37 FramesThere are places that pull at you quietly. Iceland was one of those for us. The first time we went, we thought we were visiting a landscape. Turns out, we were meeting a soul.
It’s a place that defies logic. Where fire and ice are neighbors, where light stretches until midnight and the silence feels alive. Every trip back, it’s felt like coming home to a different version of ourselves.
But next year, we’re going further. North. Wilder. Quieter. To Greenland. And this one feels… different.
The kind of adventure that rearranges you.
From Iceland to Greenland | Following the Call of the Cold
Iceland gave us everything. The northern lights, waterfalls that roared like applause, beaches made of obsidian, and the kind of wind that could slap wisdom into you.
We’ve circled the Ring Road, soaked in hot springs, eaten our weight in rye bread and fish soup, and watched the aurora dance like it knew our names.
We even got lost there once … properly lost.
A blizzard hit mid-hike, covering every trace of the trail. Visibility gone.
For a few wild hours, we were certain we’d end our days as local legends found frozen in stylish jackets.
But eventually, we stumbled into a little greenhouse restaurant serving tomato soup that, to this day, remains the best thing we’ve ever tasted. (It’s funny how near-death improves the palate.)
And that’s the thing about Iceland. It humbles you and heals you all at once.
So, it only feels right that our next great story leads us to its quieter, older sibling.
The one with icebergs for neighbors and time that moves differently.
Greenland | Where the World Still Whispers
Next summer, we’re heading to Western Greenland. A place that feels more like another planet than a destination.
A place that doesn’t need filters, algorithms, or introductions.
We’ve hired a private boat to take us out every night around midnight, chasing the surreal colors of the midnight sun across the icebergs of UNESCO’s Disko Bay.
Imagine that: No darkness. No noise. Just the low groan of shifting ice and the golden light of a sun that refuses to set.
We’ll drift among glaciers, our cameras trying (and failing) to keep up with the beauty of it all. We’ll sleep when we can … or not at all … because some places deserve your full attention.
(all the following images are from our guide’s brochure… you can see why we booked!!)
Helicopters, Fjords, and Finding Stillness
We’ve booked a few remote lodges that you can only reach by helicopter. Because, of course we have. There’s something irresistible about a place you can’t just arrive at. You have to earn it.
We’ll wake up surrounded by icebergs, with no roads, no crowds, and maybe no Wi-Fi (which honestly sounds stressful. But they make it sound like heaven).
We’ll meet the locals in tiny coastal towns where houses are painted the colors of joy … red, yellow, blue …defying the Arctic palette.
We’ll listen to stories about sled dogs, the shifting ice, and the rhythm of seasons that most of us have long forgotten.
If Namibia taught us about vastness and desert, we suspect Greenland will teach us about stillness and cold.
About space that’s sacred.
About silence that’s full of sound.
The Search for a Sense of Place
We’re not going to Greenland for a checklist. We’re going to feel small again. It’s so important to us that do this whenever we can. To stand in front of something ancient and wordless.
To be reminded that wonder isn’t loud… it’s patient.
That’s what travel has always been for us. A way to remember who we are when there’s nothing else to distract us.
We found that in Namibia’s desert. We found it in Iceland’s endless sky.
And now, we’re chasing it in Greenland’s frozen light.
The Art of the In-Between
Every trip like this is more than just another adventure. It’s research for life. Every landscape changes how we see the world and how we tell stories.
Because at the heart of what we do, whether it’s planning weddings, making films, or photographing moments, we’re really just trying to capture what it feels like to be alive.
And if there’s one thing the cold has taught us, it’s that clarity comes when everything else falls away.
You see what matters. You feel what lasts. You understand, again, that beauty isn’t always warm. Sometimes, it’s glacial.
Final Thought: To the Edge, Always
So yes, next summer, we’ll be chasing icebergs instead of timelines. Trading timelines for tides. Trading inboxes for the midnight sun.
We’ll pack too many lenses, not enough gloves, and an unhealthy number of snacks. We’ll probably get lost again (hopefully not permanently this time). We’ll definitely find another unforgettable bowl of soup.
And we’ll come back changed. Because that’s what the edge of the world does to you.
To Greenland … we’re coming for the stillness, the color, the space, and the story.
And maybe, for a little piece of ourselves, waiting in the cold.
📋 Planning | 📸 Photography | 🎥 Film by @37frames
37 Frames
