I wake up in the very comfortable bed at Hotel Kangerlussuaq, full of expectations, and am soon in the shower and putting woollen clothes on in many layers. Today offers something that I have wanted to try since I was a child. When I was in fourth or fifth grade, my teacher borrowed a large box of Greenlandic items from the National Museum. In the box there were sealskin clothes, harpoons, tupilaks and all sorts of other exciting Greenlandic things, including a dog sled! We were allowed to pull each other around on it in the snow in the school yard, but it would have been more fun if there had been dogs tied to it.
Here, almost 33 years later, in the real Greenland, Albatros Arctic Circle has arranged a trip out onto the frozen fjord on dog sled – this time with dogs at the reins.
Outside the hotel, Sine is waiting for us. She drives us down to the dog yard. It is located on the outskirts of town.
When we stop, Sine hands me a plastic box and tells me that there’s a surprise inside – lunch! I’m curious, but decide to wait to look inside.
The morning sun is low and reflected in the snow and ice on the fjord, and I’m again very happy to have my sunglasses. There is a lot of noise coming from the excited dogs, which are looking forward to being let out and allowed to set off. They are howling and barking non-stop.
Howling Dog. Photo by Filip Gielda – Visit Greenland
Our two guides and mushers are so busy tying and trying to control the dogs that we barely manage to greet each other properly. But we do find out that they are called Johanne and Henning. Immediately, when I look at their faces, which look kind of ‘outdoors-healthy’, I would guess that they are somewhere in their fifties.
Finally we’re off. Johanne drives in front with Kennie and all of his cameras; Anders, Henning and I are right on their heels. It’s a dream come true: taking off across the ice, the sun is shining and the wind is biting our faces. Johanne’s dogs are a bit faster than Hennings’, and it is unbelievably beautiful to see the huge chalk-white landscape with a single dogsled up ahead.
After an hour, Johanne drives towards a mountain, and as we get closer, I see that there’s a camping table in the middle of the ice. A strange sight.
Kennie is wearing a huge smile. “It’s out of this world, this,” he says, while he tries to remove some ice from his beard. “I’ve taken the most awesome photos and videos.” Johanne walks around smiling in the background. It’s always nice to see when people are so enthusiastic about their own “backyard”.
“It’s lunchtime,” she says, smiling, with an allusion to the box I got from Sine. In the box there is a chopping board, fennel, onion, oil, salt and pepper and a raw musk ox fillet. Johanne laughs at my surprised face and finds yet another box that she places on the table. It is a petrol stove with two burners.
However, there is a small problem. In my box there are neither pots nor pans – nor a knife, but luckily I have one myself.
Fortunately, we come up with a solution, since the meat is almost frozen and I do not fancy muskox tartare myself. On top of the two burners there is a grill and I grill the vegetables and the meat, which I have cut thinly. It is not that easy, but with the knife I can somehow place the meat so that it doesn’t fall into the flames. It turns into a kind of lukewarm salad with grilled meat. It tastes good (not of petrol, almost), and we all eat from the dish I have presented on the chopping board. A beautiful experience, to be in the middle of Greenlandic nature and eat food that you have grilled yourself.
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During our Greenland theme week back when I was in school, I learned how much dogsledding means for the food culture in Greenland. It was the only way people could get to their prey. I ask Johanne if it’s still the same:
“Not really,” she says. “Actually, it’s mostly older people who drive dogs now.” I interrupt and make a cheeky compliment: “But why do you do it, then?” Johanne takes it and asks, “How old do you think we are?” I tell her what I guessed at first, and she breaks into chuckling laughter; when she answers, she reveals, “I’m 67 and Henning is over 70.” The flashing stops for a moment, and the two camera boys look up from their Nikon and Canon and exclaim in chorus: “WHAT?” Kennie is the one who gathers himself first and confirms that they “look damn good for their age.” “It’s the fresh air, and the fact we do something that we like to do,” Henning chuckles.
