I am writing this from Gerakas Beach in Zakynthos, where I have been working remotely seeing patients online this week. One of the reasons I chose this particular location was because of its connection with the loggerhead sea turtles that return here every year to nest. They come back to the very beach they were born.

Today, I came across a set of turtle tracks on the beach. I had already seen evidence of the conservation work taking place here and knew that this was one of the most important nesting sites in the Mediterranean, but seeing the tracks in the sand was different. They stretched from the sea up towards the dunes and back again, recording a journey that had taken place during the night while the beach was empty and quiet.

I found myself completely absorbed by them. I took photographs and videos and was so excited I didn't know what to do with myself! There was something fascinating about seeing evidence of an animal that had been and gone in the dark of the night. The tracks told the whole story. The turtle had emerged from the sea, dug her nest, attempted to lay her eggs and then returned to the water.

The conservation team had already been hard at work way before my 9am arrival. One lovely young lady told me that the mummy turtle must have decided she wasn't ready, as there were no eggs in this nest. They had already discovered three other nests, and this was the fourth they were investigating. They cover the tracks as the last part of their work protecting the nesting areas. I realised that I had arrived during a very small window of time between the turtle's visit and the practical work required to safeguard the beach. A few minutes later, the tracks were mixed together with the brushed away sand by the volunteers. I knew what they were, but the newcomers to the beach didn't.

The work being carried out here is very impressive. Zakynthos supports one of the most important nesting populations of loggerhead turtles in the Mediterranean. The beaches here receive hundreds of nests each year around this time, and have become a focus for conservation efforts that balance tourism, local life and the protection of a vulnerable species. The turtles face challenges from habitat loss, light pollution, marine plastics, fishing activity and increasing pressure on coastal environments. Watching the conservation teams at work gave me a real appreciation of how much effort goes into protecting something that many visitors never even see.

I spent the rest of the day observing the beach fill with tourists. They respected the protected areas, and sprawled out around them. The tracks soon disappeared altogether. I stared out to sea and imagined those turtles inside it. I was entranced.

My clinical work involves observation too. Whether I am exploring genetics, listening to someone's story, looking for patterns in symptoms or trying to understand what may be contributing to illness, much of what I do begins with curiosity. Being in nature engages exactly the same part of me. I am a collector of information with my patients, and driftwood in nature.

I have often thought that modern life encourages us to move quickly from one thing to the next. We visit places, take photographs and continue on our way. Spending time in Gerakas has reminded me how much can be discovered by slowing down. A set of tracks in the sand became a lesson in migration, conservation, ecology and the extraordinary life cycle of an animal that has crossed oceans for millions of years.

The turtles themselves are remarkable. Female loggerheads return to the beaches where they were born, as I mentioned earlier, guided by mechanisms that scientists are still studying. After laying their eggs, they leave the next generation to emerge and make their own journey to the sea. The vast majority of people who visit these beaches will never witness that process directly, yet it is happening all around them throughout the nesting season.

As I sit here working, writing and seeing patients from a small corner of Greece, I feel grateful for the people who have dedicated themselves to protecting these animals and their habitat. Their work allows future generations to continue experiencing something that has been taking place for far longer than any of us have been here.

This trip has reminded me that curiosity is valuable in every setting. It deepens our understanding of people, of health, of relationships and of the natural world. The more attention we bring to what is around us, the richer our experience becomes. Sometimes that begins with something as simple as noticing a set of tracks in the sand.