KALALLIT NUNAAT

This summer saw me embarking on my first ever organised tour. I’d always avoided such things, preferring to make my own plans & do my own thing. An advert in the Arctic Experience brochure, in conjunction with Arctic Adventure (Denmark), captured my interest with tales of icebergs, Whales & blubber.

This ‘sealed’ my fate, so to speak.

I left Heathrow, not knowing what to expect. The airport was crowded but people soon scattered as I started throwing round my rucksack with ice axe & crampons attached. Sat in the departure lounge, I passed the time looking round trying to decide who else could be part of the group. Two bearded men sat opposite each other, studiously cracking their legs with trekking poles. I looked around the room in hope.

It was impossible to decide; the passengers were so mixed. On the plane, it became evident that AE had taken the trouble to group us all together and I found myself sat with John, Fi & Will. Thinking I’d get the conversation off to a flying start, I turned to Fi.

"It’s to hope there are no vegetarians going, judging by the meal descriptions", I offered.

"I know", she replied, "We’re vegan!"

Soon the ‘vegan’ meals arrived – frozen salad and cream cakes! Things could only get worse…

A good 3 hour flight later we arrived in Keflavik, Iceland and were transferred to our guesthouse in Reykjavik for the first night. Meeting the rest of the group and passing Will & Fi the address of a wholefood vegetarian restaurant, we promptly disbanded for the evening and split into small groups, intent on finding food, beer and an introduction to sub-arctic life.

I set off with John, Steve & Karen to find the restaurant of my memories, some 3 years ago. In fact, three of us had been to Iceland before – Steve only 12 months before – but all we could find were Chinese & Indonesian restaurants, but we hadn’t come all this way to eat English food! Eventually we came across the right place – traditional Icelandic fare with free salad bar and a couple of large beers for around IKR2000. Eating away, we watched in amazement as people staggered in and out of the bar across the road. We were told that it was notorious in Reykjavik.

It was soon time to discover the toilets. The urinals deserve a special mention, here, as they were by far the highest I’ve ever come across, almost requiring a ‘hooking’ technique! John returned, abandoning the idea… Karen said she couldn’t see what all the fuss was about!

After the meal, we continued drinking in a nearby bar, where I re-aquainted myself with Brennivin and we were plied with smoked Salmon sandwiches by the ever friendly Icelanders.

We returned to the guesthouse at around 0130, but the key wouldn’t turn in the lock. After ringing the doorbell, an equally friendly old woman in a hairnet came down to let us in; we had the key to the BACK door!

The next morning, we flew into Kulusuk and awaited our helicopter transfer to Tasiilaq, our base camp. We had to make four separate flights and, after the first 2 lots had gone, we were called over and told that we didn’t have tickets, so we’d have to pay for our flights! Eventually, after explaining that we were meant to collect our tickets from the desk, they let us on the helicopter.

Meeting our guides, Anders & Søren, in Tasiilaq we set up camp on a spur overlooking Kong Oskar’s Havn (Tasiilaq bay). The fjord was full of icebergs of all shapes, sizes & colours. The contrast was amazing. Blue & white icebergs vied with each other for the most imaginative shape. We argued vehemently; was that a swan or a dragon? Sad, really – it was just a lump of ice, but it passed the time! Speedboats raced past and the helicopter kept flying backwards & forwards across the ice-infested waters to Kulusuk. It was all quite bizarre.

We set up camp and then went to aquaint ourselves with our food store, the contents of which seemed quite strange. Crates of tomato ketchup & brown sauce were alongside several stone of cheese, masses of red cabbage, tinned mackerel and Spam. We were in for a rare old treat! The Vegan food was nowhere to be seen (with the exception of bread & jam).

The walk into ‘The City’ was awful, empty beer cans were strewn everywhere, as was every other type of rubbish imaginable. Rotting pieces of seal blubber lay on the rocks and the sled dogs – out of work for the summer - lay recumbent by the path. During the snow-free months, the more vicious dogs are left chained up outside town (by the campsite!!!) They get no exercise and are fed only once a week. They are certainly not pets!

