It's The End Of The World As We Know It.

A long and winding road.

Nordkapp, Norway – The asphalt ribbon twists like my stomach as we weave around tight curves sewn into the mountains.

The road is worn from long winters.

It's a landscape I'd imagine being on the moon, but with a little more activity. It's surreal.

In desolation, beauty.

Searching for fresh growth, herds of white reindeer shed their camouflage in the dirty snow. Steep hills rise in mottled greens, browns and blacks. Somehow, cyclists and hikers push through the enormity.

We haven't seen civilization for 20 minutes.

Even then: a red house set onto a small, hilly island; a fishing boat standing steady amidst broken sheets of black ice. Sea birds, floating above small fjords.

At the end of the 30-kilometre drive from Honningsvåg stands the signature globe marking the northernmost point in continental Europe.

Not allowed to play reindeer games.

Except, it's actually not.

Never mind that Nordkapp is on an island, reaching Knivskjellodden requires additional steps north.

What’s an extra 4,760 feet between friends?

It's still the farthest north you can go by vehicle.

For 150 years, tourists have admired the midnight sun here and toasted the end of the world. To reach it, they had to climb the thousand-foot cliffs that fall into the union of the Norwegian and Barents seas below.

They earned their champagne.

Nordkapp's crown as farthest north may be ill-gotten, but its rugged beauty is undeniable. This has been an incredible day.

All that's left above us is Svalbard. Next stop: the North Pole.

Only 2,000 kilometres away.