Johanne gets back on track and continues her explanation: “When hunters drive a dogsled, they often have to spend the night out in the wild, and for half of the year, the dogs cannot be used, but still need to be looked after and fed. The youngsters use snowmobiles or ATVs – that way they can come home in the evening and there is no hassle with the dogs.” We all agree that it is a pity that this fine culture might be lost within the foreseeable future, but at the same time it is also understandable that many people choose the easy option.
After packing up the food and petrol stove, we are off again. Just before we set off, Johanne grabs my arm and points up at the mountain. “Look, snow hares,” she says. I really can’t see anything except small clumps of snow and ice on the brown mountain. She points again and this time I can see three bits bouncing around. So now we just need to see reindeer, northern lights and musk oxen, I think to myself.
The ride back goes far too fast – I love sitting on the sled and watching the landscape go by. It is something that everyone should have the opportunity to experience.
We say goodbye to some truly awesome people and their impressive animals.
67 ° 05′45 ″ N 50 ° 13′00 ″ W
It is now 1.30pm, and when Sine drops us off at the hotel, we don’t even manage to get inside. Adam is already waiting for us. The next experience is already underway. The next stage of the journey takes us to Russell Glacier, which is on the edge of the inland ice. Adam asks about our dogsledding trip, and we begin to retell it excitedly, speaking both at once. Adam laughs and confirms, quietly, that he realises it has been a great experience.
A good half hour later we arrive at our destination. We have to walk for a while, and after a small climb we are met by a sight which, to say the least, takes us aback. We have arrived at the glacier. Adam walks in front of us on the ice, which is the river that ends in the fjord, 30 kilometres away. There is no danger now.
Let me say right away: this is one of the most spectacular places I’ve ever been. The ice extends probably 20 metres above our heads; there are deep crevices in the glacier that you could easily enter. This, we are not allowed to do, because as Adam says: The ice is alive – you never know when something is going to break or crash together – the glacier actually moves by one metre every day. We do hear some creaking sounds from inside the blue ice, and apart from our humble but enthusiastic voices, it is completely quiet. We spend many hours walking around and respectfully observing one of nature’s wonders.
Kennie comes staggering across the slippery ice and almost whispers to me: “It’s almost like being in Star Wars.” I follow his sentiment.
When you are out experiencing so much in the cold, a lunch is not enough. Adam has a basket with him, and we have all been looking at it with curiosity. Finally we get to see what’s in it.
Adam hands us each a coffee cup and says, “Here is hot coffee and sandwiches that Nini has made for us. Liver pâté made from reindeer on homemade bread. Actually, liver pâté is not my favourite, but when you are as hungry as we are, it slides down easily. In fact, it was pretty good.
So that the others don’t notice, with my knife I cut off some large chunks of the 30 million year old ice and put them in my pocket.
At the hotel it is finally time to consider all of the day’s adventures. We have done so much that it feels like it has been several days of experiences. While the boys find the photos and videos for us to look at, I open the window and find the chunks of ice which I, of course, have stored outside. Three glasses, gin from Copenhagen airport, tonic and inland ice. When the others realise what I am up to, they break into excited laughter about this decadence.
Dinner consists of the day’s second serving of muskox – this time in the form of a burger.
Day three consists of ice fishing. We are going out to the fjord to fish. Hopefully we will catch something. I have already set my hopes on a halibut, catfish or Greenland shark. Mostly the latter, because it would be the best story. Unfortunately, I can already tell you that it was not a shark that met my hook.
We are picked up by Chris, who is from Jutland, and who has lived in Greenland for a number of years. Chris has a shop on the other side of the runway and every now and then he arranges tours for tourists.
Chris drives us out to the harbour, where a good walk out on the ice with all of our gear awaits us.
When we finally make it, we breathlessly greet Thomas Quist and his two children: Oliver, 8, and Lærke, 11. Thomas is a big man who, in his day job, is a police officer and pilot. He has brought a motorized drill with him. Oliver and Lærke are already fishing with their lines. “Yes, when the kids heard that I was going out fishing, they pestered me about getting out of school,” Thomas explains. At the same time, we hear a shout from Oliver; he has already got a bite before we have even caught our breath. He pulls a small fjord cod up from his hole in the ice and proudly shows it off.