(Click)

Tasiilaq has a small but interesting museum of local life. The Inuit of E. Greenland remained undiscovered until about 100 years ago and retain many ancient customs that have fallen by the wayside in western & southern locales. The museum houses examples of clothing and weapons as well as the Kajaq & Umiaq boats and many tupilaqs. Tupilaqs were used in a similar way to voodoo by the Angokoks. They were made from parts of animals – or humans – into grotesque figures. The most powerful Angokoks could give the Tupilaq ‘life’ and would then send it to cause harm to its victim. The maker had to take care, however, because if the recipient had greater powers than he, the Tupilaq would be turned round and the original fate would befall its creator!

The town also boasts a re-creation of a sod hut; the Eskimos of Greenland never lived in ice igloos. From the doorway, steps led up into a single raised room where several families would spend the winter. The beds were covered in sealskins and blubber was melted in soapstone vessels for cooking & lighting. During the winter months, they would regularly put out the lamps and play ‘The Game’; it was necessary to regularly introduce ‘new blood’ into the families. This is still the case today, where wife swapping and general permissiveness are the order of the day, as one member of our group was later to discover…

The hotel bar was an obvious after dinner attraction! The walk up the hill was exhausting, but soon we caught sight of the ‘Inn of Happiness’. Silence fell as we entered. The locals propping themselves up to see us. Everyone was drunk to oblivion – it was pay-day – it was unreal! Beer was expensive at about DKR30 a bottle, but not everyone can claim to have been on a pub crawl to Greenland. After about ½ hour, people started to get curious and came over to talk to us. I don’t suppose they could avoid us for long, as we were blocking the way to the toilets! After a while, a young couple walked openly out of the ladies; improving one family’s bloodline!

The night turned into a hilarious tale of dancing and hand tricks.

"I can do an Elephant impression", I offered.

"NO!" came the resounding response. The strange thing was that even the Greenlanders laughed!

Will kept the local kids amused playing the monster – in a way that only a Scot knows how – while Fi found herself the centre of everyone’s attention with her dreadlocks & nose ring!

With joy in our hearts & Tuborg in our veins, we staggered down the hill to our tents.

It soon came to light that we had a bit of a problem; we had all been given different information by the tour operator! Some had been told that ice gear was necessary while others were told that crampons were not essential. The terrain had also been described as similar to the Lake District, which wasn’t entirely accurate. So we found ourselves to be a very mixed group in terms of both ability & equipment. The planned route must be adapted. The enthusiasm with which Anders set about achieving this was admirable; this was no easy task.

Our first walk was along the Valley of the Flowers towards the mountain Qaqqartivakajik (Sømandsfjeldet). The walk up the road through Tasiilaq was incredibly steep; we assembled out of breath at the top of the town near the cemetery. Judging by the amount of rubbish strewn around, it was a surprise to see that the locals appeared to look after the graves. Each grave was topped with a white cross and freshly placed flowers – the flowers, in fact, were plastic - placed there once and seldom revisited; Greenlandic practicality.

Passing a lake, the cloud was beginning to come in, so the idea of going for the top was abandoned and we continued round the lake to the fjord and followed this back into Tasiilaq. The cloud remained for a day or two and prevented us from heading over the tops to Sermilik fjord. A boat was hired to take us round the coast, instead. "Immaqa."

The boatman never did arrive, so Anders engaged the help of another Inuit – Tobias – and his friends (Big) Otto & (Little) Otto. The name was a bit of a misnomer, as both were about the same size; as we were to find out, ‘Blind Otto’ would have been a better description! Otto & Otto took all the gear, while we went with Tobias in his 80hp beast.
 

