A Trip of Ice and Fire - Days 4, 5 - Kujataa

6/13/17, “Kujataa”

Narsarsuaq, Greenland, Kingdom of Denmark

On the other side of this body of water, where the houses are visible off in the distance, in that narrow strip of land between the fjord and the mountains, lies the sheep farming settlement of Qassiarsuk.  It is one of the five areas that comprise the WHS nomination of Kujataa and its subarctic farming landscape, which preserves both the Norse and Inuit remains.  It is where Erik the Red established the first settlement in Greenland after discovering the country, calling it by that name since Qassiarsuk and the surrounding area was far greener than the parts of Iceland whence he came.

He was soon joined by his son, Leif Erikson, and other Norse families, establishing the first permanent settlement in Greenland.  They were farmers, not reavers, at this time, though Leif would make his way to Newfoundland, which I will visiting in a few weeks.  After the Norse settlement in Qassiarsuk ended, it was replaced by an Inuit settlement, who were also sheep farmers.  While the sheep farmers today are the descendants of Danish settlers, it is the Norse and Inuit settlements that form the basis for the nomination, and that is why I am going there.

The boat is ready to take me across the fjord, but my host at the sheep farming is not yet ready, so I would rather wait on this side of the fjord, with the people who arranged my accommodations and transportation for this phase of the trip, than wait at the harbor to be picked up by my host in Qassiarsuk.  That is why I am writing this entry now.  I don’t have much to write since last night, but I think we will soon be sailing across, anyway.

After I closed last night, I published and headed upstairs.  I watched the sun disappear behind the mountains, or, more accurately, behind the government building before dipping below the mountains, as I published my photos.  I then went to sleep and managed 4 REM cycles before I was woken by my alarm, the most continuous amount of sleep I have gotten all trip.

I was not at all hungry when I woke up at 6:30 AM, and my taxi was due to pick me up at 7 AM, so I just packed and got dressed.  He was right on time, but I went next door for a coffee and some type of Danish pastry (not a Danish) before we went to the airport.

The airport was entirely rudimentary, no security at all, just a check-in counter and a lounge, but it was efficient.  I got a coffee and water, and we soon boarded.  There was no assigned seating, and I was able to get an aisle seat on the exit row.  It was a short flight, and I had some more coffee and water en route.

As we flew over the glacier, there was literally nothing to see but ice as far as the eye could see.  We soon landed in Narsarsuaq, and I was greeted by someone from my tour operator, who called someone from their office.  It was 10 AM, but we would not sail until noon, so I had two hours to kill.

I spent it in the office, and it was well over an hour before it occurred to me that I could be outside enjoying a cigar or pipe.  The operator confirmed we would not be able to sail until noon, since that’s when my host on the other side would be ready for me, so I went outside, lit up an Oliva, and proceeded to write this entry, which I will now close, as it is almost noon.

Qassiarsuk, Greenland, Kingdom of Denmark (Brattahlid)

In case anyone has any doubts about why Erik the Red chose to call this island of ice “Greenland,” this establishing shot of his farm in modern-day Qassiarsuk should clear up all doubt.  Where I am sitting now can be considered the first European settlement in the New World.  Long before Columbus sailed the ocean blue, Erik the Red established his farm here in Greenland.  I am sitting inside the ruins of a Norse longhouse, perhaps his house (let’s pretend it is).  It’s called a longhouse, but it’s almost the exact length and width as my apartment in the city.

The greenery that can be seen in the establishing shot was much the same as Erik the Red saw.  It took me three flights on three different airlines, a boat ride, and a bit of a walk to get here, but I had a much easier trip than Erik the Red did coming from Iceland by longboat.  Erik the Red gave up his life of reaving and set up a sheep farm here instead.  It was a tradition that the Inuit settlers continued when they came here.

