The Northwest Passage now lies behind us, its vast silence still echoing in my thoughts. Such an accomplishment, such a voyage. Through the logbooks, the shared words, and the sounds carried from the ship, I felt as though I travelled along. Much like many of you at home I imagine. Each update became a small window, each echo of ice and wind a reminder of how the sea invites us to be present, even from afar.
Now, with most of the voyage crew back on shore, the stillness feels different – quieter – while Tecla sails on, fjord after fjord, with a new group of hikers tracing their way into Greenland’s wilderness.
I find myself missing the poetry that a voyage like this awakens. The rainbow presence of the sea, the threads of colour that bind time and memory together – they linger in me. They whisper that absence is never complete, that warmth can be sought on the skin even when distance lies between. “Tu es ma belle poésie” I read on a poster the other day, and maybe that is just what it is.
That is what travel gives us most: the reminder that every silence can be filled with meaning, that every horizon holds more than absence, and that the sea teaches us to carry both distance and closeness in the same breath.
As Tecla sails on, I carry these words with me, like the tides that return unfailingly. Just 40 more days before she arrives back in the Netherlands and little over 50 days and we sail for warmer shores and new adventures.
All is well in the office! (And on board as well!)
Jet
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