The ride among the icebergs was astounding. They were everywhere, of all colours & sizes. Two enormous lumps of ice towered above us; only one tenth of the full size is visible! Gazing on in awe, the boat slowed down and someone said:

   "Hey, look, a seal…"

    BANG!
 

The ‘seal’ was a red patch of water. In that moment, it became brutally obvious what we were doing here in this northern extreme of civilisation. Hunting is a way of life here and, with no other way of survival, no-one can seriously criticise the Inuit for their activities. We’d all expected to see dead seals and hunters, but even I hadn’t expected them to go hunting on a ‘tourist trip’!

It all seemed very clear where tourism lies in these frozen lands. As prices come down, tourism will undoubtedly increase; but it will always be on the grounds laid down by the Inuit. Greenland will never be an Eco-friendly place to visit – nor should anyone try to change it.

We camped in the fjord, at 65°39’25"N 37°54’30"W, by a river. The views from a nearby hill were amazing.On the top of one such hill, I decided to teach Anders & Søren the words to "Ilkla Moor Bar T'at"! The whole of the fjord was a mass of ice. We set off after dinner up the valley towards the Mittivakkat Glacier. The route up river introduced us to what was to become the ‘standard’ for Greenlandic walking. Several waterfalls had to be passed, involving some interesting scrambling. The thought of having to do this with a fully-laden 70 litre rucksack was worrying!

We were walking on the world’s oldest rock. Gigantic slabs of multicoloured granite, worn over millennia by the force of the ice; red, green, yellow – tremendous. From a viewpoint at around 588m, we took in the panorama surrounding us. Towering above us were peaks in excess of 900m and between these was the tongue of Mittivakkat, our destination in a couple of days. The line of the river could be followed down the valley to the campsite and then extensive views across the fjord.

A boat trip was made to the deserted island of Ikkatteq, where about four families live in winter. Now, when hunting was reduced, the island was abandoned in favour of Tasiilaq. Only the dogs remained, standing guard over their domain. Strangely enough, the island boasts a church & schoolhouse. A glance through the hymn books showed impossible-looking verses of two words per line, there being so many syllables per word.

By now, all of us were starting to become rather unsociable due to there being a distinct lack of showers in the Greenlandic wilderness. It could be prolonged no longer; I must find a quiet stretch of beach to take my bath.

Never being overly known for my modesty, I nevertheless decided to use a bit of tact and searched for a big rock to hide behind. After a suitably refreshing (i.e. cold) full wash, I returned to the campsite, informing Steve jubilantly about my ‘perfect’ hiding place.

"I know", came the reply. "I saw you from up there while I was having a crap!"

"I saw someone ", said Pauline. "I couldn’t tell who it was, but I could see it was a man!"

"Did you enjoy your wash, Kev?" asked Sian, coming down the hill, ever smiling.

I don’t know why I bothered!

The plan had been to leave this area on a two day backpacking trip across the Mittivakkat Glacier to the north coast of Ammassalik Ø and then across the Fjord to Tiniteqilaaq. However, the tour operator had told different people different stories. Some had been told about the glacier and were advised to bring ice axes & crampons, while others were allegedly told that they wouldn’t need crampons: ‘You’ll be roped between two people who have crampons and you’ll be able to walk on the glacier like that!’ Um…
 

The plan was suitably adapted by Anders The Guide; those with ice gear would cross the glacier with day sacks, while those without would take the other gear by boat to the interim camp at Kuuttuaq. The six of us with gear set off up the ever-familiar valley towards the glacier. Once there, we kitted up and set off up the 30º slope of Mittivakkat. The going was easy and the sky was a perfect blue, making the view from the top all the more spectacular.

Once on the top, several crevasses were encountered and crossed without incident until a bigger one barred the way, entailing a detour around it. We had lunch on the glacier, with amazing views across the ice filled fjord, taking time out to inspect the myriad of ice crystals in the surface pools. Streams flowed everywhere across the surface, to descend perfectly round blue wells. My caving interests returned here, as I wondered how far down they went and what the trip would be like! As we sat, the cloud built up on two sides, then disappeared as suddenly as it had arrived. The crevasses were now beginning to increase in width, depth and length, involving increasingly longer detours until we started to descend towards an amazingly clear green lake.