This bodes well for today’s catch.
Before we left in Denmark, Anders told me a story he had heard from his neighbour, who hails from Greenland. Back in the ‘70s, a successful Japanese engineer came to Greenland and was fascinated by the culture and lifestyle of hunters in North Greenland. In fact, so much so that he uprooted his life and moved to Greenland, with the goal of becoming the best hunter of all. This is perhaps a challenging goal to set yourself when you are just starting to learn about nature and traditional hunting methods as an adult. Against all odds, he succeeded.
It is stories like this one that could be fun to include in the book.
Anders is already talking to Thomas, who is telling him about a special dish called kiviaq: fermented little auks. Little auks are small auks the size of a large budgie. You ferment them by catching approx. 100 of them, putting them all into a sealskin with the blubber still on it, and sewing it together. It is very important to keep the blubber on, as this helps to create the right fermentation process. The skin with the birds in is placed under a pile of stones for a minimum of 3 months, and sometimes for a whole year. The birds are then eaten in their entirety, although the feathers are spit out.
I have great respect for other countries’ food cultures and have eaten many strange things, ranging from insects to turtles, but just hearing about this dish actually made me feel a bit sick.
As I stand and gag a bit, Anders and Thomas continue with the conversation. Anders tells him about the Japanese man and Thomas suddenly gets excited and says: “I come from Qaanaaq, or Thule. My childhood friend is half Japanese, so I know the story well. His father is called Ikuo Oshima and is actually a very capable hunter, and he wants to share his knowledge. He makes everything himself and is so well known for it that he gets orders for dog whips and seal fishing lines from all over the world.”
Before long, it is my line that’s being jerked. The jerks are small, so it’s probably not shark, halibut or catfish – if it is one of these, then it’s a small one. Out of the hole comes a small fjord cod. We will try to cook something out of this.
I decide to make ceviche out of the little cod fish.
Afterwards we had a fun photo session that ended with the food being frozen on the plate. After a while we froze quite a bit ourselves, and began to look forward to a hot shower. As we were heading back to town, Sine from Albatros rang and invited us to dinner at their restaurant – Roklubben. “YES, PLEASE”, was enthusiastically shouted throughout the car. It was just what we fancied. Good food, wine and warmth.
Roklubben. Photo by Filip Gielda – Visit Greenland
After parting with Chris, there was only just time to wash our hands and put the photo equipment in the rooms before we were picked up and driven to the restaurant.
Roklubben is located on the shores of Lake Ferguson, approx. five kilometres from the hotel. Unfortunately, it was just about to get dark when we arrived, so the supposedly good view was not visible. There were virtually no guests other than us – except for a couple who were on their way out the door. After a hearty reception – both by Sine and the well-clad waiter, our small, frozen party was skilfully served with abundant wine and very good food. Here was served everything from halibut to reindeer and muskox tartare. It must be noted that musk oxen have quickly become part of the local food culture in the relatively short time that these large animals have been available.
When dinner was finished, our waiter came with various homemade snaps which he thought we should taste. One of them, in particular, divided our opinions. It was the snaps which was made out of the gizzards of grouses. The little birds are filled with wild thyme and other herbs, so there is a lot of flavour in the gizzard. Not even this story could get Anders to taste it. I, who, along with Kennie, have tasted far worse snaps (including snaps with whole snakes and lizards in the bottle itself), did not have a problem with throwing the aromatic fluid down my throat. The taste was quite good.
With a bit of a sore head after the evening’s debauchery, breakfast and, of course, coffee were consumed in almost complete silence. It was just fine sitting there, watching the work of the planes landing and leaving again, while slowly regaining the ability to be human.
The trip home to Copenhagen is spent reflecting on how much local food means in Greenland. I can say without doubt that Greenland is the place I have been where the food culture is most authentic. Very charming. But it does not seem like this comes from an unwillingness to try something new, but rather, from the belief that what is available is simply what tastes best and is the cheapest.
It has been very exciting to explore the food culture in Kangerlussuaq and I am now convinced that I will have to come back to find out what people eat on the coast.
SEE YOU SOON, GREENLAND!