It is absolutely worthy of inscription as a World Heritage Site, but ICONOS has recommended it for deferral, not they deemed it unworthy, but rather because they have not been convinced that the landscapes will be kept safe from the impact of mining activities and that the proper infrastructure will be built to accommodate the uptick in tourism that will result from inscription.  I got here early, before any mining has begun, and while the measly infrastructure was enough to help the one tourist who wished to visit these ruins today.

I have the whole thing to myself, the exact opposite of the tourist trap that Thingvellir has become.  Other than the occasional vehicle that passes by, I have the whole place to myself.  In the past hour, since leaving the house of my hosts, I can count on my hands all the people I have seen, and almost all of them were passing by me on a vehicle.  I have not seen a single tourist since landing at Qassiarsuk.

This is one of the most isolated/remote places I have ever stayed, far more so than anywhere I have visited in the Canadian Arctic, or even in Alaska.  I’m trying to think if anything would even come close, and I am not counting National Parks I have visited by charter flight, since I didn’t stay more there for more than an hour or so.  I can’t think of any place.  It is peaceful and idyllic here, the weather perfect, only the bugs giving me cause to complain.  It will be a nice place to spend 24 hours, even though I have already done what I came to do here.  All that remains to see is the Ilulissat Icefjord later this week.

After I closed at Narsarsuaq, I went inside, and I was driven to the harbor.  A small boat was waiting to take me across the fjord to Qassiarsuk.  Ellen, my hostess, was supposed to pick me up at the harbor.  It was a short trip, and I enjoyed seeing the view that Erik the Red would have seen when he came up the fjord for the first time.  We soon landed at the harbor, and I didn’t see anyone waiting for me.  Uh oh.  Seriously, no one was there, and I was not walking a klick up the gravel road with my suitcase to get to the farm house.

There was a grocery store at the harbor, and I went inside.  Given that there are only about 100 people who live in this settlement, everyone knows everyone.  I asked if they saw Ellen.  They hadn’t.  I asked if they could call her.  After some difficulty in reaching her, they told me that her “man,” their rough translation of whatever their word for “husband” was, would be picking me up soon.  I asked if they meant Carl.  He soon came.

He was the descendant of Otto Frederiksen, the Danish settler who came here in the early 20^th Century to continue the Norse and Inuit sheep farming tradition.  Carl still manages the sheep farms here, and he and his wife also run a guest house called Illunnguujuk Hostel.  That was where I was staying.  He soon arrived, and I was moderately annoyed that it was now three hours since I had landed in Narsarsuaq, but I only had a few hours of activities to do, so it didn’t really matter.  Once we got to the guest house, which I had all to myself, Ellen followed.

I asked her about lunch.  She said that she could give me bread.  Wait, what?  Reader, if you were me, would you think that meant anything other than a piece of toast or two?  As I got settled in, I asked again about lunch, as I was starting to get hungry.  She said that I could join her and her husband at their house for bread?  “That’s all?  Just bread?” I asked, or something like that.  She asked what else I would want for lunch.  That was when I began to think that she and I had two very different understandings of what it meant to eat bread for lunch.  I asked if they put anything on the bread.  “Well, of course.”

Now I’m thinking toast with butter and jam.  That’s something.  When I got to their house, I understood.  Yes, there was bread, but there was also all sorts of spreads and toppings, protein-based.  There was various forms of salami, including reindeer sausage and their own lamb sausage, along with other spreads imported from Denmark.  It was a proper meal to be sure.

After lunch, I headed towards the ruins, which would be less than a thirty-minute walk.  The entire settlement only extended two klicks from end to end along a narrow strip that was only a few hundred meters from the shore at most.  I lit up a Trinidad and began my walk, soon coming on the ruins.  It was called “Brattahlid,” or “Erik the Red’s Farm” on the marker by the ruins.  There were the Norse ruins, which included a church, a house, and various remnants of the farm, and there were also the Inuit ruins, which were more recent.

I took my ceremonial picture and enjoyed exploring the ruins.  I then sat down inside the house, where I lit up an Ardor and proceeded to close this entry, which I will now close so that I can see if I can post my photo with some Wi-Fi.  It also seems as if another tourist has arrived by boat at the harbor.

