Freshwater castles in the salty sea

Greenland – Iceland  |  Anno 2022

 

Thursday, September 8 | Ittoqqortoormiit – Vikingebugt

Friday, September 9 | Røde Ø – Rødefjord – Harefjord – Øfjord

Saturday, September 10 | Sydkap – Bjørne Øer

Sunday, September 11 | Denemark Strait

Monday, September 12 | Akureyri

 

 

Thursday, September 8 | Ittoqqortoormiit – Vikingebugt

Seven o'clock. The air temperature is 2 °C (36 °F), and the water temperature is 4 °C (39 °F), as we learn via the intercom. A glance outside confirms our suspicion that the weather this morning is rather gloomy. The seawater looks ink-black, the sky a pale grey, and the clouds are hanging far too low. Only a massive iceberg adds some colour to the bleak scene.

Just under an hour to go, and then we'll reach our destination. We will have sailed for twenty hours to cover the distance from Segelsällskapet Fjord to Ittoqqortoormiit, a distance of about 250 km as the crow flies.

This is one of the most remote settlements in the world

Ittoqqortoormiit

Just before eight, during breakfast, Ittoqqortoormiit slowly emerges from the mist. This is one of the most remote settlements in the world. Along the east coast of Greenland, over a distance of more than 2 500 km, you'll find only one other permanent settlement of significance, namely Tasiilaq – some 800 km further south.

Yesterday, during his lecture, Greenland enthusiast Renno vividly illustrated this isolation. If one of the residents of Ittoqqortoormiit wants to travel to their capital Nuuk on the west coast, they must first head to the airport at Nerlerit Inaat, about forty kilometres northward. They can only reach it by helicopter. Alternatively, they might go by boat during the rare ice-free summer months.

The settlement is supplied by ship twice a year

Ittoqqortoormiit

The fact that there is even an airport in Nerlerit Inaat is thanks to the American oil company ARCO. In 1985, they hoped to drill for oil in Jameson Land. But that did not work out and in 1990 ARCO sold its airport – which at that time was still called Constable Pynt – to Greenland

Or what would you make of a jumble of letters like “Umimmak savap ussiullu akornanniit-tutut oqaatigineqarsinnaavoq”?

In Nerlerit Inaat, our brave traveller has to take a flight to… Reykjavik in Iceland, nearly five hundred kilometres to the south. From there it goes by plane to Nuuk, about fifteen hundred kilometres west Fortunately, Nuuk’s airport is only a couple of kilometres from the city centre. A jeep easily takes you to your final destination over paved roads. However, it’s best to keep in mind that Nuuk’s airport is closed on Sundays. The cost of this trip: about a thousand euros, Renno added significantly.

 

Ittoqqortoormiit

In Greenlandic, Ittoqqortoormiit is said to mean Place with Many Houses. The language spoken here doesn’t seem simple. Or what would you make of a jumble of letters like “Umimmak savap ussiullu akornanniittutut oqaatigineqarsinnaavoq. Umimmak inerilluarsimasoq qununavissunik nassussuaqarpoq 350 kiilullu missiliorlugit oqimaassuseqarluni”? Loosely translated, it means A musk ox is neither a sheep nor an ox, but rather something in between. A fully grown musk ox has large, intimidating horns and weighs about 350 kilograms.

Meanwhile, we’ve anchored in Rosenvinge Bugt, as Ittoqqortoormiit doesn’t have a harbour or a pier. Soon, we will land on the rocky shore with our zodiacs. A few sailboats are also anchored here, including the Polarfront, an expedition yacht sailing under the French flag.

 

Ittoqqortoormiit with church and school

Mist hangs low over the colourful houses on the slopes, but it doesn’t obstruct the view. The settlement had only 354 inhabitants in 2020. In 2006, there were still 543. The cheerful colours of the buildings reveal Danish influence. Blue originally stood for postal services and telecommunications, red-brown for trade, green for education, and yellow for healthcare. That symbolism has faded over time; nowadays, the colours add a bit of life to the place, especially in a misty environment like this.

At the mouth of Scoresby Sund, a full 800 kilometres to the north, they would establish a completely new settlement from scratch

The only sound we hear from this distance is the howling of dogs. In the foreground, we see the church, and on the right, on a hill, the weather station. Higher up, behind the houses, there are dozens of crosses marking a cemetery. Every now and then a fast quad bike drives through the streets

 

Ittoqqortoormiit

In fact, Ittoqqortoormiit is an artificial settlement, as Renno told us yesterday. In the early 20th century, the more southern settlement of Tasiilaq was doing fairly well. The population kept growing to the point where the settlement gradually became overcrowded. The hunting grounds became depleted, and the inhabitants found it increasingly difficult to obtain food. So, the plans that had been circulating within the Danish government for several years were put into action. At the mouth of Scoresby Sund, a full 800 kilometres to the north, they would establish a completely new settlement from scratch. A certain Ejnar Mikkelsen took charge of the project.

The project’s start was far from auspicious. But the colonists had come to stay

In 1924, a vanguard of six men set out. They would spend the winter in self-built log cabins while exploring the area to determine the most suitable location for the settlement. In 1925, the real colonists followed, more or less voluntarily, aboard the Gustav Holm. There were eighty-four of them, both adults and children, and they brought everything they needed – tents, household items, dogs, fishing gear, kayaks, and umiaks, or so-called women's boats.

 

Greenlandic dog

Meat hanging to dry

 

On September 2, 1925, 70 colonists landed in the inhospitable area. Fourteen had died of influenza during a stopover in Iceland. The project’s start was far from auspicious. Shortly after their arrival, they had to mourn the loss of another four people. But the colonists had come to stay. It quickly became apparent that they had settled in a first-class hunting area – polar bears, musk oxen, Arctic foxes, seals, walruses, narwhals, and minke whales. The catches there were five times those in Tasiilaq.

When the Norwegians established a radio and weather station in Myggbukta in 1922, it was the final straw

However, improving living conditions on the east coast of Greenland wasn't the only reason the Danish government undertook this initiative. The presence of Norwegian fur trappers had long been a thorn in their side, especially since the Norwegians often overwintered in the area and gradually began to see it as part of Norway. When the Norwegians established a radio and weather station in Myggbukta in 1922, it was the final straw. The new settlement of Ittoqqortoormiit would serve as an outpost to assert Danish sovereignty over the east coast of Greenland. There were a few more disputes, but in 1933, the Permanent Court of International Justice of the League of Nations in The Hague definitively awarded Greenland to Denmark.

 

Ejnar Mikkelsentla Aluarpia (school)

The founding of Ittoqqortoormiit was indeed a success, with a peak population of 543 inhabitants in 2006. However, that doesn’t mean life there is easy. In winter, the average temperature is –10 °C (14 °F). The settlement is supplied by ship twice a year. Since there is no harbour, the cargo has to be brought ashore with smaller boats. Occasionally, a helicopter delivers supplies, but that’s an expensive operation. For everything else, the residents have to manage on their own.

Imagine sending your children to school in the dark polar night, knowing that polar bears are lurking nearby

 

Polar bears pose a real safety issue. Imagine sending your children to school in the dark polar night, knowing that polar bears are lurking nearby. An experiment with infrared cameras to detect the bears in the darkness ended in failure. As Arjen told us the day before yesterday, polar bears are extremely well insulated. They emit almost no body heat, so infrared cameras can’t even detect their presence among the snow and ice.

