Attempting to Land on Tristan da Cunha

Our morning attempt to land on Tristan da Cunha was like stepping into a beautifully wild dream—one laced with challenge. Swells reached three metres and the wind was already building, eventually gusting over 60 knots later that morning. The sea churned with energy, the wind tearing across the surface, lifting salt spray into swirling ghosts.

Just the expedition leader and I, George, boarded a Zodiac to test the landing conditions. The others watched from the ship as we bobbed and thudded over the waves, gauging the narrow window before it slammed shut. It didn’t take long to conclude: it was too dangerous for guest operations. Safety won.

Tristan da Cunha, the world’s most remote inhabited island, rose stark and green against the grey sea—untouched and unreachable. Albatross wheeled overhead while shearwaters skimmed the swell, adding a surreal grace to the moment. Even without stepping ashore, the island left an impression deeper than many places I’ve actually set foot on.

Not landing only makes the desire stronger. This is the magic of remote places: the effort they demand becomes part of their allure. Tristan will stay with me—and I’ll be back to try again.