Our hotel was blessed with the most awe-inspiring view. From my window I looked out on a fjord which in winter is covered in ice. Currently there are just a few icebergs scattered along the coast. In the distance Apusilak Glacier stared icily down at us.
Our hotel from the road to Cap Dan
The daylight-hours view from my hotel window.
We spent the afternoon exploring the nearby settlement of Cap Dan. It used to be a fishing village, but the fishery has collapsed in recent years, and now most fishing is just recreational. I'd guess that about 100 people live there, in these wonderfully atmospheric houses perched high on the outcrops. The noise of dogs howling fills the air - this is summer, so the Greenlandic husky dogs are tied up and have little to do. Come winter, there's still a proportion of the population that will harness up their dog teams and head out accross the ice to hunt seals and polar bear. We passed the cemetry, we tried our hand at catching a fish or two from the rocks, we visited the picturesque little church. And then we spotted a whale. It was just out from us, just in the fjord, spouting happily away. Apparently it was a Minke. Whatever it was, I was desperately hoping that it wouldn't be spotted by anyone else in the village - they've got traditional whaling rights to kill up to three Minke whales each year.
Looking from the middle of Cap Dan out towards Apusilak Glacier. The poles in the foreground are a drying rack for fish.
We returned to our hotel for dinner, and then set out yet again. Georg, a local fisherman, picked us up in his fishing boat and we headed out into the fjord and towards the looming Apusilak. It did look oh-so-close, but it was 7k's by boat - I guess it's just the super clear air, and the lack of any man-made markers in the landscape, that make it really hard to judge distance. Georg was hilarious - a utterly dry humour which made it near impossible to judge when he was serious and when he was taking the piss. What made it even more difficult was the fact I have just three words in East Greenlandic, and perhaps five in Danish, and he had little more in English. But when I asked him about the size of the glacier he became quite serious. 'Smaller', he said. 'Fifty years back, no island.' I glanced around and spotted the island he was talking about. As we drew closer to the glacier, it became clear that even the end of the island closest the glacier was separated from the glacier head by a couple of hundred meters.
I had a bad feeling when I saw this, but all was ok in the end.
The boat beside our boat. Ours was cooler, but you get the idea.
Drawing closer to the glacier.
On the way back to the hotel, as the Arctic sun sank low on the horizon, Georg took us to get a close up look at some icebergs. They carve off the glaciers and float down the fjords out to sea, but there's a point in one channel which is too shallow, and the get beached. So it's like boating through a forest of these white giants. They're beautiful in the last light - tinged pink and yellow by the sun, but still with this luminous blue glow. Some of them have streaks of a deeper blue running though them. It's not just the colour though, it's also the structure. Each one has got this different look, this different feel. Some are rounded, others sharp and angular. Some have rings on them, others are quite striate. I felt almost like I was in a cathedral, it was that sort of emotion. Like I should be quiet, lest I break something special. It was at these moments that I found it hardest to keep filming.
And when we got back to the hotel, and I looked out my window, I once again couldn't believe I could possibly be so lucky as to see so much beauty in one day.