 

Polar bear furs hanging out to dry

Hunting remains an important cultural and economic factor. The food and by-products that come from it are a crucial part of the local subsistence economy. However, to support a family with two children and a pack of sled dogs solely through hunting, you would need to catch around two thousand seals per year, according to archaeologist Claus. If you can also take down a polar bear or a musk ox, that's a nice bonus. So, during our visit, there's a good chance we'll see pelts hanging out to dry here and there.

To support a family with two children and a pack of sled dogs solely through hunting, you would need to catch around two thousand seals per year

 

The trade in marine mammals also brings in some money, but these earnings are highly seasonal and have been affected by the European Union's import ban on seal fur. The sea is teeming with halibut and shrimp, but ice prevents year-round exploitation. Commercial fishing never took off in Ittoqqortoormiit.

The rise of tourism is a welcome boost to the local economy

Musk ox fur

The rise of tourism is a welcome boost to the local economy. However, this has its downsides as well. Even our modest expedition cruise ship nearly doubles the population for a few hours. Not everyone is pleased about that.

 

Skulls of musk oxen

Whale ribs

Renno therefore doesn’t hesitate to offer us some good advice. Central to this is, of course, respect for the local population. Tourism has a broad impact on communities, not just economically, but also culturally, socially, and ecologically. If you want to buy something at the supermarket to support the local economy, don’t purchase items that the local population needs themselves, as they already have so little. For example, buy dried musk ox meat; they don’t have a shortage of that. Stay away from the dogs and definitely don’t pet them, as these are working dogs, not pets. If there’s a slaughter happening somewhere, observe it from a distance. And last but not least, always wear a mask before entering a home or building. There have been no Covid cases in Ittoqqortoormiit, and they want to keep it that way.

Just before nine, the first zodiacs set out. We land on a rocky beach. A concrete main road winds its way up the slope through the settlement. That’s no luxury, considering the muddy conditions the weather can bring during the transitional seasons. Occasionally, a quad bike races past. Sometimes a cheerful face is at the wheel, while other times the driver ignores us with ostentatious indifference. The influx of tourists into the village remains an ambivalent situation. We realize all too well that we are both a blessing and a burden at the same time

The church belongs to the Danish National Church. Queen Margrethe II of Denmark is its head

Church, weather station

Clouds still hang low over the village, but not so low as to obstruct the view. Even the weather station on the hill east of the settlement is still clearly visible. The streets are fairly quiet, perhaps a bit too quiet for our liking. The children are at school, some men are out hunting, and other adults are at work. The school, Ejnar Mikkelsentla Aluarpia, is named after the founder of the settlement.

The church appears to be closed at the moment. It belongs to the Danish National Church, the largest church denomination in Greenland, and is of the Evangelical-Lutheran faith. Queen Margrethe II of Denmark is its head.

 

Ittoqqortoormiit

We stroll up the hill that overlooks the village from the west. Here and there, clothes are hanging out to dry. Almost all the two-story houses have a fixed ladder against one of the side walls, allowing residents to escape through the upper floor window in case of a fire. The idea that burglars would exploit this in reverse seems unimaginable in such a small community. However, we can’t help but notice a police car parked next to one of the houses.

 

Houses with emergency ladders

Apparently, today is trash collection day. A tractor with a digging bucket is driving through the village, collecting garbage bags in its bucket.

Several dogs are tied up. They stare at us with undisguised indifference. For them, summer is a time of rest, a period to regain strength before they are put back to work as sled dogs for hunting in the winter.

 

 

Even now, traces of hunting are visible here and there. Meat for consumption hangs on a rod to dry. The complete hide of a musk ox is draped over a railing to dry as well. Impressive pelts from two polar bears even extend above the rooftops. Many houses seem to have such high wooden structures specifically built for this purpose. Elsewhere, we spot two colossal whale ribs against a wall and several intact musk ox skulls on a roof. The presence of a knife, a huge axe, and remnants of blubber suggest that animals have been slaughtered in this spot.

 

Football field with artificial grass

Higher up on the hill, we look down in amazement at... a football field. There, among the bare, rolling hills strewn with stones, lies a perfect green lawn. A recent addition, made of artificial grass of course, sponsored by the Danish government. Even the stands are present, though they consist of only four seats.

Believe it or not, football is extremely popular in Greenland. No fewer than 56 clubs compete against each other in the national league, with more than 5 500 players registered. Most villages find ways to create suitable playing fields, and even eight months of snow each year doesn’t deter them.

Nonetheless, it bothers the Greenlanders that the Faroe Islands, with a similar population size, are indeed part of FIFA

Admittedly, you’ll never encounter a Greenlandic team at international football tournaments, simply because they are not affiliated with FIFA. One of the conditions for that is having a national stadium with at least 40 000 spectators, which corresponds to more than 70 % of the total population of Greenland. So, it’s unfeasible. Nonetheless, it bothers the Greenlanders that the Faroe Islands, with a similar population size, are indeed part of FIFA. But they submitted their application over thirty years ago, when the requirements were not so strict.

 

Cemetery

At the northern edge of the village, we come across the cemetery. It is an extremely simple place, situated sixty meters high on a barren slope, with nothing but brown stones, lightly veiled by a faint mist. There are no gravestones; only the bare essentials are present in the form of many dozens of identical white crosses. Usually, there isn't even a name on the cross, although some graves bear weathered remnants of plastic flowers.

Only the most recent graves have a bit more decorum. For example, there is the grave of Karola Brønlund, who passed away in early 2021 at the age of 61. Fist-sized, egg-shaped stones in red, white, or grey add colour to her modest grave. The photo on the memorial plaque seems to suggest that Karola enjoyed her life here.

 

Cemetery

About five graves lie open, waiting for their occupants. Digging a grave in winter is nearly impossible. Wooden planks are used to support the walls of the rectangular pits to prevent them from collapsing prematurely. They are not very deep, only about sixty centimetres at most. If you were to dig any deeper, you would encounter the permafrost.

 

Weather station

We make our way through the village to the weather station on a hill on the east side to witness the launch of the weather balloon. This event is recorded as one of the more exciting occurrences in Ittoqqortoormiit, taking place twice daily at 11 a.m. and 11 p.m. Right at eleven, the balloon is released. It shoots up into the sky with incredible speed, almost disappearing into the mist before we realize it.

Jean-Baptiste Charcot, the French explorer, also played a crucial role in the founding of Ittoqqortoormiit

Ejnar Mikkelsen

Memorial for Jean-Baptiste Charcot

On the way, we pass a memorial for Jean-Baptiste Charcot, the French explorer. He also played a crucial role in the founding of Ittoqqortoormiit, as he was the one who rushed to the aid of the six-man advance party in 1924 with his legendary ship, Pourquoi Pas?, when they had not been heard from for some time. Further along, we find a bust of Ejnar Mikkelsen, or Miki, as the locals affectionately call their founder.

About twenty dogs are napping on the banks of the swiftly flowing Kuuk River. Once they are tied up here, they know they can rest all summer long. Their chains are designed to allow them to drink water from the river while preventing them from bothering each other.

There would be no Inuit without the Greenlandic dog

Greenlandic dog

These are typical Greenlandic dogs, as nature documentarian Meike will explain to us during her lecture. The importance of these dogs to the Inuit cannot be overstated. There would be no Inuit without the Greenlandic dog, states an indigenous wisdom. For four thousand years, the Inuit have relied on their most loyal companions in this harsh climate for transportation, hunting, and survival.

What makes these dogs so special? They are excellent hunting dogs, highly resistant to extreme cold, and – very importantly – they can perfectly assess Arctic conditions. Somehow, they can flawlessly identify treacherous glacier crevasses while running or determine whether the ice is thick enough to carry the sled.

