Those who throw a few clothes into a bag and head off on holiday.

And those who spend weeks researching waterproof socks.

I am both, throw in and risk the outcome and taking excellent advice on sleeping bags (thanks Katy).

Preparing for an EXXpedition, sailing from Ilulissat to Nuuk, wasn’t simply packing a suitcase. It was preparing for every possible combination of weather, sea state, scientific activity and bodily malfunction.

The list became legendary.

Waterproof socks. Thermal socks. Inner gloves. Outer gloves. Waterproof gloves. Walking boots. Boat boots. Waterproof land shoes. Waterproof trousers. Boat waterproof trousers. Thermals. Fleece. Gilet. Down jacket. Neck warmer. Hat. Sun cream. Mosquito repellent. Battery pack. Waterproof phone pouch. Waterproof backpack. Waterproof bags… inside the waterproof backpack.

By the time I’d finished, I was confident I could survive a small Arctic apocalypse.

Then came food.

Being gluten-free and trying to go into ketosis for my brain once a day meant I packed smart. FATT bars, chocolate-covered almonds, pecans, macadamias, MCT oil, AG1 and emergency carbohydrates, just in case.

Eventually everything fitted into a handful of beautifully organised packing cubes with little transparent windows.

One for thermals. One for clothes. One for underwear. One for electronics.

I stood back and admired my work.

I was organised.

Prepared.

Ready for anything.

Or so I hoped.

After a week at sea, I’ve reached one very important conclusion.

I packed well.

Apparently, nobody notices if you wear the same fleece every day.

Because everyone is doing the same.

My hair has abandoned all hope and now resembles a small seabird that’s been caught in a Force 6 gale.

Luxury has also been redefined. It is a hot water bottle on freezing feet when climbing fully clothed into a sleeping bag for the rationed two hours’ sleep.

At one point after 48 hours at sea with three-hour watches, I calculated I had had nine hours’ sleep. Worse than breastfeeding!

A shower? Not this week.

Instead, there’s a small bowl of warm water and what I now refer to as a “strategic wash.”

You quickly discover that nobody is judging anyone else’s appearance.

We’re all far too busy trying to remember where we left our gloves.

Or whether today requires waterproof boots, walking boots or simply optimism.

Dressing for Greenland is like playing environmental roulette.

Wet landing?

Dry landing?

Thermals?

Extra thermals?

Down jacket?

Boat waterproofs?

Definitely sun cream.

Who knew Greenland could be so sunny?

Until it wasn’t, and it was just thick freezing fog.

Preparing for iceberg watch at anchor was another “what the @uck” moment. I didn’t pack binoculars. Apparently “growlers” are the biggest risk—small icebergs that, if they catch around the anchor chain, can rip the anchor out.

One unexpected luxury has been my bunk.

By some extraordinary stroke of luck, I was allocated a berth that actually allowed me to organise my little world.

Apparently, my entire existence can be condensed into four wet bags with little clear windows.

Everything in its place.

It felt positively luxurious.

Photo credit: STEPHANIE PETERS

Then there’s the science.

Before we even leave the boat, we must pack our waterproof backpacks with the essentials of modern expedition life: iPad, battery pack, phone, sunglasses, snacks, waterproof socks, seasickness tablets, mosquito repellent and enough gluten-free emergency rations that the crew no longer look nervous when they see me coming.

Only then do we head ashore to dissect beaches into 100 x 2 metre sections, identify every piece of litter and collect data that helps scientists understand how plastic travels to one of the most remote places on Earth.

It’s extraordinary really.

An enormous amount of preparation…

…to look for something almost invisible.

That strikes me as rather like prevention in health.

The most important work often happens long before anyone else can see the problem.

People ask me what it’s like living on a 72-foot sailing boat with fifteen women.

My answer?

Surprisingly easy.

Wonderfully funny.

Occasionally chaotic.

Always interesting.

Within a couple of days, we’d stopped worrying about how we looked.

Nobody cared.

Hair had become a fascinating science experiment of its own.

The same clothes appeared with reassuring regularity.

Make-up quietly disappeared from daily life.

And conversations became the real entertainment.

Not small talk.

Real conversations.

Health.

Families.

Climate.

Leadership.

Travel.

Purpose.

Life.

There is something about being surrounded by icebergs, whales and endless daylight that encourages people to skip the superficial and go straight to what matters.

