How to open a matchbox (a serious patrol, part II)

In the clearest of all mornings we arrive at Blomsterbukta, a small bay with a rather narrow little valley cut in the colorful rocks around. The air is crisp and the ground makes crunchy sounds as we step across the frozen swamp, getting some higher ground. The cold air is biting our noses - the winter is drawing near. Just on top of the little beach there is a small cabin, entirely covered in black roofing fabric. 

A former hunters hut, it is of course an attraction to sneak inside and get a look. Since it is now used as a smaller depot for the Sirius Patrol, Bjarki explains a little about the small details that escaped the untrained eye. Take the matches: You will find at least one or two boxes with three matches sticking out, right next to the petroleum lamp. Never, never ever! will you find this lamp empty, so your frozen fingers can grip the three matches and light the lamp in one go. Same for the oven, a bunch of tinderwood will always wait there in a oil-filled tincan, so no delay with ignition. Then you chuck the shovel in that sits on top of the oven, containing coal and more fire starter. 

This sounds simpel but may be deciding over life and death in a winter situation. It can be that close. It's a bit of an eye-opener to everyone, how skilled these guys are that are dropped by a Twin Otter plane at 84° North in beginning of November and then have to go nearly 1800km by dogsledge through the coldes areas of this planet before they will see another person. Watching the plane leave, Bjarki admits, is a pretty lonely moment.

A serious patrol (I)

Mestersvig is the name of an abandoned zinc and lead mine in the barren Northeast of Greenland. It is far from being deserted, though: No less than two people stay here constantly, mainly to maintain the buildings, the machinery and above all the runway for the odd aircraft that might land here every now and then. But most of the time there is nobody around, so the two have to get along with each other, no matter what. In the roughest of conditions: They get several meters of snow in winter (that has to be cleared away in case of an aircraft arrival, which is only a four-days job...)and a summer that lasts for about six weeks. They have to deal with problems like caterpillars that broke through the ice and blizzards that strip houses of their roofs.

Tempted?

If I tell you that this is a mere chill-out for the other job, that sometimes people stay here because it's the climax of civilisation - would you believe it? No?

Well, then listen to the story of the Sirius Patrol. After Norway had lost the trial before the International Court in Le Hague and was forbidden to settle in Northeast Greenland, the winner Denmark was reminded to take better care of its territories. However, it took until WW2 until they installed a dogsledge patrol, consisting of six teams of two men each who covered the unimaginable area of 160.000 square kilometers, not counting the inland ice. Two men and a pack of dogs, tent, equipment and two years to spend in the highest and coldest areas of the Arctic. Surely one of the coldest, hardest jobs in the world.

We will talk more about it another time, this is just to explain why an abandoned mine in barren lands where musk ox carcasses are the only decoration seems like paradise to some.

We land at Nyhavn, which served as port for the former mine. Bjarki, our honorary team member (and former member of the Sirius Patrol!) introduces us to the two inhabitants, Torben and Thomas who are keen on seeing new faces. We walk among the houses, on the late-autumn tundra, across the glacial scree of the hills and catch a glimpse of Mestesvig station. Certainly a bizarre place to work atg

In the afternoon there is more to come. Ever been to the remote end of a long fjord in a distant valley system at the end of the world? That's Alpefjord for you. In the embrace of steep mountain walls, all beautifully deformed by old tectonic collisions, we set the Polar Cirkel boats out to take a ride around the Viking Glacier that comes down majestically from the valley. It is breathtaking, the narrow passage between glacier and fjord, finally leading to the other side, the "backyard" of the glacier. Only to be here is worth the whole trip.

Not everybody stays up until nighttime. Those who do see a cold, but starry, starry night.

Itto - what??

Nobody will blame you if you resort to the Danish name for the place that guards the entrance of the worlds largest fjord system. OK, but we'll give it another try:
Ittoqqortoormiit, aka Scoresby Sund. It is our first landing in Greenland after the tough passage, so everybody is really looking forward to touch firm ground. And firm the ground is, consisting of beautifully mangled old rocks that make the landing site a colorful place. And the greeting is typically greenlandic - let the children do it!

So we are ready to explore the 450-soul village that was founded by Eijnar Mikkelsen, whose bust watches FRAM from uphill, as a second dwelling place besides Tasiilaq further south.

Life is tough up here, people are hunting for whale, musk ox, bear and seal, proudly presenting the catch of the day to us visitors. In many places the snow never melts, so summer is extremely short here and nearly gone.
Two things seem help to master this life of darkness and hardship: Belief, that's why we find a very pretty church here, and - unfortunately - sometimes alcohol, that's why there is a prison, too. Today there is actually one villager dwelling in N° 261, Ittoqqortoormiit, which means "The place where you live in big houses". Even sometimes with bars on.
After a really interesting landing and many talks to many friendly people we sail further north, passing huge icebergs on our way.