A genetic study has shown that there has been no mixing with other breeds for 850 years, making these dogs the purest breed in the world. There are plans to keep it that way. In East Greenland, it is prohibited to import dogs from outside, and since 2017, every dog must have a microchip and be registered in the national database.

The cost is a significant factor. It may sound strange, but dogs are more expensive than a boat or a snowmobile

Greenlandic dogs

Currently, Greenland has about 15 000 dogs. That may seem like a lot, but twenty years ago, there were still around 50 000 – almost as many as there are people. Climate change is partly to blame; with less sea ice, sled dogs are needed less often. The cost is also a significant factor. It may sound strange, but dogs are more expensive than a boat or a snowmobile. This is mainly due to their food. Previously, fish waste was used as dog food, but now it has become an export product for human consumption. Therefore, dog food must be purchased, and it cannot just be any kind. Like polar bears, Greenlandic dogs require high-fat food.

It is half-past eleven when we return aboard the Hondius. An hour later, we weigh anchor and set sail for the nearby Kap Stewart, our next destination. However, it quickly becomes clear that the planned landing there will not take place. Once again, it is the weather conditions that play a role in this decision. Fog and heavy swells make it too dangerous to go ashore.

Polar bears are said to roam near the Bredegletscher

 

But that’s okay, because the Scoresby Sund – known as Kangertittivaq by the Inuit – has so much more to offer. In particular, the crew of the Polarfront informed us that polar bears are roaming near the Bredegletscher. We want to take a closer look at that. So we set our course for Vikingebugt, the side fjord of the Scoresby Sund where the Bredegletscher flows into. At a speed of 11 knots, we will arrive there around six o'clock this evening.

A wide, deep fjord like Scoresby Sund is the dream highway for icebergs heading to the sea

 

In the meantime, we marvel at the Scoresby Sund, one of the longest and largest fjord systems in the world. With all its branches, the fjord extends 350 km deep into the interior and covers an area of 38 000 km² – about a quarter more than Belgium. As the Hondius continues its journey westward, it’s hard to believe we are no longer at sea, given how wide this inlet is.

 

It seems as if somewhere deep inland icebergs are rolling off a conveyor belt 24 hours a day

 

At the same time, a procession of icebergs approaches us that seems endless. At one point, we count more than fifty icebergs on the starboard side alone. It seems as if somewhere deep inland icebergs are rolling off a conveyor belt 24 hours a day. These are real giants, sometimes dozens of meters high. Underwater, there must be enormous masses of ice. The Scoresby Sund has no trouble accommodating them; the fjord is on average four to six hundred meters deep, so icebergs don't get stuck here. In short, a wide, deep fjord like this is the dream highway for icebergs heading to the sea.

But for Captain Tony, it is a constant watch out. Because a Titanic-like disaster is his worst nightmare. Maintaining a minimum distance of four hundred meters from the ice giants is the watchword.

Steep walls rise sharply from the water on either side of the fjord. The southern coast, known as the Volquaart Boon Kyst, looks particularly spectacular with its basalt cliffs, many peaks ranging from one thousand to two thousand meters high, and numerous glaciers. This basalt was deposited when the Atlantic Ocean began to form fifty million years ago. However, low-hanging clouds prevent us from getting a clear view of the coastline.

 

 

Then the Hondius turns the wheel south and we cautiously sail into the Vikingebugt. At the very end of the side fjord, we spot the Bredegletscher, the supplier of the many small ice floes and large icebergs that are now approaching us. For now, it doesn’t look very impressive, this Bredegletscher. But that shouldn’t be surprising, as we are still over twenty kilometres away. Meanwhile, the planning is being changed. Dinner is moved up to six o'clock so that we can set out with the zodiacs after eating.

 

Bredegletscher looks much more impressive now, with the high basalt deposits of the Geikie Plateau in the background

 

Half past seven. Twelve zodiacs, each with twelve passengers, navigate between the ice floes toward the glacier. It looks much more impressive now, with the high basalt deposits of the Geikie Plateau in the background. Getting close to the glacier front will likely not be possible, given the thousands of ice floes eager to begin their journey to open sea. The zodiac drivers carefully manoeuver to get as close as possible. But it’s expedition leader Adam who puts a stop to that from the bridge of the Hondius. With their powerful binoculars, they did see something from a distance of five kilometres, something we even cannot see from less than a kilometre away. That something turns out to be a polar bear. Adam commands a standstill.

 

 

Curiously, we wait with subdued tension for events to unfold, bobbing on the water among the ice floes. What exactly the polar bear is doing is unclear. And, more importantly, we don’t know what its intentions are and whether they pose any danger. Then clarity comes from the bridge. The polar bear is resting on a sloping lava field next to the glacier. It has settled down to sleep, curled up comfortably with its snout on its paws. With great difficulty, we also manage to locate the polar bear now – a small, round, white spot on the lava field that could just as easily be mistaken for a patch of snow or a pale stone.

What exactly the polar bear is doing is unclear. And, more importantly, we don’t know what its intentions are

Black-legged kittiwakes

Polar bear on lava field

This good guy poses no danger for the time being. Adam lifts the standstill. We carefully push a bit deeper among the ice floes and enjoy all the beauty around us. High above the glacier, the low evening sun casts a warm glow on the snow-covered peaks of the Geikie Plateau. It’s half past eight now; it’s getting darker between the high walls of the narrow Vikingebugt. After all, we are now more than five degrees of latitude further south than during our first contact with Greenland a week ago. The nights are therefore not as bright anymore.

 

Suddenly, at the edge of the glacier tongue, a second polar bear appears

 

But miracles still happen. Suddenly, at the edge of the glacier tongue, a second polar bear appears. Our scents and perhaps also our sounds have lured it out. Next to the enormous glacier wall, presumably about 35 meters high, the polar bear seems small, as if it were a toy bear. Sniffing, it raises its snout to the height, thoughtfully analysing the scent palette in search of enticing aromas that might indicate the presence of an edible substance. In that regard, it’s a disappointment. It does not associate gasoline smells with a nutritious meal. Fortunately.

 

The Hondius looks like a floating Christmas tree

 

In the twilight, the zodiacs turn back to the Hondius, a journey of five to six kilometres. Finding the ship is easy, as the bridge has ordered all the lights on board to be turned on. The Hondius looks like a floating Christmas tree.

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Friday, September 9 | Røde Ø – Rødefjord – Harefjord – Øfjord

Warm winds are not exactly something you would expect in Greenland. But when the conditions are right, typical warm downdrafts, known as föhn winds, can occur in some places on the rain shadow side of the mountains. The Danish explorer Carl Ryder experienced this in 1891 when he first sailed westward through the narrow fjord south of Milne Land. He was so impressed by the warm, powerful gusts of wind that he came up with the name Fønfjord.

Warm winds are not exactly something you would expect in Greenland

Rødefjord

Whether you still encounter föhn winds today, we don’t know. For the simple reason that we have sailed through the Fønfjord while asleep. The Hondius has once again sailed all night to bring us 120 km deeper into the fjord system. It is a bit warmer now, with an air temperature of 3 °C (37 °F) and a water temperature of 8 °C (46 °F).

 

Rødefjord

Waking up holds the promise of a beautiful day. The cloudless sky is blue, and the warm orange glow in the east announces the sun, which will soon rise from behind the mountains and stay with us all day. However, as a dark cloud over all this beauty, the news trickles in that yesterday, Elizabeth II, Queen of the United Kingdom and the Commonwealth Realms, has passed away.

