Five hundred and fifty-eight kilometres, twenty-six days, minus thirty-five degrees. In 2025 I crossed the Greenland ice sheet with my daughter Amira, the two of us alone, from Point 660 in the west to Isortoq on the east coast.
A hundred and eighty kilos of gear on three sleds, around eighty kilos each. Our line ran past DYE-2, the Cold War radar station left to the ice in 1988, where it still looks like the last people walked out yesterday.
Thomas Ulrich tracked us from Switzerland, a satellite position every day. The Greenlandic authorities kept a quiet eye from a distance. Amira was sixteen, as far as we know the youngest person ever to cross the inland ice in a two-person, unsupported team.
There is a lot I could say about what those weeks were. Mostly I think about how few words you need out there, and how much you learn about someone when there is nothing between you and the ice.