The Seven Settlements

TSS2010 blog entries by date

2011-03-12T15:43:00.001-03:00

The Seven Settlements Kayak Expedition 2010

26th June - 19th July 2010 (24 days, alone on the water)

Here is the list and links to entries from the expedition:

Day 24 - the only way out is through

2011-03-12T15:40:00.005-03:00

In the beginning of the blog, and probably in the midst of many subsequent posts, I have written about all the factors that made for a bad start to the expedition. I never wrote about how I was ready to give it up a few weeks before starting.

A very dear friend, my "second mother", passed away about a week and a half before I was set to dip my paddle in the water. She had fought for more than a year against a failing body and could sadly fight no more. Her passing had a huge impact upon me and my family, incredibly so for my mother, and on the brink of setting off on my own adventures, I realised that I might be needed elsewhere. The uncertainty of my own adventures and the risks involved did not encourage a parent struggling through the loss of a dear friend. I started to check out flights to Britain.

However, the sense of adventure and "sucking the marrow out of life" was instilled in me from an early age and I have my mother and "H" to thank for that. Between them they gave their children such encouragement and ambition that we three suddenly found ourselves living as far abroad as New Zealand, USA and Greenland, and the parents, all four of them, started to wonder what they had done wrong. The answer was "nothing", unless of course they had hoped we would live around the corner and work in our home town for the rest of our lives.

My mum and I agreed that I would continue, I would just be careful, and careful I was. I just don't think I can take all the credit. There's this little thing, a nagging, wonderful feeling, that I wasn't alone. The raven was with me.

Ravens are Arctic birds, I realised that as soon as I landed in Uummannaq. They have a huge vocal range that penetrates the Arctic night and frolics under the midnight sun. I once chose my Native American totems with the help of a friend and a pack of totem cards one night in Indiana, USA. Whether we did it right or not is not so important for me, I just remember it being a powerful experience. Having chosen eight totems I had one remaining. I remember thinking that I really wanted the wolf, the teacher, he who only comes if requested. It was a tense moment. There were two cards on the hardwood floor before me. I wanted the wolf, but I remember thinking that I would be honoured if the raven chose to come instead. I turned the card over and was elated to see the wolf staring back at me. The other card, yes, it was the raven.

I wrote them down on a piece of yellow legal paper that night, they have been folded up alongside my driver's licence ever since. Whereas the teachings of the wolf have supported me in my career and personal life, the raven was waiting. But he is a trickster, I have seen the raven steal food from my sledge dogs, fish from my drying rack, and never has he been so cheeky as when he has flown off at the last minute when I have tried to take a photo of him. Or perhaps her? After four years with no success, returning to camp after my last trip into Qaarsut on the 19th of July, a raven stopped me in my tracks. It was, I like to imagine, the same raven that had watched me pitch camp that night I arrived in Qaarsut. With my camera in hand I wondered how close I could come. The answer was very close indeed. The raven simply eyed me as I took photograph after photograph within but a few metres of this tough old Arctic hand.

I don't remember how long I spent with the raven, but after four years of trying, I finally had some great photos of this incredible bird. I wondered then; I wondered if there was some element of "someone watching over me" and that this someone had come in the shape of a raven? Spiritual nonsense or a comforting yet completely natural coincidence? I don't know. This world is bigger than me, and tulugaq, the raven, was another mystery. Tulugaq's arrival though was timely, I was forced to wait in camp for several hours as the fog of the morning stayed long through the day. Patience is just as important as having a guardian angel in the Arctic. It was my patience that prevented me from paddling the last few kilometres home, though I was eager, and yet, it was the raven that kept me in camp when I wanted to be on the water.

Of course, on this, the last day of my journey, my patience was beginning to wear thin. As the raven departed, I too chose to get ready, fog be damned, the only way out is through! My attitude to fog had already changed at this point. From the nerve-racking hours I spent negotiating the fogged-in coastline near Ukkusissat, I had grown and learned to deal with this otherwise unpleasant element. My only concern was the size of the monster bergs hidden in the fog that so often ply the waters in and around Uummannaq. I would paddle as far as I could see and so I took off along the coastline with the intention of stopping should the visibility deteriorate further.

Patience, or lack of it, got the better of me though. I wanted to finish this journey and the thought of eating my first proper meal with Jane that night was too much of a temptation. I turned a sharp left and paddled into the fog. Without a GPS - I am not a fan - I took a compass bearing and pointed my bow in the direction of where Uummannaq island should be and decided to hope for the best.

Predictably, the visibility deteriorated. Typical, my last day on the water and I was running one of the greater risks of the expedition. This thought was confirmed when I heard several loud reports in the fog around me. Too sharp and short to be an iceberg calving, I realised that hunters were out shooting for seals. Marvellous! My raven was nowhere to be seen, I was nowhere to be seen. It could soon be open season on English kayakers!

As the fog lifted in between though, the beauty inside the bubble became apparent. As the light from above the fog bank lit the tops of the icebergs, the light was transfused down through the ice. It was magical. Using smaller bergs as way-points I paddled from berg to berg, past the occasional shot from a .22, long past the point of no return. I was halfway across the fjord, about 6-8 kilometres from Uummannaq, if I was pointing in the right direction. Compass needles tend to be a little screwy in the north.

And then, the fog lifted, just for an instant, and my island reared up out of the water. I was on course for Spraglebugten. Life was good. I was making reasonable time and would perhaps even arrive in time for the evening meal at the hotel.

The closer I got to Uummannaq, the more often I heard the growls and barks of sledge dogs anchored on the island. I had met many dogs on my journey, but these mutts were local and a very welcome sound indeed. I was, however, too focused on journey's end to reflect more on my experiences. Like the mantra I have written on the back of Jane's PFD: "just keep paddlin'", I was in the zone and determined to make landfall. It was only a question of time too, the sea was calm and I was beyond the fog bank.

Rounding the "corner" of Uummannaq and on entering the harbour, a hunter and his family cruised past in their boat. In Greenlandic he asked if it was me that had paddled around the settlements? I replied that it was. "Ajunngilaq!" he said. My sentiments entirely, I thought. Smiling broadly, I paddled into the slipway just to the right of the hospital, in front of the qajaq club.

Mario, the uncle of the boy who shot his first seal the day I left, way back in June, was fixing a boat on the shore as I came in. We chatted a little and I felt it was so appropriate that he should be standing here as he was when I left that day. We chatted a little more until Jane arrived and I realised that I had indeed finished, it was done. I was safe and sound and richer for the experience.

I'd like to say the food was good that night, but it wasn't anything special. I do remember the cola being flat though; out of date. And yet, being out of date, being timeless is also the norm in Greenland, at least it was once.

Life in Greenland today is very much the same as life in other parts of the world, no matter how much we might wish it otherwise and convince the tourists the same. But timeless it is still, out of date and out of time, for on the water, the date and time, especially in the long summer months, have no meaning. Once embarked on a journey in the timeless zone of rock, ice and water, everything else becomes almost meaningless.

I am not finished, I cannot really reflect on everything I experienced on the water and in camp, in the settlements and in the thick of the fog, I am still thinking it through, pondering slowly. This blog might have reached a conclusion and I should surely round it off with a list of achievements, kilometres, experiences, decisions and justifications. I have done that though, they are within the blog itself. But most of what I have achieved is within me and the ultimate achievement was going solo, and safely.

I might have paddled solo, but I was not alone and there are many people who made it possible for me to be on the water.

Folbot provided me with a very seaworthy folding boat, fatter than it's ancestors, but no less striking on the water. The Kodiak is my third Folbot. After four years paddling Arctic water they have yet to let me down.

Lars Gram provided me a wonderful Greenland paddle, and forced me to wonder at the use of my carbon-fibre affair that not once was removed from the deck-bungies during the expedition.

Lars Simonsen was my safety net, link to the outside world and a solid, dependable friend. Thanks mate! I owe you big time.

Thanks to everyone I met along the way, their hospitality, support and encouragement, both on the water, in the settlements and from afar.

Thanks too to you for joining me in this adventure.

Day 23 - glorious ghost town

2011-03-10T18:12:00.000-03:00

I couldn't find a suitable spot to camp on my paddle from Ikorfat. Steep-sided seagull hang-outs and all too narrow beaches, though pretty, offered no peace or protection from icebergs or protective birds. I paddled on.

As I approached Qaarsut I began to appreciate just how much a small airport like Qaarsut spreads. Suddenly I was in a large area where jet-fuel was stored in tanks, tractors and graders sat waiting for the first snows of winter and the detritus of a working environment spread lazily about the shore. I was not overly impressed, but neither was I put off by the "mess". Airports are a lifeline in Greenland. The mess was no more or less than one might expect, the difference here was the beauty surrounding it. The whole coastline from Niaqornat down had been full of surprises and natural wonders.

Qaarsut surprised me too. I had only been here once before, arriving in the winter dark on a fishing cutter to be bundled into the back of a goods van for the short journey up to the airport. Qaarsut was new for me then and just as new as I paddled into the bay sometime after midnight.