We look at Røde Ø, a small island of just a few square kilometres, formed from Old Red Sandstone. It owes its name to its monochrome appearance. From the wise words of geologist Tom, we remember that it must have formed during the Devonian and is therefore a mere 400 million years old. We should not expect winding layers or fascinating colour patterns here – this landscape is not part of the Eleonore Bay Supergroup. This Red Island owes its name to its monochrome appearance.

The beaches are now off-limits as well, because polar bears swim around here

Røde Ø, Rødefjord

But the most striking are the icebergs. There are many, very many. The Rødefjord is full of them. For the Hondius, it’s careful manoeuvring and definitely not anchoring, as the ship must be able to utilize its freedom of movement to the fullest in this dangerous environment.

Where these icebergs come from is easy to guess. With glaciers like the Døde Bræ, the Rolige Bræ, and especially the Vestfjord Glacier nearby, there are reliable suppliers regularly releasing small and large packages of ice into the water. All three of these glaciers originate from the Greenland ice cap. This ice cap, which covers about 80 % of Greenland, is surrounded on all sides by high mountains. A bit like pudding in a bowl. But in some places, there are openings in the mountains, and the pudding runs away – hence these glaciers.

Every year, the Greenlandic glaciers deliver between twelve to fifteen thousand icebergs

Røde Ø, Rødefjord

We must not underestimate the Greenland ice cap. With an area of 1,7 million km², it is three times larger than France. In some places, it is as much as 3,4 km thick. The weight of this ice mass pushes the centre of the island dozens of meters below sea level. If all the ice from the Greenland ice cap were to melt, the global sea level would rise by 7,4 meters.

Around 400 000 years ago, Greenland even was almost completely ice-free

Drilling in the sediment has revealed that Greenland was covered in ice as far back as 40 to 50 million years ago. Since then, the ice mass has gone through periods of highs and lows. Around 400 000 years ago, Greenland even was almost completely ice-free. It is astounding to note that the climate that prevailed globally at that time is, according to geologists, best compared to the current global warming. The thought that it could get so warm in Greenland gives us chills.

In its current form, the Greenland ice cap is barely 200 000 years old. Currently, it extends approximately from 80° to 60° N. This places the southern end of the ice cap at the same latitude as… the Norwegian capital, Oslo. However, while the Norwegian coasts remain ice-free throughout the winter, the eastern coast of Greenland is completely surrounded by sea ice in winter. Norway owes this to the warm Gulf Stream that brings warm water from the Gulf of Mexico, while Greenland owes it to the East Greenland Current that brings icy cold water from the Arctic. However, it raises concerns about what the effects could be if these ocean currents were disrupted.

Fortunately, the tundra vegetation has donned its autumn colours, adding extra vibrancy to the dull slopes of red sandstone

Røde Ø

Arctic willow
Greenland bellflower		Reindeer lichen

In fact, glaciers are frozen rivers, as earth scientist Annelou will explain to us later in her lecture. They are therefore constantly in motion. Some glaciers move a few centimetres per day, while others slide down to the sea at a rapid pace of thirty meters per day. This movement is easy to explain – they simply slide down under their own weight.

At the top of the glacier, where it is cold, new snow continuously accumulates. Under the influence of pressure and temperature, these loose snowflakes are increasingly compacted together and transformed into ice. Due to the weight of this ice, the glacier slowly slides downward. At the bottom, where it is warmer, the glacier gradually shrinks, partly due to melting and partly due to calving. Should the glacier be concerned about this? Not necessarily. As long as at least as much new ice is created at the top as is lost at the bottom, the glacier remains in balance. In other words, it continues to exist.

As if we were looking from a grandstand, we now survey the icebergs of the Rødefjord

Røde Ø, Rødefjord

Glaciers always form on land, but sometimes they end in the sea. Calving ice masses then fall into the water, which can create a considerable shock wave, or even a small tsunami.

It becomes even more dangerous when part of the ice underwater does not detach during the calving of the glacier front and protrudes like a kind of foot. Eventually, this ice mass will be dislodged by the upward pressure of the water. Totally unexpectedly, it will then jump out of the water at great speed, like a table tennis ball released underwater. At that moment, you definitely do not want to be nearby in your zodiac or kayak.

There must be hundreds of icebergs dominating this fjord

Røde Ø, Rødefjord

Worldwide, 99 % of all glaciers are located in Antarctica or Greenland. They are by far the most important producers of icebergs. While in the Antarctic region icebergs usually have the rather dull profile of a mesa, their Greenlandic counterparts strive to take on the most diverse shapes. Great, we're already looking forward to it

It turns into a journey like no other, the Arctic equivalent of a walk through a forest of sequoia trees

Rødefjord

As for their production, the Greenlandic glaciers do not disappoint. Every year, they deliver between twelve to fifteen thousand icebergs. Often, these are enormous behemoths, sometimes fifty to one hundred meters high. Once, an iceberg was observed in Baffin Bay that rose 215 meters above the water's surface. The ice mass that was below the water at that time must have been enormous.

It is understandable that ship captains sometimes get clammy hands when they see this white armada approaching. In 1914, two years after the Titanic disaster, the International Ice Patrol was established for this reason. Thirteen countries participate, including Belgium and the Netherlands. The goal is to detect icebergs in the Atlantic Ocean in a timely manner and to closely monitor their movements. Initially, this was done on a modest scale with two patrol boats; after World War II, reconnaissance flights by airplane took over that task. Nowadays, satellite observations play a dominant role.

 

Rødefjord

Just before nine, we set out with our zodiacs to take a closer look at everything. On the sandy beach of Røde Ø, assistant expedition leader Hans has strict instructions for us. We must not leave the spacious perimeter set by armed escorts under any circumstances. This is not new to us. However, the beaches are now off-limits as well, because polar bears swim around here.

Totally unexpectedly, the ice mass will then jump out of the water at great speed, like a table tennis ball released underwater

Rødefjord

Fortunately, the tundra vegetation has donned its autumn colours, adding extra vibrancy to the dull slopes of red sandstone – the red leaves of the blueberries, the white tufts of the Arctic willows with their ochre-coloured leaves, the blue of the Greenland bellflowers, and more. We are expected not to step on the delicate plants, but that’s almost impossible given how dense the vegetation is. Not a single plant dares to rise above ground level on this windy slope. However, that does not prevent the countless Arctic willows from developing quite thick trunks that meander low over the ground and sometimes cause us to stumble.

 

Rødefjord

There are no traces of Inuit dwellings on this slope. The Inuit were well aware of the dangers posed by the proximity of all these icebergs. If such a white giant tips over, it could cause a tsunami that might flood and even sweep away their homes. There's a story of zodiacs left on a rocky beach further up this fjord, seemingly out of the water’s reach. Yet, a tsunami suddenly lifted the rubber boats as if they were toy boats and left them five meters further inland. Winter hunting here is no picnic for the Inuit either. While they can easily traverse the frozen water with their dog sleds, the forest of icebergs obstructs their view. Before they know it, they could find themselves face to face with a polar bear.

 

Rødefjord

But it's not the red island we're here for; it's the white icebergs that command all the attention. As soon as we reach the top of the hill at the northern end, we understand why we absolutely had to land on this island. As if we were looking from a grandstand, we now survey the icebergs of the Rødefjord.

 

Rødefjord

Suddenly, our contemplations are interrupted by a prolonged rumble. It sounds like thunder, but it’s not; it’s an iceberg calving. What happens with glaciers also happens with icebergs, but on a slightly smaller scale. The loss of mass has shifted the iceberg’s centre of gravity. It wobbles back and forth, searching for a new equilibrium. Overall, the resulting waves are not too bad, but caution is essential if you're navigating these waters in a zodiac or kayak.

