Long before I found my place in tourism, I was fascinated by how people interact with and shape their surroundings—whether that’s an organisation, a university or a neighbourhood.

With a degree in Leisure Management, a master’s degree in Management, Culture & Change and a teaching qualification, I spent more than fifteen years working at the intersection of education, organisational development and public-private partnerships. I developed programmes, built partnerships and supported organisations through change.

Looking back, the common thread has always been the same: understanding how people interact with the world around them and how thoughtful collaboration can create lasting value.

Together with my partner Karim and our former sled dog Navara, I live and work across Scandinavia throughout the year as an outdoor guide and dog musher. As the seasons change, so do we. We seek opportunities—whether that’s working with an organisation that inspires us, learning from an experienced musher, or spending a season in a region we’ve long wanted to explore.

For me, this is more than a lifestyle; it’s the lens through which I experience the world. Living and working in different places allows me to experience them through the seasons, build relationships with the people who know a place best, and come to understand the rhythms that shape daily life. Over time, I’ve come to believe that understanding a destination rarely comes from seeing more. It comes from slowing down long enough to observe, to listen and to understand. That’s how I experience Scandinavia—not as a visitor passing through, but from within.

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At the end of a tour, I’m often asked, “Do you have any tips for the area?” My answer rarely starts with the well-known highlights.

I’d much rather tell people about that seemingly simple ski trail where, on Saturdays, an otherwise deserted mountain hut turns into a waffle café, bringing locals together. Or about the musher who welcomes guests into his home for small-scale multi-day expeditions, where the day begins at half past six in the morning feeding the dogs and experiencing the rhythms of life as a long-distance musher. Or about the frozen waterfall in the next valley where almost no one goes ice climbing, even though it might be one of the most beautiful places in the region.