A friendly escort

 Today we find out what a seaday can be like, when the elements are on your side. People are ambling across the outer decks with a dreamy smile on their faces, looking out at the horizon. Time for a lecture? Why not, nice to learn more about Greenlandic Culture, climate, whales and what not. Suddenly an announcement over the PA: Whales on portside! People rushing out to the decks, the observation lounge, any window to see the spouts and the flukes.
Later on the water is stirring again, in shorter, swifter movements - white-beaked dolphins are coming to check us out…
They ride the bow, they go round and round, obviously playing with our ship. And suddenly - they're gone. Not a trace left, not a flipper. They had their share and are gone now where we can't follow. And we won't, anyway: Iceland is waiting for us. So we take this as a last farewell of the wild places we have been. Tomorrow it's a "civilized" place.

Solitude with a Visitor

Solitærbukta means Solitude Bay and is definitely situated in a place where you can very well imagine being alone for a while. The pebble beach leads out in the wide Kempesfjord which itself is flanked by near-vertical walls of colorfully banded rocks, bearing names like "The Chief's Head" or "The Helmet". The names were given by the temporary inhabitants of the buildings that we find here - trappers first, now members of the Sirius Patrol and scientists, carrying out research on subjects like crustal movements. Behind the big and comfortable house there's even a runway. Well, at least it is a scaringly short stretch of flattened gravel with some empty barrels on either side. According to Bjarki the Twin Otter doesn't even need the full length of it. That's some flying…

Behind the mountains the sun is rising. Which means on the other hand that it is really, really cold in the valley, at least after a while of standing guard. But this seems more than necessary: The station shows clear traces of polar bear rampage. Huts are damaged, oil drums ripped, boards torn down. Here's a bear that knows where to find goodies. So we have the guides out to prevent some of us become goodies, too. But apparently today's landing is not meant to be disturbed, we all can enjoy the wonderful clean air and the gorgeous lookout points. In the meantime, Palle and Kasper carry out the most urgent repairs on the station.

In the afternoon we take an impressive cruise among big icebergs that are stuck in a so-called iceberg graveyard. Everybody is really gripped by this obstacle course among the gleaming white giants. But these prove to be tiny compared to the immense walls of Narwale Sound, our last narrow passage on the way out towards the open sea. Tomorrow it's Denmark Strait again. Brows furrow sceptically as the announcement promises better conditions than on the way up. Well, it cannot be as bad as a week ago, can it?

A beary good morning

Myggbukta, not the most tempting of all names. And in fact, the summers here must be hell on Earth, this place is situated on a beach that sits at the end of enormous swamps. The plains open wide, and only by the tiny little dots in the distance that turn out to be more than 20 musk oxen we can guess the mountain range to be as far away as about 40-50 kilometers…sometimes size does matter. Today we do not have to suffer from the black blood-thirsty clouds, it's freezing cold and the ground is solid. At least, that is what we assume from the distance. There is also another thing we notice on approach: It is medium-sized, of a yellowish white and seems to be moving. Yep, indeed, we have our first polar bear! Unfortunately it is sitting just a bit above our landing beach, e.g. a mere three-minute stroll from us. So we have to restructure the landing a little: Keep a vigilant eye on the bear all the time and always have enough boats ready to get everyone evacuated if needed. The guides with the flares (and rifles) build a perimeter around the whole area et voilá! - we can proceed.

 

Unnecessary? Too much? Just keep a few things in mind: This is the time when bears are usually pretty hungry, cause all the other food is difficult to get. Do not ever think you can predict what a bear is going to do! They do not show any sign before an attack, and when they do they can run faster than 50 km/h over a short distance. And yes, they do eat people. So nobody here finds their kicks in carrying a gun or calling anyone back from the stroll. It is for safety, as simple as that.

 After a while, our bear retreats a few paces out of sight. Not good, better to know where he is. So two of us follow and find him just behind the first ridge, chewing on the miserable remains of a dead musk ox. Fortunately, he does not change his diet towards blue or orange jackets but decides to disappear for good in the steep riverbed behind the ridge. And that was the last we saw of him. But now we know it's not a joke: They are around.
The hut itself is a really big one, several rooms, two floors, good shape. Even our new constant chaperon, the "Einar Mikkelson", seems to agree. Easy to imagine staying here for a summer. If it weren't for the mosquitoes...

Best friends

Daneborg, paradise! At least for those who come back from the endless journey through the frozen world of Greenlands National Park. They lost 10 kg or more on this incredible ride, have been longing more than once to be in one of those airplanes that go miles overhead (going to warmer places with comfy seats, warm water, different food and stewardesses…!), seen the most amazing things, beauty and danger, maybe bumped into polar bears, spent nights of sheer survival at minus 60 degrees, welcomed the lemonade in the depot like a treasure, and made and made and made their way with great endurance. Two men and their dogs, for weeks or even months. If you go along well, if you brave all this together, you become friends for a lifetime. And Daneborg is their headquarter, the place where they meet, a realm of team spirit. We are greeted warmly upon arrival, although watched carefully by the "Einar Mikkelsen" of the Danish Navy. (Well, later on they pay us a visit on board, it's certainly a little less than formal here.) The members of Sirius are just ready to give us a guided tour on the premises. Apart from the small museum and the old trapper's cabin we learn what life on the Sirius team is all about: Dogs and equipment that hopefully never fails. They build everything themselves, from riflebag, to tent, sleeping bag, clothes. They can sew, repair, build, splice, take care of wounds - and cook. Mothers-in-law, stop sighing! These guys are out and about for years…

Then there's the dogs. The subtitle "man's best friend", here it is doubtlessly true. Every team has a pack of 13 dogs, each of them with a distinct character, place in the hierarchy, and unique qualities. Man and dogs are a perfect unit, and they obviously love each other. A lot. And here lies the unavoidable dilemma: The dogs can go and work for 8-9 years maximum, getting bred and fed and trained and healed by their proud owners. Until the day comes when it is time "to say good-bye". Our guide looks to the ground as he explains, carefully avoiding any other term. There is no alternative, they cannot stay behind or brought to some other place (maybe except one or two that go to Mestesvig). It is a dark day for the team, it means loosing a true and loyal friend, no less. These men are doing one of the toughest outdoor jobs in the world, but as they all agree - this is the most difficult part of it.
On a happier note we get to know about the sleds. These are also built by the team, from scratch, no pre-cut parts involved. It takes 80 hours of work and getting one ready is a big event. This is your vehicle, your transport, your key logistic item. You don't want to be sloppy here. The final act is the baptizing. Look at this one: it's got the name of a Berlin hockey team. Die Eisbären, how appropriate!

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!