Two National Geographic Expeditions with Perpetual Planet

Launched in partnership with Rolex, the Perpetual Planet initiative was designed to explore and protect Earth’s critical life-support systems. At its core, the program is about more than exploration, it is about understanding how the natural world is changing and how humanity can respond to protect it.

One of the initiative’s first and most ambitious undertakings was the 2019 National Geographic and Rolex Perpetual Planet Everest Expedition. It remains the most comprehensive scientific expedition ever conducted on the world’s highest peak, bringing together glaciologists, biologists, geologists, filmmakers and climbers with a shared mission - to better understand the water towers of the world.

High-mountain glaciers act as reservoirs, feeding rivers that billions of people rely on. As climate change accelerates glacial melt, the very systems that sustain life downstream are under threat. National Geographic knew that to tell this story, it would take more than data, it would take images powerful enough to connect people emotionally to the science. 

That was where my role began.

When the November 2019 issue of National Geographic hit newsstands, I held my breath. Inside was a two-page spread featuring my photography from the Everest expedition. Seeing my work in those iconic yellow-bordered pages was surreal.

The expedition accomplished several groundbreaking feats. Scientists installed five of the highest weather stations in the world including one perched in the Everest “death zone.” They extracted the highest ice core ever collected offering a frozen record of climate stretching back centuries. Teams conducted biodiversity surveys, mapped glaciers in unprecedented detail and studied the shifting dynamics of Everest Base Camp.

My role wasn’t on the summit science team, but in telling the story through film and photography. I focused on capturing the human side of the expedition, the scientists at work, the Sherpa climbers leading the way, the moments of exhaustion and triumph. Through the lens, I tried to make the science feel alive and accessible, showing how extreme environments reveal both the beauty of the mountains and the urgency of climate research.

Two years later, the Perpetual Planet story continued, this time in the Andes. In early 2021, a team of scientists, mountaineers and storytellers set out for Tupungato Volcano, a 6,570-meter giant towering above central Chile. I joined the expedition, capturing the work of researchers as they installed the highest weather station in the Southern and Western Hemispheres.

Chile was in the grip of a devastating megadrought, one of the worst in recorded history. For over a decade, rainfall in central Chile had been far below average, threatening agriculture, ecosystems and the water supply for Santiago, a city of seven million people. The stakes could not have been higher.

The weather station we helped install, perched at 6,505 meters, now sends back near-real-time data about wind, temperature, humidity and solar radiation. That data is vital for water resource managers trying to predict future availability, for farmers hoping to plan crops and for scientists studying how climate change is reshaping one of South America’s most important watersheds.

For me, the Chile expedition was both familiar and different. Like Everest, it demanded physical grit, long ascents through rock and ice, days at altitude, biting cold. But it also carried a distinctly local urgency. While the glaciers of the Himalaya feed rivers that sustain Asia, the snowfields of Tupungato are the beating heart of Chile’s water supply. Photographing that work wasn’t just about science, it was about documenting hope in a moment of crisis.

Standing on Everest in 2019 and Tupungato in 2021, I felt the same sense of awe and the same weight of responsibility. These expeditions were not simply about exploration. They were about equipping humanity with knowledge at a time when decisions about water, climate and conservation will define the century ahead.

From the Himalaya to the Andes, the common thread was clear, mountains are our planet’s water towers. They store and release freshwater that sustains billions of people, and they are changing before our eyes.

The Perpetual Planet initiative ties these far-flung expeditions together into one story: that science and storytelling, side by side, can drive awareness and inspire action. For me, being part of both journeys was proof of the power of images to make complex science feel real, urgent and human.

Looking back on both expeditions, I think often about the role of storytelling in science. Weather stations, ice cores and glacier maps are crucial, but they don’t reach people on their own. It’s the photographs, the human faces, the raw beauty of dawn breaking over ridgelines, that open the door for someone to care.

Being published in National Geographic in 2019 was a dream realized, but it was also a call to keep going. To keep saying yes to hard climbs and cold mornings, to keep chasing the moments that connect viewers to something bigger than themselves. To keep using my lens to make the invisible, climate data, biodiversity shifts, drought impacts, visible.

The Chile expedition reinforced that call. As I watched scientists anchor instruments into frozen rock, I thought about how those numbers would ripple outward to policymakers, to communities downstream, to future generations who may one day thank us for capturing data at the edge of the sky.

The Perpetual Planet initiative continues today, with expeditions spanning from coral reefs to rainforests, deserts to glaciers. Each one adds another thread to the global tapestry of understanding our changing Earth.

For me, the journey is personal as well as professional. To stand with a camera in hand at 6,500 meters, knowing that what we document could help shape the future of water security for millions, it’s both humbling and motivating. It reminds me that photography is not just about beauty. It is about bearing witness.

When I look back at the photographs from Nepal and Chile, I see more than expeditions. I see the privilege of being part of a team pushing into the unknown, the responsibility of telling stories that matter and the enduring belief that science and storytelling together can move us toward solutions.

From Everest to Tupungato, these two expeditions under the banner of Perpetual Planet were milestones in my career and touchstones in my life. They taught me that the camera can be a compass pointing us toward truth, that the mountains are more than landscapes, they are lifelines, and that even in the harshest environments, collaboration between scientists, climbers and storytellers can make lasting impact.