We head out again on the morning of August 12 after a windy night at anchor. After several hours of rain and wind, we find a relatively safe place in Mac Cormick fjord. Here the wait begins for the crew – waiting for the wind to die down, and ideally the sea too, so we can leave. The night is calm but in the morning, and against all odds, the wind increases and we are stuck here. We take our shifts on watch: if anything changes, wake the captain!
So here we are on this beautiful Monday, waiting, well anchored, and listening to the wind to tell us our schedule.
Next Stop: Canada. We leave Greenland with a great desire to return to the many beautiful places and wonderful people we’ve encounter along the way.
Monthly Archives: August 2012
Ancient sandstone, oil futures, and odd sounds from the gearbox
Pointing across the bay, Christian Knudsen, a geologist working for the Danish geological survey, enthuses over the ancient sandstone cliffs. These cliffs, he says, date from Precambrian times. Christian is in Qaanaaq, part of a survey team looking at many aspects of Greenland’s geology, but right now, they’re focused on implications of that geology for oil and gas potential.
We’re in Qaanaaq for another day because the Tern’s gearbox has been behaving a little oddly. Grant, the captain, wants to be sure that the boat is up to the long crossing to Grise Fiord before venturing further out. He’s getting a second opinion from a local mechanic, Mads, who operates the town’s diesel-fired electricity plant.
West of here, a consortium of oil companies led by Shell is preparing to do some ‘research drilling’ that further assist in assessing the likelihood of oil and gas potential. These companies have all received claim blocks from the Greenland government, allowing them to explore for oil.
Although our trip is partly powered by oil products, and the town obviously relies on an oil product also for its light and heat, the prospect of drilling in these waters is alarming. Watching the constant procession of large icebergs drift by, it doesn’t take too much imagination to picture what might happen if one of them were to hit a drilling rig. And seeing the connection of the local people to these surroundings, the pride they take in continuing a viable hunting culture that stretches back over generations is a reminder of what stands to be harmed.
That doesn’t mean I’m opposed to what the geologists are doing. If we truly want to respect the interests of local people, we might wish them to conserve this area as far as possible, but we also believe that their decisions should be informed. That information includes what lies beneath the local rocks, as well as what lives within their waters.
The narwhal hunt
We had just stepped ashore in Qeqertat when the small boat approached the beach, dodging its way in between icebergs. Strapped across its bows was a traditional hunting kayak, with a harpoon and sealskin float attached. Trailing behind the three men in the boat was a narwhal, the fruit of the hunt.
We had come to Qeqertat, a small island community several kilometers from Qaanaaq in Northwest Greenland in our search for wildlife on the fringes of the Last Ice Area. We were told in Qaanaaq that narwhal were to be found in the area at this time of year. We were also warned off going further into the Fjord than Qeqertat, as people were worried that we would disrupt the hunt by our presence.
Clive Tesar of WWF and Nick Clark of Al Jazeera English
on the Last Ice Area and visiting Qeqertat:
On our way in yesterday, we scanned the waters, but saw no sign of the famous tusked whales. Now here in front of me was evidence that they not only inhabit the area, but also help support this community in pursuing a traditional lifestyle and economy.
Some of the whale was shared out immediately with the small cluster of people who ran down to the beach. Other parts were cut and hung from platforms to dry. A final portion was packed up and set aside for transport to Qaanaaq, to be frozen and sold.
When people took a break from their chores, I took the opportunity to pass out some information on our trip, and on the last ice area in both Greenlandic and Danish. I also spoke with a couple of the local people who spoke English. One of the women, Nina, read out parts of the information to the other people on the beach. She later told me that they would like to talk further to WWF about the information we had brought, but they would first like some time to absorb it. In the months and years to come, we certainly hope to speak more with the people of Qeqertat, and with the other people living on the fringes of the last ice area.
To the ice edge
Houses in Qaanaaq, Greenland. © Clive Tesar / WWF-Canon
After the relative lushness of southern Greenland, the first glimpses of the north of the island are shocking. Here about 1400 kilometers from the North Pole is a virtual polar desert. Ice cascades off the top of barren rock domes, glowing gown to the sea as glaciers that sometimes become sudden turbulent rivers for a brief span. In the sea, tall icebergs sail past, not as thickly packed as in Ilulissat, but still hazardous to shipping. We’re sitting now just offshore of Qaanaq, a community of about a hundred buildings perched on what seems to be the single patch of greenery.
Our mission for this second leg is not so much to interact with the communities – there is only one tiny community north of here, and our only Greenlandic speaker has just left the boat. Our mission instead is to explore this edge of the last ice area.
