Dream of the Great Unknown

(Hyperborean Hopscotch 2017: Day Four)

First, a word from Knud Rasmussen, just before the First Thule Expedition of 1912:

“Hello comrades, happy men on the eve of cheerful discoveries. The morning brings alive the dream of the great unknown, and with the sun we rush to meet our destiny! Out of breath, full of zest for the dawning day...Can anyone be richer?"
(As quoted in Stephen Bown's White Eskimo.)


In Reykjavik City Hostel’s free/exchange racks I found another sweater and a big, light, strong stick – obviously it had been used previously as a walking stick, something I desperately needed for my upcoming hike. My two proper trekking poles were back home because of a problematic travel issue: even when collapsed they are too big for the little duffel bag I use for checked luggage and poles aren’t allowed as carry-on luggage. I put the sweater on and left the stick in the hostel’s storage room, with a bag of groceries I also needed for the hike.

After breaking down my tent and rearranging my bags for “travel mode,” I drove to the SADcars rental office in town. I dropped off the key, bid farewell to Tormund, and then took a half hour walk to the domestic airport. With the sun I rushed to meet my destiny.

The flight was great – a rare remark – with amazing aerial views of the Greenland Ice Sheet as we flew across the country from east to west. The ice cap is 660,000 square miles in total – the second largest body of ice in the world after the Antarctic sheet.

Crossing the cap.

In the Ilulissat airport I rearranged my bags again, this time for “hiking mode.” I set off for town.

The air was cool on the west coast of Greenland, with light scattered showers and scenic views of the icefjord as I walked an hour from the airport into Ilulissat. I walked along a road through dark, colorful, stark rocks and caught site of several small icebergs in the water.

The first building I came across was a the Hotel Arctic, where I purchased WIFI and charged my phone (the battery was dying). The girls in reception gave me good information on supermarkets, restaurants, distances between places I wanted to go, and so forth.

Another 15 minutes further into town I grabbed groceries and lunch then ate as I wandered down to the bay where the Zion Church looked out over the water and ice. Some Inuit kids were playing with wooden toy boats in a big puddle and greeted me in their native language Kalaallissat as I walked by.

Seaside church.

My next stop was just across the street from the church: The Ilulissat Museum. This old, red building was the childhood home of Knud Rasmussen, an explorer I had recently read much about. The museum had a whole floor dedicated to the “White Eskimo” (who was part Greenland Inuit and part Danish), with some of his expedition gear and clothes from the many journeys he undertook in the far north. He loved both sides of his heritage, and while his work did include mapping and discovery, his real contribution to the world was more anthropological. 

Rasmussen's house / The Ilulissat Museum.

Traveling around Greenland, Canada, and Scandanavian Lapland, he documented the stories, songs, religious beliefs, and rites of native arctic peoples. He learned to live among them, adapted to their ways of life, and was welcomed into their culture. He stood up for them and their rights in their homelands at the same time he was sharing their rich culture with the world. 

Inside the museum.

The museum also housed artifacts from the nearby site of Sermermiut, an archaeological site dating back to 600 BCE and used by Saqqaq, Early Dorset, and Thule cultures. Pieces included figurines, other artwork, spear and harpoon tips, and other stone tools. There were hundreds if not thousands of artifacts on display.

Sermermiut artifacts.

Moving on, I ventured to find the UNESCO World Heritage Site and the hiking trails around the icefjord. The road there is lined with sled dog housing. Puppies followed me along the way while the adults lazed around in the grass, on the rocks, or on top of their wooden dog houses. It was adorable. I missed my dog.

Sled dogs in the off season.

At the end of dog alley were the trails leading into the UNESCO (United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organization) area. I knew the Blue Trail was the longest at about 7 kilometers, so I planned to tackle that on the following day. I opted for the Yellow Trail this time, which first leads passed a graveyard. Behind that I spied a field that looked like a possible camping spot for the night, but waited until later to investigate. 

The trail turns into a rock hopping and navigating game. Choosing which route to take from one yellow circle marker to the next is up to the hiker with no real path among the rocks. So I had a good time picking my way through the field of stones, slowly climbing until eventually I reached the top with grand views of the icefjord proper. One other man was there, and while I didn’t ask his nationality he spoke great English with a German-sounding accent. We talked of the stunning landscape and seascape, the massive icebergs out in the water. We estimated that many were as big as factories and a few of the ones farther out could have been wider and taller than whole city blocks.

That's me talking to a stranger along the Yellow Trail.

The stranger hiked on down the trail the way I’d come and I continued on my way. At the end of the hike I was back in Ilulissat and had to walk from a new side of town back to where the hike began. Re-arriving at the graveyard I’d seen hours earlier, I made my way around to the back of it. Out in a field with a great view of the icefjord I got my tent up and my belongings inside. 

Tent with graveyard in background.

Physically tired but mentally still too excited about where I was, I took an evening stroll down the first part of the Blue Trail to see the sunset light on the ice floating away from Jakobshavn Glacier. The complete Blue Trail would be my mission in the morning. 

Glacial sunset.

In "Leaving Winslow,” Jackson Browne sings:

"I keep on hearing 'bout the disappearing ozone layer.
I keep on hearing 'bout the disappearing Greenland Shelf.
I keep on hearing all about the disappearing middle class.
I figure I'll be doing some disappearing myself."

Luckily the shelf, the ozone, the planet, had not yet disappeared. But in a way I had. I’d disappeared into West Greenland and I was all the richer for it. In my little tent, between a glacial icefjord and a village burial ground, I bundled up and drifted to sleep among the ice and ghosts.

"Can anyone be richer?"
- Knud Rasmussen