 

The futile presence of our tiny zodiacs only emphasizes the true grandeur of these majestic ice castles

Rødefjord

The view is absolutely breathtaking. With the warm autumn colours of the tundra at our feet, we gaze out over the sparkling blue sea, the sun-drenched white icebergs, the brown-red rock formations across the fjord, and, at the very top, the white stripe of ice marking the edge of the Greenland ice sheet. Amidst all this, the tiny red and black zodiacs of the other group wriggle like insatiable ladybugs.

 

Rødefjord

There must be hundreds of icebergs dominating this fjord. Some drift in the middle, while others have the misfortune of being stranded along the coast of Røde Ø. Here, they have no way out and will slowly wither away. In short, this is an iceberg graveyard.

Yet, even in their death throes, these icebergs continue to radiate their monumental invincibility. Their size and grotesque shapes make us think of castles – fairy-tale castles of fresh water in a salty sea. The icebergs we see here are often significantly taller than our ship. The thought of navigating our way through these giants seems unthinkable. And yet, that is exactly what the Hondius will do shortly.

 

Rødefjord

But first, we have a zodiac cruise among the icebergs ahead of us. With zodiac driver Ben at the helm, we cautiously manoeuver between these natural monuments. It turns into a journey like no other, the Arctic equivalent of a walk through a forest of sequoia trees.

 

Rødefjord

The futile presence of our tiny zodiacs only emphasizes the true grandeur of these majestic ice castles. They seem utterly untouchable, gleaming in the sun. If you let your imagination run wild, you can recognize an endless number of figures in their bizarre shapes, whether from a fairy-tale world or not.

 

Rødefjord

Yet these icebergs are very real. They've been through a lot. The glistening water droplets on their sides reveal that their end is inevitable. Sometimes, the water collects into a small waterfall that emerges like a bleeding wound from a terminally ill patient.

Black streaks on the sides of some icebergs indicate that sediment has been deposited be-tween the layers of snow

Rødefjord

Black streaks on the sides of some icebergs indicate that sediment has been deposited between the layers of snow. As the iceberg melts, this sediment will become available as food for microscopic life in the water. One being's death is another's bread.

The ridges often visible on the side of an iceberg also testify to its turbulent life

Rødefjord

The ridges often visible on the side of an iceberg also testify to its turbulent life. These ridges form only at the waterline, where the water constantly laps against the ice. If such a ridge runs diagonally across the side, far above the water, it’s clear that the iceberg has tilted since the ridge was formed. Sometimes, two or three such ridges can be seen, each at a different angle to the waterline.

An iceberg containing blue ice is made of old ice

Rødefjord

An iceberg containing blue ice is made of old ice. Over the years, all the air has been pressed out, so incoming sunlight is almost entirely absorbed by the dense ice. Only the blue light can escape. In contrast, white ice is much younger and hasn't had the chance to expel all the air bubbles. Sunlight isn’t absorbed in these air pockets but is reflected in all directions. Light emerging from young ice contains all the colours of the rainbow, making it appear white.

 

Rødefjord

Ultimately, this is nothing more than frozen water. Yet we spend three-quarters of an hour marvelling at it. It’s not just the excessive dimensions that surprise us but also the many forms, the variations in texture, and yes, even the wealth of colours in the ice.

Hundreds of large icebergs and smaller ice floes cover the mirror-like water surface like a white crumb cake; it seems impossible to get through

Rødefjord

Rolige Bræ

After lunch, the Hondius departs under a bright blue sky for a cruise through the Rødefjord. Hundreds of large icebergs and smaller ice floes cover the mirror-like water surface like a white crumb cake; it seems impossible to get through.

 

Rødefjord

Rødefjord

Yet the Hondius will have to prove its reputation as an ice-reinforced ship of Polar Class 6. Skilfully manoeuvring between the icebergs, it irresistibly carves a path through the ice masses. With dull thuds, it pushes the floes aside while we enjoy the stately ice castles gliding past us with their enchanting reflections in the calm water.

 

Rødefjord

Rødefjord

However, there’s more to experience in this grandiose setting than just this fascinating ice world. On the port side, brown-red mountains rise about seven hundred meters above the water. Would-be experts like us immediately shout Old Red Sandstone in unison. But that’s not correct. These sediments are not Old Red Sandstone but New Red Sandstone, and therefore not 400 million years old, but only 300 million years old. Oh well, that doesn’t spoil the fun.

 

Rødefjord – New Red Sandstone

At half-past three, we safely reach the junction of the Rødefjord and the Harefjord. There are plenty of icebergs here too. They are delivered by two glaciers, the Eielson Glacier and the Vindue Glacier, all the way at the far end of the Harefjord, neatly separated by Proppen. The Danes named it well, as this mountain, over eleven hundred meters high, almost blocks the narrow passage like an big plug, or proppen in Danish.

 

Rødefjord

A nunatak is what the Inuit call such a barren mountain that rises lonely with its black profile above the glacier. From a scientific perspective, nunataks are fascinating places, as geologists and biologists do not rule out the possibility that some organisms have managed to survive the harsh ice ages in these ice-free spots. This could explain the persistent presence of certain plant communities in the far North.

While the Hondius slowly continues its journey northward, we do the same by zodiac

Harefjord, Vindue Gletscher

Calm waters, few ice floes, impressive icebergs, and a grand setting – this is all we need to embark on another zodiac cruise. While the Hondius slowly continues its journey northward, we do the same by zodiac. We quietly explore the steep shores of the Rødefjord and Harefjord, carefully navigating around the icebergs at a respectful distance. In the distance, we can just make out the Vindue Glacier, while the Eielson Glacier remains hidden behind the mountains to the left.

A spectacular incision in the brown-red rock catches our attention. A stream has carved out a V-shaped valley that seems more like a dizzying gorge than a valley. This is in stark contrast to the many U-shaped valleys we've seen everywhere, which were carved out by glaciers. This suggests that the new red sandstone offers little resistance to the fast-flowing water.

Just as the Arctic hare stubbornly hops around in a white coat all year, the raven clings to its black feathers year-round

Harefjord

Birds are hardly to be seen, as the vast majority have already migrated southward in search of familiar wintering grounds. However, the bird perched high on an iceberg, keeping watch, is a year-round resident. This black raven has never heard of camouflage. Just as the Arctic hare stubbornly hops around in a white coat all year, the raven clings to its black feathers year-round. Despite its striking colour, which would seem to make it an easy target, the species remains unbothered.

According to Inuit mythology, the raven was originally, like all other birds in the beginning of time, a white bird. One day, the raven and the common loon decided to paint beautiful black patterns on each other’s feathers. The raven went first, but when the loon saw the result, it was so furious that it dumped the entire pot of black paint over the raven. The raven didn’t let this go unpunished. It bit the loon’s feet, and as a result, this avid water bird still moves rather awkwardly on land to this day.

Like the ptarmigan, the raven is one of the few birds that overwinter in the polar region

Harefjord, Vindue Gletscher

The raven is indeed an unusual bird, especially since, like the ptarmigan, it is one of the few birds that overwinter in the polar region – a remarkable feat. Ravens are among the first to lay their eggs in April. Once the eggs are laid, the female will not leave them uncovered for even a second. In temperatures as low as –18 °C (–0,4 °F), an uncovered egg would freeze instantly, killing the embryo. The male raven takes on the full-time job of feeding his mate for three weeks, and it's believed he does this out of love, as ravens mate for life.

