Mikael Strandberg

I’m closing in on 63 and, most mornings, I sit down early—coffee, quiet house—and think: It’s a good life. I’ve spent three decades following a compass of curiosity rather than convention: Patagonia on horseback, Yemen by camel, Siberia on skis, Greenland over and over. A few documentaries and articles came out of it; many mishaps too. These days the fire still burns, but lower, steadier—less about being seen, more about being useful. My main titles are father, partner, and learner. The tent nights with my daughters, the patience that concussion and age have forced on me, the small routines—yoga, tire-dragging through the forests of Skåne, cycling school-run in the rain—feel as important as any flag on ice. I still be...