I fell in love with the Arctic. That first expedition led to ten years of travel to some of the world’s most remote locations: Svalbard, Greenland, and Canada’s Northwest Passage. I’ve had polar bears in my tent, been surrounded by blood-stained Arctic wolves, fallen through sea ice, and even spent a full year living in a tent just 500 miles from the North Pole, enduring three months of total darkness.
By my late twenties, I had an extraordinary résumé, but no money. So I looked to those I admired most, many of whom were teachers, and decided to join their ranks. If I’m being honest, for all the wrong reasons: a steady salary and long holidays to fuel my next adventure. Teaching took me from the UK to Kenya, then to the Middle East, where I’ve lived for the past 25 years. Though the hot desert seems worlds away from the frozen north, I’ve found surprising parallels: the wildness, the silence, the purity, and the generosity of people who live at the very edge of human existence.
Because my kayak is completely silent, I can approach wildlife closely, from sea snakes to whales, turtles to magnificent rays. There are countless reasons to undertake this journey now. This year’s World Maritime Day focused on “Our Ocean, Our Obligation, Our Opportunity,” and I saw this as mine: to travel slowly and shine a light on a little-known coastline with a rich but fragile ocean environment. In 2026, the world will host the first-ever COP gathering dedicated entirely to the oceans — recognition of their vital role in our sustainable future.
