Shrouded in mysteries

Greenland | Anno 2023

 

Thursday, August 17 | Prince Christian Sound

Friday, August 18 | Kvanefjord

 

 

Thursday, August 17 | Prince Christian Sound

Half past five. We swiftly swing our legs out of bed. Being caught off guard like yesterday won't happen again. Fifteen minutes later, we stand together with a few dozen fellow travellers on the forward deck, staring westward.

Prince Christian Sound is 105 kilometres long and was formed about 1,8 billion years ago as a by-product of colliding continents

Prins Christians Sund – East entrance

There, the coastal mountains of Greenland present themselves modestly for now. They are no higher than one to two hundred meters, these bare, rounded peaks. Here and there, a sharp peak can be seen, or a patch of snow, but that's more the exception than the rule. The mountainsides consist of massive rocks where trees or shrubs don't stand a chance. Yet, moss manages to thrive surprisingly well. Perhaps those green patches reveal much more diversity up close than we can perceive from this distance.

It must have been a hallucinatory experience for the Norsemen when, after a long journey in their open boats, they first encountered these inhospitable coasts

Prins Christians Sund

It must have been a hallucinatory experience for the Norsemen around the year 1000 when, after a long journey in their open boats, they first encountered these inhospitable coasts. Greenland turned out not to be green at all. But the Norsemen were not easily deterred. They had come to stay.

Occasionally, we catch glimpses of the white ice cap over the mountain peaks

Greenland ice cap

Slowly, the Fram sails toward a narrow opening in the coastal mountains. This is the entrance to Prince Christian Sound, or Ikerasassuaq, as the Inuit call this fjord. Tiny ice floes drift past, a sure sign of glaciers deeper within the fjord. Occasionally, we catch glimpses of the white ice cap over the mountain peaks. Behind us, the mist covers the open sea like a thick layer of white foam, as if nature is telling us that turning back is not an option. Not that we would want to.

 

Prince Christian Sound

Captain Sverre takes it easy. In this relatively narrow waterway, tidal currents can be strong. Moreover, it’s a pure pleasure to slowly take in the passing scenery. It takes two hours before we reach the Kangerluk, one of the few side fjords of Prince Christian Sound – Kangerluk actually means fjord in the Inuit language.

 

Kangerluk

The water surface is mirror-like, the sky a heavenly blue, and the rays of the morning sun skim between the mountain peaks, making distant parts of the white glacier front glow with a sparkling light. The many minerals in the water turn the glacier’s meltwater green.

As always, they lie on the edge of the floe, facing the water, ready to dive at the first sign of a polar bear

Bearded seals

The ice floes in the water are now noticeably larger. Two bearded seals have chosen one of these ice floes to relax on. From this distance, we can just make out their long, colourless whiskers, which they use to detect prey underwater. As always, they lie on the edge of the floe, facing the water, ready to dive at the first sign of a polar bear. They prefer shallow coastal waters, where they mainly feed on bottom-dwelling creatures like bivalve molluscs, crustaceans, and echinoderms. If needed, they’ll dive up to thirty meters deep to dig them up with their front flippers.

 

Kangerluk

By 9:30, the moment has arrived: our first zodiac cruise is about to begin. Time to get our gear in order. Rain pants and a wind- and waterproof jacket over our regular clothes, a second pair of socks, high muck boots, a neck warmer, a hat, waterproof gloves, a life vest, the jacket’s hood up, and the camera gear over the shoulder. Boiling hot, so let’s hurry outside!

 

Kangerluk

We board via the tender pit on deck 2. One of the Milpro FC580 inflatable boats, equipped with a 60 hp Yamaha outboard motor, is bobbing on the water, securely fastened to the unfolded disembarkation platform. This zodiac type is referred to as the definitive Special Forces boat on the manufacturer’s website, the only craft of its type that has actually been used in combat in different theatres. Even though we’re not planning to go to war, we’re confident that we can step into this zodiac with peace of mind. This is professional equipment. The black hull is divided into five separate air chambers, so we’re not at much risk of a catastrophic leak. Even in rough conditions, the slip-resistant floor of anodized aluminium provides a solid grip.

