At the Edge of the Maps

(Hyperborean Hopscotch 2017: Day Five)

I thanked my neighbors for letting me crash in their scenic burial ground, but the ghosts were still asleep in their graves.

Instead of packing my gear up, I headed straight for the water. Leaving everything behind, I traversed rocks, tussock tundra, and streams, making my own way down (there was no path).

Dwarf birch in foreground.

Eventually I climbed down and hit the Yellow Trail, but simply crossed it and continued on my way. I had a meeting to attend. Close to the water and the icebergs on their near-motionless voyages, I sat down and stared. 

Communing with nature.

There were no thoughts in my head. I was still more asleep than awake. My mind was blank. Then I thought about where I was going and where I was.

Like Joannna Kavenna in her book The Ice Museum:

"In my mind there was a blank spot, a vast white patch, the most northerly island. I turned to the ice mountains of Greenland. Seeking to draw the strings together, I turned to a forbidding ice-plain, at the edge of the maps, spreading toward the frozen ocean."

I needed to walk the Blue Trail today. My plan was formulating. But first, coffee.

Back in town the first shop that had opened (early on a Saturday) and served coffee was the town’s gas station. I sat down at their bar table looking out the window, wrote some words in my travel journal, and drank first a coffee with sugar, then a cappuccino – both from a machine. Not the ideal café scenario, but I worked with what I had.

Slightly awake, slightly warmed, and slightly energized, I marched back to my tent and other possessions. I packed everything up and hit the Blue Trail.

Ilulissat icefjord.

That path is just under 7 kilometers (just over 4 miles), so nothing intense. But I expected ascents and descents, with all of my gear.

Back out along the fjord I walked with views of the huge icebergs. The planked walkway gave way to natural terrain, and there was quite a bit of rock hopping involved.

Ilulissat icefjord.

Ilulissat icefjord.

Ilulissat icefjord.

I did wander off path a couple times and had to climb my way back when I spotted the blue dots marking the trail. Nothing too strenuous at first, but rounding one rocky hill, the trail veers away from the water and begins to climb. This one long ascent is within a corridor called Qoororsuaq (the Cleft), which at its apex gives a great hilltop view of the icefjord, its rocks, and little Ilulissat town down on the other side. 

The Cleft.

The rocky descent through the other side of the Cleft ends in a large sled dog encampment, even larger than the alley of dogs at the entrance to the UNESCO site. A dozen or so little yipping pups made a great welcoming party for the end of my hike.

Victory.

Walking the whole trail with the weight I carried was actually fairly difficult – kind of scary because 7kms is much shorter than most days I would be hiking on the Laugavegur Trail in Iceland a few days from then. Luckily - and perhaps tellingly - I walked the trail in half the posted estimated time, including stops to breathe in the icefjord scenery and chat with people along the way. When I realized this, my fear of future fatigue faded.

My next mission was postcarding, so I picked up cards and stamps then grabbed more coffee at a place called Café Iluliaq. Much better than the gas station coffee. I wrote my postcards, sent them off, wandered around town for a couple hours, then wound up back at Café Iluliaq for dinner. Their halibut escabeche was the second hot meal I had on my trip, so it was incredible by default. Immiaq Brewery is also located in the same building, and their Qaqqaq lager was pretty great as well.

After another short hike along the icefjord, it began to rain. I haven’t mentioned it until now, but every day I spent in Greenland it rained periodically, on and off. This time, I decided to retreat to my tent and wait out the rain...

I did not wake up until the morning.