Greenland Passage

Sunset near Hopewell, Labrador The MV Fram arrived in Hopedale, Labrador, about 4:30 p.m. where the temperature was a balmy 51ºF. Time for a cigar on deck awaiting Canadian customers clearance, which happened in record time. The customs crew, flown into Hopedale to meet the ship, only sampled the passports collected by Hurtigruten when we boarded on Copenhagen flight. The Polar Cirkle boat crews are busy tendering passengers to the village of nearly 600 people, but based on the description of the town, I'll pass. Not that it's without interest, since it's one of the communities along the coast where 18th and 19th century Moravian missionaries managed to convert nearly all of Inuit in Labrador to their particular brand of Christianity. I'm saving my walking for tomorrow at Makkovit which sounded more interesting. Another reason to skip the walk through Hopedale: it's dark outside. Correction: an earlier version of this entry misidentified the town as Hopewell

Everyone on board has a camera, of course. Including the two professionals aboard: Camille, the in-house photographer who offers tips and provides her photos at the end of the journey (for a price, of course), and Dan, part of a contingent of travel journalists aboard this repositioning cruise, accompanied by Hurtigruten's global PR manager, Øystein Knoph. But the photographer pictured here is no professional. He's a weight-lifter, based on the amount of heavy glass in that lens. He was trying to catch photos of trailing birds this morning on the Labrador Sea. I seriously doubt he could hold the camera steady enough (no tripod) to get a decent snap. I am reminded by this scene of the old saw about the inverse ratio between the size of a photographers lens and his... As for me, I'm relying on my iPhone 7's camera and my lightweight, compact Canon G-9, which has served me well for the past eight years. I considered bringing one of my old 35mm film cameras with lense

As I write (2:45 p.m. Atlantic Daylight Time) the MV Fram is nearing the end its 30-hour crossing of the Labrador Sea. It has not be a pleasure cruise: the seas were as high as 30 feet for much of the crossing, the wind just below hurricane strength at gusts of more than 60 mph. Mario, our expedition leader, said the gusts measured 10 on the Beaufort scale, with sustained wind at 9. That's no gentle breeze. The image above, from windy.com, represents the 1 a.m. today wind speeds and directions in the Labrador Sea between Greenland (on the right) and the Labrador coast. Red and green mean what you think they mean. The rough crossing of this arm of the North Atlantic began soon after we left the protection of Greenland's fjords Wednesday evening, and didn't let up until daybreak Friday when we reached Labrador's continental shelf.  I had experienced a bit of rough seas on my first Hurtigruten trip in 2010 soon after we left Kirkenes and headed into the Bare

By the standards of most cruise lines the Fram is a small ship. Even among the Hurtigruten fleet it is a relative lightweight, carrying a maximum of 240 passengers compared to the nearly 500 the larger coastal boats can accommodate. But that doesn't make it any easier to get to shore at the towns and villages we have so far visited. Even with its relatively shallow draft it is unable to dock by at the quay. So passengers must be tendered ashore on the Fram's little fleet of Polar Cirkel tender craft. Similar to Zodiacs, but easier to get in and out of, the Fram has about a half dozen seven-passenger versions and two 11-seaters. They speed us from ship to shore and back. The Fram's crew makes sure we enter and exit safety, as we employ the "sailor's grip": your hand grasps the sailor's wrist, and vice versa, as we enter and exit. The second photo shows the two versions at the tender deck which lowers from the side the Fram. With winches and pulle

Some ice chips off the old block cool my drink as we leave the berg-filled fjord Our pilot taught us how to say Skål in Greenlandic: Kassutta Only a few kilometers over a small mountain separate Igaliku from Tunullirfik Fjord, but the Fram needed an overnight journey to sail down one and up the other. The fjord at bottom center is where Igaliku is situated. The ice-filled fjord is at top right. We transferred to smaller local boats at Qassiarsuk (top left fjord on map). Although one of the boats could hold 40 or so passengers, I got lucky with a six-passenger skiff (thankfully, with cabin for the windy ride up the fjord) enabling a close-up and personal look at the nearby glacier's offspring. Words are insufficient. So. here are the photos:

If it's Tuesday, it must be Igaliku. The more Greenlandic spelling of this village of 30 souls end with a 'u', not an  'o'. Either way its location at the end of a fjord offers an ice-free harbor and sufficient flat ground to raise sheep, Igaliku's only source of revenue other than a couple vessels like the Fram each year. Igaliku is also the home to significant ruins from the days of Eric the Red. The ice-free harbors, with the ability to grow feed for sheep in 24-hour summer daylight, made these locations suitable for the Norse farmers. Here are some other photos from Igaliku:  

For four days we have cruised the southwest coast of Greenland. For those geographically inclined our route takes us from the long inland fjord with Kangerlussuaq at it end, to Qassiarsuk in the south and its nearby Qoroq fjord filled with stranded icebergs. Our first full day in Greenland, which began just a few hours after our late Saturday night landing at Kangerlussuaq, was a blur to me, other than then safety briefing with those funny suits. After program briefings we landed in Manitsoq, but I decided catching up on sleep more important. So my first foray on terra firma after boarding the MV Fram was at Paamiut Monday afternoon. Paamiut's most notable features include the Royal Arctic shipping line warehouse, the city's (pop. 1,515) and its stave-inspired church, complete with the model sailing ship suspended from the ceiling, a common adornment in Norwegian churches. The church choir entertained us. Here are a few photos: Paamiut's stave-style church. The or

The Fram's mandatory safety lecture Sunday morning included how to get into the polar survival suits. And on top of this you put a life vest. I will put my faith on the captain and crew to transport us without needed to do such chic attire.