Checking out is a routine procedure that will be meticulously followed every time

Kangerluk

The deckhands and the zodiac driver are ready to guide us safely aboard. But first, we need to check out with our Norwegian chief purser, Karen – a routine procedure that will be meticulously followed every time. After all, keeping a strict record of who is still on board and who has left the ship is, of course, vital. The computer smoothly recognizes the chip in our key card, and a metallic Goodbye echoes from the device.

 

 

Linda is our zodiac driver today. She's a geologist specializing in the Arctic. After a quick check to ensure her dead man's cord is properly attached, she steers our zodiac in a wide arc away from the Fram, following the other zodiacs toward the western end of the glacier.

 

 

Prince Christian Sound is 105 kilometres long, she explains, and was formed about 1,8 billion years ago as a by-product of colliding continents. The fact that the mountains are so old explains why they are heavily eroded and not very high. Still, the mountains on either side of the Kangerluk are one thousand to twelve hundred meters high. The fascinating rock layers are composed of gneiss, a type of rock easily recognizable by its structure of parallel bands. It forms when sandstone or granite deep within the Earth is subjected to very high pressure and temperature. A metamorphic rock this is called, because it has originated from the deformation of another rock.

Greatly simplified, you can think of Greenland as a massive basin. The raised walls of this basin are formed by mountains, while the central area is filled with ice

Kangerluk

Greatly simplified, you can think of Greenland as a massive basin. The raised walls of this basin are formed by mountains, while the central area is filled with ice. In some places, this ice cap is over three kilometres thick. Here and there, there are openings between the mountain peaks where the ice can flow over the edge, just like water can seep out of an overflowing basin. The difference with water, of course, is that ice takes much longer to do this – centuries instead of minutes. The ice that emerges from between the mountains carves its way down. Such graceful rivers of ice we call glaciers.

Literally, minute by minute, we notice the temperature dropping

 

The closer we get to the glacier, the colder it becomes. And you can feel it quickly. Literally, minute by minute, we notice the temperature dropping. The explanation for this is simple. The air just above the glacier is significantly cooled by the ice, making it heavier. It slides down the slope, gaining speed until it rushes over the water in the fjord like an icy wind. A katabatic wind this is called.

 

Monumental seracs seem able to withstand eternity. Of course, that is just an illusion

 

We don’t approach the glacier closer than 550 meters. It would be too dangerous if ice were to calve suddenly. Although there are no signs of that at the moment. The glacier front appears reasonably stable, with monumental seracs forming an unyielding wall of colossal pillars that seem able to withstand eternity. Of course, that is just an illusion. Eventually, they will have to yield. For now, there are strikingly few large icebergs indicating recent calving. Blue ice at the glacier front, which could indicate a recent calving, isn’t to be seen either.

Sometimes we hear crackling sounds, as if we are sitting in front of a fireplace instead of being surrounded by ice. This relates to the melting process. As the icebergs melt, the air that has been trapped in the ice is released. But that air has been there for many tens, perhaps even hundreds, of years and is highly compressed by the weight of the ice. When such a high-pressure air bubble is released, it pops with a little explosion.

On a large ice floe, several glaucous gulls feel at home

Glaucous gulls (adults and juveniles)

On a large ice floe, several glaucous gulls feel at home. They are the second-largest species of gull and therefore easily dominate other gulls. They are omnivores. Not only do they feed on fish, eggs, carrion, and insects, but they also dare to kill other birds, even in mid-flight if necessary.

In fact, glaucous gulls possess a heat exchanger in their legs

Glaucous gull (juvenile)

The fact that they can stand for long periods with their bare feet on the ice without freezing seems extraordinary – we certainly wouldn't want to try it. In fact, they possess a heat exchanger in their legs. Warm blood flowing from the body to the legs runs alongside the cold blood flowing from the legs back to the heart. This way, the cold blood is preheated so that the body doesn’t get too cold, while the warm blood is slightly cooled so that not too much heat is lost in the legs. Infrared images have shown that other animals, including polar bears and arctic foxes, use this trick as well.

 

 

Around eleven o'clock, the Fram continues its journey through Prince Christian Sound. As the fjord narrows, the mountains on both sides become higher and higher. They rise to twelve hundred meters or more above our heads, their bare slopes cut by rugged structures where rock layers are difficult to discern. In some cirques, patches of snow seem determined to survive the summer. There are no trees or shrubs in sight, and large green patches suggest that mosses and perhaps some small Arctic plants can thrive there. White, foaming waterfalls cascade down, and occasionally a glacier emerges from between the mountains.

