Subconsciously, I feel the plane tilting slightly to the left, and my newfound conditioning takes over—I dream that I’m still driving a snowmobile.
Until I wake up.
Realizing where I am, I carefully lift my ass cheek off the unfortunate passenger I landed on during my involuntary jerk. He stares at me in disbelief.
Writing about last week is both easy and hard. I could list all the incredible activities we did, the new experiences, and the fun we had. But I don’t want to end with a mere travel report. Even if it sounded amazing—or even close to bragging—it still wouldn’t capture the full picture.
The participants: Mr. Green, Mr. Rebel, Mr. Cat, Mr. Fighter, Mr. Heart, Mr. Hope, Mr. House Sparrow, Mr. Jaguar, Mr. Singularity, Mr. Honey Badger, and I.
The activities alone could be packaged into an expensive Instagram influencer’s dream—curated photo moments sold as part of a high-end travel itinerary. But no commercial business could replicate the raw authenticity Mr. Green brought to the experience, with the expert help of Mr. Rebel. Together, they kept us so immersed in the moment that we often had to remind ourselves to take pictures. And I can assure you—the most fun moments are (perhaps regretfully, for memory’s sake) not captured.
What made this special was how everything unfolded naturally. It’s something that doesn’t scale to the commercial realm, simply because Mr. Green managed to bring together a perfectly balanced group of eleven individuals. This mix allowed for rich discussions—ranging from deep philosophical debates to heated political discourse—while also creating space for profound monologues that commanded silent respect.
Silence, too, had its own spectrum. Some would slip away in smaller groups to complete a chore, others would rest or take a walk. Occasionally, a one-on-one conversation would deepen a topic the group had already exhausted.
The group flowed effortlessly, splitting into smaller clusters or embracing solitude before seamlessly rejoining—without a single “Where were you?” asked. For my part, I cherished a solo hour-long randonnée, immersed in nature. I believe everyone found their own moments of solitude in their own way.
I’m not sure why this group dynamic worked so well. It wasn’t just that we were all Bitcoiners—though we certainly shared common ground on principles like freedom. But we also deeply, yet respectfully, disagreed on many topics.
Our days were shaped by the elements—sun, snow, and biting wind. Some learned new skills, while others pushed their limits, sometimes even crossing them.
For those curious, we snowboarded, learned about setting ptarmigan traps, ice-fished, walked, snowmobiled, and engaged in a unique form of “arts & crafts”—which mostly involved fixing broken gear mid-ride or rescuing snowmobiles from tricky situations. These activities—excluding the impromptu tinkering—might be found in an Arctic adventure package, but what set them apart was how Mr. Green and Mr. Rebel approached them. We learned with an open mind, fostering self-responsibility while understanding how to stay safe. A fiat-organized excursion would have been wrapped in paperwork, disclaimers, and a long list of “don’ts.”
Perhaps the setting acted as a natural filter for the group. Half of the trip took place at an undisclosed off-grid location, appealing only to those with a particular mindset. Not many NgU-only proponents would willingly embrace the trade-offs of such an environment.
This self-reinforcing dynamic turned “optional chores” into enjoyable team efforts. For example, cutting an ice hole: Mr. Green expertly laid out the cutting grid, and under his guidance, Mr. Honey Badger, Mr. Hope, and I helped extract and haul ice blocks by sled to the ice cellar. The resulting ice hole later became the perfect cold plunge spot after sauna sessions in the evening.
Evenings were just as dynamic. Beyond cooking meals together and cleaning up, each participant was invited to give a talk or presentation.
The topics spanned Zen, psychedelics, electricity, contracts, running a BTC Pay Server, Sámi culture and history, the influence of national politics on Sámi identity, (private messaging on) Nostr, mobility, and societal structures. Each sparked further discussions and deep dives.
For my own presentation, I gained more insights from the feedback in one hour than I would have from pondering the topic alone for a week.
The deep talks, the nature, the group dynamics—it all came together in a way that cannot be replicated.
The names I’ve used in this article are the ones each participant chose months before the trip. Upon my request they each selected a word they felt best represented them. Yet, I never gave them one for myself.
Now, sitting on the plane home, I finally have a name to share with the group—and with you, dear reader.
After this week, you may call me Mr. Smiles.