Imagine a fiveyearold boy standing on the prairie, his little boots planted in the grass, looking up with
those earnest eyes and asking, “Do you think someone has stepped here before? I want to step
where no one has stepped.” Even then, he was searching for the untouched places in the world —
and maybe in himself.

By nine, while other children begged for toy stores or ice cream shops, this boy wanted to know if
every town we visited had an Army Surplus Store. He’d wander the aisles like a young explorer
preparing for a journey only he could see.

At fourteen, he strapped on snowshoes, packed a tent, a sleeping bag, a thermos, snacks, and a
signal beacon, and headed across a snowy valley as if he were crossing the Yukon. He’d send a
quick signal home — “I’m okay!” — then settle into his tent for the night. “Just call me Mr. Cold,” he
said. He seemed born with winter in his bones.

Then came adulthood, and you might think the adventures would slow down. Fresh out of medical
school and in his emergency medicine residency at Fort Lewis, he decided to buy a sailboat. Never
sailed a day in his life. He traveled to the San Juan Islands, bought the boat, and sailed it all the way
to Tacoma Marina with the quiet confidence of someone who trusts the wind more than fear.

One late afternoon, the phone rang. “Say Mom, can you look up the tides in the Tacoma harbor? I’m
going to scuba dive here and need that information.” I quickly responded NO. I don’t even know what
to look for! Mothers steady their voices even when their hearts skip a beat.

Another call: “Mom, I’m about to climb Mount Rainier, so don’t expect to hear from me for a few days.”
I told him to be careful, though I knew he’d already made peace with the mountain long before he
started climbing it.

So when he asked, “Mom, what advice would you give me as I’m contemplating joining a sevenman
expedition in Greenland serving as the doctor — driving trucks from south Greenland to northern
Greenland across the glacier?” I didn’t even blink. I’d been practicing for that question his whole life.

Because that boy — that adventurer — is Dr. Jon S. Solberg, my son ---a militarytrained,
boardcertified emergency physician with deep experience in trauma, wilderness, mountain, and
expedition medicine. A Fellow of both the American College of Emergency Physicians and the
Academy of Wilderness Medicine, he has served as a combatdeployed physician in Afghanistan,
chaired UND’s Department of Emergency Medicine, directed a Level II Trauma Center, and provided
medical leadership for highrisk expeditions, including the first motorvehicle crossing of Greenland.
He’s a rescue scuba diver and a pilot, and yes — he has taken me right to the edge of fear more
times than I can count. But he has never pushed me over it.

I am proud of him — my son, the physician, the husband, the father, and the adventurer. He has
stories to tell, a philosophy of life shaped by cold nights, high places, and deep compassion, and a
wonderful family of his own. When he was in medical school, I’d call to ask if he could have lunch with
me in a couple of days as I passed through town. He’d say, “Mom, I’m going to do today, and if I’m
successful, then I plan to do tomorrow. So catch me the morning you think you’ll be in town.”
And that’s Jon — always living the day he’s in, always stepping where no one has stepped, and
always giving his mother a heart full of pride, wonder, and love.

And now there’s a documentary — Expedition: Greenland — that captures that same spirit he carried
as a boy stepping where no one had stepped. It follows Jon and the team across the vast, white
silence of the Greenland ice sheet, driving specialized Toyota Arctic trucks through a world so cold
and untouched it almost feels like another planet. Watching the documentary is a close-up experience
that makes the viewer feel that austere chill, that sense of wonder, and that deep appreciation for how
a small team can work together for the good of the journey. Viewers quickly realize that it’s not just
about the ice and the danger, but about the trust, the grit, and the quiet courage that holds a team
together when the world around them is nothing but wind and snow.

And now you can see it too. The Study, formerly HumanitiesND, is bringing this remarkable
documentary to friends and neighbors all across North Dakota. Expedition: Greenland will be lighting
up big screens at Bismarck State College (September 12, 2:00–4:30 in the NECE ACT Theater),
Minot State University (September 13, 1:00–3:30 in Ann Nicole Nelson Hall), the University of North
Dakota (October 10, 2:00–4:30 in the Chester Fritz Performing Arts Center), and North Dakota State
University (October 13, 1:00–3:30 in the Festival Concert Hall).

Come join fellow adventurers and settle into the dark of the theater, where you can almost feel that
austere cold and quiet courage that shaped the journey. Watch the trucks crawl across the ice sheet,
listen as the interviewer draws out the deeper stories during the Q&A, and witness how seven men —
alone on a glacier — learned to trust one another, lean on one another, and work together for the
good of the expedition. It’s a story of ice and endurance, yes, but also of teamwork, humility, and the
steady leadership that keeps people safe when the world around them is nothing but wind and white.