The ice at present is only several kilometers to our north, where we hope it will stay, not just this year, but for many years to come. We will explore around the edges of it, to see how much life is using it now. We’ve heard that we may see both narwhal and walrus in the area. In the days to come, we will try to track these elusive creatures, and watch the Arctic desert come alive.
Bringing the Arctic to the desert
Nick Clark and Maurice Roper from Al Jazeera film on the voyage to the Last Ice Area in August 2012. © Clive Tesar / WWF-Canon
Through the helicopter’s open door, several kilometers of fractured ice stretch to the horizon – leaning into this landscape is Maurice, a cameraman for Al Jazeera. Up front beside the pilot is Nick, the reporter. Al Jazeera is a relatively new international television network based in the middle-eastern country of Qatar.
The television crew is coming along on the second leg of the Tern trip, but beforehand, they’ve flown with me from Iqaluit to Ilulissat. Juggling scarce northern flights has meant a two-day stopover in Ilulissat, but this is no hardship. The town on the west coast of Greenland is right next door to a world heritage site, the Ilulissat icefjord.
This glacier, about 9 kilometers wide, and 1.5 kilometers high at the face is the most productive in the northern hemisphere. Recent measurements have shown the glacier speeding toward the sea at a rate of 60 meters per day, a sprinter by glacier standards. When it hits the sea, it hurls down massive chunks of ice. Some are the size and shape of a supermarket, while others form fantastic shapes like cathedrals of ice with jagged glittering spires.
The Al Jazeera crew avidly films the frozen landscape. They will likely use some of this footage later this year. In November, the next round of international negotiations takes place in Doha, home base for the network. This coverage is part of what we had hoped for from this trip; to bring Arctic observations and voices to the attention of the global community.
As the Greenlandic ice cap speeds toward the sea, the glacial pace of international climate action must also pick up, if we are to preserve the unique character of the Arctic.
The end of leg 1
Lars Jeremiassen
Building on two days of community visits, Sascha and I had coffee with the former mayor of Qaanaaq, Lars Jeremiassen. Lars explained to us that even if this community lives off hunting, the rich stocks of Greenland Halibut in the waters may bring more fishing to this community. The small fish and meat processing plant on the beach has become too small and investments are made to increase production here.
Lars also told that more and more corporations are coming here for mineral exploration activities. Currently there are activities in Washington Land further north. Zinc is being mapped, and Lars was hopeful that these activities may eventually bring new jobs to the community. The current rate of unemployment is 20%, and job opportunities are few.
In a blue house on the main road lives Mamasu Kristiansen with his wife and a daughter. Hansigne was happily showing us that she could write the names of her entire family at the age of four. And while busy preparing for school, her father told us about his life as a hunter. He explained how he has witnessed changes in sea ice cover since her took up hunting as a 16 year old man. But he still enjoyed the free life of a hunter even if changes and Government quotas make it difficult to make a living at hunting.
Travelling home I leave a bit of my heart in North Greenland and another bit onboard the Arctic Tern. I will check this site for news and follow the adventures of skipper Grant and his lovely crew – Pascale and Valentine and the new group of guests onboard – Clive, Nick, Maurice and Paul.
Arrival in Qaanaaq
© Students on Ice / WWF-Canon
We decided to sail along Herbert Island to the town of Qaanaaq, approx. 35 miles away. There was no wind, but quickly we got into a heavy fog covering the boat and ice bergs. It took two of us to stay on watch all the time to avoid any encounters with ice bergs the size of busses. Slowly the fog lifted and we pushed the engine a bit to get to Qaanaaq.
Our original plan was to travel up to Siorapaluk, the northernmost settlement in Greenland. But we decided that we would rather have more time in Qaanaaq to do community outreach and to prepare the boat for the next leg. And finally Tim feels that there is a fair chance to discover yet another northern salt marsh on the Harward Islands close to the Greenland Ice Sheet. We hope to report on newly discovered salt marshes tomorrow.
Sailing to the Harwards Island might bring other adventures than northern salt marshes as hunters tell us this is the preferred area to hunt narwhal. Mattak – skin and blubber of the narwhal – is a treat eaten raw and the meat is cooked. Three different hunters told us to be careful in there – but we were not sure whether they were concerned with our safety travelling in icy waters or with us getting between whales and hunters.
So far we have not had much luck spotting whales, but sitting on the deck this afternoon we saw seals. They got up to breathe and sea gulls were following their every move, circulating in order to grab any leftover fish.
Qaanaaq lays on the side of range of low mountains offering the town little protection from wind and icebergs in the Inglefield Bredning. The city, which rests on a long, sandy beach, has 600 inhabitants and probably the same number of four-legged inhabitants. During the winter the dogs are used for hunting and fishing on the ice, but during the summer they sit and wait for the cold winter to return.