Qassiarsuk, Greenland, Kingdom of Denmark (Illunnguujuk)

Once more the sun is about to set behind the mountains as I write my nightly entry, but the difference tonight is that I will not be publishing after I close.  With no internet until tomorrow afternoon, I will have to publish Kujataa as a two-part entry.  That’s okay.  Kujataa deserves two parts.  I can see the ruins of Erik the Red’s farm from the spot outside my cottage where I am perched.

Behind me is the cottage, to the left the sun is setting over the mountains, and to the right is the fjord with Narsarsuaq between the fjord and more mountains.  That is what I find most fascinating about Greenland.  Something like 90% of the landmass is covered in permanent glaciers, making it entirely uninhabitable.  Of the other 10%, most of that consists of mountains, and the only place where people live are these small strip settlements that utilize whatever habitable land there is between the fjords or coast and the mountain.  In other words, probably less than 1% of the land mass is habitable in any reasonable way.

Think about that.  This is the largest island in the world.  There are only four landmasses in the world that are larger (The Americas, Afro-Eurasia, Australia, and Antarctica).  The population of this huge landmass?  Less than 60,000 people.  Our tiny states of Rhode Island and Delaware are each about ten times more populous.  The tiny island of Manhattan is almost a hundred times more populous than this huge island of ice.

It is incredulous, but looking across the river at the strip of Narsarsuaq, between the fjord and the mountain, and knowing that every other settlement around the island is the same, it makes perfect sense.  The only way to get around is by sea and air, the mountains and fjords making connecting the settlements by land all but impossible, save for some small road networks here and there.  The Greenlanders understand that, and they have developed some seriously impressive air and sea infrastructure.

It is mid-June, and I have come this time because I wanted to come around when daylight would be maximized, but the tourist season will not really begin here until July.  It is still too cold.  The temperature all trip has been consistently in the 40s and 50s.  This is certainly to be considered a summer trip, but it is in sharp contrast to the triple-digit temperatures I experienced in Alberta two summers ago.

However, it is much better than the single digit (or perhaps even negative) temperatures that I experienced in Iqaluit in March 2014.  I don’t have much more to write, and I am mostly stalling to allow my food to digest, as I will want to go to sleep as soon as I am done with this entry, but the sun is now setting behind the mountains, and it will get very cold very fast, so I will wrap up.

After I closed at Brattahlid, I headed back towards the farm, stopping at the Leif Erikson Hostel to see if I could buy an hour of internet.  They were actually renovating and not open for the season yet.  They had internet, but no one knew how to access it.  Oh well, I would have to wait until tomorrow.  No worries.  I walked back to the farm and thought that I had gotten lost on the way, but it was actually just over the hill, a little further than I had remembered.  I saw Carl tending the horses and knew I was close.  I saw that they had left breakfast in the fridge and some cereal on the table.  I helped myself to a bit of cereal and relaxed before taking a nap.

After my nap, I headed back out and walked to the Leif Erikson statue, smoking a Jericho Hill as I walked.  I took some pictures at the top of the hill before walking back to the farm.  I went to Carl’s house, and we sat down to dinner together.  Ellen would not be joining us, as she was still working, I believe, perhaps teaching a class somewhere.

Everything was clearly frozen and pre-packaged, but it made for an interesting meal.  Lamb was the main course, and I wondered why they didn’t have fresh lamb on a sheep farm, but I guess they don’t slaughter the animals here, or, if they do, they don’t process the carcasses.  I wondered if their sheep farms was the primary source of lamb for all of Greenland.  I would not be surprised if it was.  There were also loaves of prebuttered bread, and the lamb platters came with potatoes and carrots.

