August 23. 21.25 km, 562 feet of climbing. Camped at 6,494 feet, 134 kilometers from the shore of the Irminger Sea

We woke to a warm, windless morning on the icecap, the kind that feels indulgent this far out. The surface was calm, the light bright, the horizon soft but readable. It didn’t last. By afternoon the sky thickened, the clouds lowered, and by evening the wind had begun to rise again, steady and purposeful. Lars, our weatherman in Norway, has been tracking conditions carefully and his forecast isn’t optimistic. This may be the windiest night yet, with a broader pattern of deteriorating weather settling in behind it.

For now, though, the day belonged to warmth. At times it felt almost oppressive. The Norwegians shed layers until they were nearly unrecognizable as polar travelers; I skied in a t-shirt for long stretches, something that still feels faintly absurd this far onto the Greenland Ice Sheet. The snow surface offered more texture than usual, sastrugi, shallow divots, small variations that broke the monotony and made the skiing feel more engaging.

I led one shift under bright sun, an easy rhythm, nothing forced. Kathinka and Caro adjusted our travel schedule to fifty-five minutes on, ten minutes off, a small change that added nearly forty minutes of movement to the day without feeling punitive. It was a smart call. The group responded well, the pace stayed relaxed, and the kilometers accumulated quietly.

A highlight of the day for Elaine and I came at the edges of the day. Camp teardown in the morning was efficient and clean, almost satisfying in its precision. In the evening, camp went up just as fast. We’re finally feeling our systems click into place, fewer wasted motions, fewer decisions, less friction. It’s subtle, but it matters. Out here, good systems conserve energy you didn’t know you were spending.

Lunch brought an unexpected gift: Arjen produced a pineapple from his sled. Cold, sweet, absurdly out of place. Eating fresh pineapple in the middle of the Greenland Icecap felt like a small act of rebellion against context. Arjen has a knack for that, generous, thoughtful, quietly funny. A gem of a human.

Marette led for a while in the afternoon. She’s strong, reserved, very Norwegian, and it’s been good to watch her grow more comfortable at the front. Leadership here doesn’t announce itself; it settles in through repetition and trust.

By evening the light softened again. The wind rose as predicted. We buttoned down camp, added anchors, built walls, double-checked lines. After dinner, the sky offered something rare and unearned: an aurora slipping quietly across the stars, planets visible and aligned around it.

It was a good day. We’ll take it. Tonight, we wait out the wind and see what the icecap brings next.