Realizing that we were late for Saturday shopping, we quickly got the zodiac in the water and set off for our mission: to get fuel and fresh water for the boat, and showers and laundry facilities for the crew.
The town is fairly small and the oil tanks are situated right in the center of everything, so we started there. But people on the beach told us that the Polar Oil tank was closed for the weekend. We found the water station near the beach and filled up our 6 jugs for water stored on deck for extra supplies, but had to leave with empty gasoline jugs. Our skipper however found that we have enough diesel to take us to Harward Islands – and importantly enough back again.
Our next mission was to find showers and laundry. In Kullorsuaq we found a community house where they offered washing and laundry facilities, so we asked around for similar facilities here. There is one in Qaanaaq too, but that too is closed for the weekend. Still with our hopes high, we tracked down the local guesthouse to find the facilities needed. But the landlord there explained that she had had guests staying for nights in a row and that here water tanks were almost empty. We would have to come back after the weekend.
I settled for the last, but not the least refreshing solution. Sascha and I found a stream leading water directly from the glaciers above the town to the beach. We followed the stream up to a quiet place above the town, where I cold finally wash.
Back on the Arctic Tern, we sat on the deck, enjoying the warmth of the sun. Valentine decided to take the kayak into the icy waters. The kayak has travelled with the Arctic Tern all they way from St. Lawrence, Canada to Qaanaaq without being used, but now was the time to launch it. Valentine headed off in the afternoon sun.
Getting swamped in the search for salt marshes
Salt Marsh near Dundas, Greenland. © Students on Ice / WWF-Canon
Dr. Tim Dowson joined the Sailing to Siku expedition to research salt marsh development in high latitude Greenland, in the Disko Bugt area. Salt marshes are important archives of information on changes in relative sea level from the Holocene period, as a result of their position at the interface between land and sea, their development controlled by biological, marine and climatic factors. Read full bio here.
I awoke this morning keen to start work. For a few days I’ve felt a bit pessimistic about the research. This was despite a good salt marsh in Upernavik, and my surprise find tucked away in a cleft at the ‘Twin Islands’, a few hundred kilometers further north than any salt marsh researched in Greenland. But the shores in the past few days hadn’t even got the plants that showed me salt marshes could grow here. However, last night we had explored Mount Dundas, the original ‘Thule’ where the community was expelled for an airbase, and on the beach by the houses were not just plants but actual salt marsh! By a stream and a track, which confuses the analysis, so, not the right sort of marsh – but a salt marsh nonetheless – the plants could manage with 3 months growth for each 9 months of deep freeze! So today there was a good chance of a real find.
First we looked on the islands nearby. Mainly tidal islands, linked to land at low water. Lots of eider duck nests – now abandoned, like the houses, the chicks grown big enough to leave. Lots of healthy ‘splash’ marsh, but no protected rock clefts for a ‘proper’ one. Next to the islets further down the fjord; but Saunders Island, with its beautiful stripy cliffs, did not give enough shelter from storms.
Finally we reached the most promising site, Drowned Bay, on our route north west. This was cut into a large flat area of starkly beautiful coast, probably formed under a stable sea level a while back, just a few metres higher than the current one. Fairly enclosed, giving protection from waves; known to be shallow, and with a stream at one end, bringing sediment which help marshes grow, everything pointed to this being a worthwhile place to look.
First the Arctic Tern had to anchor. There were more reefs near the surface than we had heard about, but we found a spot in the mouth of the bay. The onshore wind and half-metre waves started to splash us as we headed for the northern point of the bay in the dingy. Rounding this I could see the cliff and beach offered no quarter to developing marshes, so we turned to head for the south-eastern shores, 2 kilometres away.
As with the yacht, the dingy had to slow to a crawl as boulders became numerous. The tide had dropped and the word ‘shallow’ was taking on a new meaning. The water changed from green to a thick yellow and even lying in the bows, peering ahead to try and spot rocks in time, I could see nothing at all through it. It was now less than half a meter deep so Valentine pulled up the outboard engine and we rowed. As we got closer to the coast, I could rule out more areas, but not the most distant – and most promising – one.
The wind and waves made controlling the dingy – clearly not designed with rowing in mind – more difficult, and as there was ever less water depth we clambered out to pull it. But even walking was now difficult. 10 cm of water, then 10 of soft mud, and it seemed firm. But pushing down to pull on the boat gave the mud time to grip. Lifting your feet was more difficult than the actual pulling – at least if you wanted to keep your boots on. And each pull only shifted the boat a few cm. Between the four of With the erratic boat movements Mette almost fell into the near-freezing sea; filling boots with water seemed like getting off lightly. But this gave her a brainwave, so by counting out loud and pulling together, we now advanced half a meter a time. And behind us stretched our footprints and boat track in the now exposed, sticky mud.