It was a good meal, to be sure, especially given the limitations of the remoteness.  He had put down a bottle of some blueberry drink, and I helped myself to a glass.  It was thick and sweet, but I liked it.  I poured myself another glass, and that’s when Carl informed me that I was supposed to dilute it with water.  It was concentrate.  Now, I no longer liked the taste, and I worried about the inane amount of sugar I was drinking.  I kept drinking it down and diluting it, but I couldn’t get it to the right concentration.  That was the only bad part of the meal.  We couldn’t talk, as he didn’t speak a word of English, and I don’t speak Danish, so, after I was done, I said goodbye and left.

I went back to my cottage and retrieved some things.  I lit up an E.P. Carrillo and walked off my meal (or a small fraction of the calories of the meal) before settling down on a bench.  After sitting there a bit, I walked back to my cottage and set up one of the outdoor chairs at a nice vantage point, where I could see the ruins.  I realized that I hadn’t packed a pipe, so I went back inside to get one.  I came back out and sat down on the chair, where I lit up my Ardor and proceeded to write this entry, which I will now close so that I can get to sleep, or maybe have a cigar first, as I am not sure if my meal is fully digested.

6/14/17, “Kujataa: Part Two”

Qassiarsuk, Greenland, Kingdom of Denmark (Brattahlid)

My time in Qassiarsuk is drawing to a close, and it did not disappoint.  Reader, I am sitting in the spot where Erik the Red first came to Greenland, the spot of the first European settlement in the New World.  Think about that.  Think how significant of a location this is.  I said that this promised to be the absolute highlight of my trip, but think about how wonderful a trip this must be for me to say that there is any doubt that it is the number one highlight of the trip.  It probably will be, but I cannot guarantee it until I have seen Ilulissat.

Even Nuuk gives this a run for its money.  That’s how incredible this trip has been, that visitng the first European settlement in the New World is not automatically the highlight of the trip.  I will soon be heading back across the fjord, to Narsarsuaq, where I can finally get internet access again, but this 24 hours in Qassiarsuk, without internet, has been wonderful.  It is remarkably unchanged over the past millennium, the landscapes almost identical, save for a few buildings and primitive roads.

If Erik the Red came back, he would recognize it in a way that our Founding Fathers would not recognize modern-day Philadelphia.  He might be mildly amused by the metal wagons that go back and forth and the electric fires that light the houses, but that’s it.  The houses do not look that much different from his own, and he would be surprised to see a statue of his son atop the hill.  24 hours, that’s all it would take for him to get used to it.  That is how little this place has changed in a millennium.

Now, think about Philadelphia, how much it’s changed in 250 years.  Surely our founding fathers would think One and Two Liberty Place to be the work of witchcraft, perhaps some of the more religious among them would call think it the devil’s lair.  The Delaware River Bridge, surely more witchcraft.  The Camden Aquarium, they would not understand.  It would take them weeks or months to adjust to modern-day Philadelphia, and it’s only been 250 years.  Okay, enough with the history lesson.

After I closed last night, I made a cup of coffee and had a La Herenica Cubana while I sorted through some photos.  I then went to bed, waking up almost ten over later, getting at least six full REM cycles.  I needed it.  I finally felt awake and refreshed.

I made a pot of coffee, a small pot, and retrieved the breakfast goods from the fridge.  It was pretty much exactly the same as lunch yesterday, bread with spreads, various forms of meat and dairy and jams.  It was a proper Scandinavian breakfast, just as I so enjoyed on my first trip to Norway.  This is probably almost exactly the same as Erik the Red ate for breakfast.

After breakfast, I got ready and dressed and headed back out to the ruins, lighting up a Montecristo Open Eagle for the walk.  When I got to the ruins, I confirmed my suspicion that what I had first thought were the Inuit ruins was actually the modern recreation of Brattahlid, consisting of replicas of the famous Tjodhilde’s Church and a Norse long house.  I found the actual Inuit ruins, and then I struggled to take a ceremonial picture that would capture the Norse ruins, the Inuit ruins, and the recreated Brattahlid all in one picture.