Along the valley at the bottom, I was now starting to suffer the effects of sunstroke & dehydration, a problem easily overlooked in these situations. We were soon stood on the bank of a glacial river with no dry way across. After much searching, it was decided to traverse the 30’ wide river barefoot. The water was icy, though thankfully not deep. A tributary then had to be crossed, but this was passed dry-shod with a bit of boulder hopping.

The next obstacle was the final lake at about 65º43’40"N 37º54’00"W. Loose, steep scree slopes came down to the water’s edge, in places necessitating some deft footwork to pass without falling in! The camp was a very welcome sight and all we could do was imagine what it would have been like with a 70l rucksack!

Still tired from today’s walking, the next day I went with the boat to Qattu to set up camp while the others walked from Ukiiverajik. Sat with ‘Blind’ Otto, we set off across the sea. CRUNCH… GRIND …WHIRR and then a cloud of smoke as we hit an iceberg. Otto laughed, inspecting the propeller and, with thoughts of ‘Titanic’ rushing through my mind, I sat up to keep a vigilant watch. Another, bigger, lump of ice approached. ‘He must have seen this one’, I thought and said nothing. BANG! Another puff of smoke and Otto said "OK", continuing. The next time I jumped up, pointed and made noises that I thought he would understand!

Tobias later told us, "Otto has a problem with his engine….and with his eyes!"

We were joined mid-sea by Little Otto and while they talked I handed round the Harðfiskur I’d bought in Reykjavik. Chewing gratefully, Otto scrabbled about in a box. I was seriously dreading the idea that he might be looking for some seal blubber, but thankfully he pulled out three apples!

They helped me unload the boat on the headland and then left me alone, feeling like Robinson Crusoe. I had a bite to eat and then set about establishing a camp; not easy with the amount of stones about. After a couple of hours, I heard shouting and turned to see John & Steve up on the cliffs, shouting "The tide’s come in!"

I ran down to the beach, in time to rescue the mess tent from the tide’s clutches; sadly not in time to prevent some of the boxes of food from being washed across the bay. Most was later retrieved, though even after a soaking, the bread was still hard enough to sit on without damaging it!

This was no perfect camp site – there was no fresh water and the walk to the toilets was a bit precarious, to say the least! (Scrabbling about on a jumble of rocks is no place to be when you’re in a hurry!) By now, it was starting to get dark for a short time each night and we were hoping to see the Northern Lights. 2 o’clock came & went, but still no sign of them.

The next day, we followed the coast northwards to another island, where we camped at Tiniteqilaaq. The locals shorten this to Tigebeda (or something), which still has four syllables! The camp site was on a spit just south of the village and we were soon visited by some of the local kids, keen to find out what we had in our food stores. Again, the flatness of the area left a lot to be desired, but we made the most of the grass and soon had the camp established.

I left with John, Karen, Steve & Pauline to find the path to the village. This led us along the coast and up the side of the village rubbish dump. An old, burnt out, truck lay on its side – strange as there wasn’t a road in the area – and something was sending up smoke from a barrel. We later found out that they were burning their old dogs! It seemed strange to pass what appeared to be a development area; houses were being built on stilts – necessary to overcome the uneven terrain.
 
 

In the village, several children were playing in the muddy, litter-strewn street. One old man came over to talk to us. The strange thing is that English is actually the Inuits’ fourth language after East Greenlandic, West Greenlandic & Danish. Nevertheless, many people understand quite a bit of English. Being able to speak English is, however, another matter!

"How many people live in London?" he asked.

"Oh, about eight million", replied John, at which point, the old man nearly collapsed. "How many live here?"

"One hundred Ninety three", was the reply.