One evening, I looked around the table and realised just how extraordinary this group was.

Amongst us were marine scientists, engineers, laboratory scientists, university lecturers, sustainability specialists, environmental campaigners, communications experts, entrepreneurs, business leaders, health practitioners and community changemakers.

Women from different countries, different generations and completely different walks of life.

Yet the moment we stepped on deck, those job titles quietly disappeared.

The engineer became my winching partner.

The laboratory scientists oversaw the trawling for microplastics.

The scientist reminded me to pump the head.

The communications expert was wrestling with waterproofs.

The business leader was trying to remember where she’d left her life jacket.

And I was busy deciding that perhaps my next career should be stand-up comedy.

Photo credit: WINNIE COURTENE-JONES

There have been endless conversations, plenty of laughter and a wonderful sense that everyone is here for the same reason.

Not because we all have the same career.

But because we all care about the future of our oceans.

As someone who has spent much of my career working in health and prevention, I’ve found that incredibly inspiring.

Whether we’re trying to prevent chronic disease or understand how plastic pollution reaches one of the most remote places on Earth, the principle is remarkably similar.

You don’t wait until the damage is obvious.

You ask questions.

You gather evidence.

You work together.

You act early.

Standing on deck, watching Greenland drift silently past in all its breathtaking beauty, I realised this expedition isn’t just about microplastics.

It’s about people.

Fifteen women who may never have met under ordinary circumstances, brought together by curiosity, science, determination and hope.

I’ve learnt a lot.

I’ve laughed a lot.

And perhaps the biggest lesson of all?

If you put fifteen curious, kind, intelligent women on one boat with a shared purpose, their job titles become the least interesting thing about them.

The post Packing for Greenland – Fifteen Women, One Boat and the Reality of EXXpedition appeared first on eXXpedition.

Visiting the Ilulissat Icefjord, where the Sermeq Kujalleq glacier reaches the sea was breathtaking. This is one of the largest (6 km x 55 km, covering an area of 66,000 football fields!) and most active glaciers in the world. While mesmerised by the majesty of the glacier, I could hear cracks, rumbles and splashes as ice calved off. There were countless icebergs in the sea in front of it, and throughout Disko Bay. In fact, there were so many icebergs that sailing into Ilulissat onboard a keeled yacht, like Sea Dragon, was not possible, and our voyage began some miles south in Aasiaat.

Sailing from Aasiaat, north to Qeqertarsuaq (Disko Island), the distinctive rumble and crashing of calving icebergs surrounded us. The sea was glassy. The sun was blazing in a cloudless sky. And for hours we sailed past glistening, calving icebergs, all originating from the Sermeq Kujalleq glacier.

Photo credit: Winnie Courtene-Jones

A few days later, as the Arctic heatwave continued, we arrived in Sisimiut. During our research transects and beach clean (in T-shirts, having rapidly removed our outer jackets and thermals), we spoke with local guide Jan Banemann, who said that these summer temperatures were not normal, but were increasing in their frequency. This same day, it reached 20 °C in Nuuk.

Photo credit: Lyssa Manning

While each year the Sermeq Kujalleq glacier produces thousands of tons of icebergs, the quantities are increasing. More icebergs = less ice on the glacier. Scientists studying the Icesheet are finding that the glacier is retreating and becoming thinner, largely as a result of climate change and increasing global temperatures.

What has this got to do with plastics? I hear you asking.

The vast majority (99%) of plastic is made from petrochemicals (fossil fuels: oil). Annual global production and demand for plastics has increased, reaching > 460 million metric tons per year. The reliance on fossil fuel feedstock, and the energy used during processing, means that substantial carbon emissions are involved throughout the plastic lifecycle (i.e. extraction, production, transportation, use and disposal)¹.

Plastics account for 4-5% of all greenhouse gas emissions²; that’s more than the global aviation sector (2.4%)3.

Plastic pollution is indubitably linked with climate change. Without meaningful action, it is estimated that by 2050 the greenhouse gas emissions from plastic could reach over 56 gigatons – nearly 10% of the entire remaining carbon budget for limiting global warming to 1.5°C.

However, we all have agency.

Reducing plastic production can address two global problems – climate and pollution.

Greenhouse gas emission cuts from a reduction in plastic production serve towards maintaining commitments to the Paris Agreement (limiting global temperature rise to 1.5°C), as well as reducing socio-economic and environmental impacts.

