Mention a trip to the Arctic and people’s eyes generally widen a little. For some, the Arctic conjures images of heroic explorers manhauling sledges in a blizzard: for others, Instagram photos of the northern lights come to mind. Either way, visiting the far North has connotations of adventure, mystery, and perhaps, danger. When I explain the reason for the visit is to further my understanding of the lives of the women who have inhabited the Arctic, as part of my postgraduate research project, I get mixed responses.

I don’t need, or seek, other people’s approval, so why am I made to feel a little bit guilty about my self-funded, week-long research trip?

Firstly, it’s comments about my responsibilities. How on earth can my husband look after the dogs and carry out grandparent duties to our two-year-old grandson, as well as cook, clean, and get the shopping? I point out that my husband is extremely capable and hasn’t once complained about the hours I need to devote to my research. (Interestingly, he was never asked how I was managing when he was commuting to London to work twelve-hour shifts for the London Fire Brigade while I was going slightly insane looking after twin babies and a two-year-old toddler at home in Northampton.)

Secondly, maybe I’m just a product of an education system that was stuck in the past regarding women’s potential. My girls’ grammar school still taught how to make a bed, how to iron men’s trousers, and how to cook a nutritionally balanced three-course meal for a family. It wasn’t until my children were all at school that I decided I was worthy of studying for a degree. Despite going on to achieve my Master’s, am I still harbouring concerns that I’m over-reaching?

Yet, despite more guilt – this time about my carbon footprint – I boarded my WhizzAir flight to Tromso. I’d planned my research trip to coincide with the week of the Sami Festival, which gave me the opportunity to immerse myself in multiple cultural events: I learnt about the traditional Sami music, the joik, and went to a performance by a Sami choir ; I chatted to reindeer herders, who explained about the effects of climate change on their animals and their way of life; I practiced crafts at a workshop run by the Sami community, and I also spent hours in the numerous museums, researching not only about the lives of the Sami but also that of Wanny Wolstad, the first lady taxi driver in Tromso and the first female hunter-trapper of the high Arctic. It was invaluable to my research project to access such a wealth of historical artefacts and information.

And, yes, I witnessed the mysterious Northern Lights as they lit up the sky above the Lyngen Alps and, yes, I fell in love with the reindeer that were roaming the hills around the coastal village of Sommaroy, and, yes, I was emotionally moved by the sublime beauty of the snow-covered mountains and the ice-crusted fjords.

I don’t think I should feel guilty for any of that.

Blog post written by: Clare Moss