I'm behind in my blogging, having arrived in Greenland late Saturday night. But these photos, taken this morning after breakfast, show all is not snow and ice here. There's also plenty of rock. My vessel, the M/V Fram, is working its way up the Igaliku Fjord in southern Greenland where we will make landing early this afternoon. The weather prediction: clear, sunny skies, temperature somewhere around 40ºF. Our Air Greenland Airbus 330 took off from Copenhagen and arrived in Kangerlussuaq shortly after 10 p.m. Saturday. After a 20-minute bus ride to the quay we boarded the Fram's fleet of Polar Cyrcle tender boats (similar to Zodiacs, just easier to get in and out of) to get to the vessel, since many of the communities we are visiting can't accommodate vessels with deep drafts. Kangerlussuaq is home to Greenland's only true international airport, but its entire population is devoted to the airport and associated operations. From here fixed wing and rotary c

Around the corner from my Copenhagen flat may be found a number of local retail establishments: a small supermarket, a couple Danish equivalent of bodegas, restaurants from pizza-by-the-slice to the Michelin rated  Clou. But I hung out at Krut's Karport where I could sit outside with a drink and a cigar. I would have ordered aquavit, the indigenous Nordic spirit, but proprietor Peter Kjær offers what may be Copenhagen's most extensive collection of Scotch. I'm not fan of that whisky so instead I drank Dad's Hat rye, imported from Pennsylvania. Or coffee. Peter and his staff are gracious hosts and feature regular tastings of spirits. One night when I was there about a dozen folks fathered in the back room to sample gin.

Smørrebrød is simply buttered bread. But the Danes, not usually a people given to excess (except for weekend alcohol consumption) don't leave it at that. Instead, they create works of art you can eat. The toppings can be meat, fish, vegetable, whatever you like. Here it's herring from Bornholm, a Danish island closer to the Swedish, German and Polish coasts than Copenhagen. This version was served to me at Promenaden, one of the fancier eateries at Tivoli Gardens, operated by the local Nimb restaurant group. The bread must be the dense Danish rye found everywhere. Dark in color, tasted on its own or with just butter the bread is sour to the point of tartness, especially when sliced, baked to dry it out and served like a bagel chip with beer. But the bread finds its natural habitat topped with a generous smear of butter, and the fixings. The protein can be any form of meat or seafood imaginable, but some vegetable crunch, whether in the form of a little bit of onion or the

It's only natural that Tivoli Gardens, the old-fashioned amusement park located in the heart of downtown Copenhagen, would feature The Little Mermaid. The statue of H.C. Andersen's Little Mermaid is as much a part of the city as the Manneken Pis is to Brussels. But why does The Little Mermaid in Tivoli's daily 5 p.m. parade remind me more of Bette Midler's Dolores Del Lago than Ariel? Tivoli features all the entrapments for your dollars or kronor that any amusement park offers: thrill and kiddie rides, games of chance or skill, trinkets and souvenirs, and food for every taste and budget, including an American diner which only vaguely resembles one. But it also offers areas of respite, like this expansive corner of Tivoli across from Copenhagen's city hall (Rådhus) and its clock tower. This peaceful, pond-side retreat from the carnival features more than two dozen illuminated metal bowl foundations. I found it an enjoyable location for a respite from the cr

For lunch before erev Yom Kippur I sinned by eating this sandwich. As noted earlier the Danes love porcine products and here is the ribbensteg sandwich: thick slices of fresh pork belly roasted then pan fried, topped with a mayo dressing, some pickle slices and cabbage. In restaurants the meat would be served with boiled potatoes. This sandwich (crispy, fatty meaty deliciousness) came from the same shop that supplied my rullepølse.

It's 4 p.m. in Copenhagen when this parking enforcement officer starts to enforce rush hour no parking along the local boulevard while I enjoy an afternoon snack at a cafe. Motorists hurried to their cars upon seeing him coming. The big difference between Philadelphia and Copenhagen: the motorists were polite. Along a side street, he kept snapping photos of cars; he'll be back.

My introduction to Danish culture began 30 years ago with r ullepølse , when Retta Johnson, Jean Sue's step-mom, served it to me at lunch. I was smitten. Hygge may be comforting, but nothing matches the cured meaty goodness of this cold cut. Retta served it to me in her Racine, Wisconsin, home, a community which once claimed to be the home of more Danes than any city in the world save Copenhagen. I doubt the veracity of that boosterism, but certainly Danish heritage is strong in that Lake Michigan city. Rullepølse is meat and tied tightly with seasonings, wet cured, simmered, then pressed into its traditional vaguely rectangular form. In Racine it is usually made from lamb breast, although one butcher in town uses pork which, it turns out, is much more traditional in the homeland where pigs reign. The pork version is what I purchased during my visit to Torvehallerne, Copenhagen's food hall with about 60 merchants, mostly serving lunch but plenty to bring home in the

Young Women, Emil Nolde, 1947 If you want to go to Greenland the easiest route is through Denmark, the Mother Country. I arrived here Saturday afternoon, but the welcoming committee (pictured at right) didn't organize until today, when I visited SMK, the National Gallery of Denmark, just across the street from my Copenhagen holiday flat. It takes five minutes at my incredible slow pace to walk from my front door to the museum. A normal walker would do it in three. Even closer is the Hirschsprungske museum which I plan to visit before flying to Greenland Saturday evening to begin a 17-day cruise to Halifax via Labrador, Newfoundland, France and Nova Scotia. Yes, France. More about that when I get there. But it will only be a day trip. My Home Away (like Air B 'n B) flat is in the heart of the museum, district. Other museums just a short walk away include Rosenborg Castle, the natural history museum, the David Collection (private Islamic and European collection ope