While it may have been nearly 20 below on our last night on the trail in Svalbard, we woke to a nearly 40 degrees temperature difference from just ten hours earlier. With the warmer weather, also came a substantial increase in humidity and as a result a light snow fell on our sleds as we packed up the tent for the last time. Yesterday's wind had died as well creating another soul engulfing, mind numbing whiteout. We skied for several hours not really being able to see much of anything.

After a few adventures along the way - I'll save the story about a random snowmobiler, Ryan and I sharing a short ride for another time - Svalbard materialized out of the white. For several hours, we seemed to be making little progress at all. Then, a few buildings, a road crossing and we were back at Mary Ann's Polar Rigg - the hostel where we had stored our extra gear. We quickly changed out of our ski boots and walked into town for a burger and beer. Chairs and heat generated from something other than our body or small MSR camp stove.

The end of expeditions are always funny to me. On one hand, it is a welcome relief to feel comfortable and warm. However, there is also a little nagging dread. Spending time in wild places, discovering new things and over coming physical and mental challenges is a powerful draw for me. Expedition life is simple and direct. Actions have direct consequences - both good and bad. Coming back to a fast paced world of convenience and immediacy can often be difficult. But not impossible. After all, I've spent way more of my life not on an expedition. Well almost.

Eating Clif bars at one break in particular, Ryan and I had a discussion about how much of our lives we've spent in a tent or on expedition. Ryan estimated nearly three years. I figured two and a half on expeditions and much more if you calculated my time guiding in Colorado, Hawaii, Minnesota and Alaska (back in the day).

In the morning we spent a couple of hours organizing gear and packing everything into my Ergodyne duffles. After two weeks of constant wear, I would definitely not be wearing my CORE base layers on the plane and I tried to pack all my expedition clothes tightly in Granite Gear stuff stacks to keep the smell at bay. Overall, I was pleased with all the gear on my trip and we only had to get the repair kit out once to fix a broken bridle on Ryan's sled.

One of my favorite things to do at the end of each day on an expedition is try to find one image (for my web update) that summarizes the day's events and emotions. I am always amazed how many different things happen over the course of 10 to 12 hours on the trail... Unless you're in Antarctica of course. For the most part however, it's a relatively easy task picking the right picture. On the flight back from Oslo, I spent some time looking through the images of our ENTIRE Svalbard adventure and wondered if I could translate that idea to our entire trip - pick out one image that was representative our time on the ice. Skiing through a mountain pass, traveling along the fjord, ski mountaineering, an ice cave... Each day seemed like a different adventure unto itself.

Maria picked me up at the airport and as we drove back I was surprised to see how much had changed in the nearly three weeks I was gone. Green grass was sprouting up everywhere and that warm humid smell of spring was in the air. Merritt was already asleep when we got home, but I went in to check on him anyway. He was asleep with a half smile on his face.

We were both up early in the morning, me from jet lag and Merritt, well that's just what he does. He's got his mom's cheery morning disposition and is generally happy when he wakes up (very much unlike me). He turned six months old when I was gone and has grown quite a bit. Three weeks is almost one-sixth of his life and his smile turned to confusion as he saw me walk in, but he recognized my voice and soon we were laughing and playing like old times.

Image: Packing up gear outside Mary Ann's Polar Rigg in Svalbard.