Things you do not want to do

...at least not on a ship that is rodeoing across the Denmark Strait. We are hit by strong gales of 9-10 beaufort, the waves are 10 meters high and up, the world around you is jerking and bouncing, irritating your sense of equilibrium and certainly a drag in everybody's onboard life. 

So you don't want to

walk with fragile things in your hand, read a book, go downstairs, stare at the computer, dance on deck seven, play Mikado, sit in the lecture hall with the curtains down, use the treadmill, drink strong coffee, eat heavy food, not watch the horizon, do anything useful.

Of course, it depends on how affectable you are. A few lucky ones are completely impervious to seasickness and play even a game of table-tennis...

You CERTAINLY do not want to

change bedsheets in cabins, do the dishes for hundreds of people, walk with full trays through the restaurant, stand in the hot fumes of the galleys, mop up corridors where someone had lost the fight against nausea, sit on your knees to clean toilets.

And this is why we think that here we should say more than just a word of respect for our tough crew who - although suffering themselves - did their chores without flinching, without hesitation and even still with a smile.  Same goes for our brave doctor and our nurse who went from cabin to cabin to help others, desparately hoping it would be over soon.

Thank you all - Bravo!

Farewell in Reykjavik

Are you sad because it's raining, or is it raining because you're sad…?

Considering the amounts of water coming down this morning some of our departing guests must have been near desperation, big gushes hammer down on the pier and leave just enough space inbetween for everybody to say goodbye and rush to the busses. Thank you, from all of us, you have been a gentle, happy and interesting group to travel with. We are glad that you had the chance to experience so many different faces of Greenland with us, from the small villages on the west coast (do you still remember…?), to the capital, the Viking places, the great fjords, leading to the harsh side where we found good music and the immense icebergs. Have a safe trip home!

In the meantime we take a not-too-enthusiastic stroll through Reykjavik and rest a little, before we roll up the sleeves again to prepare for the next trip - the wild East coast. Although the weather seems to come to a rest here - even spoiling us with a pretty little rainbow - there are news about some nasty weather ahead. We'll see.

Having learnt about Greenland

After a pretty shaky night we reach Isafjördur, the village?city?town? Difficult to say, it's like the scale of things has changed during the crossing. Although the place doesn't seem large on first glance it is certainly bigger than everything we have seen in Greenland, well, maybe except Nuuk. And there are more differences. We see trees, flowers, lush meadows with sheep and horses. Smells are in the mild morning air, of plants and herbs, of fish and sea. The houses are modern and luxurious, with carports and swimming pools, big panaroma windows. The people seem to be very well off, but here you have no clue what they do for a living. No dogsleds, not many fishing vessels, no hunting gear. They must earn their living somewhere else. And this tells us the ultimate difference: The roads are leading to other places…! You find street signs to Akureyri and Reykjavik, cities far away. Many a Greenlander would only dream to get into a car and actually drive to a different town! And suddenly a last piece falls into place, explaining why it takes so much longer to change things in Greenland than it takes somewhere else: mobility! Imagine you find a highschool, a big library, a tool shop, supplies, a choice of pubs, jobs, extensive medical care - only one hour away. What a difference a road makes!

Of course these are thought that spring to the mind of the traveler who has come from the big, harsh, wild and beautiful island in the northwest. For those who come from other, more comfortable places Isafjördur presents its own past in a very gentle way: For example beautiful whaling and fishing museum, set in a beautiful old building near the harbour and sporting in a different wing an amazing collection of precious harmonicas and bandoneons. A little further out of town you get an introduction in Icelands fishing history by people dressed up in original gear. Or you can just amble through town, go for hand-knitted Icelandic sweaters or mittens, T-shirts that tell you how to pronounce Eyafjallajökull, or Viking figurines. Don't forget to take a look at the surroundings, steep volcanic cliffs all around, telling tales about Icelands fiery past.

Heavy rain sets in after lunchtime, and so everybody seeks out shelter on FRAM, just before we cast lines for the last time on this trip.

How to Drive in the Dark

One more sea day to go until we reach Iceland. So this is the perfect opportunity for the bridge visits, especially in this kind of weather - visibility is around 50 meters only. So of course everybody wants to hear about FRAMs instruments. And here is what what we learn:

MV FRAM is well equipped with two independent GPS systems, that work "hand in hand" (byte in byte?) with the electronic sea chart. That results in our position always displayed as the center of a circle with precise current position. The navigation officer enters the projected itinerary into the main Nav computer, that means all the waypoints. Waypoints are the dots you have to connect to see our future course as a line on the map. If you do well, this line will not cross reefs, shallow waters, will not take "shortcuts" across land or other obstacles. So, these dots are important, mind. In our modern days, the ships computer is also connected to the steering computer which changes the course automatically. All the information needed is displayed on the central screen: Speed, course over ground, windspeed and - direction, Time To Go, Estimated Time of Arrival, to the next waypoint and to our final destination. And much, much more...Well, great, we can all go and have a coffee, then!