 

Without the ice ages, there would have been no glaciers, and without glaciers, no fjords. Greenland would be quite dull

Kangerluk

As the Fram follows an S-shaped course through the fjords near Perutussut at the end of Prince Christian Sound, we hardly know where to look, so overwhelming the scenery is. The ice ages shaped this landscape. Without the ice ages, there would have been no glaciers, and without glaciers, no fjords. Greenland would be quite dull, as our German geologist Steffen will remark.

 

Prince Christian Sound

You can hardly see it, the location between the protective rocks is so perfectly chosen

Aappilattoq at the foot of the Issuttussoq

Aappilattoq

Our amazement grows even further when, barely visible at the foot of an eight-hundred-meter giant, we spot the village of Aappilattoq. You can hardly see it, the location between the protective rocks is so perfectly chosen. Yet the tiny settlement, with about two hundred inhabitants, as small as it is, has everything you would expect from a Greenlandic village – wooden houses with blue, green, reddish-brown, or ochre-yellow facades, unpaved streets, a little church, a small cemetery, and a sheltered harbour with a landing pier.

 

In some cirques, patches of snow seem determined to survive the summer

 

It is three o'clock when we reach the open sea and are once again confronted with fog. Shortly after, we reach the southernmost point of our journey, just south of the sixtieth parallel, which places us at roughly the same latitude as Oslo, Norway.

 

Prince Christian Sound

Our long journey around the southern tip of Greenland can now begin. We will then sail more or less northward along the west coast of Greenland, the coast where most of the settlements are located. This will be a completely different experience. That becomes clear in the evening when our first large iceberg appears to port.

 

Our long journey around the southern tip of Greenland can now begin

Prince Christian Sound

Kvanefjord is our next destination, we learn during the evening briefing. It is a 42 km long fjord, and the Fram will penetrate almost all the way to the end. There, we will encounter an impressive glacier, the Nigerlikasik, but we will also catch a glimpse of the second-largest ice sheet in the world – the Greenland Ice Sheet, which feeds all these glaciers.

 

Prince Christian Sound

The weather forecast looks promising. A sunny environment is expected, with a temperature of 10 °C (50 °F) and little wind.

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Friday, August 18 | Kvanefjord

Half past six. We peek through the curtains and are immediately overwhelmed by a massive iceberg at nine o’clock. Add to that the spout of a distant humpback whale, and our morning is already off to a great start. The sky may be completely grey, but the visibility is fairly good. The real-time map on our TV screen shows that the Fram has already made significant progress along the west coast of Greenland.

 

The yellow-red lighthouse of Saattuarsussuaq serves as a good landmark

Lighthouse of Saattuarsussuaq

Around half past eight, the Fram turns eastward. We now navigate through the many rocky islets in search of Kvanefjord. The yellow-red lighthouse of Saattuarsussuaq serves as a good landmark. At the highest point of the small island stands a large cairn. A little further to the north, hidden behind hilly islets, lies Paamiut, a relatively large settlement with 1 300 inhabitants.

In the distance, a humpback whale mother plays with her calf. They swim in perfect synchronicity, their curved backs slicing through the water, easily recognizable by the fleshy hump with the characteristic dorsal fin from which they get their name. The birth must be a spectacular event, when a six-meter-long, 1 800-kilogram being emerges from its mother. Typically, the calf will stay with its mother for a full year. During that time, she will nurse it, feeding it two to three hundred litres of milk per day.

The birth must be a spectacular event, when a six-meter-long, 1 800-kilogram being emerges from its mother

Humpback whale (female with calf)

Humpback whale

The graceful way the scalloped tail fin rises above the water just before the dive is a dream for every photographer. But we shouldn’t expect a spy hop or a breach from this pair. The mother has her hands full protecting, raising, and teaching her calf to hunt. Yet, humpback whales are known for their extravagant behaviour. You might see them stand upright in the water, curiously looking around – a spy hop – or leap out of the water and crash down with a great splash – a breach. A spy hop can be explained, but why they breach is less clear, as marine biologist Ellie explained to us. Maybe it's to shake off parasites? Or to impress females? Perhaps it’s an act of aggression? Or should we not look too far and do they simply enjoy it?

