Once settled and cleared into the country – which included few personal details scribbled on a piece of paper using the dock for backing as the boats proved too difficult for the customs officer to get down to – we spend the next three days in the capital city. We walked the streets, popping in and out of shops keeping an eye for anything we may need, the activity itself proving quite interesting. Reindeer and seal hides were displayed in stores along with televisions, crockery, guns and boating equipment. 12 gauge slugs were one of the items on our list and were simple to acquire; no question by customs whether we were armed or not either. 

We scouted the grocery stores for the best deals and were pleasantly surprised by the variety of goods and the normal expense. Hmmm. Guadeloupe provisioning, were you totally necessary? I suppose French wine, rum and chorizo weren’t so bad to have acquired; booze in particular in Greenland is expensive. The most fun were the offerings in the delicatessen with unpronounceable and unidentifiable delicacies of meats. It may be obvious by now that I have no longer been vegetarian since my visit back to New Zealand in 2020 whence I knew I would scoff down hoards of lamb chops and a few porterhouse steaks from animals I knew to be spread around the many rolling grassy hills of my home land. However, that’s all debatable, surface level and another topic in itself. Back to the numerous and unknown goods that Josiah brought back to the boat and dutifully tested and approved by Dean, the six year old on board Sentijn. Google soon informed us of the smoked pig tenderloin and some sort of cured lamb. All excellent additions to a good fare at sea. 

Two days in Nuuk were bliss and sunny days which bode well on our cheeks but I feared may have been wasted inshore and not out sailing in-between the numerous mountains and fjords. We spent time with the other boats and accomplished laundry and land showers offered at the nearby hotel. Our visit to the museum was exquisite. Small and chock-a-block with people from a cruise ship but informative and curious nonetheless, regarding how this land and its people came to be. A mini ice age, a gap of 400 years where no one occupied the island, and a period of warmer climate than today, allowing people to settle in the northern regions and which now no longer exist. Three well preserved and breathtaking mummies were showcased in one dark section of the museum. It was surprising that you could take photos of them, which I was hesitant out of respect for their spirits yet captivated by the humans that laid before us – especially the child. The five hundred year old corpse were found in 1972 and believed to be from the nomadic Thule people who originated from the Arctic regions of Alaska. It is thought that the child was likely buried alive with the parents. 

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The numerous boats in the tiny harbour had a few seemingly old salts with Danes transplanted here and living on their boats. One traditional wooden boat named Sila, an indigenous word to define the life force of nature, the weather and state of mind, and who was accompanied by Tukson, the cross-eyed cat. The mix of tourists, Danish folk and Greenlanders bode well on the surface and all three languages were spoken easily in the small city. The island – which is the largest on earth – is still supported by the Danish government with Danish krone for currency and daily goods being imported from Denmark, apparently including freshly baked goods. The city itself is consumed with construction of multiple new buildings and is growing fast.

At the dock we repair our asymmetrical spinnaker by hauling our heavy duty Sailrite sewing machine across the two in-board vessels and up the steep ladder – of course at low tide – along with a few extension cords connected to Caprivi, and we patched the eight by two foot tare. The fix has since proven adequate with only a few beers partaken; all fingers in tack and machine avoiding a salt water rinse of any kind. Another note from this new land were the numerous Refleks diesel heaters, one of which we have on Caprivi. We had it imported from Europe a few years back trusting that the reputation from the Danish fishermen held well. Thus far, all is fine but we were needing to adjust the regulators position so that the flow of diesel isn’t blocked when heeled over while sailing. Now we can see other setups and increase our efficiency, especially now that we want it on all the time.

We departed Nuuk a few hours behind Sentijn. By 2200 hrs we arrived in the protected bay of Tovqussaq after a great downwind run with 30 kts behind us, white caps and swell from the south. We spot a humpback whale as we veer inland and between the narrow section of chartered waters – one strip solely mapped for heading towards land and back into the inland waterways. The anchorage surprised us with its steep-sided cliffs and protected nature. Once nestled into the weedy bottom Josiah had his fishing rod over the side and a fish on, all before we could announce to ourselves that we had in fact, arrived. Dinner! For the next two hours, with cocktail in hand, we spend catching Greenland cod each within a minute or two of the lures getting wet. One fish kept coming to the surface and taking a nibble of the local advocated wooden lure, determined to catch it I head for the bow and somehow manage to hook it, and I catch my first halibut and a Greenlandic one! By 1am Josiah has cleaned all the fish and we bag them up for the freezer, fridge and neighbours.

