I'm always moving.

It's our duty to protect our planet and its species, but it's impossible to protect what we don't understand.

That's where I come in.

With small teams on foot, I chart the uncharted ecosystems at the edge of our world.

The thing is, humans weren't built to survive in alot of these places.

Despite their unfathomable beauty and fragility from afar, in reality they are awe-inspiring deathtraps.

On the ground, their beauty pales in comparison to the overpowering survival instinct they activate.

Decades of preparation become distilled into choreographed micro-maneuvers that make the difference between life and death.

Polar climates are home to hidden treasures. Beneath the tundra lies a world of perpetual life at immediate threat of extinction.

In this world of desert permafrost, towering glaciers, and burning ice winds, movement becomes a survival tactic, not an objective.

Deserts are known for being barren and sparse with life due to their dry conditions.

Extreme high temperatures and lack of water makes this environment an often lifeless place where only the most adapted can survive.

By the cultures that surround them, mountains are revered as the seats of gods. In few other places is this sense of boundary more fragile or profound. Mere clouds lie between the living and the dead, the literal and the spiritual, and our earth with its universe.

Things change faster on mountains than almost anywhere else on earth. One moment, you're basking in the calm sunlight, and in the next you're battling centimetres of visibility in a week-long ice storm. It's as harrowing as it is invigorating, enlightening as it is perplexing.