Everyday of this journey just keeps getting better than the day before. Have you ever known the hills of Greenland to be alive with the sound of music?
I thought I could have stayed with the hot springs and icebergs forever, but turns out greener pastures were waiting for us ahead. Literally.
The last couple of days we’ve been wondering whether or not Ted would find his wallet he lost back in Qaqortoq. It turns out it was returned to the police station after we had left. At first they said they could run it to the next town (Nanotalik) via police boat yesterday, but then it was cancelled. A couple Danish people who lived in Nuuk heard fo our dilema when we crosssed paths with them at the hot springs and called around to see if any of their friends were heading into Nanotalik, via boat or helicopter (gotta love this brotherhood of the travelling wallet). We were all anxiously waiting the arrival of Ted’s wallet via helicopter, but it turns out those leads didn’t work out. But today Ted got a call that his wallet was at the police station in Nanotalik! Hurray!
So we made a quick stop for the police station, refueled (diesel was only about 90 cents/liter), and found a few provisions.
I managed to snag some time in a little souvenir shop and found some handmade ulu earings which I was very excited about. The ulu, which means “woman’s knife” in Inuktitut, is a traditional crescent-shaped knife that has been used by Inuit, Iñupiat, Yupik, and Aleut women. Its simple design allows you to apply pressure directly over the blade, which makes it versatile for preparing meals to processing hides and handling the daily tasks in the Arctic.
It was a quick turn around as we were anxious to get to a new fishing spot in Tasiusaq. We had noticed that the mountains started to get bigger, but we didn’t realize what we would be in store for today. As soon as we start rounding towards our first anchorage, the crew was buzzing with excitement.
Steep cliffs and jagged mountain tops started to appear and soon we would be completely surrounded by them. Oh yeah and the icebergs too.
Rain did not keep the smiles off our faces!
Ted, Graeme and Brian took off fishing in the rain while Al, Rusty and I stayed on the boat to get some work done. The guys returned a little dismayed, but had high hopes and were ready for our next anchorage.
We found the most beautiul anchorage in Tasiusaq surrounded by mountains and a couple streams in the distance. The rain continued, but the guys persisted in search of arctic char. Al, Rusty and I stayed on board getting cozy while the rain came down. I prepped a seafood curry udon dinner to be ready to warm their bones back up when they returned. Once the sun came out, they guys returned very wet but very happy. They finally got some char!
Its the happiest I’ve seen them the whole trip. We thought they would want to get warmed back up but they were excited to bring us to show us their fishing spot. And holy mother of all beings, they were not kidding. Graeme kept saying it looked like the sound of music and describing all the ways it was magical. From lakes and rivers to tiny bridges to sheep calling in the distance to a woman who might just come out of the hills singing, “The hills are alive with the sound of music.”
I thought he was joking, but it turns out everything he described was true, minus the woman singing. The icy blue glacial lake water fed a roaring river and the icy blue waters we were anchored in. Ready for fishing!
It was so hard to take in at first. I didn’t even know what to take a picture of. Everywhere I looked was gorgeous. How to choose what to frame? I kept wandering around in total disbelief in what I was looking at. The photos could hardly do the place justice in just how beautiful everything was. I just kept wandering around with my mouth open saying, “Where the heck am I? What is this place? What am I even looking at?” It was like it just kept getting better the more I looked. I could even hear the sheep baas in the distance.
Anytime I see glacial blue waters, my first instinct is to go swimming. The sandy shore at the mouth of the river was perfect for swimming with a deep drop off, but I was poorly prepared without a swimsuit. So eventually I wandered around the bend to the other side and had a little me time and went for my first icy dip in Greenlandic waters. The water was warmer than I thought it would be, about a comfortable as the Puget Sound in the summer. Ahhh….all is right again.
Eventually I wandered up the hillside. Taking in the stillness with just the sounds of my boots in the shrubbery meadows as I bushwhacked my way long the hillside. After a 1/4 mile or so, I heard Al yelling from above and I looked up. There were sheep and a nice animal trail path I made my way to. As I wandered further up river, I could see that the bridge Graeme was referring to, really was the cutest little bridge. I intersected with Brian and Rusty and we made our way further inland towards the lake. The bugs were starting to make their presence known so it was prudent to keep walking. The view of the lake was truly spectacular though.
What even is this place?? Looking downriver.
We were starting to lose the daylight and the bugs were coming back in swarms. We made our exit, but that didn’t keep the guys from trolling for more fsh from the dinghy. We even got a couple and let one of them go.
While the guys worked on filleting the new fish, I warmed up our curry soup and added some fresh fish and everyone hunkered into the boat to warm up after a long day.
Brian and I enjoyed our dinner in the cockpit with the most spectacular sunset. Hot food always tastes better outside and even better from a boat.
It was one of those days that made you really appreciate what a priviledge it is to be exploring the world in this way. Seeing nature show off in all the ways that really remind you of all the gratitude you have. These are the moments where I am reminded how incredibly fortunate we are. Sailing the coast of Greenland isn’t just another destination, it’s a priviledge that is created through a lot of hard work, persistence, decades of honing in sailing/engineering/navigational skills. Such few people ever get the opportunity to explore these remote fjords, anchor beneath towering mountains and glaciars, or weave their way through fields of icebergs in a place with no roads and few signs of civilization. Every quiet anchorage, every small settlement, and every stretch of untouched coastline feels like a gift. It’s a place that humbles you, reminding you how small you are in the vastness of nature, while also making you feel deeply connected to it. Traveling here is a privilege that comes with the responsibility to tread lightly, respect the people who call this place home, and leave it just as wild and beautiful for those who come after us.
This is why we sail Dogbark.