East Greenland: Tinit and Kayaking

August 16th was a split day at Natural Habitat Adventure's base camp in Greenland. In the morning our group took a short but chilly zodiac ride to the small town of Tinit and explored.

Two sled dogs were chained at the spot where we landed, not to be petted. They had no work to do until the was solidly iced again; some fish and seal had been laid nearby for their food.

The first activity was hiking. One group took a longer hike, while Joan and I joined the group taking a short uphill hike followed by a walk through town. At the top of the hill was the town cemetery and a panoramic view. This photo is looking back towards the town. There's plenty of ice in the Sermilik fjord in the right of the picture.

This photo gazes more northerly and up the fjord.

A closer look from the tip of the cemetery. I'm standing close to a picnic table, and a memorial cross for all the hunters who never came back. The ground here is stony, so burials are conducted by stacking rocks.

We returned to the lower levels and Julius, a Tinit native and our trilingual staff member (Greenlandic, Danish, English), pointed out the civic hall, water tank, school/church, and other buildings. Joan purchased a pair of pig-bone earrings and a necklace carved in the shape of a ptarmigan, a powerful bird in the East Greenlandic tradition. We later caught up with the man who carved these pieces, and he agreed to a photo.

A stroll closer to the shore.

Julius took us to visit the home of his in-laws once our group had completely reassembled. We greeted by a spread of cookies, coffee and tea, and settled in for a good chat. The photos of family members adorned the walls, and one of the adopted daughters made a brief appearance. Adoption is a Greenlandic tradition, and Julius' in-laws intend to continue adopting as long as they are able.

 Julius' father-in-law had recently been at one of his cabins overlooking the fjord, and saw a polar bear walk by, not for the first time. His cabin appears to be on a favorite route for the bears to reach the fjord.

Julius demonstrated the technique needed to use an ulu, the traditional all-purpose knife.

Our guide Katie modeled some of the handiwork of the family. Julius' mother-in-law said her recent work wasn't her best, due to aging eyesight, but it looked astonishingly accurate to us. 

Some patterns were made with beads and some with dyed sealskin slices.

When Julius' father-in-law was asked what the biggest change he had seen was, he said it was the decline of hunting. Late formation of ice in the fjords means that the seals either arrive later or bypass Tinit for locations further north, and earlier melting of the ice means the time that dogsleds can be used for hunting has shrunk. An additional injury to the traditional means of earning a living is that the fish species in the fjord are changing.

Afterwards we spent a few minutes investigating the village grocery. "Grocery" is an inadequate term; it was truly a general store with not only foodstuffs but clothing, toys, and equipment. The cargo freighters from Denmark cannot navigate the winter ice between November and April, so stock become sparse as that season wears on.

Our group returned to base camp for lunch and a long afternoon of kayaking.

Joan took a moment to greet our watchdogs, two of Julius' sled dogs whose loud warnings deter polar bears from entering the camp, as does an electric fence wire around the perimeter. This pair is more socialized than most sled dogs, and could be approached, carefully.

As I mentioned in an earlier post, Joan and I were still wary of kayaking, but were willing to give it yet another try. Our group didn't kayak directly from camp because the iceberg-rich destination was too far away. We rode in zodiacs to a starting point, where the kayaks had earlier been parked. From there we were to paddle to a resting spot and then on through the ice formations.

The first kayaking leg had little to recommend it: there was hardly any ice, and the modest tide was flowing against us. It was a workout just to reach the resting spot, which, to us, would have been a much better starting point. As before, keeping up with the group was frustrating. Helpful hints weren't helpful, such as, "synchronize your paddling," that is, both on the left side then on the right side, while unsynchronized paddlers were pulling away from us. Joan even uttered her first and only curse word of the trip on this outing. At least she had a longer paddle and was no longer drenched by water dripping off the blade.

When we reached the rest stop,

Joan and I had had enough, and we weren't the only ones. Another pair bailed out here, and added to the one guest who had been in the safety zodiac from the get-go, there were now five guests in the zodiac and seven in kayaks. We waved to the waterbugs as they shoved off.

The zodiac was a fine place to be. The sun shone, I didn't worry about whipping out my camera, and we riders and Julius had a jolly time. Some kayakers wondered about all the laughter coming from the zodiac.

And we saw plenty of ice, too.

What a glow on the bottom of the ice bridge; click to enlarge.

Of course, the paddlers had their fun, but they needed to keep up with Ken, the kayak master.

The time came to return to base camp. There we found a cluster of pink tents, a touring group plunked down just outside our polar bear fence.

Later, in a shop, I saw a map that revealed dozens of recognized camping spots in the broader area, including this one. Greenland is becoming a destination for outdoors-minded Europeans, even for skiing across a stretch of the ice cap.

Our evening movie in the common tent was The Hunt, narrated by David Attenborough. We saw the episode on the changing of the seasons in the Arctic. The photography was stunning, and I can't imagine the work that went into it.

Joan and I were in the tent closest to the interlopers. We could clearly hear them, full of banter and chatter in French, until 10:30 or so, way past our bedtime.

Tomorrow, exploration by zodiac up the Sermilik fjord. No kayaks!