And about a third of those seemed to be under 10 years old!

We were all full of anticipation as to what ‘Tigebeda’ had to offer, having been told by another group that there was a shop & communal showers; could this be an unthoughtful windup? No, the old man told us, there was a shop; it would be open at 9 AM tomorrow. So the next morning saw us racing bright & early into town; plans were afoot to buy the village out of chocolate, fruit & orange juice!

What a surprise when we entered the shop. It was stocked with everything from sugar to hi-fi, TV & Video (only 1 of each of these); from Spice Girls dolls to hunting rifles! And chocolate!

Suitably satisfied, we set off to the shower block. The first couple of people went in, then the water ran out. Anders went to find the caretaker, who said that we couldn’t have any more water until Monday! Feeling a bit disgruntled, we hung around a while and soon, Big Otto arrived. Anders told him the story and Otto left, shortly returning with the caretaker, who agreed to fill the water tank for us. It’s useful having one of the Inuit on your side!

Waiting our turn, I went in with Will & Steve. The place, by now, was like a sauna and Will was the first to claim the wall-mounted shower head (the other two were just hanging down from the wall). Leaving it hanging, Steve turned the tap. With a spurt, the hose jumped & coiled, turning the changing room floor into a swimming pool.

"Watch your clothes, Will, the tide’s coming in!"

Brainwave; placing the shower head between my legs, I turned it on in a suitably controlled fashion. Obviously impressed, the others followed suit and we were all treated to dry clothes! Ah, but this was heaven; a morning wash in the Arctic Ocean just does not compare to a warm shower.

Dried off, we went outside to where the others had been surrounded by a group of kids. For the next hour or so, everyone was kept amused by a multitude of childrens’ games; Fi had her Dreads plaited into some amazing patterns and all the kids took it in turns to be picked up, thrown about in the air & hugged by their new-found friends.

The AE literature had extolled the virtues of Eco-friendly tourism, urging us to bring pens & paper as gifts, rather than ciggies. ‘Have an acid tab,’ mused John. ‘Your Polar Bears will be pink & green, with 6 legs and will be able to fly!’ Hm, probably NOT what was meant…

Tiniteqilaaq was to be our ‘cultural’ experience. Tobias arrived mid afternoon with a couple of curious-looking bin liners, from which he pulled some fish and a side of dried seal! In the other bag was a whole seal. Fresh food, at last!

A show had been arranged for us in the village, with a Drum Dancer. This is an East Greenlandic tradition and was formerly used as a means of settling village disputes. If two men had an argument, rather than fight it out, they would meet in the village square & ‘dance’ their battles. The crowd would decide who should win and would ridicule the other.

"Oh, F***ing great!", said Will, in a way that only an Edinburgh pacifist knows how. "F*** nuclear wars & atomic bombs and such like. Let’s all go out and f***ing dance away our problems! Great!"

There are only 3 drum dancers left on Greenland and we were treated to a show by an old man, nondescript in a pair of jeans & thick-rimmed glasses – not what we imagined. He was good. Crouched down, he shuffled his feet while tapping a sealskin-covered tambourine-like drum with a piece of bone. The story, told by the dancer, was translated into Danish by Tobias. Anders translated this into English, which was picked up by another tour guide across the room and repeated in German, for her group, before finally being translated from German to Italian for the final spectator, in the ultimate of Chinese Whispers!

Moving around the room, the old man danced very suggestively to all the women, rubbing his groin with the bone and beckoning them forward. The room was in hysterics! At the end, he walked up to me and handed me the drum. Not to appear embarrassed, I jumped up and started to emulate him with gusto. ‘Which dance should I try?’, I thought…

Crouching low, I shuffled around the room, approaching each woman in turn. Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted Sian, only to be chased off by Dave, her husband! The room was in stitches. I don’t know if my rendition was good or bad, but the crowd certainly found it entertaining!