There was more activity in the very early hours of the morning than during the day when I returned to Qaarsut from my campsite. The midges had driven me inside as soon as I had pitched my tent and sorted the kayak. I was reminded of wet Scottish fells and ravenous bastards - they're "all teeth". This was the worst I had experienced since Scotland. Oh, how I longed for mosquitoes!

Despite the lack of people on the sandy streets, Qaarsut seems to be a hive of industry with plenty of fish, whale, shark and seal drying on small and larger racks built on and around each hunter's gear. The norm seems to be a shed built out of available wood and enlarged or refitted to suit each hunter's needs. The huge drying rack in the picture above, just above the settlement, does not look like it has been used recently, perhaps revealing a decline in the amount being caught or the number of hunters and fishermen working out of the village.

Walking into "town" one is struck by the openness, there is a lot of space between the houses. In Uummannaq, houses are built where possible and the space in-between houses is often occupied by dogs or rocks. Qaarsut had a lot more space and the odd dust-ball floating between the houses or over the top of old foundations gave it a ghost-town like feeling. The lack of people, save the old man sitting on a bench by the wash house, only reinforced the image.

I did find people in the shop as I stocked up on assorted "crap" to eat on the pier where I had landed that night one dark December. The shop was well-stocked compared to what I have sometimes experienced in Uummannaq.

I wandered for a bit, a lonely tourist out of place in a pseudo-western Arctic settlement. All I needed was some spaghetti western music and everything would have clicked into place.

The shoreline was by far the most interesting area with all manner of gear and "stuff" lying about, often where the owner left it to be used again when needed. The most noticeable thing for me in these "industrial" areas is the harmony between boats and sledges. They just fit together, they belong. With sledge dogs often chained in and around the gear, dogs, boats and sledges merge into a blended picture of raw usefulness. There is often nothing particularly pretty about these things: the dogs are war-torn, the boats rusting and the sledges peeling under the 24-hour sun. But all are ready to be used, and if not, fixed from cannibalised outboard motors, bits of wood and twine and even recycled - the dogs might even end up as liners for mukluks and the trim on seal-skin gloves. While modernity is outstripping the traditional Inuit way of life you can still experience it and be happily overwhelmed by the sights, sounds and smells of Arctic stuff. It is all authentic, even the plastic bailers made out of drinks containers.

The pups run free here just like everywhere else in the Uummannaq district, when they are not sheltering from the sun that is.

I am pretty sure that the meat below is shark meat but I have honestly no idea and there was no one to ask. Greenland sharks are becoming increasingly attractive for the hunters and fishermen. I think there might even have been, or is still, a pilot programme researching the viability of shark fishing in Niaqornat. The sharks are an irritation for fishermen, eating the fish from their long-lines. The shark meat itself can be eaten by dogs and is therefore a good source of cheap food, if not dried though it makes them loopy for a while, literally drunk on meat.

As in all the other villages the local water stations are easily recognised, painted blue. It was the yellow sledges that caught my attention here though.

I didn't see one kayak on the water during my journey, but I saw many on racks. I know that the qajaq is used for sport, primarily competitions in West Greenland, but it is not used for hunting any more. (Now living in Qaanaaq, I can appreciate that the qajaq is an important tool used still for hunting whales. This is evident by how many are lashed to small boats and laden with interesting equipment.) They are beautiful to behold and the lines are so sleek compared to my fat, modern imitation. My "fat" boat lets me explore further afield though and I have yet to meet any Greenlanders who enjoy kayak camping. I did however meet one professional Greenlandic kayak guide from Aasiaat a few summers ago - so "hi" to Adam!

I forgot to mention that kayaks are still a part of the hunter's gear and some can be seen parked between the sledges, boats and dogs on the shoreline. The modern age has just superseded their use in traditional hunting, at least here anyway.

With thoughts of building my own qajaq swimming in my mind, I wandered back to camp with my final destination in the background.

On the beach, happily devoid of bugs, I carved another heart in the sand, a ritual I made whenever the sand and surroundings allowed, just to keep me focused on getting home in one piece. It had worked so far.

Day 22 - sun, blood and sand

2011-02-04T19:26:00.000-03:00

It doesn't get any better. Waking up to icebergs has to be one of the best things about camping close to the water in Greenland. At this point I had lost all track of time. The sun turned and burned all day long so long as there was good weather.

The icebergs creaked, groaned, spat and exploded, when they were not sitting impassively in the cool Arctic waters. Mid-morning, afternoon or evening, it was time to get up and go exploring.

The ground around the hunting cabin was littered with organic finds. Whale cartilage ...

... bird skulls and various bones, claws and clumps of melting blubber. Lovely. It was like a smorgasbord of souvenirs, all of which deserved a place in the boat for future enjoyment, most of which stayed on the beach or hidden amongst the grasses.

While previously enjoying the Norwegian and Swedish wilderness areas I have often been tempted to come home with an antler or other "find", but I have never done so. Here, however, bones and "bits" are such commonplace that I did not feel my removing anything would alter anyone's enjoyment of the area. One could imagine that the bones were industrial waste, left behind at the end of a days' work. I was just cleaning up!

The old cabin was a find in itself. With a 180 degree fantastic command of the factory floor, sea and ice, I can see why hunters chose to build here. The beach is ideal for launching kayaks and perfect for dragging whales and seals up onto the sand for butchering. It works well for modern day hunting-motorboats too.

After a few hours of pottering about among the bones I pulled myself together to slip into the water and paddle on along the coast towards the settlement of Qaarsut.

The day was simply stunning. Difficult to find words to describe the peace of paddling over such placid waters. A huge contrast to the stormy weather and waves I associated with my enforced - but enjoyable - stay in Niaqornat.

I spotted something red on a beach along the ways. It looked vaguely human-shaped and I was intrigued. The beach itself looked like a great spot to stretch my legs and demolish a chocolate bar. No shortage of goodies, I was enjoying myself.

The closer I got to the beach the more I thought I would be finding a discarded boiler suit or some such. Closer still, I was excited to find a butchered seal carcass.

Earlier in the expedition I had been counting the number of seal skins I had seen discarded in the water, on the beaches and between the rocks. In my ignorance I thought it was simply waste. During my short lay up in Uummannaq, I found out that seal skins during the summer months are far less valuable than those during the winter. They are worth little to nothing, even if hunters could sell them. The different bans and anti-sealing campaigns around the globe have affected the price of seal skin dramatically. It is not easy to find seals in the water, even with trained eyes it can take a lot of fuel and man-hours to catch enough seals to cover the cost of fuel and equipment. Seal skins have always been a tradeable commodity, but recent policies within EU countries are threatening this industry.

Not being a hunter myself I find it hard to appreciate just how difficult it is to catch a seal and to make a living from it. I do know, however, how tasty seal meat is, fried with blubber in the outdoors, or roasted with a rasher or two of bacon hidden inside. Seeing the seal carcass so cleanly gutted I was impressed by the skill involved. Foxes will enjoy this carcass, gulls and ravens too.

Seals are the free-range cows of the Arctic. Beautiful in the water, basking on the ice and tasty when eaten. A symbolic and revered mammal in Greenlandic waters. Seeing the drawings in the sand and the many different-sized footprints around the carcass, I know a family has enjoyed the excitement of catching this seal and the barbecue that took place when they brought it into land.

As I scared up a huge flock of gulls further down the coast, I wanted to give them a heads up about the feast that awaited them on a remote beach along the Nussuaq Peninsula.

Day 21 - fragile earth and Greenlandic chicken

2011-01-26T18:44:00.000-03:00

Walking along the black sands I saw many craters in the sand. I could feel my feet pushing through the crust but it took me a while to figure out that ice was the cause of it. Ice that had once detonated from the side of a berg had been washed up and deposited on the beach by the tide. The weight of the ice broke through the hard but thin crust of sand on the beach. Before I saw the clumps of ice I found craters with dark patches; I later realised that this was melt-water where the ice had been.

The midges were rather hungry here and, seeing as it was a beautiful day for a paddle, I saw no reason to linger.

Further along the coast was the hunting camp of Ikorfat. The remains of one cabin, a turf-built and wooden beam construction, took longer to find as I was more than a little preoccupied with the newer cabin with B number 1240 (B for "bolig"). All houses in Uummannaq area are given a B number, including the tiny water stations dotted around the towns and settlements. B-1240 is a classic example of a well-used permanent camping cabin with an all purpose room for cooking and sleeping in. I think they see more use in the winter months as hunters harness their sledge dogs outside, seeking shelter from the elements on the inside. I was also more interested in sleeping inside my tent - we had become well used to one another by now - but the inside of the cabin was worth checking out. A big stone in front of the door suggested no one was home and that foxes were not welcome!

Time doesn't quite stand still within the cabin. It is possible to move between the ages, back and forth, as one explores the items left behind and some left ready for the next occupants. Coffee-filter papers had been used to write messages, while the occasional piece of licorice testified to the effectiveness of the stone door-stop. A tea-towel hung over the petroleum stove, the bed boards ready, hunters could arrive any minute and find it just as they left it.

