This was my ongoing view of this island until a few years ago when I was invited to join two photographers on the trip of a lifetime.
I had the option of reaching my destination via Iceland or Denmark. Since the photographers were meeting in Copenhagen, I opted for the same. Therefore, I flew from the United States across the Atlantic Ocean to the Danish capital. From there, we would fly almost two-thirds the way back across the second-largest ocean to return to the North American continental plate.
For the bulk of my flight, only vast spans of water were visible. The low hum of the plane’s engine lulls me to sleep. I awaken from my brief nap as I hear the landing gear deploy. I anxiously look out the window to get my first glimpse of this magnificent land that has lured me to its shores.
We drop down over a ridgeline and I can see a fjord below littered with large icebergs. The airport at Narsarsuaq was built as a United States air base in 1941. The wheels of my Air Greenland flight touch down on this ironically named island.
After collecting our gear and meeting our guide, we make our way to the water’s edge where we take a rigid inflatable boat (RIB) across Tunulliarfik Fjord. Across the fjord, I can see a large statue atop the hillside casting a shadow on the shoreline below. As we approach the tiny village of Qassiarsuk, I can make out the statue to be that of a Viking. Long before the aforementioned village existed, Erik the Red (father of Leif Erikson) founded the Norse settlement of Brattahlid here over a thousand years ago.
The large bronze statue is that of Leif Erikson, who most likely set foot on mainland North America half a millennium before Christopher Columbus reached the Caribbean islands. The statue pays homage to this historic village as it is believed to have been the first of many Norse settlements in Greenland.
Kayaking Sermilik Fjord
Once we reach the shore, we unload our gear and load it into a small SUV for our traverse from one fjord to another across a ridgeline. The only thing on the other side is a small sheep farm along the expansive Sermilik Fjord.
We spent the next few days hiking and exploring the remote area. Given that Greenland is relatively devoid of trees, every highpoint offers unparalleled views of this vast landscape. From one scenic vista, we could see a large black body of water peppered with ice across its surface.
The day finally arrived and we walked to the edge of a sheltered bay. Our gear was loaded in dry bags that we loaded into the watertight hatches. Our gear consisted of tents, pads, sleeping bags, cooking gear and additional clothes. And during this summer in Greenland, the environment is a harsh one and necessitates the use of insulative layers as the temperature can fluctuate drastically throughout the day.
We wore base layers and waterproof pants to protect us from the cold permeating up through the bottom of the kayak. With insulating tops and paddling jackets, we slid into the cockpit and affixed the spray skirt around the rim of the entrance. This prevents water dripping from the paddle entering the cockpit and further protects us from the elements. The day is sunny but the cold hangs in the air.
Our kayaks slipped away from shore. There was no ice in this bay as the entrance is too narrow to allow ice to enter, yet our kayaks navigate the exit with graceful elegance. Once in the open, we were inundated with ice in every direction. This was Mother Nature’s art gallery and we were the only people who have shown up for this unique and one-of-a-kind show, never to be repeated the same the following day. The ice ranges from the size of small cubes that would fit in your glass to the size of houses.
With each paddle stroke, my plastic hull sea kayak sliced through the water. Occasionally, a small chunk of ice will dove under the bow of the kayak rolling along the bottom of the hull before being ejected near the rudder. The waterway was congested with ice, and we had to navigate the smaller ice while steering clear of the larger masses. What appeared above the water’s surface is just a third of what sits below. The sun was slowly melting the ice from the top, and tiny streams careen down the sides of the icebergs. With the changing structure due to melting, icebergs could roll without notice. This is why we steered clear of the massive pieces of ice.
Off in the distance, we could hear what sounded like loud explosions. Knowing what we saw in front of us, we knew this to be the source of this art show, the calving glacier. We couldn’t see it, but the recurring sound didn’t let us forget its presence. It would be another day before we got to see what we would perpetually hear for the duration of our trip.
After a long and exhausting day of carefully navigating this icy labyrinth, we reached the shore that would be our campsite for the night. A light rain began to fall as we hastily set up camp and gathered in the group tent to have dinner and discuss the day’s events and the plans for the following day.
We all retreated to our tents and I drifted off to sleep to the sounds of water lapping at the shoreline, raindrops tapping on my tent fly and the low rumble of a massive glacier calving throughout the night.
The rain stopped sometime before morning. We ate breakfast, broke camp and reloaded the kayaks. But before we left for the day, we took a hike to the top of the hill that formed the backdrop to our camp. As we hiked toward the top, the sound of the glacier became more prominent.
At the top, the source was revealed. At the back of the large bay sat a towering wall of ice, known as Eqalorutsit Glacier. This was one of the many glaciers that comprised the massive ice sheet, stretching northward for more than 1,500 miles, that covered most of the island. And as if on cue, a loud pop was followed by a crashing mass of ice collapsing into the water below, creating a ripple effect causing the existing icebergs to rise and fall. After sitting and watching this prehistoric show for over an hour, we made our way back to our kayaks and cast off for another day of paddling.
Over the next few days, we zigzagged our way through this imposing ice field. As we passed larger icebergs, we could spot rocks embedded into the ice ranging in size from pebbles to boulders. Picked up millennia before as the glaciers crept southward or retreated northward, they patiently awaited the moment that the sun would ultimately release them from their icy prison before they came to rest at the bottom of the fjord.
This ancient art show is 25,000 years in the making. Each day provides a rare and unique display that will never be repeated exactly the same.
I have paddled all over the world. And yet, this was one of the most surreal experiences of my life.