We all have a role, and we don’t have time to waste.

There are a myriad of solutions and actions we can take (individuals, communities, businesses, and policy). From reducing plastic consumption, to introducing circular economy systems into your community/workplace, increasing awareness and educating others, working with local/national decision-makers, and writing to your government.

This trip was a reminder that even Arctic Greenland, remote, raw and sparsely inhabited, does not escape the impacts of plastic pollution or climate change. However, this trip also served as a powerful reminder of the agency we each have, and how we can each use our skills, networks and ability to leverage positive change.

¹ Scientists Coalition for an Effective Plastics Treaty (2023) Plastic pollution at each life stage, https://zenodo.org/records/16366285

² Karali et al, (2024), Climate Impact of Primary Plastic Production, https://escholarship.org/uc/item/12s624vf#page=12

3  EESI (2022), Issue Brief: The Growth in Greenhouse Gas Emissions from Commercial Aviation. https://www.eesi.org/files/IssueBrief_Climate_Impacts_Aviation_2019rev2022.pdf

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Our amazing skipper and sailing crew managed to guide us safely through the bay, and as we entered a small natural harbour, we came across a barrier of icebergs that could have impeded our entry. In fact, though, they weren’t the real challenge—it was the anchorage that wasn’t in our favour. After three failed attempts to anchor, one of which involved getting caught on an old fishing line and a muddy seabed, our perseverant pro crew won the battle, and we finally settled at anchor. Our neighbour, just a couple of boat lengths away? An iceberg. And that meant an overnight iceberg anchor watch.

Photo credit: Winnie Courtene-Jones

As I stood my iceberg anchor watch at the northernmost point of the expedition, I couldn’t help but think how wonderful this place is. Bare mountains with just a hint of green tumbled into the sea, while icebergs lined the coast below them, and the night sky glowed beneath the midnight sun. It was 00:15, yet the sky was light blue, with rays of sunlight peeking out from behind the mountains. A cold breeze drifted across the water, seagulls circled overhead, and the colourful village of Qeqertarsuaq lay in the background. Blue, red, pink, green, yellow, white, and even teal houses and buildings make up this beautiful town.

As we headed south the following morning, the calm seas and brilliant sunshine stayed with us, and we even experienced a heat wave in Sisimiut. The sea was so glassy that it mirrored the sky. Then, as we approached the coordinates 66°33′42″N, the wind picked up. As tradition dictates when making a milestone crossing, we prepared for the Arctic Circle crossing.

Boreas Rex of the Arctic seas sent us a special message, saying that he was pleased to have us navigating his waters in the name of scientific research. As a result, he had kept the seas calm and glassy and wished us fair winds and safe passage into the mighty realm of Neptune that awaited us beyond the Arctic Circle.

With blue noses and dark chocolate, we celebrated the crossing, hoping for calm seas and favourable winds for the final stretch of the expedition. Oh, and once in Neptune’s realm, we made the traditional wish for orca sightings by offering a lock of hair. We still have a few nautical miles left for Neptune to hear that request!

Photo credit: SOFIA NOGUÉS SEGURA

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As we set sail from Aruba, dolphins greeted us at the bow. We sailed for days at a time, doing night watches fuelled by cups of tea to stay awake and hours of sharing life stories. The waves had us running up on deck for fresh air during cooking duty, we found our sea legs by the time we stepped foot in San Blas, and we snorkelled in beautiful waters. Sailing through remote islands with crystal-clear seas was such a treat, and they seemed so pristine.

And then we found lots and lots of plastic in every manta trawl sample, collecting the densest sample of the entire voyage, with more than 500 microplastics in a single trawl. We saw firsthand the plastic waste that washes up on the shores of remote islands, some of them even uninhabited. From lightbulbs to bottles, toothbrushes, shoes, and cutlery… you name it. We found absolutely everything. It was a heartbreaking moment and one of uncomfortable truth.

Photo credit: SOFIA NOGUÉS SEGURA

Fast forward seven years, and I’m with eXXpedition in the Arctic. Very different temperatures, very different scenery, and a very different sea. Once again, the crew comes from all corners of the world, with very different backgrounds but the same mission: to conduct research on the presence of microplastics in one of the world’s most pristine seas and seek solutions to the still-growing plastic pollution crisis.

