A text by Nakomis Nelson
At an abandoned weather station on the southern shore just after the entrance to Prince Christian Sound, we moored up at an old concrete jetty and attached the lines to rusty bolts and bollards from days gone by. Once we were securely moored, we poured a little Scapa whiskey into our glasses, added ice from the sea and toasted with a tear in our eye, but also with a smile.
Greenland held us gently in his arms. Slightly worried that a curious polar bear might come knocking in the night, we lay down in our beds.
Soon after, the shiny links of our stainless steel anchor chain rattled over the bow roller and slid into the gin-clear waters of Aappilattoq harbour. This tiny village cannot be reached by land; it lies in a bay at the foot of a mountain at a bend in the Sound, the intersection of two fjords that connect the two coasts in the south of Greenland.
Aappiattoq: Where diesel is the elixir of life
Small houses cling to the rocky ground, often anchored with ropes, bolts and chains. We were warmly welcomed as visitors. A skiff with two men, two fish and a seal moored at the jetty. On a dirt track, an old man watched a group of children kicking a battered football. Closer to the water, a small fish factory provided the reason for the village's existence. A well-preserved church watches over the small cemetery.
Here, diesel is the elixir of life: it powers the generators, the lights in the fish factory and the cash register of the state-subsidised shop.
Back in Prince Christian Sound, we continued east to Nanortalik, a fishing village that is also cut off from the rest of Greenland by land. Nanortalik is home to a nice museum (the best we found in Greenland), and there was food and fuel available. There is also a pier, but it is designed for merchant ships. A nice place - provided you have good fenders.
To the hot springs of Uunartoq
After a sunny day and a foggy day, we were ready to continue our journey. Right from the start of the route planning, I had been mesmerised by Uunartoq, a small, uninhabited island with a series of hot springs that were once used by Vikings. The pools are around three metres deep, have a sandy bottom and rock walls. The hot water from the depths is not heated by volcanic heat, but by the rubbing together of layers of the earth's crust.
Navigating Uunartoq is both complicated and simple at the same time. My best advice for navigating in Greenland is to always be careful: As depth information is sparse, you have to keep a close eye on the depth sounder and look out for places where the sea surface looks choppy. If in doubt, you should drive slowly.
We tried a small bay on the north-west coast of the island. A shoal protected our anchorage and deflected the larger icebergs that were being driven northwards into the fjord by the prevailing southerly wind.
A beautiful, crescent-shaped sandy beach with piled up boulders rose out of the sea. It was a lovely place to walk barefoot. We swam from the stern of the boat with icebergs and mountains in the background. A large, grey warship loomed through the fog into the sky. We later learnt that it was on a reconnaissance mission: to map the seabed and detect dangers. New maps with rocky outcrops and shallows marked on them will follow and perhaps make this land more accessible to other intrepid travellers.
Labrador and the last 1000 nautical miles
Our next weather window was approaching. With a sense of hesitation and excitement, we set off for Qaqortoq, the largest town in the south of Greenland. We needed diesel, and the fuel here seemed to be the most likely to be free of contamination. After this last stop, we left Greenland behind and headed back to our family, friends and the rest of the summer in Maine.
The crossing to Labrador was largely uneventful. The ice flowing northwards was a constant danger, but once again the FLIR thermal imaging camera proved invaluable, as did the Starlink, which gave us constant access to the latest weather and ice reports via the internet.
On the Canadian side in Cape Breton, we said goodbye to our friend and welcomed my son Eifion and Haley's mum Kathy on board. The Bras-d'Or Lakes offered us a few days of relaxation. The trees and warm water reminded us of home, and we knew that Maine wasn't that far away.
In the Bay of Fundy, the sea was once again rough with the tide going out and a storm brewing, but at 16 knots, the E6 was unimpressed. In the morning it rained so heavily that it was unclear where the sea ended and the rain began, but it didn't matter. We were home. Many people would describe our journey as a once-in-a-lifetime adventure. I hope to experience it again.
