A REMOTE BEAUTY CALLED GREENLAND

The scenery is, of course, magnificent, as many may have imagined when looking down from a 747

When not under siege from the pack ice, the East Coast is often shrouded in fog, and our sea crossing from Iceland was spent entirely encased in the wretched stuff. However, Greenland has one of the lowest rainfalls in the world, and being fortunate to enter Scoresbysund, the longest fjord in the world, we instantly escaped its fog to enter a land of ice and sun.

Our first stop was at Scoresbysund village or Ittoqqortoormiit (for those that have a tongue long enough to tackle the Inuit language.) The delightful picture of distant brightly painted houses set among the rugged hills changed once we landed.

Like most Inuit villages, this was a rough-looking frontier town with polar bear and seal skins hung on washing lines beside underwear and t-shirts. Each house had a dog sled-team outside that snarled whenever other dogs dared to approach. The people were cheerful and the shops offered no tacky plastic gifts: this was clearly not on the tourist map. The school was full of computers, so the inhabitants were not completely out of touch with civilization.

There are very few villages on the East Coast of Greenland, and those that have developed tend to be temporary winter hunting villages that are soon deserted. Ittoqqortoormiit is probably the remotest hamlet in the Northern Hemisphere.

Back on board, we proceeded deeper into the fjord to Kap Stewart where we were able to trek across the tundra. Having examined the foundations of some ancient Thule culture dwellings, we walked through the gently rolling hills, where Barnacle and Pink-footed Geese had paused to feed while heading south. The remains of several Musk Oxen showed that the native hunters had been busy but we never saw any live specimens.

The following morning we were fogged in, but the experience of Rinie, our expedition leader, paid off, as he directed the R.V. Professor Molchanov to the spectacular Nordvestfjord. This beautiful area has an amazing selection of icebergs with a spectacular mountain backdrop. Hot chocolate laced with rum, ensured that we remained on deck braving the chilly wind at a position of 71 degrees north, our most northerly point during the trip.

We later walked around Syd Kap where we were able to see and taste the variety of small berries that no doubt provided food for the lemmings and birds. Crow Berry and Bear Berry looked and tasted similar; the leaves of which were turning red as autumn approached. Many of the flowering plants remained, but with few blooms.

A Norwegian trapper in residence required hospital treatment, so we agreed to take him on board for the duration. He recalled tales that he had killed over 140 polar bears during his long and bloody career.

Rype Fjord gave us our first Musk Ox sightings. We had already found droppings, tracks and hair, but these animals were truly spectacular. The small herd consisting of several calves and a single bull looked magnificent as they disappeared over a hill in a cloud of dust and hair. Proceeding further into the interior, a pair of Common Loons graced a small mirror-like pool, presumably feeding on the sticklebacks that we found in a small puddle. How these freshwater fish survived the freezing winter is still beyond me.

I stumbled across a strikingly white Arctic Hare that stood guard by a large boulder; its white coat made it an obvious target for Gyrfalcons and Foxes. I was able to approach to just a few meters away as it washed and fed unconcerned at the click of my camera shutter and remained oblivious to the group of 30 on-lookers who accompanied me. This was unusual, as a couple of others found later, fled at our approach.

In Harefjord we found three Musk Ox by the shore. The bull was driving away half a dozen Ravens with swift head-butts. This behavior was unexplainable, as we found no trace of a dead or injured animal, but it did allow us to approach closer than the previous day. A Purple Sandpiper flew by and a nice white male Snow Bunting reminded us that some birds were at least taking their time in heading south.

Bashing our way through the ice towards one of the numerous awesome glaciers, we saw some amazing ice statues in blue, green and gold. Despite several days on the bridge of the Professor Molchanov looking at the extraordinary scenery and photographing virtually every iceberg we passed, I failed to become bored in what is possibly the prettiest place on earth. It was hard to believe that few people would ever see this place, as I sat on the upper deck with a mug of hot chocolate laced with rum.

We left the fjord, having dropped off the old trapper (complete with Davy Crockett-style Racoon hat) at Scoresbysund and ventured south along the coast, again through the (permanent) fog, to Nansen Fjord. Several Black Guillemots swam among the ice as we broke through the fog to enter yet another awesome icy landscape. On deck that evening under a clear sky, we were treated to the dancing green beams of the Aurora Borealis.

Zodiac rides and walks around Mikis and Kangerdlugssuaq Fjords, ensured that any remaining film was exposed to yet more stunning icebergs, while a hike to the top of a hill was rewarding, in that it over-looked the junction of two glorious fjords that no camera could ever do justice.

The contrast with the deserted hunting village we found at Kangerdlugssuaq could not have been greater. It looked as if a hurricane had swept through the place, with belongings and garbage strewn everywhere. The bones and oil of some recently slaughtered Narwhal and seals were scattered throughout, undoubtedly dragged around by hungry Polar Bears and Arctic Foxes.

Elsewhere in the bay we found the remains of more Thule Culture dwellings and some graves. Through gaps in the piles of stones, we could see the skull and bones of three unfortunate polar explorers, but the history of these graves remains a mystery. Three feathered snowballs proved to be Arctic Redpolls, the only ones of the expedition.

On the whole wildlife sightings were poor, but in fairness, they were never going to be good in this remote landscape at a time when animals were preparing for the winter or had shipped-out.

Our ship dwarfed a sleeping Bearded Seal on a small ice-flow below us and became a highlight for those in need of photographic therapy. Ringed, Hooded and Harp Seals had all disappeared swiftly at our approach, but this animal was extremely obliging, even allowing me to dash down to the galley, open a porthole and look it in the eye.

Eventually it was time to retrace our tracks across the Denmark Strait to Iceland. True to form, much of it was in misty conditions. Leaving the Glaucous Gulls behind in Greenland, we were shadowed by Fulmars, including some of the dark 'blue' coloured northern race birds. Periodically we forced Common Guillemots and Little Auks to dive under the hull, and I eventually caught up with some Brunnichs Guillemots that had remained surprisingly elusive in the fjords. These hardy birds were en route east to the waters around Spitsbergen and not south into the Atlantic, as one would expect.

Eventually we found a playful Humpback Whale that lingered by the boat for a while. Nearing Iceland, White-beaked Dolphins and Glaucous Gulls returned to escort us along with Lesser Black-backed Gulls, Kittiwakes, Gannets, Puffins, Razorbill and a few Sooty Shearwater. In the fjord-mouth, I had seen several adult Pomarine Skuas chasing Kittiwakes, but as we reached Iceland Arctic Skuas and the more numerous Great Skuas replaced them.

After a brief look at the Whooper Swans, Scaup, Eider and Starlings at Reykjavik, it was time to board the plane. This voyage was probably the most scenic I had undertaken giving me a better knowledge of the harsh conditions that polar animals endure. It complemented and contrasted with a journey to the Antarctic I had done a decade earlier.