Midday we weigh anchor but not without trouble from a mass load of kelp clingy to the chain and anchor. A French boat had arrived in the anchorage in the early hours so we nose up to their stern and give them a couple of our fillets of fish and in return they give us a bottle of French wine – likely sailed in from France! Still with the southerly breeze we wind our way around small islets, villages and tickles in the inland waterways. The sailing was excellent; the weather, overcast and chilly. The following day was fog and no wind, and we continued north motoring through the calm waters. The boys had been doing most of the sailing as I had caught a cold and was staying warm and dry inside. This day also happened to be our fifth wedding anniversary too. The highlight was sailing the inland route via Tunu sound. Steep mountains on each side of us with the snow reaching down to the ocean. The foggy weather made it more dramatic as mountain tops peaked above the clouds contrasting against the huey blue glacial waters. We had initially wanted to go a few hours inland to see some of the glaciers but there wasn’t too much point with the bogged in weather. 

At an anchorage named Appamuit we raft next to Sentijn for the next two evenings, taking rest on anchor while the weather was still wet and damp. Continuing north and still with the southerly winds we had a great downwind sail towards Sisimiut, sailing wing-on-wing and in relatively calm seas. On this tack we cross into the Arctic Circle: N 66 33 at W 54 01. Traditionally you’re meant to pay ode to Poseidon, jump in the water and take a swig. All we did was toast with some coconut rum for the irony. Truth be told, the boys weren’t prepared as I came up from the companionway with cups in hand and blasting – what seems to be our theme song, Josh Ritter – Another new world, to celebrate our northerly position. We got the selfie at least. By the evening the wind had died and we motor into the cute harbour of Sisimiut at 2240 hrs rafting to a large fishing vessel with hopes that they didn’t plan to leave anytime soon. A couple hours later, Sentijn rafts to us and the boys enjoy an evening on board their boat while I continue to rest. 

Sisimiut is the second largest village in Greenland with a population of 5,500. It’s the first village with sled dogs, being a cold enough environment for the Arctic animals, and which are plentiful and located outside around town chained to small dog houses. We browse the shops, buying a sheepskin rug for Caprivi and check out the small local meat market. On the menu was porpoise, Minke whale, dolphin tale and muskox. Sentijn had us over for dinner and we enjoyed Kara’s muskox burgers – delicious, however they were quite undetectable from cow. 

Continuing north we passed Skokica, a Slovenian vessel whom we met in St John’s, and who had unfortunately damaged their rudder and had to be hauled out. Yelling from each boat we wish each other safe sailing and to meet again in the north. We sail wing-on-wing in the light southerly and still damp conditions but it’s fine sailing making 6-7kts. Eventually we motor for a while back towards the inland waters and begin weaving our way through the many small islands and ice that’s now drifting down from the glaciers in Disko Bay. The sun soon makes an appearance and we spend the last few hours tacking upwind in light winds but enjoying the movement in flat calm seas, almost like we’re on anchor. 

Arriving in Aasiaat we tie up to a large fishing vessel and have to adventurously climb over the two large inboard vessels to get to shore. It probably took me a good five minutes to get from Caprivi to the dock, rummaging around the decks of the rusty commercial ships. Fun stuff. We wander the cute hillside village, moving our bodies and finding some food to enjoy. In this village we decided to fill our diesel tankage to full capacity for the first time since acquiring jerry cans, fuel bladders and large containers that we’ve been trying to calculate how to fit onboard. This will allow us to see how she sits and if any storage needs adjusting before our final fill up in Greenland. At the fuel dock it takes a good 45 minutes to fill up all the different containers, and in total calculate a capacity of roughly 220 gallons and a conservative motoring range of 1200 nm. The fuel here is heavily subsidised by the Danish government and costs USD 2.50 per gallon / USD 0.65 per litre / NZD 1.10 per litre.  

We also decided to purchase a Greenland 24 lb propane bottle to strap on deck since our American bottles haven’t been filled since Newfoundland, and each having their own fitting which cannot be refilled. Ben wanders town to find an adapter to fit our propane intake and hitches a ride with a Dane who lives here but spends his summers in Denmark. After 20 minutes he’s equipped with what he needs and has gained an insight into this quaint village. Meanwhile, back on Caprivi the captain of the fishing vessel we’re tied to tells me he is leaving in 5 minutes. Shit! The wind is on the beam pushing us into the boat and I’m not confident maneuvering Caprivi by myself in the awkward winds and limited space between the two docks and rock bottom. Luckily, Josiah shows up and we decide to manhandle her by tying the bow to the innermost vessel, allowing the fishing boat to reverse her way out, using the engine to get her stern windward – another reason to become captain of my own boat. 

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Typically these northern environments have less wind and motoring is common but fortunately we’ve had some really good sailing and have been able to continue our push north as we’ve pleased by wind. The next day, however, we commit to motoring to the mouth of the icefjord, Ilulissat Kangerlua. We anchored south near a small village with some inland rocks to hide behind and on approach Ben noticed that the charts didn’t quite match to what land features appeared in front of us. We carefully maneuvered forward and soon enough according to the chart plotter, we were on land. I took a bow watch and we continued in plenty of water and dropped anchor for the night. Looking north from our anchorage we were perplexed as to what the large white mountains were peeking out from above in the foggy distance. It wasn’t until the next day, motoring closer that we realized they were huge bergs appearing as one mountain range from a distance. Absolutely stunning, and where we were eventually heading.

