.to/392xNOY

05/09/2026

Great progress from the team today. They covered 13.6 miles thanks to the best surface conditions they have seen yet. Even with a 20 mph headwind and warm weather, their nightly routine of hitting the trail by 4 am is paying off. Follow their journey here. https://wix.to/PdfE27v

05/08/2026

The rewards of routines. Team AC/DC logged another 20 km (12.4 miles) today — up 500 ft with rolling hills as they head toward the ice cap summit. Woke at 2:30 am for another spectacular sunrise and a steady 10-knot southeast breeze kept things refreshing. Read the full update: https://wix.to/r3Uzgru
https://wix.to/U4TUVf7

CP reporting for Team AC/DC: another 20 km (12.4 miles) today. Everyone is feeling good. We woke up at 2:30 am again and enjoyed another spectacular sunrise. The wind was about 10 knots from the southeast all day. It was quite warm, so the wind was refreshing. We gained another 500 feet net elevatio...