Back at the tent, Tobias was preparing dinner. He cut up the dried seal and handed it round. It was extremely ‘gamey’ with a strong taste of blood, vaguely edible! Then he passed me something else. This was disgusting! It was a piece of seal blubber. Even I couldn’t tackle that! The Arctic Char was simmered – this was out of this world and was by far the most popular part of the meal.

Then came the Specialité de la Maison – Seal stew. This was actually very nice – much better than the dried stuff – but still not everyone wanted to partake! The taste was something of a cross between Venison & Rabbit – very strong & dry. Delicious! In the gloom of the mess tent, Tobias started to open the skull, digging out the brains and handing them round; then came the eyes – I must admit that even I wouldn’t try either of those. Tobias wasted nothing. The crunch came when Søren, sat next to me, held up a set of whiskers – with its nose in the middle! At that point, it ceased to be a piece of meat; it was now definitely an animal! All in all, this was an excellent night.
 
 

The weather had turned decidedly miserable as we set off across the fjord for the start of a two day backpacking trip along the Kuugarmiit Aqqutaat valley. The boats had a spot of bother at Kuugarmiit, where we found the water level to be very low. After much ado trying to find an accessible landing point, we eventually kitted up and set off up the valley. The rain was constant; more of a heavy drizzle than a downpour but nonetheless uncomfortable. The route, as had become normal, was across an expansive block field. I am well known for having a lousy sense of balance and the pair of Leki trekking poles were proving to be invaluable in this terrain.

The mountains rose on either side of us to incredible heights, many around & above the 1000m mark. The valley was fairly narrow and the mountainsides steep. Impressive, or what? A dense cloud shrouded the tops, adding an atmospheric air to the situation. The rain merely added to this, so was not a major problem.

What was a problem, however, was the fact that the rain had penetrated my Gore-Tex clothing somehow and my clothes were soaked by the time we reached our camp site, just below the top of the pass. Erecting the tents in the bleak wet area by the lake, everyone was pretty miserable; a lot of people discovering that their rucksack contents were also soaked. Luckily, my waterproof bags were working well and at least I had a dry change of clothes. Almost everyone was in bed by 7 pm that night, with little respite in the weather.

The next morning was a good deal better, however, and with cheer we set off once more up the valley, crossing the top to Lake 221. The route had now improved and we made good progress until reaching the top of an enormous cascade of water falling beneath the most impressive snow bridge I’ve seen. Crossing the snowfield to the side, our prospective camp site was on the far side of the river. Having learned my lesson from the previous river crossing I had brought my sandals this time, making this journey much more pleasant. Saying that, I was still pleased to reach the other side!

The cloud was coming in, though it had remained dry most of the day, and a much more pleasant evening was spent that night. The next morning a short ½ hour walk took us down the valley, across a couple more snowfields to the bay at Immiilaa, where Tobias was waiting; firing a shot in greeting. A long boat ride followed, during which I nearly reached bursting point waiting to land. Søren took great delight in demonstrating his impersonation of a waterfall, but eventually we landed at Tasiilaartik Kitteq.

This being the place where the first foreign expedition landed about 100 years ago it is now used by the Greenlanders themselves as a sort of summer retreat. It was the first we’d seen of anything like an organised campsite, with a table & benches set out. Set in a sheltered bay with two beaches, high mountains formed the backdrop to probably the best camp we’d found so far. This was a good thing, because, as it turned out, we were marooned here for 24 hours longer than planned.
 
 

During the night, the pack ice built up around the Tasiilaq bay and Tobias couldn’t get his boat through to pick us up. The problem was, of course, that we didn’t KNOW this! Eventually, two youths came past and took Anders on the 15 minute journey to Tasiilaq to find what had happened to Tobias. They eventually returned 10 hours later with tales of impenetrable floes and having to carry the boat across the ice!