Time had already stopped for me that summer as the sun circled continuously about the horizon and I was quite taken with the alarm clock hanging from the curtain rail, ornamented by the dried curlew (?) head and a small, dried skin bag. Quite taken until I peered out of the window and checked out the front yard. When real-estate agents talk about "location, location, location", I wonder if they were thinking about Ikorfat?

Back outside, I wandered back and forth for hours. Just wandering, not feeling the need to go anywhere or do anything but wander, look, listen and breathe deep the sea air tempered with the freshness of glacial ice.

I couldn't get enough of this place. It was full of rich finds and stories drifting through the tall grass about the tent, between the cracks in the walls of the cabin and among the pebbles eroded by the sea and tumbling ice. As the icebergs crashed and boomed at incalculable intervals, I wandered some more.

Once, in Uummannaq, I had the chance to buy Greenlandic chicken - seagull, 20,- dkk per gull. I have yet to taste one but imagine they will be a bit ... well, like chicken. This fella had been enjoyed by a fox, perhaps, as his footprints showed where he or she had loitered about the camp.

It was damn fine here and I crawled into my pup-tent and fell asleep to iceberg artillery in the near and far.

Day 20 - sleeping beside spirits

2011-01-16T20:44:00.002-03:00

From my diary:

It is amazing how much I got out of speaking Greenlandic yesterday. It is important to note that Niaqornat has overwhelmingly shown/revealed/exceeded my cultural goals for the expedition. I got by on my level of Greenlandic - with lots of small confusions, but I got by. I sorted it almost without Danish. In fact, Danish did not help one bit! I got a good feeling about the settlement and deliberately left good gear there almost just to prove that I can.I must be sure to mention Niaqornat in this way on my blog, in my trip report. I think the Sermitsiaq article might have helped. Malene certainly saw it, followed the link and recognised me as I walked into their house. Cool, eh? Yes, Niaqornat has been a success, but I might be here a while.

Venturing further [away from the tent], looking for a place to shit, I saw a model turf house not ten metres from my tent. Five metres beyond that are the foundations of an original dwelling - I must have been tired or preoccupied with the beach not to notice them yesterday. I wondered at the Greenlandic hunters who called this place Tuperssussat- the camping place. I hoped their spirits would watch over me when I left this place as the breakers were going to make mincemeat of my folding kayak.

I actually left from the main beach in the settlement itself and spent a long time talking with a hunter who was very familiar with kayaks and a brother to my next-door neighbour in Uummannaq. We talked - in Greenlandic - about the differences between our kayaks and I was introduced to his qajaq that was parked not far from my own. As we talked he was very patient with my stumbling Greenlandic. At the same time he was polishing a polar bear skull.

Interestingly, the cruise ship had entered the bay and was shuttling tourists into Niaqornat on zodiacs. They were gathering on the main beach to see a seal being butchered. Niaqornat has a good relationship with the cruise ships and I was pleased to see the positive response they created among the tourists.

It was time to move on though and I thanked the hunter before pushing off and paddling on. I paddled along the coast, enjoying the long stretches of beach, a truly beautiful coastline and one I had not experienced before. I made a rough landing in light surf and bent the rear deck strut as I exited the cockpit a little too quickly. The Kodiak is a sturdy boat but, as Folbot themselves say, it is not intended for surf and, although light, the waves were interesting enough to force me to move a little quickly. It was a beautiful place to bend the boat though!

As I pitched camp on a rather open expanse of green, the midges found me and we had some discussion as to how long I was going to remain outside the tent. Luckily a breeze picked up and I enjoyed exploring the black sandy beach. A fox challenged me but I just couldn't get an eye on him. I retreated, content, into my portable home.

Day 19 - video diaries

2011-01-12T20:28:00.000-03:00

I didn't do much on this day beyond enjoying the beach, the waves and the bergs, stranded like me. Melting bergy-bits for water I spent some time adjusting the tent for wet weather.

As usual, sleep got the better of me once I realised that I was in no danger of flooding. I have an sad case of paranoia whenever I camp somewhere flat. I just imagine there is an iceberg out there with my name on it!

The scraggly beard I was working on helped with the freckles! Can't do much about the balding though.

Day 18 - sailing in the light of Sermitsiaq. Part II

2010-12-18T21:00:00.000-03:00

I had seen a lot of Capelin during the previous weeks on the water and it was interesting to see them drying in Niaqornat. Quite often I came across a small island where Capelin were laid out to dry in the sun. You can only do that when there are no dogs around to eat them though!

The sledges were not needed much this winter as the sea ice never really came. I left my own sledge behind in Uummannaq as it could not come with us to Qaanaaq. There is something special about sledges waiting patiently for the ice to come each year, and something even more special in hearing the creak of the runners across the ice. These sledges were quite still despite the wind blowing through the netting.

I did not need to sleep on the school house floor as I pitched my tent on the black sands of Niaqornat's beaches instead. I did meet a colleague of mine in the settlement and enjoyed catching up on Nuka's news from the summer.

Hanging on this rack you can see Lumpsucker, the lighter fish drying on the left and what I think is shark meat drying on the right. The dried lumpsucker is pretty damn good ... tastes like chicken!

I didn't take many photos of people during the expedition as I really didn't want to intrude on people's lives. These two kids were some of the few exceptions. It was the mohawk that got me!

On the other hand, I took loads of photos of dogs and these two pups play-fighting caught my attention.

I didn't see any other kayaks on the water but my own. I think there were others around but no Greenlandic kayakers that I was aware of. Having now moved to Qaanaaq I can see how much the use of kayaks has become limited to recreation and competition in the Uummannaq area. It has been ten years or so for some hunters since they last caught a narwhal from a kayak in Uummannaq. In Qaanaaq, however, kayaks are lashed to boats and ready to be used whenever whales are sighted. They have to hunt from kayaks up here and it makes for a totally different role that the kayak plays in the more traditional hunting communities.

Musk oxen are pretty eh? And this one was pretty dead too!

Having parked the kayak I then moved all my gear over to one of the more amazing campsites I found during the expedition. Climbing up a thin, slippery, wooden staircase I walked up and over a little knoll before finding a black beach, all for myself.

As the rain continued and the wind blasted the waves and bergs into the shore I set up the tent and set about finding some ice for my coffee, food and water supply.

The waves had washed many bergy bits up onto the sand and it was a simple matter of collecting them to thaw out later.

Wet as it was I couldn't resist wandering up and down the beach, exploring. It was an overcast day and yet full of exciting sights and revelations, not least the area I was sleeping in. For once my tent was clean and I crawled in to sleep ... for quite some time.

Day 18 - sailing in the light of Sermitsiaq. Part I

2010-12-12T21:59:00.094-03:00

From my diary:

I just realised, had I gone ahead with my original plan I would have met this weather in Illorsuit. I would have been severly screwed and stranded as no jolle (dinghy) would risk running me over to Niaqornat in this. I would also have been very committed to the crossing when the weather calmed down. Not good. Funny how fate/decisions/uncommon good luck play a role, for the good this time, in our lives. Thank god I made the decisions regarding the sat phone!

These thoughts were lazily drifting through my mind as we ploughed through, up and over the waves in the hotel boat sailing to Niaqornat. Arne had arranged for me to sail with the TeleGreenland charter and my boat and gear was stowed amongst their drills, rigging equipment and assorted strong-boxes. We sat inside and chatted while I wondered if I was indeed going to throw up any time soon. It was a little rough out.

Arriving in Niaqornat a few hours later, I couldn't have planned a better introduction. It wasn't all that normal for the TeleGreenland guys to unload a kayak so we started to draw a little attention. As the boat sailed away we started to haul gear around. As the helicopter had been cancelled due to the winds it seemed likely that all the gear, including new receiving dishes for the mast, would have to be man-hauled up the mountainside. I volunteered to help, it was the least I could do.

My first impressions of Niaqornat were thus obscured a little as I got involved with moving stuff. I was aware though that several fisherman were curious about my boat and they chatted around it before several of them agreed to help move stuff up the mountain. They were paid to do so.

On the way up to the mast one must first pass through the settlement cemetary. Although I can't imgaine how tough it would be to carry one's loved-one in a coffin up the side of a mountain, nor can I imagine a more beautiful resting place; close to nature and with a good view of whales, icebergs, and activity on the water and ice.

The mast was a little further up the hill. On reaching it I was given a wonderful bird's-eye-view of the settlement and could really begin to appreciate how different it was to any of the other settlements in Uummannaq. Click on the picture below to get a bigger image of Niaqornat!

The water on both sides of the settlement has previously caused problems with flooding, but it makes very interesting geography!

While the TeleGreenland crew worked on the mast I gave my thanks and left them to it. They were more than a bit concerned that I was going to paddle back through the weather and wanted me to consider coming back on the boat with them. I assured them i would give it some thought. Back in Niaqornat I chatted with three of the local fishermen. In my pidgin Greenlandic, amid a lot of smiles, we talked about the weather and my journey. They made it clear that it would not be smart to paddle and I wholeheartedly agreed. They suggested I could get a more recent weather update from the Post Office.

