What to do…if I die

When I first started talking about Greenland: Alone, it felt a bit like a wild idea — I had no idiea how to even start planning something like this.

My first port of call was having a chat with a few people “in the know”, and it snowballed from there (sorry about the shitty pun).

(not sorry).

Now I’m sitting here building sponsorship briefs and writing up risk and evacuation plans, and it’s hitting me: this is actually happening.

The sponsorship doc is meant to look slick and simple, but behind every neat line of text there’s some pretty heavy reality. My risk assessment literally includes stuff like:

• what to do if I fall through sea ice,

• how to handle a polar bear showing up at my tent,

• and what happens if I stop checking in altogether.

That’s not just admin — that’s me writing down the ways I could get into serious trouble out there, and how people will try to get me out.

When you write “assume Priority 1A evacuation if no check-in is received,” you realise you’re literally scripting what happens if you stop moving, stop communicating. Or stop existing.

So when I send this brief to potential sponsors, it’s not just a pitch. It’s me saying: this expedition is real, it’s risky, and I’m asking you to be part of it.

And that’s both terrifying and kind of exciting. Because at the heart of all this isn’t just skiing around some remote island. It’s about starting a conversation on men’s mental health, and showing that even in the loneliest places, you’re not truly alone.

This is moving from idea to reality. And yeah… it’s getting real.