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 craft serve the rest of Greenland, including its capital, Nuuk, to the south.
Kangerlussuaq was founded as Bluie West-8 by the U.S. military during World War II. It's located more than 100 miles up its fjord from the open sea. For a riveting account of flying up the fjord in a C-47 I commend to you Ernest Gann's memoir of his flying days, "Fate is the Hunter". The film of the same name, starring John Wayne, focuses on a different episode from the book involving a stranded aircraft in Labrador.
The Fram sailed on schedule from Kangerlussuaq at midnight; as I awoke before breakfast Sunday we were approaching the mouth of the more than 100-mile long indentation into the world's largest island (Australia is considered a condtinent).
Greenland time is two hours ahead of the U.S. East Coast and four hours behind Denmark, so when my head hit the pillow first night on board it was well after 1 a.m. so I skipped the day's landing on Manitsoq, opting instead for a long afternoon nap.
The Fram can accommodate about 240 guests in its cabins, but with only 130 spaces filled those of us in steerage (inside cabin, no porthole or window) were upgaded. Even the on-board expedition staff, who usually are quartered in the bowels of the ship, got outside cabins.
This is, for all practical purposes, a repositioning cruise. The Fram spends the northern summer in the Arctic, and the southern summer in Antarctica. This cruise takes us to Halifax. The ship will work its way down the U.S. eastern seaboard, through the Caribbean and Panama Canal, down the west coast of South America, through the Chilean fjords and then the Antarctic cape. A group from China are onboard for 80 days to make the pole-to-pole trip, having started in Svalbard.
The other passengers on board are primarily Germans, with significant populations of Brits, Aussies and Canadians, and a handful of Americans. Announcements are made in English and German, and the expedition staff lectures and briefings are held in separate lounges in both languages. Since our landing today will be at one of the earliest Norse settlements, Eric the Red will be this morning's 10:30 a.m. lecture (due to start in a few minutes as I write).
Breakfasts and lunches are buffet, but dinner is usually served at assigned tables. My dinner companions are a fascinating group: a Bronx native who recently retired after a career in social and community development work for the United Nations, a well-traveled kayaker retired as facilities director at Montana's Bozeman State University, and a retired nurse from Oxfordshire who worked both in Boston and Biafra. We've lingered in our dinner conversations each evening enjoying each others' stories.
Comments
Post a Comment