So far, we’ve had very calm seas, barely any wind, and yesterday we even had a moment of being in short sleeves on deck, which made me reminisce about those days in the Caribbean for a second. (Sunscreen is still a must here, and we can’t go without sunglasses.) This combination is perfect for cooking duty, as we’re off the hook for seasickness during our shift. And we’ve had an upgrade in the galley—we’ve got an open-plan kitchen with a five-burner stove!

Photo credit: SOFIA NOGUÉS SEGURA

As we sail across this calm sea, seals pop up every now and then, and we’ve even seen a few whales during night watch. You might wonder how we could spot them during night watch… well, it doesn’t get dark. Night watch at 10 p.m. felt more like 3 p.m., and night watch at 3 a.m. was like sailing at dawn.

Photo credit: SOFIA NOGUÉS SEGURA

We’ve only spotted one plastic item floating in the open sea, and the manta trawls are picking up very few microplastics. This is a huge difference from what we found while sailing from Aruba to Panama. In these incredibly pristine waters, we’re finding fragments of fishing line in our manta trawl samples and other fishing gear washed ashore during our land-based sampling. However, plastic is still present, both at sea and on land.

As we spoke with researchers on the ground, we realised the challenges a region like Greenland faces in managing the plastic waste generated by imported goods. Like the Caribbean, Greenland is dealing with a problem it didn’t create. These single-use plastic items were produced hundreds or even thousands of miles away, without consideration for what would happen to them at the end of their life or the waste management resources available at their destination.

From 2019 in the Caribbean to 2026 in the Arctic, what I’ve seen is that every manta trawl sample we’ve collected in some of the world’s most pristine waters—whether in Greenland or the San Blas Islands—has contained microplastics. The plastic crisis has reached every corner of the world, even the most remote, and we need to keep raising awareness and seeking solutions.

The post Caribbean vs Arctic appeared first on eXXpedition.

I’d hoped that being immersed in Greenland’s wild landscapes would help me recharge. There’s something about being surrounded by the sea, fresh air, and the sheer scale of nature that puts everything into perspective.

And it did.

Within a few days, I felt lighter. I could feel myself coming back.

Photo credit: Elizabeth Starnes

What I didn’t expect was that the biggest impact wouldn’t come from the icebergs or the ocean. It would come from the women.

Every single person on board brought a different story—stories of resilience, passion, determination, and hope. We shared ideas about plastic pollution, but we also shared life: the highs, the struggles, our careers, our dreams, and everything in between.

There was no judgement. Just kindness, curiosity, and a genuine desire to support one another.

It reminded me that nature thrives through connection, and perhaps we do too.

As a mum, I often think about the world we’re leaving for our children. Of course, I want cleaner oceans and a healthier planet, but I also want my child to grow up seeing the power of women lifting each other up. That’s a legacy worth leaving, too.

I boarded Sea Dragon hoping Mother Nature would help me find my strength again.

She did.

But she also introduced me to an incredible sisterhood that filled my cup in ways I never expected.

I’ll always remember Greenland for its wild, untamed beauty. But it’s the women I shared this journey with who left the biggest mark on me.

Sometimes healing comes from nature.

Sometimes it comes from people.

And sometimes, if you’re lucky, you find both at the same time.

Photo credit: Elizabeth Starnes

Photo credit: Catherine Rogers

The post The Power Of Sisterhood appeared first on eXXpedition.

Neither would “wearing the same clothes for a week.”

Or eating beans with quite such enthusiasm.

Or discovering that in Greenland you can be on the midnight watch… in broad daylight.

Welcome to life aboard an eXXpedition.

Our mission is serious. We’re collecting samples from the surface of the ocean, beaches and coastal communities to help scientists understand how microplastics are travelling, even to one of the most remote places on Earth.

Photo credit: Katy Bear Nalven

But life on board is anything but serious.

Luxury? Well… let’s just say showers have become a distant memory. I have even reached the stage of doing an artic plunge just to qualify for a hot shower!!

Dinner on the boat is state of the art nutrition. When you’ve spent the day launching scientific equipment into icy seas, everything tastes delicious. Besides, beans are environmentally friendly… although perhaps not in the confined space of a yacht.

Then there are the night watches. Back home, a night watch conjures images of darkness and stars. Here, in the Arctic summer, it’s broad daylight at two in the morning. Your body has absolutely no idea what time it is, but your watch insists you’re on duty.