Here my Greenlandic was put to the test, or rather, my Greenlandic was interpreted, correctly, with a heavy dose of common sense thrown in. I introduced myself to the lady behind the counter and asked for a weather report. Instead of this, after a good deal of conversation that I didn't follow, I realised she was organising for me to sleep on the school house floor. Clearly, nobody thought I was going anywhere this day! The nice thing was that she was so very accommodating and had anticipated my needs.

At that moment a European woman entered the Post Office and we got talking. I just thought she must be a teacher but it turned out that she and her colleague were artists in residence spending a few months in Niaqornat. I was quickly invited in for coffee and made to feel very welcome. I was wondering over my very positive reception in Niaqornat and realised, on seeing the laptop in their house, that the Sermitsiaq article had been seen by more than a few people and I was "known" to be paddling in the area. Sabine and Malene were working with the medium of film and natural resources and it was very cosy to be drinking coffee out of the wind and rain surrounded by interesting art projects made of bones, seaweed, skulls and stones. It was also from the kitchen table in their house that I saw my first and only glimpse of a pod of whales swimming past the settlement. Malene's work can be seen here.

After a few hours of chatting I decided I had to make some decisions. With the offer of yet another floor to sleep on I returned to the weather to explore a bit more with my camera. I was bumping into kids I knew and hunters I had seen several times in Uummannaq. One guy was keen for me to move my kayak. He explained that the dogs would be able to get at it as long as it was on the ground, so he helped me heave it up onto the plastic fishing bins full of nets and gear. I was really pleased at the amount I was communicating and I began to feel very much at ease in Niaqornat, that and an overwhelming sense of the expedition finally coming to life and achieving the goals I had hoped for. Here I was, conversing purely in Greenlandic, being understood and, more to the point, being helped by the locals.

As I wandered about the settlement I found the usual hunting and fishing paraphernalia and yet I looked at the sledges and nets, outboards and buoys with fresh eyes. The down-time in Uummannaq had done me good and the lift up to Niaqornat had lifted the weight of "timing" from my mind. I could afford to spend a few days in the settlement, giving the weather time to blow itself out.

Like all the other settlements there are plenty of Greenlandic dogs dotted about the place. One unfortunate puppy had been enjoying a carton of tomato juice stolen from the dump. He had his head so far into it that he could not pull it off. Muffled cries of distress could be heard as he bumped into oil drums and stuff in his desperation. I took hold of the carton and pulled it off his head, not realising just how tight it was his whole body lifted a foot off the ground before he promptly returned to earth, free of his ketchupy burden.

Still chuckling I spent the next few hours sitting on the beach cracking open stones in my search for fossils.

Yeah, life was good.

Day 17 - windbound!

2010-11-21T18:26:00.001-03:00

Hanging around in Uummannaq I spent some quality time with different people that I knew from work, not least Makkak and Sammu. Invited for pre-holidays kaffemik (a Greenlandic party to celebrate birthdays, confirmations, weddings and other things) I quickly accepted knowing that the brilliant cakes and coffee would prepare me for the next leg of the expedition. Between coffees, Saamu told me that I was in Sermitsiaq, one of two national newspapers in Greenland. A journalist had seemingly found the expedition Facebook page and published an article on Sermitsiaq's web page. Curious, I checked it out on the internet. It was interesting that they focused on my change of plans - a tiny bit of drama perhaps - but little did I realise how much this one article was going to change the shape of the expedition from that point on.

The following day, the 12th of July, I found myself in familiar surroundings, Hr. Mortensen's café, psyching myself up with a hot meal before paddling off towards Qaarsut, the next settlement on my journey. I took the time to write in my journal while the Philipino and Thai staff served the basic meal of the day. Hr. Mortensens is a popular place to eat for fisherman etc.. I'd eaten here many times before and after finishing yet another coffee, decided I couldn't delay any longer.

Having repacked and streamlined the boat I set off for what I thought would be a straightforward crossing. Sure, it was a bit breezy but only when I poked my nose out beyond the point of Spraglebugten did I get hit with the full force of the wind and start to encounter interesting waves. For 35 minutes I battled against the wind heading for the shelter of Uummannaq harbour. It was a bouncy and wet paddle to say the least. The Folbot Kodiak handled it well, as usual, and I pulled into the harbour to be met by Arne of Hotel Uummannaq, a little surprised to see me return so soon - the waves and wind were almost non-existent inside the harbour.

Arne mentioned that his boat was being chartered to Niaqornat early the following morning and that I could hitch a lift. It would mean leapfrogging Qaarsut and going straight to my ultimate destination: the settlement of Niaqornat. It sounded like a good plan, and would be as if I had arrived from Illorsuit - as per my original intention.

Things were turning out well and as the wind picked up I was hearing reports of friends who had also dropped Illorsuit from their itinerary due to bad weather - and they were in boats. I could risk being stuck in Niaqornat for a few days, but it was a risk worth taking - of all the settlements in Uummannaq fjord, Niaqornat was the only one I had never visited.

Having packed everything I quickly needed a place to sleep and was very grateful to sleep in a real bed in Birthe's guest room. Birthe, a colleague of Jane's at the hospital, had been following the expedition with interest and it was great to chat over even more coffee and shower one last time!

Anonymous wrote ...

2010-11-09T17:23:00.001-03:00

Your claim: The expedition will focus on Greenlandic culture and nature

I find this to be an extremely boring and self-serving expedition. Can't believe you got sponsored for this, can't believe that you have been living in Greenland, yet you provide practically no cultural background on the towns, and certainly nothing on the 'nature' you encounter. Surely you could do some research before embarking, so that you might have a grasp of the most fundamental natural history of the area. I didn't learn a thing from your blog. You don't even know a Dwarf Fireweed, the ubiquitous pink flower?

Dear Anonymous

I appreciate your comment. I have, in fact, considered the same points you have raised in the course of writing the blog. I have published your comment but have also chosen to address it in this post.

I had high hopes for the expedition. I intended to delve into the culture of Greenland and explore the nature but in many respects I failed to do so, greatly in the eyes of some including yourself. Throughout the course of writing entries for this blog I have noticed a difficulty in defining the expedition. At various times I use the words “journey” or “trip” instead. The word “expedition” always seemed rather too grand for what I was undertaking and yet, given the egotistical nature of the outdoor explorer, I was keen to call it what I hoped it was and thus the expedition was born.

Benedict Alan once said that if you want to look around the corner then you are an explorer. He said it better than I have written it, but by that definition I was exploring, both the area and my own self. I would never compare myself to Benedict Alan but I have been inspired by his sense of exploration. Once again my ego took over and the “expedition” became a personal journey, a test to see if I could cope out there on my own and come back safely. I did that, and this weblog is the diary of that personal journey. It is not an expedition report, nor is it particularly factual. The diary is written from a personal point of view and, lacking a deeper scientific background or interest, flowers are pretty, sand is soft to sleep on and the wildlife is engaging, whatever its scientific or common name.

Regarding the exploration of the culture, just as I am no scientist, nor am I an anthropologist. As the expedition developed I also realised that I was more or less a tourist with relatively little access to life in the settlements, no more so than what a real tourist might have. However, living and working in Uummannaq placed me in another position, that of resident. Whereas an anthropologist might be more willing to write about the people and its culture from an objective standpoint, I felt I was less in a position to do so as I knew many of the people I met, or had at least taught their children or relatives. I did not want to change that relationship and become an observer when I had otherwise been accepted into the community. For the same reason there are very few pictures of people. By rights, and I am glad you brought attention to this point, I should change the expedition goals. I did, however, enjoy trying to speak Greenlandic whenever the opportunity presented itself.

In terms of sponsorship and why I was sponsored then I think it is important to look at what was being achieved. My sponsors did not provide me any terms of sponsorship beyond wishing to see their product being used and tested in Greenland. In fact, I think my kayak sponsors were more than happy with the previous summers’ video of their product being paddled by the side of a humpback whale. I met no whales during the summer of 2010 and I am therefore pleased, from a sponsorship point of view, that I was able to catch the whale on video the year before. The experience itself was beyond description. My relationship with my sponsors has been positive and has resulted in putting their products in a challenging environment and proving that they are up to the task.

In rounding off, I hope you appreciate that I have published your comment and addressed it here. You are right on some points and perhaps missing the point on others. If you were misled by the description of the expedition, and I believe you were, then I accept that I have not provided the information you had anticipated. If, however, you are interested in seeing lots of photos from the Uummannaq area and reading about what I personally experienced and the personal decisions I made, then please read on.

This is a diary of my expedition. It has evolved into a far more personal journey than one of cultural or natural exploration. I have not hidden that fact in previous posts. It is what it has become.

Chris

Day 16 - a pause for thought

2010-11-06T21:38:00.002-03:00

I needed to rethink my strategy and decided to recoup in Uummannaq while organizing my gear for the next leg of my journey. I had decided to paddle on to Qaarsut and then further to Niaqornat. I would paddle the same route back again and aimed to be back in Uummannaq on the 19th of July.

Having had way too much gear with me on the previous leg of the journey I was pleased to be able to ditch the unneccessary weight. Spending a few days in Uummannaq also allowed me to repair some gear and post some entries on the blog.