A black spot on the silver-grey surface of the water usually is an indication that a school of harbour seals is swimming there

Harbour seals

Great skua

A black spot on the silver-grey surface of the water, for Ellie that is an indication that a school of harbour seals is swimming there. And look, suddenly two dozen playful heads pop up above the water. They frolic joyfully together before disappearing from view again.

 

Black-legged kittiwakes

Harbour seals tend to stay close to familiar resting places, such as estuaries, bays, and harbours – hence their name. However, they can also spend several days at sea, though never more than twenty kilometres from the coast. They are even known to venture upstream in large rivers. Freshwater doesn’t seem to bother them. Their favourite prey includes salmon, anchovy, sea bass, herring, mackerel, cod, whiting, and flatfish. Strangely enough, they are also known to attack and eat ducks.

As far as the eye can see, a cloud layer has spread over the fjord like a woolly white tent canvas

Kvanefjord

In the meantime, we have penetrated deeper into Kvanefjord. Steep mountain slopes line the fjord on both sides. At least, that’s what we think, because we can’t see the mountain peaks. As far as the eye can see, a cloud layer has spread over the fjord like a woolly white tent canvas stretched several dozen meters high over the fjord. Down here, visibility is excellent, but if you look up, you’ll see that all the mountains are hidden from view beyond a certain height.

Mosquitoes have been enjoying this place for thousands of years

It’s not the anchor, but the computer that keeps the ship in place

Nigerlikasik

Occasionally, the sun breaks through the clouds and casts a shaft of light onto the greyish fjord. At such times the surface water reveals its true colour, the turquoise so typical of glacier meltwater. The rock on which the glacier rests is crushed under immense pressure into rock flour, a powder-like substance finer than gravel. This rock flour enters the water but does not dissolve; instead, it remains suspended in the water. When direct sunlight hits this glacial milk, it’s mainly the turquoise light that gets scattered in all directions.

To the east, the Nigerlikasik glacier stretches out in all its grandeur, with a glimpse of the Greenland ice sheet visible at the very top

Typical of a glacial deposit are the stones left behind by the glacier, both large and small, scattered all over

 

Gradually, the glacier responsible for all this – the Nigerlikasik – appears in the distance. Shortly after twelve, the Fram drops anchor at a respectful distance. But it only seems that way. It’s not the anchor, but the computer that keeps the ship in place. This is called dynamic positioning, or DP in Captain Sverre’s jargon. An anchor is only used in emergencies, he will later explain to us. In an environment like this, the Fram prefers DP. Position sensors, wind sensors, motion sensors, and gyroscopic compasses provide the computer with the necessary information. The computer constantly recalculates the correct rudder angle and the required power for the bow thrusters at the front and the propellers at the rear, making the ship appear motionless. Of course, this requires extra fuel. However, this prevents the anchor from disturbing the seabed in this delicate environment. And more importantly, the Fram can move away more quickly should an iceberg pose any threat.

 

 

Nigerlikasik glacier

Three o’clock. The AP system announces that our group may head to the tendering pit. We are slightly startled when we see our zodiac driver. Completely bundled up, he looks like a Tuareg with a huge pair of sunglasses on his nose. It’s impossible to tell who it is. This isn’t really a problem, but it does make us suspect that the weather conditions are worse or will worsen more than we expected. However, this fear will later prove to be completely unfounded.

 

Nigerlikasik glacier

 

We are dropped in a small, sheltered inlet and wade through the water onto the rocky shore. Expedition leader Maria is there waiting for us with a big smile, reminding us of the instructions we received during the briefing last night.

 

What’s remarkable is the rich plant growth in this unforgiving climate

 

The small triangular point of land where we now stand is part of a glacial deposit – a moraine. Typical of such an environment are the stones left behind by the glacier, both large and small, scattered all over. Not entirely safe, so it’s wise to follow the path marked by the scouts with blue cones. There are also cultural relics from the Thule people, the ancestors of today’s Inuit. The law requires that we do not approach such artefacts closer than two meters.

The typical story of bees and flowers obviously doesn't apply in the Arctic

Arctic willow

Scheuchzer's cottongrass

No need for further encouragement; we eagerly begin the climb via the path that zigzags between the boulders. The idea that no life exists here soon turns out to be a myth. Just ask the mosquitoes. They’ve been enjoying this place for thousands of years. A hospitable bunch, they eagerly greet every visitor, swarming by the dozens for a warm welcome.

