The morning began with careful attention to the windows. The sea state would determine everything. Fog was present, but the water was nearly flat calm, and when the announcement came — that a landing at Kvalrossbukta, Jan Mayen, would go ahead — the ship came quietly, disbelievingly alive.

Guests followed the Expedition Team ashore beneath a light drizzle, the mist drawing a soft veil across the mountain tops above. But the setting was no less extraordinary for its grey tones. The landing area gave everyone space to stretch out and explore. Some lingered in the bay, walking amongst driftwood and the bleached whale bones of another era. High above the clifftops, little auks called from the ledges. Ornithologist Julia found a viewpoint further up the hill, offering clear sightings of fulmars, puffins, and little auks. Those with energy for more trekked further across the volcanic landscape towards the famous volcano Beerenberg, where Geologist Jean was waiting — a small, vivid figure against a seemingly desolate terrain. Spending an entire morning on Jan Mayen is a rare thing. Very few people can claim it, and by the time the group assembled for departure, the weight of that fact had settled in quietly.

The wind and rain had begun to build as MS Spitsbergen prepared to leave. The guest researchers who had spent the crossing with us waved from shore as the ship pulled away, heading for Svalbard. Those seeking fresh air joined a wildlife watch on the outer decks — little auks and other seabirds cutting low over the turbulent surface while guests braced against the wind. Inside, the afternoon filled with clay painting, knot workshops, and lectures on Arctic geopolitics, before Plans for Tomorrow and a tiny talk from Jean on geological dating methods brought the day to a close. The landing on Jan Mayen was still sinking in for many — perhaps a night's sleep would make it feel more real.