The day started out gloomy, as the icebergs loomed in out of the low fog. Sledges blistering in the sun reminded me of the ice-less winter and caused me to reflect on the changes affecting hunters in the Arctic. Climate change is the buzz-word slung around with wild abandon by journalists, politicians, explorers and activists alike. It often strikes me as odd though that the majority of banner-waving climate activists are from the huge polluting nations, my own among them. Are we so focused on the Arctic because we truly are sorry that the hunting way of life is so threatened, or are we just trying to absolve our own collective guilt for living a life of luxury?

Whilst the media-houses of the polluting world are sending hordes of camera-toting journalists northward bound to capture the quintessential image of the last hunter, facing the uncertain prospects of hunting in a changing environment, governments are doing the same. Politicians, their aides and groupies are piling into planes and blasting in and out of Greenland to see climate change in action. At the same time, the representatives of each political party, anchormen and women of television news and newspaper columnists spout authoratative statements, basking in the glory of their rivals' carbon footprints. It makes me sick. Just like I wanted to throw up over Hopenhagen COP15. Sorry, but as I have said before, climate change has been a hot topic since I was in primary school. Greenhouse gasses wafted over the television screen and tainted the newspaper print thirty-odd years ago.

One thing I learned while paddling in the weeks before I returned to Uummannaq was the total acceptance of mother nature. She decides, not me. We have to bend; we need to stop pushing. The Inuit have developed a spontaneous nature, as I have learned through experience and have been told by colleagues, as a result of being in tune with nature. You can't arrange to visit someone in a settlement on Tuesday at four o'clock when you can't know what the weather will be like on that day. Better to sail now, Monday at seven o'clock as the weather is calm and the visibility is good. I had days when I decided not to paddle, and other days when I could not paddle because of the weather. Equally, I had mega-paddling days when the conditions were too good to miss.

I guess what I am trying to say is that the more we try to change the climate the further we distance ourselves from it. We in the Western world are typically far removed from mother nature, we will never fully understand her. We watch the weather on the news and plan our weekend outing based upon the scientific model "some guy" told us on the evening news. During the epic focus upon climate change we now have a whole army of guys and girls telling us what is going to happen. But I tell you, having paddled for two weeks alone in the Arctic, I have been blissfully ignorant of what anybody has to tell me about the climate and the nature of the area I am paddling in. I learned to stick my head out of the tent and take a good look at the sky, listen for the activity of the birds and, as Karl-Ole told me, look at the dark band of water far out at sea to determine the direction and strength of the coming wind.

So, as I spent a few days in Uummannaq collecting my thoughts, food and gear for the next leg of my journey, I relished the fact that I was in the thick of nature, living and breathing the very atoms of climate change and I was doing it all by myself.

Day 15 - a shower, a chat and an evening meal!

2010-11-06T20:44:00.000-03:00

It was hot, again. The hot Arctic had returned and deprived me of sleep after my lengthy paddle through the night. Back on my home stomping grounds I decided I could sleep later and promptly made myself semi-decent in order to walk around the mountain and into town.

Passing my old house - I had moved out the day I started paddling - I was surprised to see it already occupied. It was not far from my house to Ditte and Peter's where I was well-received and gratefully given a towel and pointed in the direction of the shower. Who was more grateful I can't say, but several layers of grime later I was feeling much better.

Ditte provided cake, coffee and gossip! I felt starved of conversation having chatted mostly to myself for about two weeks. After a few hours I made my way over to the Police station to let Jacob know I was still alive but changing plans. He was very supportive as ever and genuinely interested in the expedition. Keeping the Police sweet was always high on my agenda and made the whole solo-paddling more palatable for both parties.

Wandering around town I bumped into Makkak and was promptly invited to dinner. Makkak and I had worked together for four years and I was delighted to come for dinner especially as it was my last chance to see Aviaq, her daughter, before she left for Minnesota. There was masses of food and plenty of guests as Makkak and family prepared for their coming summer holidays.

With a full belly and hours of fun conversation filling the void, the scurge of the solo paddler, I made my way back through the mountainside to my tent overlooking the bay.

Day 14 - numb nuts, teeth and bergs: a spontaneous paddlathon! Part II

2010-11-06T20:27:00.002-03:00

On a small island, pop. 3 dogs, outside Saattut, I decided to go for Uummannaq. The conditions were really good. Too good. Leaving that island I paddled to the next to call Jane and tell her my plans. An iceberg calved about one kilometre away just as I had finished my call and was about to get into the kayak. It made for a bit of a nerve-wracking time as the surge continued with quite some power behind it. The kayak lifted up and was pushed over the low outcrop of the island pulling at my arms as my lower body was immersed in water, only to leave me standing high and dry on the rock as the kayak was pulled in the opposite direction as the sea retreated. With no sign of the water abating I decided to go for it, timing my "wet entry" and paddling off the rock as the surge retreated. All flustered, I paddled on to the only island before Uummannaq.

There was a lone dog on this last island before Uummannaq and I contemplated stopping as the wind was picking up and I had another five hours ahead of me with no opportunities to go into land of any kind. I turned my back on the dog to make some soup while I thought about my next more.

Sipping my lukewarm soup I suddenly felt a nudge on the back of my legs and turned to see at least twelve dogs who proceeded to try and crawl into and onto the kayak looking for food - they could smell the empty chocolate wrappers I had in my deckbag. That was it .. I couldn't stay here! I performed a very difficult peeing manouvre as I didn't want to strip out of my drysuit entirely with all these dogs around. Turning my back on the pack I made quite a picture peeing out of the suit - there is no fly zip on this model! I then turned to shoo the dogs away from the boat just as they started to battle for dominance over their new found prize.

I jumped into the kayak and then began the next leg of a very loooong paddle! I reached Uummannaq island after 4+ hours and then realized that if I wanted to camp within walking distance of the town I would have to paddle even further! It took ages. On the way I encountered angry gulls that spent the next twenty minutes dive bombing the boat. Leaving their area - do they really need so much space? - I rounded yet another point and battled into the teeth of wind and waves determined to make me pay for every paddle stroke. I was not amused.

To cap it all, Spraglebugten, the bay in which I was to camp, was completely devoid of flat camping sites. Stony rocks, broken glass, tummocky grass, there was little respite to be found on shore. Only when I beached and walked up towards higher ground did I by chance spy a flat, shingle terrace with a fine view, just made for me and my tent. I promptly scrambled down to claim it, although the competition for such a fine site was, admittedly, non-existent. The yacht moored across the bay had all the comforts of home without needing to share my space.

I was finally in my tent eating pasta a little after 07:00. I had started paddling at 18:40 (on the water) the previous night. My paddlathon was over and I was in back in familiar waters.

Day 13 - numb nuts, teeth and bergs: a spontaneous paddlathon! Part I

2010-11-02T11:03:00.000-03:00

The weather was simply perfect. I was eager to move on and there was nothing to stop me this time. I embarked on what was to become a twelve-hour paddlathon, from the previously dubbed "white sands" campsite all the way to Spraglebugten: a bay on the otherside of Uummannaq island. I was heading home! I did not, however, realise that I was going to be paddling quite so far when I set out, it just turned out that way.

Of course, I was slow to start as usual. I took plenty of photos to document what was likely to be the last time I camped in this beautiful place. I also wanted to try to emulate the photos taken by kayakers I admire like the team from Adventure Philosophy in New Zealand. Whereas I wasn't paddling in the extremes that they experienced in the Antarctic and around South Georgia, I did meet Graham Charles in Uummannaq and enjoyed paddling with him a few times.

The water, when I was finally to get on it, was crystal clear with hardly a ripple to be seen. The icebergs were behaving - in this area anyway - and I was good to go.

I blasted straight across the fjord, heading for the point from which I could then see Saattut. Why oh why there is always another point I do not know, but it is sadly often the case. I began to feel as though the paddle to Saattut would take forever. My bum and various appendages were becoming hot, sweaty and numb. Lovely!

The icebergs were a welcome distraction though. As usual, they made good way-points to break up the long paddle. I still had not realised just how far I would paddle this night but as the hours passed and I approached the late evening I began to think that the weather could not get any better. Rounding the point I spied Saattut and the tiny islands before it.

Whereas the population of the settlements might be small the population of the tiny islands that surround them, especially Saattut, are both small and furry. How friendly they were was disputable. These tiny islands though were going to be my lifesaver in terms of getting out of the boat and stretching my legs. Whereas I might have wanted to spend a bit more time walking around, the number of dogs on each island quickly determined how long I would stay.

As the sun moved behind the mountain my new-found canine buddies and I took leave of each other and I paddled on, racing to get back into the sun to warm up. Saattut was still tantalizingly out of reach and I began to contemplate where I would be spending the night, or if I would paddle through it as the sun moved around me. I made my decision on the next island, and nearly lost my boat as an iceberg calved before me.