The raven's plumage provides excellent insulation against the cold. Its beak remains warmer than 0° C (32 °F), even when the surrounding temperature drops to –30 °C (–22 °F). Between its beak and eyes is a hollow space that allows inhaled air to be pre-warmed before reaching the lungs. Additionally, the eyelids are filled with blood vessels, preventing the eye fluid from freezing as the raven flies through the frigid polar air.

Ravens' collaboration with wolves to obtain food has been known for centuries

Harefjord

Apes and dolphins exhibit behaviours that can be considered a sign of intelligence. We know that for sure. However, ravens also belong to that select group. They use tools like sticks to extract food from crevices and stones to crack nuts. They effortlessly remember dozens of places where they have hidden food, as well as where other ravens have stashed theirs. In their social groups, they have a keen awareness of who their friends and rivals are, and what alliances exist among their peers.

Ravens' collaboration with wolves to obtain food has been known for centuries. They often follow a wolf pack or respond to their howls when a kill is made, hoping to feast on the remains of the carcass. While other bird species also engage in such behaviour, what sets ravens apart is their proactive role in these hunts. Ravens have been observed signalling to wolves, through excited calls, the presence of potential prey or injured animals. Interestingly, they have even been known to involve human hunters in these schemes. Ravens may guide Inuit hunters with their cries and unusual wing movements to areas where caribou are grazing.

In the animistic worldview of the Inuit, it is Father Raven who created the world

Harefjord

It should come as no surprise that the raven is highly respected among the Inuit. To such an extent that in their animistic worldview, it is Father Raven who created the world – the people, the animals, and the plants. After that, he flew through the darkness to the sky, threw a piece of shimmering stone to the earth, and thereby created light, freeing humanity from darkness. Father Raven was an exceptional figure, a white raven. However, his behaviour was not without controversy. Ultimately, he retained a black plumage from that experience.

 

Øfjord

It is already half past five when we climb back aboard the Hondius. Tomorrow, Syd Kap and Bjørne Øer are on the program, as we learn during the daily recap. These will be our very last stops during this expedition cruise. But first, we will follow the Øfjord about a hundred kilometres eastward toward the open sea. That’s quite a distance, so the Hondius will increase its speed a bit.

Øfjord may mean Island Fjord, jokes Arjen, but you won’t encounter any islands in that fjord. Indeed, we will only reach the Bjørne Øer, the archipelago that inspired Carl Ryder to give the fjord that name, at the far eastern end tomorrow morning.

The distance prevents us from accurately assessing the dimensions of this spectacular fjord

Øfjord

Four to six kilometres wide, this fjord is. Yet, we do not experience the vast feeling that overwhelmed us in Scoresby Sund, when it almost felt like we were at sea. Now, it feels as though we are sailing through a narrow strait. But appearances can be deceiving. The distance prevents us from accurately assessing the dimensions of this spectacular fjord. The cliffs rising steeply from the sea on either side are much higher than we think. Peaks of 1 700 to 1 900 meters are not uncommon.

It feels as though we are sailing through a narrow strait. But appearances can be deceiving

Øfjord

Apparently, this rock is more resistant to the brutal erosion of the glacier that carved out this fjord than elsewhere. This is entirely due to its hardness. Originally, it was a simple sediment known to geologists as Krummedal.

 

Millions of years later, a glacier would sink its teeth into it, gifting us this beautiful fjord

Øfjord – Krummedal sediments transformed into gneiss and granite

However, somewhere between 1 200 and 900 million years ago, this rock must have come under the influence of forces associated with mountain formation. It was pulled deep into the earth, where pressure and temperature are extremely high. There, it underwent a thorough metamorphosis before reappearing at the surface. What was once soft sediment became hard gneiss. Millions of years later, a glacier would sink its teeth into it, gifting us this beautiful fjord.

 

Øfjord

Here and there, smaller glaciers emerge from between the bare mountains. Unfortunately, they are seldom in good condition. Often, the glacier tongue ends hundreds of meters above the water. Occasionally, an iceberg drifts by, alone on its way to the distant sea.

Then, to port, an impressive peak appears, as if someone has erected a colossal church tower on top of the mountain

Grundtvigskirken

Then, to port, an impressive peak appears, as if someone has erected a colossal church tower on top of the mountain. That is precisely what the Danes thought when they spotted the spectacular rock in the early 1930s. Not lacking in chauvinism, they gave it the name of the Grundtvigs Kirke that was under construction at the time in Copenhagen.

 

Øfjord

With its height of 1 977 meters, Grundtvigskirken towers far above the surrounding area. Even from this distance, it’s not difficult for us to see that this smooth peak differs in composition from the ordinary gneiss on which it rests. Indeed, this is augen gneiss. Like regular gneiss, this sediment underwent a metamorphosis deep underground, this time resulting in granite. But it didn’t stop there. The granite went through the metamorphic process a second time, ultimately producing augen gneiss. This final transformation likely occurred around 900 million years ago.

 

Øfjord

Time and again, we are struck by the tumultuous history behind these seemingly tranquil landscapes. This is not uncommon; it happens all over the world. The major difference in Greenland is that, due to the absence of vegetation, the results of all this upheaval lie exposed and visible on the surface.

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Saturday, September 10 | Sydkap – Bjørne Øer

The night has brought us to the waters of Hall Bredning, the wide inlet that connects to the northern end of Scoresby Sund. Upon waking, the sky is once again a brilliant blue. In the east, the sun plays an ever-changing game of light and shadow with the remarkable shapes of a series of icebergs. In the west, it bathes the russet autumn colours of the tundra vegetation in a warm glow, setting them ablaze. At the very top, the snow caps of the mountains take on a rosy hue, as if blushing at the beauty of it all. We couldn’t ask for more.

 

In the east, the sun plays an ever-changing game of light and shadow with the remarkable shapes of a series of icebergs

Hall Bredning

For the last time, we hear over the intercom that the air temperature is 5 °C (41 °F), and the water temperature is 6 °C (42,8 °F). Where we are now, the narrow fjord opens into an inlet about forty kilometres wide. The fact that they named this place Bredning or Widening is not far-fetched

The musk oxen seem to have vanished into thin air

Sydkap

Just after nine, we land on the sandy beach of Sydkap, a promontory at the northern end of Hall Bredning. There, assistant expedition leader Hans greets us with good news. On the other side of the cape, just over the hill, the scouts have spotted a small herd of musk oxen, probably around fifteen animals. So off we go.

The soft backlight of the morning sun gives them a mysterious aura, with their light blue silhouettes on the smooth silver water surface

Sydkap

It’s not always easy walking. Large tufts of grass cover most of the soggy terrain, and shallow gullies create small but treacherous unevenness between them. Where a carpet of moss covers the ground, it feels as if you’re walking on a saturated sponge. With each step, water hisses and squirts from beneath our soles. The moss effortlessly springs back to its original position as if no one had ever passed by. Here and there, the area is even underwater.

 

Sydkap, Hall Bredning, Renland

Once atop the hill, we look down on a small lake. Hans explains somewhat disappointedly that the musk oxen were just there, but, unfortunately, they’ve now moved on. Undeterred, we climb to the next hill. But again, we come up empty-handed. The musk oxen seem to have vanished into thin air.