It wasn’t easy, but I did it.  I then took another look at Brattahlid, this time properly understanding what it was.  After that, I went back to the longhouse ruins that I am considering Erik the Red’s house, where I sat down, lit up a Rinaldo, and proceeded to write this entry, which I will now close so that I can head back to cottage and get ready to go back across the fjord to Narsarsuaq.

Narsarsuaq, Greenland, Kingdom of Denmark

This simple, unassuming town is far more significant than it seems.  I have written about Brattahlid, visible to my left across the fjord, but the airport, visible to my right down the road, is also significant.  During World War II and beyond, the airfield, which has hardly changed in 75 years, was one of the stops on the North Atlantic Ferry Route.  Before non-stop journeys from the eastern United States to Europe were possible, military planes would take the North Atlantic Ferry Route, from Bangor, Maine to Goose Bay, Labrador, to here, to Keflavik, Iceland to Wick, Scotland.

It was not much different than the sea route the Vikings took.  No leg was over a thousand miles, and it worked quite well.  Narsarsuaq was a thriving city with thousands of American servicemen stationed here.  It had the largest population of any settlement in Greenland.  Now, it has a population around 100.

It is small and peaceful here, the hotel behind me and the airport being the two main attractions.  I am staying at the hotel, which reminds me more of a college dormitory than a proper hotel, and the airport serves me well, as I will be making my way to Ilulissat tomorrow.  I do not have much to write, and dinner is bizarrely served only from 5:30 to 7 PM.  I am not even sure I will be hungry by then.

After I closed at Brattahlid, I walked back towards the cottage at IIllunnguujuk, lighting up a Prensado for the walk.  I saw Carl on the way.  We were scheduled to head to the harbor at 2:15 PM for my 2:30 PM return boat, so I had some time to kill.  I got ready and changed, but I was starting to get hungry.  Not wanting a full meal, I helped myself to a few pieces of salami left over from breakfast.  After I was ready, I resumed my Prensado outside.  I then realized that I should probably make a sandwich (or two) to take with me back to Narsarsuaq for lunch.  There was plenty left over, so I had more than enough to make a couple of sandwiches.  I did just that and went outside.  I then saw Carl, and I said that we should go.

We got to the harbor early at 2:10 PM, and I lit up my cigar again, just to see the boat pulling up at the harbor.  There were two other people, possibly the same two women I saw at Brattahlid this morning, and we got on the boat.  We left immediately, and I wondered what would have happen if I was on-time instead of early.  They didn’t know it was me, they didn’t take my name.  Granted, we were probably the only three travelers in all of Qassiarsuk, but, still.  I sat out back so that I could have my cigar, and we were soon at Narsarsuaq harbor, where a van from Blue Ice came.  Again, no names, no directions, he just took us to the hotel.

I checked in to the hotel, far more focused on the fact that I finally had internet than anything else.  It probably took me ten minutes to get to my room, since I kept stopping to post and get caught up on my emails and notifications.  When I got to my room, as I said, it was more like a dorm room than a hotel.  The sink was in the room.  I settled in and continued to get caught up.

When I finally went to the bathroom, there was a lock on the outside of the bathroom, which I thought was odd.  The bathroom just had a shower and a water closet.  There was a door on the other side, which was unlocked.  It opened into another hotel room with two female, Scandinavian voices.  I closed it before I saw anyone, but I assumed it was probably the same two women from Brattahlid, the boat, and the van.  I now understood why there was a lock on the outside of the bathroom door.  I relaxed a bit more before heading out, first stopping at the bench outside of the hotel to pair my sandwiches with the rest of the Prensado.

After lunch, I walked back to Blue Ice Cafe, which was a short walk from the hotel and right next to the airport.  I was done with my cigar at that point, so I went into the cafe for water, chips, and some type of chocolate-covered, blueberry ice cream bar, fittingly called an Eskimo Bar.  It was all very good.  After that, I lit up an Aroma de Cuba and walked back to my hotel, where I sat down on the bench and, after getting caught up some more on the news, proceeded to write this entry, which I will now close so that I can get ready for dinner, which is only an hour away.