Day 12 - trapped inside my head: lonely musings

2010-10-13T23:05:00.001-02:00

Straight from the diary ... hold on, weird musings and anecdotes ahead! Og til MorAnne - jeg håber Google Translate can klar dette indlæg! ;O)

I sleep too long. I sleep well, but too long, every day. It is now 10:15 and I am just starting to get up. I don't think it is quite apathy, but the thought of packing all this is just ... eurch! It is the same every time. If the boat packed itself I think I would get further each day. Alas, it does not and I just have to get it done. It is the problem of dishes that slows me down every time. The "big kitchen" dry bag has the most bits in it, including the Trangia that sits in the very bottom. Until it is clean the bag can't be packed which means the tent remains a mess. A pain in the arse but true. The Trangia dominates camp life! And it determines how quickly I move on from place to place. Amazing really, it is three pots. Well, I can read a few more pages and then get moving damn it!

It was a very leisurely paddle today along the coastline, looking for foxes - didn't see any! I am now back in my favourite campsite - White Sands. This sounds crazy, but the fact that I have returned and confirmed that the hunter's tent is indeed a Quasar, makes my decision to take five and not seven settlements all the more palatable. Silly, eh? Just another one of those "Chris things" that make me, me and gives other people a hard time trying to figure me out.

I had a melancholy moment earlier; I think I need to see people I love and soon. It is day twelve and it will be day eighteen before I see Jane [I never did see Jane until the end of the expedition]. I usually share these outdoor experiences and it is weird not to. Don't get me wrong, I now enjoy being alone too, but I think I am discovering a definite period of time when solo is okay and when two would be better. Perhaps ten-day solo trips are the perfect period for me? I am also getting a little homesick for the creature comforts of home. Problem is, our home is in six containers and the prospect of making a new home for us is going to take some time to realise. Exciting though - who knows what our new home looks like? Whatever and wherever, we will make it "homely", we are good at that.

Different bits of kit now need replacing. A lot of it is very old now and showing signs of wear and tear. In complete contrast to technology, I love aged outdoor gear, with holes and dents that remind you of how and where you got them. There comes a time though when stuff just needs replacing. Unfortunately, we are moving into an economic period (Jane minus job) when that will be hard to do. We'll figure it out though.

Just looking at my salty "paddlers' hands", cool. Do love that. Reminds me of my old poem "Neoprene Refugees", not sure about the title but the content has always been spot on.

“Neoprene Refugees”

by Chris Paton

30th August, Glasgow 1999

Salt encrusted windows,
blistering blue paint,
sand-drenched wicker mats,
air with heavy seaweed taint.

Kayaks parked out back,
wet boots dripping on the porch,
fatigued biceps, mildewed toes,
inspecting callouses with a torch.

another painful days' paddling
over brilliant blue water
thru dip and swell; the bow from hell
curses thru sun-kissed laughter.

Beaching in the gloaming,
paddles braced side by side,
pulling cramped limbs from the cockpit,
"another burst around the point?" I lied!

Cosy on a sunken coach,
wet legs entwining one another,
steaming bodies and steaming mugs,
damp, salty kisses with my lover.

Edited 15th March 2010

I have deliberately not said much about Nansen. I am thinking of him now as there are a few photos of him left on the pocket camera and I already deleted a lot of him from this winter. I think he has a good home at the Children's Home in Uummannaq. I saw a kid give him a treat on the very day I delivered him. There are lots of kids that get a lot out of the dogs. Plus, he will adapt and quickly learn who takes care of him. He won't get nearly as much fuss and attention as he got before but neither will he be lonely, and he has always been a good "Uncle" to pups. Yeah, he is going to be alright. I was walking him less and less towards the end. I was just too busy and didn't make time for him. We won't have dogs again in Qaanaaq. It is too demanding, both physically and emotionally. I will enjoy dogsledding again and look forward to going out with new colleagues, friends and maybe hunters, but no more dogs of our own.

Thinking of Qaanaaq is very exciting! I am curious as to life so far north. Haven't had much time to really think about it. That time will come - it is going to be a long, dark winter! Can't wait!

Now Hamilton's "The Naked God" is getting interesting. Perhaps I needed to be ready for it? Lying in the tent in this beautiful and peaceful campsite, distant waterfall, few birds tweeting, warm - not too hot ... I am enjoying reading and relaxing. I have finally started dinner; playing with the Trangia always reminds me of Sam Gamgee's pots that he carries with him from The Shire. Reading about Ombey's Royal Marines reminded me of Afghanistan and that, unfortunately, I truly do not have any idea of the hardship nor the horrors of war and its effects on the population of war-torn countries. My fascination for war is boyish, I am a "boy" still, at heart. I mean no disrespect to the soldiers and civilians affected by war but I find it all-engrossing. Must remember to reflect both sides in my writing from now on.

The hunter's tent is a "Quasar", damnit! With snow valances!

I miss my wife! It's been two weeks - doesn't sound that long, but it all happened so chaotically. That last day, those last days, packing, cleaning, leaving ... it was all shit, really.

It got cold suddenly - sun dipped behind the mountains again. It's just circling - will be back in a few hours time. I'll gird myself to go out for a pee soon. Last one before bed! Shouldn't drink any more coffee now!

It's weird being so totally alone. Not even a distant drone of a boat. I'm out here, in the Arctic, alone ... cool!

I sometimes - more often than I should - think about what I/we would do in the event of of an outbreak of war or natural disaster. We have nearly all the essential gear, but it's nothing without food and water. "The Road" was a tremendously thought-provoking book. Must read it again sometime. The image of pushing a shopping trolley, one eye fixed on the rear-view mirror, taped onto the side, a gun with one real bullet and five wooden ones designed to deceive the "threat" ... just brilliant. Tragic. Desperate, but brilliant. Of course, it's not all that brilliant if we experience it ourselves now, is it? The Greenlanders would do okay. The hunters and fishing families anyway. Of course, it would take a backward shift to compensate for the lack of fuel and bullets, but their culture is not so very far removed from the old days of kayaks and harpoons [most definitely not in Qaanaaq - daily life here!]. Of all the northern peoples, they would cope. The majority of them [hunting and fishing families] I see have simple needs and desires too. Once the booze was all used up we might start to make real progress! It wouldn't be too great a stretch of the imagination to think of Qaanaaq cut off from the rest of the world. With one flight a week and only two ships a year ... they are practically cut off. What am I saying? We will soon be cut off right along with them!

There are rocks falling down the mountainside as I write this, that and a gull, a stream and the tiny movement of water on the shore is all I can hear right now. Rocks must have fallen from some height ... still falling ...

Day 11 - the turning point

2010-10-07T19:21:00.001-02:00

After my failed attempt at getting into town the day before I finally got it right this time. Paddling in to Ukkusissat was a pleasure. Beautiful blue skies, snow-capped mountains and the promise of junk-food! One has to get one's priorities straight and clearly, I hadn't.

In town

The shop

I had been to Ukkusissat before, arriving by 4x4 having driven across the sea ice. This was a different approach and a very different time of year. I was stunned by the beauty of the place which I had failed to appreciate during my visit in the winter a few years previous. Ukkusissat is a pearl to be discovered in the Uummannaq fjord system. It is little surprise that it is a frequent destination for cruise ships. I wondered if I would be received as a tourist or as something in between.

I didn't have long to find out as I met a previous student, Karl-Ole, in the shop. Juggling my two hot-dogs we chatted about the past in Uummannaq and what he was doing. Karl-Ole accompanied me throughout much of the time I was in Ukkusissat but left me alone to make my phone calls to Lars and Jane. It was decision time.

I called Barbara in Nugatsiaq first to let her know I had changed my plans and would not be paddling on to the most northerly settlement. I also told her she could eat my food and other goodies that I had sent on earlier by boat. I was later to change my mind about this.

Lars and Jane understood my decision and we agreed that I would keep them informed of my progress, backtracking through the fjords to Uummannaq. It would be five settlements not seven after all. I had been wrestling with this decision for many days and was feeling pretty good that I had finalised my plans. The sudden arrival of Tukummeq in the shop lifted my spirits even further. One of my star pupils of the last two years, Tukummeq has a huge and promising future ahead of her. (Watch this space, you might be reading one of her books one day!)

Karl-Ole was a practised guide having worked with tourists many times and we spent a bit more time wandering around the settlement. He invited me to a kaffemik in celebration of his brother's confirmation. I had the offer of staying over but, as I had realised earlier, I was beginning to get used to my own company and I felt the need to get back to camp. Here is where the goals began to blur in my expedition plans. I was using a lot of energy on the change of physical goals, whereas the social goals had suddenly been met and yet I wasn't ready to make the most of them. It would be later in Niaqornat that I would begin to experience this element of my journey.

I thanked Karl-Ole as best I could and made moves to get out of "town" and back to camp. Walking back to the boat I came across some beautiful dogs with incredible masks. Of course, I spent some time photographing them before struggling into my dry-suit again. While getting ready to leave a fisherman sailed over to within a few metres or so. I honestly though he was going to land so I asked if I should move my boat? He didn't say a word, just ate and stared. Having played tourist for several hours in town I figured it as okay to be on the receiving end of his curiosity. After five minutes or so he threw some rubbish over the side and sailed back to town.

Ukkusissat was far from a let down, but my expectations were so focused upon physical goals that I was losing sight of the human element. I think I assumed too much. I think I felt that I should be able to blend in more than the tourists and when that didn't happen I was disappointed, and yet when it did, I failed to appreciate it. Strange but true.