Even a mature tree like the Arctic Willow shows low-to-the-ground behaviour here

Lichen

Arctic willow

What’s remarkable is the rich plant growth in this unforgiving climate. You won't find trees or shrubs here, of course, but small plants manage to thrive in many varieties and colours. The challenges they face are enormous – freezing temperatures, relentless winds, insufficient rainfall, and an extremely short blooming season. And that’s not to mention the occasional four-legged visitors grazing the ground.

 

Reindeer lichen

The typical story of bees and flowers doesn't apply in the Arctic. With so few insects, it could take an eternity for pollination to occur. And even if a seed is fertilized, what chance does it have on this hard, icy ground? These plants have instead chosen vegetative reproduction. Their underground rhizomes spread out in all directions, and farther away, they emerge from the ground to form a new plant. This isn’t great for genetic diversity, of course, but it works.

 

Kvangefjord

But these plants are well-prepared for survival. Evolution has taken care of that, as Vivi, our Finnish conservation biologist, will explain to us later. To start, they are all very small plants, with none rising above the others. Even a mature tree like the Arctic Willow shows low-to-the-ground behaviour here. This way, they protect each other from the bitterly cold wind. What’s more, together they form a canopy that shields the mosses on the ground. In winter, a layer of snow covers them, further protecting the plants from extreme cold.

With tiny hairs on their stems and leaves, these plants trap air, creating an insulating layer. You’d almost think they’ve borrowed this trick from animals. Another strategy they use is storing an unusually high amount of soluble carbohydrates, which act as an effective antifreeze in this environment.

 

Thule grave in the moraine

And, last but not least, we can also contribute – by leaving as few traces as possible and avoiding stepping on plants. This is easier said than done because mosses and plants are everywhere. The Arctic willow, in particular, thrives here. Its trunks are sometimes a meter long but lie flat on the ground, twisting their way between other plants.

 

Though the three graves are likely several hundred years old they are remarkably well-preserved

Three Thule graves

Quite soon we come across a first Thule grave, a pile of stones that is hard to recognize as a grave amidst the other rocks of the moraine. Three graves, side by side a bit farther on, stand out more. Though they are likely several hundred years old – no one knows for sure – they are remarkably well-preserved. The harsh conditions have barely affected them.

Imagine trying to dig a grave in this rock-hard ground. It’s nearly impossible. The Thule people simply placed the body of the deceased on the ground, then carefully stacked stones over it, ensuring the body wasn’t crushed.

A massive boulder, six to eight meters in diameter, is likely the site of another grave

 

In the middle grave, three bodies are buried, while the status of the other two remains unknown. It’s also unclear if they belonged to the same family. This doesn’t matter much, as the concept of family is interpreted quite broadly by the Inuit. Sometimes the entire community was considered family. A massive boulder, six to eight meters in diameter, is likely the site of another grave. In any case, there are quite a few stones piled against its side.

Meanwhile, the sun has fully emerged. The clouds have vanished, and the sky is an unreal blue. Is this Greenland? We’re sweating profusely in our polar gear, but we hardly mind.

 

Lichen

Arctic willow

The higher we climb, the more impressive the surroundings become. In the west, Kvanefjord basks in the sunlight. To the east, the Nigerlikasik glacier stretches out in all its grandeur, with a glimpse of the Greenland ice sheet visible at the very top. Below our feet, the Fram floats on the blue water. All of this we observe while standing amidst lush vegetation. The spot where we landed could not have been better chosen. The Thule people must have felt the same way back then.

The Nigerlikasik supracrustal belt, that’s what geologists call this. They talk about a relatively well-preserved and coherent sequence, describing a compositional evolution from ultramafic serpentinites near the base, to mafic amphibolites through mid-section, to felsic biotite-hornblende schists in the top-section. Nice, isn't it, how everyone looks at this enchanting landscape through their own glasses.