But we felt more hopeful – we were making progress. Ahead we saw a change in the ripples on the water – maybe where the river flowed across the bay towards the sea – so maybe a slightly deeper channel where the boat might float, or we could row. And if we headed back towards to yacht, maybe I could jump out onto the small beach and go by foot to check the one possible place for a marsh. But once afloat, advance though this was, our progress remained slow. Rowing – and punting with the oars against the bottom – we moved forward most of the time, although even this was often only vaguely the way we needed, straight into the wind and the waves. And the visibility for rocks, while variable, was often low.
Finally we could use the outboard motor. Gingerly we edged towards the yacht. Further thoughts of looking for salt marshes here was abandoned – tired, wet and muddy, even if any marsh was there we would not be up to extra hours’ work it would mean, glad as we were to have avoided sitting in the dingy waiting for high tide to refloat us and let us escape. But in any case the yacht, too, needed to move – with the extra-low tide today, and the unexpected rocks, it needed to move as soon as possible to avoid grounding itself.
What fun it is researching in poorly mapped and described areas!
By Tim Dowson
Life on board
British-German team barbequing: Tim Dowson and Thorsten Milse.
As a French person, I enjoy the British way of politely saying things, for example, “inviting” us for dinner when it is their turn to cook and food is ready! Or using understatements like “Come on in, the water is lovely” after a bit of polar swimming in the bay. So a lot of teasing is going on, depending on where you are from.
I very much enjoy welcoming the 4 new crew members on board and appreciate the Greenlandic translation of Sascha, the Danish explanations of Mette about Greenland’s history and situation, the German way of taking pictures, the definitely British salt marsh scientist (and humor!).
Once we are back on board tonight, our British-German team (Tim and Thorsten) is cooking for everyone. We enjoy a first barbecue burger, but the second one is close to being carbonated…. Obviously, the British-German team blames the barbecue propane bottle, which is supposedly too weak or too strong at times! After a good laugh about it, time for some of us to enjoy the quietness, knit, go “showering” in a cold Greenlandic stream, or to do the dishes. It looks like we will all enjoy a quiet night, without watch needed.
Experiencing northern Greenland
Mountain in northern Greenland. © Students on Ice / WWF-Canon
Sascha Schiøtt is 25 years old and was born and raised in Qaqortoq, South Greenland. She has been interested in nature and wildlife since childhood, and has worked as a student at the Greenland Institute of Natural Resources in Nuuk. Here she helped with sampling data for several studies. This sparked her interest in Arctic biology and she is currently studying biology at the University of Aarhus, Denmark.
As a member of the voyage to the Last Ice Area, Sascha is helping with outreach and activities in town and settlements visited en route, including translations from English to Greenlandic and Danish.
I was born and raised in South Greenland, in a town called Qaqortoq, where the climate is with relatively mild with warm summer, temperatures of up to 20 C or more, and mild winters. Because we don’t get sea ice during the winter, there are no Huskies either. We actually also have a few introduced trees and flowers as well as cultivated farm land.Coming from South Greenland and going up north onboard the Arctic Tern, has really impressed me, as I always get amazed at how big Greenland really is, and how diverse the nature in Greenland is. In fact some of the flowers we have seen during the trip, are flowers I haven’t seen before in my life, as some only grow in Northern Greenland. Since yesterday, we have seen a lot of little auks. They are mostly found in the high arctic, and I have never seen them in South Greenland.
What I hope to see here on this trip, are Narwhals and Belugas. They are really rare to see in south Greenland and I have actually never seen any, only what we can buy in the stores, which are sent from hunters from North Greenland. Not only are some of the animals and flowers different from what I know from growing up in South Greenland, but also the mountains seem different. The mountains here, gives me a feeling of how harsh the winters they have up here really are. The mountains up here seem to be more fragmented, as a result of glaciation and also from the frost heaving, where ice formation in small cracks in the stones makes them fall apart and therefore erode faster. This gives the mountains a more rough and fragmented look.
And it is amazing to think, that the sea is covered with sea ice during the winter and that the sun goes down for at least 3 months. All of this makes me amazed that people live this far up north, but I can also see how beautiful a place it is to grow up in and live in. Some day in the future, I would really like to experience the winter up here, experience the sea ice, the darkness and the cold. All of this makes me want this place to remain like this in the future, as these special conditions make it possible for some animals to survive and also is an important part of the big ocean and therefore the rest of the world. It is a shame to think that this might not be like it is today in the future.