For the Inuit, this headland was an ideal resting place

Sydkap

We make the best of the situation and take some time to absorb the formidable landscape. After all, we’re now on a hill with an almost unlimited view over Hall Bredning. Icebergs are plentiful. Even without counting the small ones – the growlers and the bergy bits – there must be dozens of them. The soft backlight of the morning sun gives them a mysterious aura, with their light blue silhouettes on the smooth silver water surface. Across the bay, bare, rocky mountains rise over eight hundred meters high.

 

Skull and jaws of a musk ox

Part of the backbone of a musk ox

Among the tundra vegetation, we come across the bleached skull of a musk ox, along with its jaws and sturdy molars. A loose collection of planks once served as a fox trap, but nowadays, it’s hardly recognizable as such.

 

Cottongrass

Arctic willow

In the little lake, meanwhile, a solitary red-throated loon is swimming laps, back and forth across the water, over and over again. As if it’s training for some kind of Olympic discipline. In fact, this migratory bird should have flown south a long time ago. Is that what’s making it nervous? Did it miss the train?

 

Hall Bredning

For the Inuit, this headland was an ideal resting place, archaeologist Claus explains to us. On the dry part of the slope, he has identified at least twenty remnants of winter dwellings. They are probably several hundred years old. Some wooden stakes have been driven into the ground. They were used to stretch the skin of a polar bear. Elsewhere, there is a structure for drying fish and meat.

 

Hall Bredning, Bjørne Øer, Renland

Hunting was in the Inuit's blood; they were highly skilled at it because it was their way of life. In the summer, they hunted narwhals and musk oxen; in the winter, polar bears and ringed seals. The latter is not as easy as it seems – sitting for hours by a breathing hole in the ice in the cold, waiting, and then still maintaining enough concentration and alertness to react lightning-fast when the ringed seal surfaces for just a fraction of a second.

Local hunters come here to escape the hustle and bustle of the city – Ittoqqortoormiit has as many as 350 inhabitants

Hall Bredning, Renland

To this day, local hunters come here to catch ringed seals. Not only to provide for their livelihood, grins Claus, but also to escape the hustle and bustle of the city – Ittoqqortoormiit has as many as 350 inhabitants.

While having lunch, we cross Hall Bredning, anchoring just before two o'clock near the Bjørne Øer. More than two dozen small and slightly larger islands here together form the Bear Islands archipelago at the entrance to the Øfjord.

 

Hall Bredning

Expectantly, we look out over the surroundings. The weather conditions couldn't be better. The azure blue sea gently sways under a sky-blue dome. Visibility is almost unlimited. In the distance, we easily make out the high, snow-capped peaks of Renland, some of which rise more than 1 700 meters above the autumn-brown islands in the foreground. Other mountain peaks stand out sharply against the blue sky with their pointed profiles, as if someone had simply transplanted them from Svalbard to here. A few solitary icebergs remind us that this is indeed Greenland.

Under the guidance of Zodiac driver Tom, we explore the area. This will be our eighth and final Zodiac cruise. The icebergs we navigate between are truly enormous. One of these white giants surpasses everything we've seen so far. In its presence, the Hondius seems no more than a fragile toy boat. Deck 8, the ship's highest deck, is 21,86 meters above the waterline. We estimate the iceberg to be three to four times as high. The amount of ice that must be below the water is almost unimaginable.

 

Hall Bredning, Renland

Hall Bredning

This is actually an atypical iceberg for this area. No irregular shapes, no wrinkled texture, no beautiful colours – just a huge, uninspired white block. A table iceberg, in other words, a type of iceberg you would expect to find in Antarctica rather than Greenland.

Around twenty past three, we land on one of the islands in the Bjørne Øer archipelago. This is our tenth and final landing. To celebrate, we are surprised with a warm chocolate drink with a splash of rum on the pebble beach. That's why there was so much secrecy around the zodiac that was the very first to leave for the landing site earlier.

 

Hall Bredning

Cheerfully, we climb up the rugged rocky coast. A rock ptarmigan, apparently a female, is calmly nibbling on the leaves of an Arctic willow. It is not afraid of us. It doesn't realize that Homo sapiens salivates at the mere thought of a roasted chicken. On these islands, these ecologically naive animals have very few natural enemies to fear. However, they will be wary of ravens and golden eagles.

 

Hall Bredning

It turns out that this rock ptarmigan is not alone. A male is also foraging among the tundra vegetation. Both are very well camouflaged, although the male has more white feathers than the female. As winter approaches in October, they will trade their brown summer plumage for beautiful white feathers. For along with the raven and the ivory gull, the rock ptarmigan is one of the few bird species that does not migrate south for the winter but stays in the Arctic to overwinter.

However, they will probably look for a higher place, where there is more wind and where the snow has blown away a bit, so that they can easily get to food, Arjen will explain to us later during his lecture.

A rock ptarmigan, apparently a female, is calmly nibbling on the leaves of an Arctic willow. It is not afraid of us

Rock ptarmigan (f)

And that is necessary, because throughout the winter they must continuously find food for the simple reason that they can hardly store any fat. Typically, they have no more than twenty grams of fat on them. With that, they can survive for at most two days without food. So, permanent foraging is essential.

As winter approaches in October, they will trade their brown summer plumage for beautiful white feathers

Rock ptarmigan (m)

Fortunately, they don't use too much energy. Although they can fly, they prefer not to. Their favourite activity is foraging on the ground. Their feathered feet provide extra protection against the cold.

 

Blueberry		Arctic willow
Arctic willow		Arctic mouse-ear

Between the bare rocks of granite and migmatite, we climb upwards and take in the vast surroundings one last time. Where the terrain is a bit flatter, lush tundra vegetation has settled between the rocks. Arctic mouse-ear flaunts its beautiful white colours. In the acidic environment of a small pond, the tall cottongrass with its white tufts feels at home. But Arctic willows and blueberries also thrive here, giving autumn colours the upper hand. Here and there, black lichens have claimed a boulder, or a mushroom has secured a spot among the blueberries. On the horizon, the deep blue silhouettes of the coastal mountains on Renland dominate, with their snow-capped peaks.

In the acidic environment of a small pond, the tall cottongrass with its white tufts feels at home

Bjørne Øer

Cottongrass

By quarter to five, everyone is back on board the Hondius. The captain wastes no time. At a cruising speed of 12 knots, or nearly 22 kilometres per hour, the Hondius promptly sets course for Scoresby Sund. The port of Akureyri on the north coast of Iceland, more than seven hundred kilometres away, is our final destination. Early Monday morning we will arrive there. It will then have taken us a day and a half to cross the Denmark Strait.

One of these white giants surpasses everything we've seen so far. In its presence, the Hondius seems no more than a fragile toy boat

Hall Bredning

In the meantime, we sail into the dark night, heading toward the full moon.

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Sunday, September 11 | Denemark Strait

No more icebergs, no more fjords. Upon waking, we find ourselves on the open sea. Last night, around midnight, we rounded Kap Brewster, the last piece of Greenland. Since then, we've been sailing almost directly south.

The weather conditions are good, we hear over the intercom. There's a light swell but no heavy waves. However, there is a fairly dense mist hanging over the seawater. Strangely enough, for the first time, a negative air temperature of –1 °C (30,2 °F) has been recorded.

And there’s a storm coming, at least for the day after tomorrow. The crew will have to deal with it, as will the next group making the crossing from Iceland to Greenland via the Denmark Strait. But not us. Sunny weather is even forecast for Iceland, with daytime temperatures reaching up to 13 °C (55,4 °F). In short, by Icelandic standards, a heatwave is on its way.

 

Denmark Strait

We've now been aboard the Hondius almost permanently for more than twelve days. So, it's high time, according to assistant expedition leader Marcel, to learn more about Hondius – both the man and the ship named after him.