While the cultural sites I have visited this trip have predominately focused on Norse history from over a thousand years ago, I will never shy away from good bit of WWII history, and Narsarsuaq Air Base certainly so qualifies.  The history of this place, even just the one-sentence history I gave above, is fascinating.  Before it was possible to fly from New York to London in one nonstop, five-hour flight, these waypoints at Goose Bay and here and at Keflavik were pivotal.  We could not have lent air support to our allies without these waypoints.

The same is true of the Pacific Theater and the Korean War.  Think of the path from Carlsbad to Pearl Harbor to Midway Atoll to Guam to the Philippines.  Without those waypoints, we could not have mounted successful campaigns in Asia.  The Enola Gay could not have flown from Carlsbad to Hiroshima in one go.

I am just completely fascinated sitting here, knowing that Brattahlid, the first European settlement in the New World, is to my left and that Narsarsuaq Air Base is to my right.  Okay, enough about that.  I have a dinner to report and a double entry to publish.

After I closed, I continued to get caught up the news, reading with fascination the reports coming out of E3 about the new Mario game coming out this fall, and I am thinking with glee about not having to worry about fitting it in with another busy school and travel schedule.  I then went to my room to resituate myself before dinner.

Only the cafeteria was open, as the restaurant would not open for the season until tomorrow, ironically, but I figured this being an American service station, an American-style dinner might not be too bad.  They had on the menu listed “Hamburger,” “Cheese Burger,” and “Bacon Burger.”  All of these came with fries, and the “Cheese Burger” was the same price as the “Bacon Burger.”  I ordered “a bacon cheeseburger.”  I think my reader can guess what happened.

Yes, before long my meal was ready.  It was a thin beef patty and bacon squeezed between two pieces of bread and what could only be described as a salad.  I told them I had wanted cheese.  They apologized and went to fix it.  Reader, I am sure you could guess what happened.  I knew what was going to happen.  Out came a beef patty squeezed between the salad, with a piece of cheese melted on one of the pieces of bread.  There was no bacon.  I told them that I still wanted the bacon.  More apologies, and the platter disappeared again.

This time it came out right.  I got a side plate and a fork, since I knew I would need it to remove the salad.  The reason I am calling this a “salad” is because, on the burger, in addition to the usual lettuce, tomato, and onion, there was also peppers, cucumbers, and Russian dressing.  Is this a thing in Greenland?  Do they do “American” that poorly?  I reduced the sandwich to just the bread, cheese, beef patty, bacon, and a few pieces of onion.  I also had a local beer to go with it.  The meal was edible, and that’s all I will say about it.

After dinner, there was more fun.  I decided I wanted dessert for later, I packed up a pastry to go and paid for it.  That went fine, but then I realized I would want coffee, and I would want the coffee to not get cold while I smoked my pipe.  How to manage that.  I figured a double cup and a lid would do the trick, so I doubled up the cup and asked for a lid.  They did not have lids.  Rather, they did not have lids that fit a large cup.  I asked for a small cup to fit the small lid.  They did not have small cups.  She offered me a glass to take back to my room.  I am not sure how that was supposed to help.  She then offered me aluminum foil.  I told her I would make that work.

Now, I am sure someone with a better understanding of physics than I can explain where I went wrong, but I was stumped.  The cup was about 85% full, and I covered the top with foil.  As I started wrapping the sides with foil, the coffee started leaking down the sides.  Whatever I did to try and clean it or rewrap, it kept spilling.  Was it something to do with creating a pressure vacuum, with the coffee vapor recondensing on the top of the lid and spilling down?  I didn’t get it.  However, it seemed to be a one-time thing.  Each time I wrapped it, only a certain amount spilled, so I just wrapped it again and wiped it down.  On the plus side, they didn’t charge me for it.

I went outside with my beer, coffee, and dessert, and I sat down on the bench, where I lit up an Ardor to go with the rest of my beer and proceeded to write this entry, which I will now close so that I can start publishing and also post my photos.