Meanwhile, back at the ranch, we each tried to find something to occupy ourselves. I went for a walk (twice!) up the hill behind the camp while Terry dug a grave! This, apparently, was the final resting place of an enormous pile of tin cans. It must be said that he made a very good job of it all, though it seemed a bit sick to erect a headstone (carved ‘R.I.P.’) and lie down for a photo!

"Oh my God, NO!", said his wife Annette, shaking her head in dispair.

"That is SICK!!!", laughed Linda.

Some of the others busied themselves by finding an old man-shaped target, adorning it with an ice axe and dressing it up in Anders’ clothes. Søren, meanwhile, proved himself to be a natural with the ‘diablo’ and could throw it 20-30’ into the air (and catch it!) I could tell that things were getting desperate when I found myself discussing Quantum Physics & the finer details of counting in Base 34 with Steve!

Earlier in the holiday, some of the others had been a bit disappointed at not being able to go on the glacier trip, so I’d offered to lend Steve my ice gear if the chance arose again. The next day, while I went back to Tasiilaq with Little Otto and Val & Pauline from Bolton, the others went with Tobias & Big Otto to play on the Apusiaajik glacier on an island near Kulusuk. (Apparently, they dangled Søren down a crevasse as a rescue practice!)
 
 

We set off at speed across the bay in Otto’s boat, banking it round the icebergs. After about 15 minutes, we entered an area where the pack ice was starting to build up and Otto slowed down. It was like steering through a maze, working a route through the ice, only to find the way blocked, turning round & trying again. Otto’s method was simple: if you can’t go round the ice, go through it; if you can’t go through the ice, go over it! Placing the nose of the boat in the crack between two icebergs, he revved the engine until the boat climbed out of the water and sank through the ice – I suppose it’s the principle of using a simple tin-opener!

Following a channel towards the coast, it soon became apparent that this was the wrong idea! The ice closed in behind us and, with the current much further out to sea, we found ourselves trapped between the cliff and an unmoveable expanse of pack ice. Climbing up onto the cliff, the view was incredible. Everywhere around us was white! There was no visible route through the ice for as far as the eye could see! Sat there, we could hear the slow crunch of some boat making it’s way through the ice. Eventually, two huge supply vessels came into view from the direction of Tasiilaq, making their own slow progress through the unrelenting ice.
 
 

The weather was, thankfully, good but this posed new problems. Blazing sun + ice + limited fresh water=sunburn + dehydration. We would have to be very careful not to fall foul of this excellent weather! We sat for a while in the sun, until a small channel formed. Otto bailed out the boat (yes, not only were we stuck in the ice, but the boat was also slowly sinking!) and we set off with gaff and trekking poles in hand, forcing the boat through the ice with the poles and demolishing the ice with the gaff. Then, STUCK AGAIN! We climbed out onto the ice and Otto & I lifted the boat over the blockage, 6" at a time. Another method was developed whereby I would lay across the boat with my feet on the cliff wall, pushing the boat along thus.

Soon, we could go no further and we were relegated to the cliff edge again. Otto jumped out and climbed the cliff, soon out of view.

    "Where’s Otto", we asked each other for the umpteenth time.
 

By now, time was knocking on and it was starting to get necessary to find a toilet. The lower section of rock was smooth, so it was a case of dragging myself out of the boat by the one handhold, onto the ledge above. A precarious ledge sloped upwards towards a crack in the face. Facing the cliff, I stood with one foot on a ridge and the other knee jammed into a crack in the rock, I held onto a small handhold with one hand while trying NOT to fall backwards into the sea! This was definitely the most ‘interesting’ place I’ve ever had to answer the call, I don’t know how the women managed!

We heard a boat. Otto fired his gun into the air and our spirits raised when we heard the reply. We had been on the boat for about 8 hours now and we were starting to get a bit weary. Worry was not really an issue, although by now the shadows were almost with us. When we went into the shade, it would get exceedingly cold and most of our gear was on the other boat. Soon, we saw the boat. It was Tobias!
 