The next day, excited to get closer to the mouth we motor the 3nm in uncharted waters and find the anchorage clear of ice and drop the hook. This place was gorgeous. We blew the dingy up – the first time since Newfoundland, some 1660 nm ago and headed to shore. In the valley we find a den of Arctic fox hidden in the rocks and continue up and over the hill to lay eyes on the beyond majestic icefjord and it’s producer – the most productive glacier in the northern hemisphere, Sermeq Kujalleq – 16km away. For three hours we explore land, mostly marveling at the mighty iceberg making machine in front of us. I imagine this is the closet one could get to replicating the vast ice expanses of Antarctica. The mouth is roughly 5nm wide and slowly spits out icebergs into Disko Bay and beyond. Back by Caprivi, a small stream runs off of some large boulders and into the crystal clear ocean, I became so inspired that I removed my many layers and dunked myself beneath the surface. Soon gasping for oxygen and feeling the joy of ‘warm’ air surrounding me, I quickly cloth and am reenergized by the cold water plunge. 

Back at anchor we simply enjoy where we are, all three of us seemingly living fully in this moment. We crank the music, a beverage, and tinker on the boat. To which, Kenneth Grahame’s and certain folk claim “there is nothing – absolutely nothing – half so much worth doing as simply messing around in boats”. But then again this quote need not apply with the joyous location we are in. We hoist the asymmetrical spinnaker in the windless air to dry out from our rainy sail making sure it doesn’t sizzle on the hot chimney. Ben climbs the mast and spends the afternoon aloft finishing stitching the makeshift ladder to the shrouds so we can quickly get higher if we need to for visuals on ice. Here I spend a good hour watching the Arctic fox pups playing in the valley – definitely the best kind of TV.

The next day we head around the mouth of the gigantic iceberg path and find a route between them and to the town of Ilulissat in the north. We keep ourselves at a safe distance. The drone proves useful to get our close fix and some shots of where we were and are happily welcomed by a surfacing humpback whale. The next hour we make our way slowly around these beauties, and I sit on top of the first spreaders enjoying the elevated views. 

Ilulissat is a very picturesque town in Greenland, with a population of 5,000 and its third largest city. Interestingly the country has only 150 km’s of roads and travel is done by water or plane, or eventually dogsled in the winter, with Ilulissat apparently having almost as many dogs as humans. The same day we anchor we’re gifted with more sunshine and by evening are inspired by Josiah having taken his pack raft out to explore, suggesting we take the dingy and a picnic into the icebergs. Cruising along at a fast pace and tightly bundled up, the boys suggest we make a pass into the bergs as we can see a large opening on the other side. I fettered that we do such a thing but am duly ignored and we’re already on plane full bore amidst the icebergs before I could suggest otherwise. But, wow! Holy Toledo, as I annoyingly keep saying these past few days. There really aren’t many words for this day. 

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We’re soon stalled out by fog, and it’s not a place to be moving with the ice. The following day obliges and we continue north but detour ten hours up unchartered icy waters to what they call the calving glacier of Epiq. On arrival we didn’t want to cut the engine in case it decided not to start, but could still hear the creaks and groans of ice splitting from the glacier and into the waters below. Settling into our watch schedule Ben had the twilight zone where the lighting became difficult to view the small growlers of ice in the brash waters in front of us. By 0300 hrs, my shift of motoring was alive with hues of pink and blue among the calm waters and mountainous background as we’re now back in Disko Bay heading into the Vaigat or Sullorsuaq Strait, the waters between Disko Island and the mainland. 

Wind, no wind, too much wind, fog. That’s the theme over the next 36 hours, oh, and ice, always avoid the ice – tiny or ginormous. I soon sleep and wake to the snowy views of Disko Island but am soon bogged in by fog again, although, it does bring the wind and I proceed to have a glorious three hours sailing between the ice with 5,000ft tall mountains to port and starboard. Originally we had thought we would stop in the town of Saqqaq but decided to continue on and beat the light northerlies due in the next day. Eventually we anchored behind a moraine spit that wasn’t chartered but you could view on Google Earth, the spit itself not appearing until it was 200 ft in front of us. After an unexpected two days passage (we kept deciding to continue) we find ourselves in a secluded spot at the entrance of yet another fjord. Of course as soon as we anchor, the fog lifts so we head to shore to walk our legs amidst the mountains. Back on Caprivi, Josiah and Ben practice firing the shotgun and making sure it works having been gifted it back in Labrador. It’s confirmed and I get a lesson on guns, though still deterred by my angst of loud noises, I save firing it for another day since we can’t find our earmuffs.

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After another day and a lovely spinnaker run in the fog, we make it to our most northern destination in Greenland, the village of Upernavik. I’ll continue on in another blog post. There has been so much to cover in adventure, words, miles and photographs and I’m barely scraping the surface. And apologies, I could not reduce the number of images to any less! I’ll soon be caught up.

Slideshow (more pictures):