The years between 1570 and 1670 are even referred to as the golden age of cartography in the Low Countries

These were fascinating times if you were working as a cartographer between roughly 1570 and 1670. It's even referred to as the golden age of cartography in the Low Countries. This was largely thanks to remarkable men like Gerard Mercator, Abraham Ortelius, Petrus Plancius, Johannes Janssonius, and... Jodocus Hondius. Ortelius was the first to notice that the coasts of South America and Africa fit together remarkably well. Plancius, on the other hand, was the man who got his hands on ultra-secret sea charts from the Portuguese and printed many copies of them. This helped to open the way for the ships of the Dutch East India Company to the lucrative spice trade with the Far East.

The success of cartography was partly due to the invention of the Mercator projection, the brilliant technique by Gerard Mercator to represent the spherical Earth on a flat surface. The great advantage of this system was its accurate representation of angles. If you wanted to maintain a constant compass course – thus always sailing in the same direction – this was represented on the map by a straight line. The major drawback, however, was that the closer you got to the poles, the larger the areas appeared. For example, on the map, Africa seemed to be slightly smaller than Greenland, while in reality, the African continent is 17 times larger. But sailors didn't care about that at all.

On the other hand, this was a time when new worlds were constantly being discovered. A map was never finished; cartographers were never done with their work. In short, when Mercator invented the concept of the atlas and had his maps printed in book form, there had to be a lot of interest in it.

Mercator’s son didn’t find any buyers for his masterpiece

But that wasn't the case. Mercator died before his atlas was completed and his son didn’t find any buyers for his masterpiece. Maps at that time were a status symbol, something the upper middle class bought to show off at home. No one was interested in a realistic map that accurately depicted coasts, islands, and rivers. A map had to be a work of art. That's why all kinds of animals – preferably exotic monsters – were depicted both on land and at sea, and blank spots on the map were filled in with more imagination than thorough knowledge of the terrain. These kinds of excesses were something the scientist Mercator refused to engage in.

 

Northern fulmar

Then Jodocus Hondius came into the picture, a cartographer from Wakken in Flanders. Fifteen years after Mercator's death, he managed to breathe new life into Mercator's atlas. He updated several of Mercator's maps, added dozens of his own, and republished Mercator's atlas – with great success this time. Without Hondius, we might have heard little or nothing about Mercator.

Without Hondius, we might have heard little or nothing about Mercator

Hondius approached things more cleverly. Making maps with great precision remained his passion, but at the same time, he wasn't above producing maps with fictitious islands and extravagant scenes. These were purely for wall decoration in the salons of the wealthy but brought in much-needed income. He also focused on the production of globes, which were often genuine pieces of furniture – a wildly popular must-have in the salons of the rich.

This is the man after whom the M/S Hondius is named and whose portrait is displayed at the reception desk. Marcel now switches to a technical vocabulary and starts spouting numbers nonstop. The ship's maximum speed is 15,5 knots, but we never sail that fast, simply because it requires both diesel engines to be engaged, consuming more than twice as much fuel as usual. Therefore, a cruising speed of 12 knots, or almost 22 km per hour, is maintained. With a single 2 896 horsepower engine, we then consume only 10 tons of diesel fuel per day. With a stock of 400 tons, that's not a problem. Moreover, the Hondius sails electrically in calm waters, and the propeller blades can be adjusted to generate less turbulence in the water. All of this, of course, is to disturb the environment as little as possible. Thanks to compensation, the tour is entirely CO₂-neutral.

Since our crossing of the turbulent waters of the Fram Strait we know that the Hondius is equipped with stabilizers. These horizontal fins can be extended underwater to a length of 3,5 meters to counteract the ship's rolling in rough weather. However, maritime safety standards stipulate that ships like the Hondius must be able to heel sideways up to 33,9° without fatal consequences. To us, that's a mind-boggling thought. We can hardly imagine what that would mean for us if that were to happen. Moreover, Marcel adds with a grin, the Hondius is extra safe and can even withstand a tilt of 43,8°. We can't, we're pretty sure of that.

The Hondius can even withstand a tilt of 43,8° without fatal consequences. We can't, we're pretty sure of that

On average, 30 to 35 cubic meters of water are used on board each day – for drinking, cooking, showering, cleaning, cooling the engine, and so on. Where does that water come from? The sea. Now you know why the water tasted a bit different every day, Marcel grins. Up to 60 to 70 cubic meters of fresh water can be extracted from seawater each day.

Wastewater from the kitchen, toilets, and such is discharged back into the sea, but only after it's been treated – meaning it's reduced to a dry sludge without a drop of water. And even then, it can only be discharged when we're more than twelve miles out at sea.

 

Northern fulmar

Meanwhile, the fog outside has lifted. Northern fulmars have discovered the Hondius and are gliding above the wake or alongside the ship. Visibility is fairly good, and two whales have reportedly been spotted. Shortly after three o'clock, we enter Iceland's EEZ, the Exclusive Economic Zone. Within this zone, Iceland has several exclusive rights, particularly regarding fishing.

The further south we go, the longer the nights and the greater our chances of seeing the Northern Lights – provided there are no clouds, of course, and as long as there's sufficient solar activity. It's the solar wind, the stream of charged particles continuously emitted by the sun, that causes the Northern Lights. Each time one of these charged particles collides with an oxygen or nitrogen molecule, a flash of light is released. Together, these flashes form the mysterious curtains of green light, and sometimes pink or purple light, that we call the Northern Lights. This can only happen near the poles, because everywhere else, the Earth's magnetic field prevents the charged particles from penetrating the atmosphere.

Despite the full moon, we're able to observe a faint, white band in the zenith later in the evening. This is supposedly the Northern Lights. But isn’t it supposed to be green? Indeed. For those who set their camera to an exposure time of about thirty seconds, the Northern Lights reveal themselves in their true form – a pale but still beautiful and clearly visible band of green light.

The further south we go, the longer the nights and the greater our chances of seeing the Northern Lights

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Monday, September 12 | Akureyri

Six o'clock. Apparently, we are in Iceland, but we are still sailing. White farmhouses slide past on the shore, scattered among green meadows on almost treeless slopes. In the distance, the clouds and snow-covered mountain peaks are tinged with a nearly kitschy pink-red hue in the light of the early sun. Clouds of hot steam above the splashing white water of a small waterfall remind us that, unlike Greenland, Iceland is a hyperactive geological area.

At sixty kilometres, the Eyjafjörður is the longest fjord in Iceland

Eyjafjörður

This must be the Eyjafjörður, at sixty kilometres the longest fjord in Iceland. Akureyri, with its harbour, is located at the very end of it. It takes the Hondius more than two hours to cross the fjord.

 

Clouds of hot steam above a small waterfall

Half past six. On the starboard side, the Seifur pulls alongside, and the pilot comes aboard. It becomes a bit misty for a moment. Then, gradually, the houses of Akureyri emerge, the unofficial capital of North Iceland. With just under 20 000 inhabitants, it is by far the largest city on Iceland's north coast. A striking feature is the prominent facade of the Akureyrarkirkja, the Lutheran church of Akureyri, completed in 1940, yet still looking very modern.

 

Akureyri with the Akureyrarkirkja on the left

Just after seven, the Hondius docks at the Cruise Terminal quay. This marks the end of our journey of 2 037 nautical miles or 3 772 km – from Longyearbyen in Svalbard, along the islands and fjords of Northeast Greenland, to Akureyri in Iceland.

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Jaak Palmans
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