 

All the others were in Tobias’ boat and they pulled through the ice and climbed some nearby rocks. Forcing our way towards them we were soon met by Tobias, striding across the ice. His outstretched hand and the simple word "Come…" was one of the most welcome greetings I’ve ever had! Walking across the frozen sea, we were soon back with the rest of the group and, once the boats were carried to open water, we were soon back in Tasiilaq – 9 hours after leaving Tasiilaartik Kitteq. By now the ice was clearing around Tasiilaq and the sight was like the Armada as streams of boats came out of the fjord to take their chance.

After all that, there was only one thing to do – go to the bar! Little Otto was there with his wife, who was celebrating her birthday. She had been frantic with worry, as Otto had told her that he was only going out for ½ hour that morning! Celebrations flowed, and that night Otto was blotto! A group of West Greenlandic supply sailors were in town, handing out beer freely and everyone had a fantastic time. One of our group, however, had an offer that he didn’t bargain for – he was offered one of the women for the night (obviously her family tree was in need of fresh blood!)
 
 

Now at the end of our stay in Greenland, the next day we found ourselves wondering round the ‘tourist trap’ town of Kulusuk. It was strange, after two weeks in isolation – we only saw two pairs of walkers all the time – to be met by women offering carvings in the street. It was noticeable, however, how much cleaner Kulusuk is than Tasiilaq or Tiniteqilaaq. Walking around town, Fi bent down to pet a husky pup, commenting on how, erm, impressive it was.

"I’ve never seen one so big before", as Will looked on, disgruntled and Steve & I laughed in pity!

The flight back to Reykjavik took us across the mainland icecap, the pilot flying low over the valley glaciers, the crevasses becoming longer, deeper, wider & more frequent until eventually the glacier fell off into the sea in a huge wall of ice. Amazing. During the flight, the attendant came round and handed out 'Certificates of Achievement' for having been to Kulusuk and stamped everyone's passport with a picture of a polar bear! Yes, we had made it onto a pukka tourist flight and were returning with people who'd actually paid £200 for a day-return flight from Reykjavik!
 
 

Back in Reykjavik, Dave kept commenting that my rucksack smelt of seal, probably due to the surprise I’d taken back for my friend at work (boy, was he surprised!) We started the evening off in Fantasia on Laugarvegur and then ‘those who dared’ continued with the bars. We ended up in a lively little place where we danced & drank the night away until 3 AM, when we tried to board a ship for Canada (well, there wasa party on board!) It wasn’t long after that my watch alarm sounded to wake me up for the plane. By the time we reached Keflavik I hadn’t slept in 24 hours.

Although the organisation by the tour operator left a lot to be desired, the overall holiday was a fantastic experience. To say that none of us knew each other before we went out there, everyone got on brilliantly with each other. I went, not knowing what to expect but came back with some fantastic memories & experiences.

Thanks must go, firstly, to Anders & Søren Stochholm of Arctic Adventure (Denmark) and to Tobias Ignatiussen, (Big) Otto & (Little) Otto without whom the tour would not have succeeded. Also, thanks to all the other members of the group (John, Steve [special thanks for scanning these photos!], Karen, Ian, Dave & Sian, Will & Fi, Pauline, Val, Terry & Annette, Richard & Linda and Maddy) for being there! A special mention should go to Stan Morre & Ronald Kramer of the Netherlands & Graham Thompson for pre-trip advice and finally, as usual, to CROSSLEY-TORDOFF's of PONTEFRACTfor help in supplying most of my personal equipment.

Photos by Various.

Most useful piece of equipment:

Pair of Leki poles & a mosquito net!

Mosquito repellent.

Balancing aids for crossing block fields

Crossing glacial rivers

Bog depth checking

Pole vaulting across streams

Forging a route through pack ice (the ones like a walking stick are great for this!)

Pushing icebergs away

Etc…

References:

To view a political map of the region, CLICK HERE... (author unknown)
 
 

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