Paddling back to camp was uneventful. I was lost in my thoughts of the coming days and what I had to do to make the rest of the expedition "work". I made my decision based upon my safety issues and the safety net I had put in place. I had been brooding over the problem for the past few days - actually since the satellite phone died and the dry-suit ripped back in the desert - but the fog outside of Ukkusissat had helped put everything into perspective. It was time to move on, in body and mind.

As I landed back at camp I was treated to the arrival of René and Lars (another Lars). They too had had to change plans for their summer adventures due to fog and injury. It was reassuring to talk to others about the importance of prioritising safety. I was also heartened by the fact that even their group, with the benefit of support from local hunters, was just as disappointed in not achieving their goals as I was. (Incidentally, in the rush to move my kayak to accommodate their three speedboats, I nailed my leg on a rock. The cut is still healing some months later. Big rock!)

Day 10 - the first taste of fog

2010-09-25T21:33:00.016-02:00

Leaving the white sands of the previous campsite, I stole along the coastline, heading up the fjord towards the next settlement of Ukkusissat.

The photographs I would loved to have included in this blog post are just not good enough to show you the three tiny Arctic Fox cubs I found playing among the boulders a kilometre or so beyond my campsite. The small camera I had in my buoyancy aid just couldn't capture them. I contemplated pulling into shore and taking photos with the larger DSLR but didn't want to disturb them. I contented myself with observing them from a few metres distance as I bobbed among the icy debris from calving icebergs.

After spending so much time over the rifle I had found, cleaned up and put back in its proper place, I was paddling into the morning on this lonely stretch of my journey. After a short break on a beach, enjoying the last of my year-old Starbars, a present from Hilary and family, I put into the water again. Once firmly back in the seat and getting into a rhythm, I noticed the icebergs in the distance were being swallowed, whole, by the fog. Around 2 am I began to feel more than a little threatened by the encroaching blanket of white.

I have not paddled much in fog. I had never, up to this point, paddled in fog around icebergs. My worst nightmares were coming all too true. I could hear calvings in the near distance, but I could neither see the iceberg nor the direction in which the wave and debris was heading. It felt a little like playing Greenlandic Roulette with several thousand tonnes of ice that I couldn't see. I was more than a little on edge.

Infuriatingly, as my world became smaller, more intense, I was illuminated by a light orange glow from the midnight sun, somewhere above me. I don't think the fog was more than 10 metres or so high, but it was not evaporating any time soon. I considered pulling into the shore but I was not heartened by the steep-sided cliff faces and lack of suitable parking places. After a few more minutes of bobbing undecided about, I figured it was safer to crack on and not worry too much about what lay ahead. I would deal with that as and when it became necessary.

The first potential campsite I found around the point I vetoed on account of it not being close enough to Ukkusissat. I did want to get off the water as I could not see anything beyond the wall of fog, but I wanted to find a decent spot to camp. Then, shrouded in mist, "my" beach appeared and I headed straight for it. The usual camping routine was a welcome relief to the stress of being alone at sea with the bergs.

Well into the early morning I crawled into my tent and fell promptly asleep only to realise, a little later, that I had pitched the tent side on to the sun. As the fog burned away I was at once forced out of my sleeping bag and into the bright morning of a new day. There are some downsides to paddling through the night in the Arctic.

Knackered, but happy, I found little to complain about regarding my new view.

Ready for my first junk food of the trip I decided to walk into town, never mind how tired I was. I also needed water if I was going to keep up with my serious camp-coffee addiction. I found water, lots of it, but that was part of the problem. It might sound ridiculous but there was no way I was going to cross this raging Arctic river. I did walk up and down the sides looking for a suitable crossing point but I found nothing that wasn't going to require me wading through metre-deep icy water gushing down from the mountains above. On another day it might have been different. Recently, however, Greenlanders and Norwegians alike have closely followed the story of three Norwegians believed drowned in a river around Kangerlussuaq. I was not aware of this but I decided to return to my new camp anyway.

The settlement of Ukkusissat could wait a day and I decided to paddle in following a good night's sleep. Filling up my MSR water bladder - a seriously good bit of kit - I plodded back home, stumbling a few times out of tiredness.

Concerning camp abolutions I am reminded of a quote about which I can neither remember the author nor the exact words. It wasn't Edward Abbey, although he has plenty of excellent words to describe the wilderness. However, several cups of coffee later and I was reminded, not for the first time, of a few lines of particular aptness that I would like to paraphrase for you all now:

"If you are going to take a shit in the wild, choose a John with a view."

Several cups of coffee and a hot camp meal later and I was ready to choose my John with a view. The timing is critical. Too late and it is too cold to enjoy the moment as the sun has moved behind the tallest peaks. Too soon and it is hot enough for the mosquitoes and friends to make life miserable, or at least cause one to rush over the latest edition of the Financial Times.

In true Abbey-style, that night I got it just right!

Day 9 - blissed out and gunned up! Part II

2010-09-17T15:21:00.001-02:00

It has taken a while to get back into the blog. Several hotel rooms, numerous planes and one big boat later and I am ready to catch up on my kayak adventures of the summer. As I sit in this hotel room in Ilulissat, the smoke from the chimney of Knud Rasmussen’s house creeping through the window, the sun playing on the icebergs in the bay, I think back to another time and place, not so very far from here.

I signed off the last blog entry with a quote from Capone about kind words and a gun getting you further in life than kind words alone. Well, I found a gun at this campsite and I spent a lot of time pondering over what to do with it. I was curious about the hunters’ tent and amazed that it was an English brand, the same as my own. What amazed me more was finding a Savage .22 rifle, rusting on the rocks not two metres from the tent door. I sat down and played with the bolt, trying to free it. Gradually, I worked it free and found an empty casing in the chamber. The rifle was missing its magazine and the rust rubbed off on my fingers as I sighted icebergs and birds through the otherwise intact scope. I found it hard to believe that the rifle was just lying there, abandoned. The knives and other hunting material lying about were a common sight now, something I had grown used to during my four years in Uummannaq. But a rifle, well, that was something new.

I finally decided that I would take the rifle with me, clean it up and make it work. In the back of my mind I realized that I had no way of knowing how damaged the rifle was, nor if it would ever be safe to fire, but I was determined. Back inside my tent I stripped the rifle, removed the bolt and scope, packaged everything in watertight combinations of gaffa tape and pastic bags, and then began to break camp.

As I piled all my gear up I was still questioning my actions, remembering Frederick’s comments about good hunters not stealing food from others. I also considered that it was quite likely that a hunter would return one day, pick up the rifle, chamber a new round and shoot a seal, before discarding the rifle again. I thought too how the hunters’ camp was no different than a boat moored in the harbour, full of gear, ready and waiting to go. Could I really just take the rifle?

I argued with myself – there was no one else in the neighbourhood – about how dangerous it was to just leave a gun lying around for anyone to find, about what might happen if some kids found it, etc. I tossed the question back and forth, remembering that these waters were the stomping grounds of a hunting society, that the camp was no different from the boat, that my views on firearms and safety were different than a hunter’s views. I spent quite a while on this when suddenly another Arctic Fox announced his arrival.
This was all the distraction I needed as the fox and I played tag over several hundred metres. As I gave up trying to catch the fox with my lense I walked back to the camp, clear in my mid about what I must do next.

It took me ages to remove all the protective waterproofing tape and plastic. It took another while to screw the rusted scope back onto the rifle. More time was wasted trying to remove what little grease there was from my hands. I then plodded back over to the hunters’ tent, paced out two metres from the tent entrance and laid the rifle on the rocks, all the while conscious of the fox watching me from on high.

Two hours later than planned, I paddled on up the fjord.

Day 9 - blissed out! Part I

2010-08-24T21:30:00.000-02:00

I won't pretend to have found the following quotes through anything other than the internet. Whilst I might think I am well-read, it all depends on the titles. I have read absolutely none of the following although I have dabbled a little in Thoreau.

One travels more usefully when alone, because he reflects more.
Thomas Jefferson

The doer alone learneth.
Friedrich Nietzsche

I never found the companion that was so companionable as solitude.
Henry David Thoreau

We are rarely proud when we are alone.
Voltaire

Take a course in good water and air; and in the eternal youth of Nature you may renew your own. Go quietly, alone; no harm will befall you.
John Muir

I have heard so many people say it is irresponsible to travel alone. Throughout my entire Outdoor Education career I have worked in groups, taught safety in numbers and planned to the strengths of the weakest link. My only real experience of solitude was a 24-hour assignment set during my Philosophy of Outdoor Education class at the then Charlotte Mason College in Ambleside, Cumbria. Colin Mortlock was my lecturer and he challenged us to spend 24 hours alone. A friend of mine crawled into his wardrobe - he managed two hours before his room-mate got fed up of hearing him fart in such a confined space and pulled him out. Another friend was doing well until it started raining and she was in danger of being drowned on her little island that used to be a small rise in a sheep field. I don't remember anyone lasting the full 24 hours. I lasted three. My orange bivvy bag filled up with rain as I tried to wait out the weather on the fell top. My sleeping bag was drenched and I was absolutely miserable and promptly gave up.