Far from it.

Our ship is traveling in tricky waters, almost all the time. And even if we have all the waypoints right there can be moving objects, like other vessels or, especially for us, ice. That means we need another instrument The bridge has to be manned 24/7, with at least two people at any time. Comes to bad visibility there are seaman in addition to that in order to look out. As Captain Hansen puts it: The two most important instruments for navigation are the eyes of the navigator. Still. All these gadgets are support, improvement - not replacement. As well as the electronic chart is not forcing the good ol' admirality chart into retirement. Every navigator is able to use map, ruler and compasses. Like in old times.

The Soul of the East

There are several things to be seen in this harbour picture from Tasiilaq. First: how very, very tiny the pier is captain Hansen managed to reverse-park FRAM. Considering that she is only modestly sized, she still looks among the tiny fishing boats like a fat alley cat sitting in a group of mice. But this morning it is sheer bliss not to have to use the tender boats - rain is pouring down on the 1900-people village, the largest on the east coast, for two weeks in a row now. And this is a weird thing, says Jan, our guide for the day and cousin of our team member Janus (who is actually born in this place), since normally it should be around freezing point and rather snowing.

It could have been a city walk like many others, new church here, museum there, and here's the souvenir shop. But Jan builds a stunning bridge between past and present with only a few side informations: His great-grandfather was a friend of the immensely famous Knud Rasmussen, who - among many other things - created the wonderful movie "Palo's Wedding", which we watched just two days ago and that left an impression of times so infinitely long gone that it could as well be medieval or stone age, no matter. But the great-grandfather was in fact one of the actors, too. Just three generations away, no more. Suddenly the past gets tangible, knocks on the door of today. Did you know that this movie was not - as we all thought - a silent movie? It's only that the soundtrack got damaged and lost during a storm when the actual movie material, good old celluloid, was transported to Denmark. The sound that is to be heard today is a later recording of Jan's granny and one of her friends who were invited to Denmark by Rasmussen in order to do so.

Musing this surprise we enter the church, where the choir of Tassalik is gathered to present us some songs. 

There are quite many choirs all over Greenland, in a lot of places. But the sound suddenly filling the nicely decorated, candle-lit church is not random, not debutant, not coarse. It is the most wonderful music we have ever heard in Greenland, a capturing blend of psalter, gospel and traditional song, delivered with unexpected accuracy and a spirit that is intensely touching. The applause doesn't want to cease.

It is a great pleasure for us to welcome the singers a little later on FRAM; on account of the rain we simply put the next attraction indoors, or rather in-ships: The drum dances. Again, what we see here is beyond all other performances, joyful, intense, charismatic and colorful. A day to remember! We regret to have to leave.

A Glimpse of Antarctica

Greenland is the second largest ice reservoir in the world, accomodating ten percent of the planet's total volume. One has a hard time believing this when traveling down the west coast, through places like Ivituut, Nuuk or Qassiarsuk. But everything changes as soon as you make it to the other side and a little to the north. Today's exploits showed us the harsh, cold, dangerous - and ominously beautiful face of Greenland. In the morning we entered a fjord that became famous in 1888, when a young man by the name of Fridtjof Nansen set off to cross the inland ice for the very first time, accompanied by another legendary explorer, Otto Sverdrup. Here in Umiivik they started their bold journey, and we can hardly believe they did as we are driven so comfortably there by Polar Cirkel Boat, wrapped up nicely in our fleece, softshell and gore-tex outfits, after a nice morning tea and with the prospect to a hearty breakfast afterwards. We are entering the world of ice, it is everywhere, in the water, ashore, at the horizon, all around FRAM. People are not meant to be here, and yet they were. Our respect for the ancient explorers couldn't mount any higher. In the splendid morning light we discover arctic terns, kittywakes, fulmars and a couple of seals, even a bearded seal on an ice flow.

After this, FRAM steams full ahead towards the north to reach Køgebukta during daylight. We make it, but our radar does not show the expected large tabular icebergs in the bay. Instead we get quite a few echoes from further out and decide to have a look. And indeed, soon we distinguish enormous silhouettes in the evening haze, some bigger than our imagination allows - between 80 and 100 meters high is the biggest tower of ice we pass, 3-4 times higher than our ship; you can only get an idea of it by trying to spot the seagulls at the foot of this giant. Slowly we make our way among these mountains of white and blue, awed, reduced, timid, and moved. Now night is around us and we can't see them any more. But we know that they are out there, cold and majestic, and now we believe that there is more than one iceworld on this planet. We caught a glimpse of Antarctica.