 

The Nigerlikasik supracrustal belt, that’s what geologists call this

Nigerlikasik

At twenty past six, the Fram leaves its position and heads westward into the open sea. There’s no trace left of the cloud cover that hung over Kvanefjord like a tent canvas this morning. The low sun casts its rays, skimming along the walls of the fjord, creating a constantly changing pattern of light and shadow among the crevices, ridges, and rock formations. As we get closer to the open sea, the fog increases. Eventually, visibility is nearly zero.

Once we reach the open sea, the Fram can turn its bow northward again. We now have a journey of nearly three hundred kilometres along the west coast of Greenland ahead of us. This will take us to Nuuk, the capital of Greenland and also the northernmost capital in the world – a little bit closer to the North Pole than Reykjavík. The difference is only one and a half arc minutes, just under three kilometres.

Since the end of the 15th century, countless explorers have struggled on this route, aiming to find a passage north of the American continent to the lucrative markets of the Far East

Nigerlikasik

In fact, the real Northwest Passage begins for us now as we sail toward Davis Strait and Baffin Bay. Since the end of the 15^th century, countless explorers have struggled on this route, aiming to find a passage north of the American continent to the lucrative markets of the Far East. They wanted to provide a shorter and thus cheaper alternative to the southern routes around the Cape of Good Hope and Cape Horn.

But it wasn’t smooth sailing. Exploring Davis Strait and Baffin Bay was relatively manageable. However, the Canadian Arctic Archipelago proved to be a tough challenge. It became a long, complex, and thrilling tale, bursting with tragic and shocking events. A narrative that kept public opinion in Europe spellbound for centuries. And a story that historian Benjamin will present to us in his own unique way.

It became a long, complex, and thrilling tale, bursting with tragic and shocking events. A narrative that kept public opinion in Europe spellbound for centuries

In four episodes, he will focus on four key protagonists. Henry Hudson, John Franklin, and Roald Amundsen are names that might seem somewhat familiar to us. But Giovanni Caboto, the man who would be the first to attempt to find the Northwest Passage at the end of the 15th century, is someone we had never heard of. In fact, much of his life remains shrouded in mystery. We do not know where or when he was born, nor do we know where or when he died.

 

Kvanefjord

What we do know is that he was fascinated by distant voyages of discovery. But for an expedition to the Northwest Passage, he needed money – lots of money. For kings and merchants it was normal practice at that time to finance voyages of discovery. But this time, the Spaniards and the Portuguese did not respond when Caboto knocked on their doors. After all, Christopher Columbus had ‘discovered’ America on behalf of Spain in 1492, and Vasco da Gama had successfully reached India via the southern route around the Cape of Good Hope in 1498. These monarchies were no longer interested in a northern route.

Caboto subsequently anglicized his Italian name to John Cabot and turned to the English King Henry VII. Needless to say Henry VII was concerned about the Spanish and Portuguese successes and wanted to take advantage of the new markets himself. So, he gave Cabot permission to explore and claim foreign continents under the English flag. However, he did not provide any funding. Cabot sought and found money with the Bardi family in Bristol. They gave him sixteen pounds and thirty shillings, which today corresponds to about 50 000 USD.

 

Kvanefjord

In the late summer of 1496, Cabot departed from Bristol. And there the story stops. No account of this voyage has survived. The only thing we know comes from a cryptic sentence in a letter from merchant John Day to Christopher Columbus: His crew confused him, he was short of supplies and ran into bad weather, and he decided to turn back. A complete mystery, then.

Cabot did not venture further from the shore than the distance that a crossbow could reach

In 1497, Cabot made a new attempt. This time successfully. He landed on the northern coast of Newfoundland. Where exactly, we do not know. It could be Cape Bonavista. This is certainly the place where they celebrated the 500th anniversary of his expedition in 1997. However, Cabot only landed once. He did not venture further from the shore than the distance that a crossbow could reach and limited himself to taking on fresh water. For the rest, he drifted south along the coast to explore it.

 

Black-legged gulls (juvenile and adult)

In May 1498, he set out on his third and final voyage. This time with five ships, one of which was funded by the king. Onboard were many riches that could serve as gifts or for trade. Again, this journey is shrouded in mystery. We do not even know what happened to Cabot – did he die en route? Did he stay there? Did he return to London?

Did he die en route? Did he stay there? Did he return to London?

We will probably never know the full truth. But Cabot certainly did not fulfil his dream of finding the Northwest Passage. With the Fram, we hope to do better.

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Jaak Palmans
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