Somewhere between searching for thermals and mislaid sun cream ( yes a true artic just position ) and trying not to spill precious samples, AND admiring yet another breathtaking iceberg, it struck me why I’d wanted to join this expedition.

I’ve spent much of my career helping people understand the importance of prevention in health. We encourage healthier eating before diabetes develops, exercise before heart disease, and protecting our brains long before memory starts to fail.

Out here, we’re doing exactly the same thing for our planet.

Microplastics are almost invisible. If we were pulling shopping trolleys or plastic bottles out of the sea every few minutes, everyone would understand the problem immediately. Instead, we’re looking for fragments smaller than a grain of rice—tiny pieces that quietly travel on ocean currents, reaching places that seem impossibly wild and untouched.

Photo credit: Katy Bear Nalven

Greenland is breathtaking. Towering icebergs drift silently past, whales occasionally make guest appearances, and the landscape reminds you just how extraordinary our planet is.

Yet even here, the evidence of our throwaway culture can be found.

Perhaps that’s why this journey feels so important.

Prevention is rarely glamorous. Whether it’s collecting microscopic particles from the ocean, encouraging someone to lower their blood sugar, or persuading people to use one less piece of single-use plastic, the rewards aren’t immediate. They come years later.

As we sail towards Nuuk, slightly smellier than when we left, fuelled by beans, endless conversation and a stunning amount of laughter, I’m reminded that meaningful change often starts with small actions.

Tiny particles.

Tiny habits.

Tiny decisions.

They all add up.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I think it’s time for my night watch… in glorious sunshine.

Photo credit: Katy Bear Nalven

The post Greenland, Bean Suppers and the World’s Tiniest Problem appeared first on eXXpedition.

The all-women sailing expedition will depart on 12th July from Ilulissat in Disko Bay, where massive icebergs calve from one of the world’s most active glaciers. The crew will sail south, visiting the remote communities of Qeqertarsuaq and Sisimiut, before arriving in the capital, Nuuk.

Led by British environmental organisation eXXpedition in partnership with the University of Georgia, the expedition will continue their joint mission to map where ocean plastic comes from and identify the most impactful solutions. While on board, the crew will conduct water sampling and analyse microplastics using state-of-the-art scientific equipment. They will also visit coastal communities along the way, conducting shore-based research into litter, products and waste management infrastructure, in collaboration with local experts.

“When you sail into the glacial waters and midnight sun of the Arctic, you expect to find the ocean as it should be: wild, pristine, untouched,” said Emily Penn, eXXpedition Founder. “But our research tells a different story. These are some of the most remote waters on the planet, thousands of miles from big cities and ocean gyres, yet we still find plastic in the water and along the shores. There is nowhere left the crisis hasn’t reached. And that is why we need people from every background driving solutions from every angle.”

Following three successful expeditions from New Zealand to Tonga in April and May this year, this is the fourth 2026 expedition. The first three expeditions saw 30 guest crew sail 1,740 nautical miles, conducting 22 water samples, 232 litter & coastal transects and analysing 429 pieces of plastic. They engaged with 191 local community members, and generated 29 news stories across 7 countries. The data will be analysed and findings published by the University of Georgia later this year.

The expedition vessel, 72-foot yacht SV Sea Dragon, will be skippered by Ineke van der Weijden. The science mission will be led by Dr Winnie Courtene-Jones, a marine environmental biologist specialising in the long-term fate and impacts of plastics on ecosystems. She will lead a multidisciplinary crew of eleven incredible women, including scientists, advocates and communicators from around the world. Together they will deliver the expedition’s three core pillars: to conduct scientific research, to share their stories and learn from each other, and to inspire their networks to take action.

The eleven guest crew members are:

Catherine Rogers, Health Mentor, UK

Elizabeth Starnes, Nurse Practitioner, USA

Kateryna Peinecke, Sustainable Energy Scientist, Canada

Katy Bear Nalven, Marine Conservationist, USA

Katja Heinzlmaier, Academic, Austria

Lyssa Manning, Marine Conservationist, USA

Natalie Foote, Operations and Strategy Leader, USA

Shannon Osaka, Climate Reporter, USA

Sofia Nogués Segura, Communications Expert, Spain 

Stephanie Peters, Environmental Strategist, UK

Waverly Wadsworth, Environmental Engineer, USA

To follow the eXXpedition Arctic’s progress, you can read their blogs here.

