Very early this morning, around 06:30, we caught our first glimpse of Jan Mayen—its rugged outline barely visible through a heavy curtain of fog. As MS Spitsbergen slowly approached Kvalrossbukta, hopes were high for a landing, but the sea had other plans. Waves crashed against the shoreline, breaking too high for a safe landing.

Still, the scene was nothing short of spectacular. The mist clinging to the island’s slopes gave it a surreal, otherworldly presence. Jagged ridges and dark volcanic rock appeared and disappeared in the shifting fog, casting an air of mystery over this rarely seen place. It felt like sailing past the edge of the world.

We continued north along the coast, eyes fixed on the cloud-covered horizon in hopes of seeing Beerenberg, the island’s towering glacier-capped volcano. And then—just as we passed its base—the skies parted, and there it was: the full 2,277 metres of Beerenberg, rising in crisp detail above the clouds. Snowfields glistened in the sunlight, and for a long moment, the outer decks fell silent as we all took in the view.

With that unforgettable sight etched into memory, we turned our bow once more to the north, setting course for the icy wilds of Svalbard.