The plan had been to familiarise ourselves with the boat during a day in the harbour and then, weather permitting, set sail for Greenland. This would give us a short but reasonable amount of time to make the 700nm (1400km) crossing to Greenland and then make our way 600nm up the Greenlandic coast to our eventual destination, Kangerlussuaq.

However, things were to turn out very differently. Changing COVID-19 rules in Greenland meant our original entry path was closed. Emma got to work straight away and found us a diplomatic entry by contacting the British Consul on Facebook. Felicity found and booked us our PCR tests in Reykjavik. More of the team worked on clearing the boat out of Icelandic customs so we could leave at a moment's notice. We entered quarantine, meaning we could no longer leave the boat. I was glued to the weather, trying to spot a suitable forecast for departure. However, despite all this, we had one main focus – Karen. Karen had started to feel ill on the plane on the way over. She’d visited a doctor in Reykjavik and then been admitted to the hospital with an infection. 

It was a tough time for the team. We were being pelted with multiple challenges at once. It took a lot of energy to hold myself together and try to make the right decisions. Big decisions had to be made every day – to leave or to go, to fight to bring the whole team or leave someone behind. As the days ticked by with the boat still moored in Iceland, our plans began to evolve. Felicity had to go home straight away after the trip, and as the date of her flight leaving Greenland got closer, we had to start making some significant changes to our plan. We decided to aim for a port on the southern tip of Greenland, and Felicity changed her flight to the nearest airport, booking a complicated string of transfers to ensure she got home on time.

Karen was deemed too unwell to travel and insisted we leave without her. This was extremely difficult, and I still don’t know if I shouldn’t have stayed in Iceland with her. However, I think a mark of our mutual respect led us to this decision – and a testament to Karen’s strength.

Finally, we left the harbour. Our team was changed, our plan was changed, there were still some unanswered questions, but we were finally at sea!! This was meant to be where the challenges began, but instead it felt like our reward for getting through all the challenges we’d already received.

We were almost instantly treated to an acrobatic display by a pod of dolphins. I helmed the boat for hours despite the cold wind (and a perfectly good autopilot), enjoying the chance to be out at sea, in my element, without phone reception.

The boat made great speed, and it was a joy to be able to sail fast and live in comfort. For me, the boat felt very luxurious, with real beds and an actual toilet, instead of sleeping on a pile of wet sails and using a bucket. Sailing with other people around was nice, but I also enjoyed my night watches, alone in charge of the boat, just sailing through the black, only thinking about the boat, the wind, and the navigation. 

The serenity of life at sea didn’t last too long. After a couple of days, the waves began to build, and the weather got rougher. Many of our team members were struck down with seasickness and sensibly retired to their bunks. We were sailing into a headwind, so progress slowed, putting even more pressure on our already stretched schedule. We had limited communication with land and managed to get a couple of text messages to our shore support to ask them to look for new flights for Felicity and help us manage our arrival.

Finally, the waves began to die down. The sun came out, and, just as the crew slowly emerged from their cabins, the first icebergs appeared. Hard to spot at first due to their size and the haze on the horizon, these monsters were what we had all been imagining since conceiving the idea of this trip. Huge, colossal, white, blue, beautiful shapes that looked like mountains. Here was the sign that we were approaching the coast, where glaciers feed the sea with a steady stream of ice. A sign that we were nearing our destination – Greenland!