Thank you to our partners

These expeditions are made possible by crew contributions, sponsorships and partnerships. Thank you to our current partners: Kensington Tours, University of Georgia, The Commonwealth, PerkinElmer, Finisterre, 1% for the Planet, Chandler and Partners, 5 Gyres Institute, and Panexplore.

Find out more here.

Follow us across eXXpedition’s social channels 

Instagram | Facebook | X | LinkedIn | TikTok

The post All-women crew to embark on ocean plastics mission to the Arctic appeared first on eXXpedition.

ON THE SOUTH PACIFIC EXPEDITION FROM  TONGATAPU TO VAVA’U

The United Nations calls it World Oceans Day.

Emily Penn, the Founder of eXXpedition, encourages us to call it World Ocean Day.

Ocean. Singular.

Video credit: Pallavi Davé

During our on board safety briefing, we were learning how to send distress calls in case of emergency.

One of my fellow guest crew asked, “What happens if the person receiving the call doesn’t understand English?”

Our skipper told us that there is 1 standard set of phrases understood by mariners all over the world so wherever you are, they will understand you need help.

Because despite being separated by name: Pacific, Atlantic, Indian etc., all the water flows across the Earth’s Ocean as one large singular body of water.

Surrounding us all and affecting us all.

And for us all to look after.

Happy World Ocean Day

The post World Ocean Day appeared first on eXXpedition.

ON THE SOUTH PACIFIC EXPEDITION FROM  TONGATAPU TO VAVA’U

After a beautiful sunrise on the go, we completed three rounds of trawling to collect water samples from the ocean. Based on our first impression, we found far more natural material than plastic, which was a promising finding that would later be confirmed under the microscope.

Shortly afterward, we reached the island group of Ha‘apai and made our way to Pangai. We split into three groups to cover different areas of the island: port transects, coastal transects, litter transects along the way, and store surveys (at the few stores we found that were open).

Our group of four focused on five litter transects on the way to the beach, giving us the opportunity to observe the more residential areas of Pangai. What really stood out was the presence of household bins at nearly every home, while there were no public bins (except in the port area). We actually found quite a lot of plastic along the roads, some of which may have been blown out of household bins.

On a small road leading to the beach, we found many different types of waste: cans, clothing, utensils, shoes, and various plastic items. The entire route to the beach was lined with litter, yet again without any bins in sight. We thought it might be an area where waste is dumped, as the road did not seem to be used very often.

Photo credit: Rike Blomer

On the beach itself, both the water and the sand appeared quite clean, with only a few fragments that we recorded. In contrast, the upper part of the beach, with its vegetation and trees, contained a considerable amount of waste. Therefore, we assume that much of this waste has not yet made its way into the ocean, making it especially important to address the issue now and prevent it from entering the marine environment.

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ON THE SOUTH PACIFIC EXPEDITION FROM  TONGATAPU TO VAVA’U

We were all feeling pretty sorry for ourselves.

It started out well.

We left Nuku’alofa in very good spirits, excited for our first overnight sail.

The ocean was looking vast and beautiful and the weather report was good.

It was going to be a good night on the water.

And technically it was in sea and weather terms.

But less so for most of us in the crew.

The guest crew that is, not the professional crew. (They’re called professional for a reason.)

One by one we started dropping like flies.

One person emerged from the cabin.

“Don’t go down there,” they said “it’s really hot, you’ll feel sick.”

But what is one to do when one needs to use the facilities?

One must go down into the cabin.

And it’s amazing how quickly it hits you.

The heat.

The sudden sheen of sweat all over your body.

The queasy motion sickness.

And then it doesn’t go away. Even when you’re back on deck in the fresh air.

I was feeling even more sorry for our poor skipper who had to help me in my seasickened vomiting state (sorry again and thank you again <3 )

Her top tip was to lie down and get horizontal as soon as possible.

It worked. The queasiness subsided quickly and remained that way as long as I remained horizontal.

Technically this was nothing.

We were sailing on a relatively pleasant night in Tonga, not on the stormy crossing from New Zealand endured by the South Pacific II team on the leg before us.

I don’t think any of us would have made it.

When we dropped anchor on the beautiful uninhabited island of Kelefesia, we were jubilant.

Land ahoy.

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