At eighteen I thought the outdoors was about survival. I never realised that being outdoors was not about working against nature but living with it, in harmony.

Don't push.

Bend.

The late Bill Mason taught me that through his books and videos. Journeys with Wilderness Inquiry as a "plug" showed me the way and all my subsequent adventures with Jane have helped build upon this philosophy.

Last year I spent my first real solo time in Uummannaq fjord. Five days with the Folbot Kodiak and a humpback whale, hundreds of icebergs and little old me in between. It was amazing. Both liberating and a real test of my expedition plans and the boat.

I have wondered if having contact with the outside world during TSS2010 makes a nonsense out of the idea of solitude, but there were plenty of days where contact was not possible and this beautiful campsite was one of them.

In returning to my thoughts of safety in numbers I can only add that I honestly think my days of travelling with groups are over. Small groups maybe, Jane and I definitely, but I really need to make time for me and the big sky, the open water and the call of the wild. Jack London is on my reading list. He is partly responsible for this whole northern adventure. But when you have lain in your sleeping bag and heard the Arctic Fox announce his arrival, the whale exhaust his lungs when passing by, boulders crash and icebergs calve then the wild has truly called, and I wish to live long to answer that call again and again.

Of course, the last quote I have chosen is just going to make you wonder!

You can get much farther with a kind word and a gun than you can with a kind word alone.
Al Capone

Day 8 - uncharted waters

2010-08-24T20:52:00.000-02:00

It took me simply ages to leave Raven's Death Campsite. The thought of tidying, packing, loading and then paddling just zapped me everytime. I realized, as I have always known, that I am best suited to camping with Jane or alone. I don't think anyone else would put up with my tempo. I just like being out there and not having to think about anything other than moving on and settling in before moving on again. Ah, the simple life. The problem is my simple life was way too simple and I needed a serious kick in the arse to get going again.

I was not completely idle in camp though. Apart from copious cups of coffee I did fix the tent as I mentioned previously. The fix was proving to be very reliable. I was also perfecting my bannock-baking - although a few mishaps were tough to swallow - adopting the mantra "the kilos are better on the inside!". Packing all my rubbish with me I never wanted to travel with waste food no matter how badly I had burned it.

One thing I did leave behind was a fine fishing line on a wooden reel. I had brought it along with the idea of fishing. Lots of people fish when camping, but I have a confession ... I hate fishing. Really, it is so monotonous! A slim chance of reward for a whole lot of effort. As my food supplies did not rely on me catching anything I placed the reel where I am sure some kids will find it. A little offering in thanks for a great campsite. (Anyone worried about kids finding a fishing line? You have to remember these kids could fish before their grandparents were born!)

Of course, I didn't leave empty-handed. I had an idea that I would take a raven claw with me. After snapping off a single claw and placing it in my map case I suddenly realised that I could take the whole bloody foot if I wanted too. My friend, the dead raven, was not going to need it and it would surely make little difference to a fox who had the whole body to snack on. Armed with my Leatherman I returned to said raven, offered some words in thanks and clipped his foot off. I have serious plans for this raven's foot - a bit like the plans I have for the pilot whale jaw hanging off the sledge on our terrace. I just have to convince Jane that neither of them smell.

What you can't see in these photos is the fact that the wind was blowing north-east onto my port side, the waves were coming from both the port side and head on the bow, while icebergs were moving against the wind on my starboard side towards me. I was in some choppy water and making little headway. So much for idling about in camp, I was paying for it now. I aimed for a small island - population twelve sledge dogs - and waited out the worst of the wind and tide for the next hour and a half. I then took to the water again and paddle directly upwind towards the island of Agpat before catching the waves along the shore and hanging a left into the Torssukátak fjord.

I succeeded in besting the wind and waves and then ran right into the midnight sun. Couldn't see a thing. I only realised how spectacular and barren it was when I looked at the photos later.

Instead of paddling along the coastline of Agpat towards the old marble mine I decided to blast across the fjord and camp in what I hoped would be a suitable spot. On the map it looked like a little cove with a natural harbour. I was to be rewarded with one of the best campsites of the entire journey.

Day 7 - Saattut

2010-08-21T14:24:00.000-02:00

A good day dawning! Starting with a cup of "mud", my own recipe of Nestle Choco Hot Creamy chocolate powder mixed with copious amounts of instant coffee, whipped into abandon and then chewed until I have to employ my finger around the edges to get the last bits of goop. The orange Swedish folding mug in the photo above has been on many a trip in the wilds and has the stains to prove it. Whereas I am interested in maintaining good hygiene standards when in the wilds I won't get any smilies pinned onto my tent! Boiling water for drinks I boil enough for the flask plus one drink. I might start with a soup. To clean the soup out I follow up with an instant coffee - usually a bog-standard Nescafe. A little later I might try a powdered Latté or Cappucino mix. To clean that out, and dissolve the lumps I missed despite frantic stirring, I finish off with a flavoured instant coffee.

At this point, completely out of my skull on caffeine, the tent starts to spin ever so slowly, uncannily in tune to my full bladder. Depending upon the weather and the presence of winged-teeth I barrel out of the tent to pee. If the weather is fine I stay out and take photos, if not I barrel back into the tent and boil up some more water for that final cup of mud.

In this northern Buena Vista Social Club I pass the time by poring over the map, writing in my diary, reading whopping great books and listening to my MP3. Being quite dated with a chunky MP3 player of limited storage space I have to seriously consider what I want to take with me. This trip I chose to take the BBC dramatisation of The Lord of the Rings. It is pure dead brilliant though unfortunately spliced with some frightful music in between. I can't help thinking Mr Jackson might have been inspired by Gollum in this series developed for radio. I can heartily recommend it for all LOTR fans. Of course, with all this entertainment packed into my tiny living space it is quite an effort to pull myself out and visit the settlements.

Leaving Frodo and Ned Stark to fend for themselves a bit I wandered through a Tolkien landscape into "town". Saattut is about 21km as the raven flies from Uummannaq. I have been here a few times previously in the summer and once drove here across the ice in a pick-up together with Lars, Suzi, their son Tiuri and Jane. Arne, Hotel Uummannaq, drove us all the way to Ukkusissat and back that day. I have, however, never arrived in Saattut by the back door as it were. It was a totally different settlement that I experienced.

I was a little late for the service house where I hoped to get a shower, nor was the shop open. I had mixed my days up and thought that is was Saturday already. However, I learned from a man hoping to buy "strong tobacco" from me, that everything would open again in an hour. It was lunchtime on a Friday. I decided on a shower first and tried out my Greenlandic in the council office where I paid 15,- dkk for a key to the shower. The toilet bucket was a welcome sight too - do remember that Jane and I have been using a metal toilet bucket for four years and this council bucket was pure luxury!

To say my skin was greasy is a serious understatement, so I'll leave it at that and we'll move on shall we?

I met an old student in Pilersuisoq, Aqqa, who I remembered as being bright and cheerful and very studious. She had not changed and it was fun to catch up. She knew I was moving to Qaanaaq and would be there herself on holiday when Jane and I were due to arrive.

Splashing out on ice cream and bottled water I checked in with Lars and was rewarded with relief associated with no worries from his side regarding the garbled satellite phone message. We agreed that the satellite phone was now defunct and took it off the safety plan. It was interesting to note, for me anyway, that I was reluctant to tell both Lars and Jane, later, that I had ruined my dry suit. If I went in the water the failure of the dry suit would be more critical than the satellite phone. I felt that if I confessed about the dry suit I would have to make a more serious decision. We brushed over the topic quickly as I changed the subject each time.

The church in Saattut.

The view form the centre(ish) of Saattut towards the harbour.

Clean and content I wandered around "town", careful not to take photos of people. I could not hide the fact that I was a tourist but I did not want to offend the locals either. I had been just as curious about arriving in Saattut as I had been the other day in Ikerasak. Whereas I did not really talk with people here either, I did get a much warmer feeling about the settlement. Previously, while translating for tourist groups in Saattut, I had felt very distant from the people. This time I realised that more people knew me and it felt as though my presence was accepted. The Liverpool Football Club baseball cap I was wearing helped too, especially when meeting former students - avid Man United supporters to a man! (I should perhaps apologize to Folbot that I rarely wore the cap they sent me with the Folbot logo. I have a big head ... no comment necessary ... and the LFC hat just fit better is all.)

I made my way back to Raven's Death Campsite and could almost taste the first cup of mud on my tongue!

Day 6 - can't stop the signal

2010-08-18T22:21:00.000-02:00

I broke camp and packed the boat - badly. The take-out point consisted of various boulders of less-than-helpful shapes and sizes, slippery when wet and clearly the local hang-out for the "winged-teeth" chapter of the local mosquito clan - ravenous bastards! Suffice it to say I got hot, wet and sweaty before clambering into the boat and paddling. I would later find just how badly I had packed the boat. Earlier, I had been having problems when deploying the rudder - my left leg and buttock would cramp up about one and a half hours of paddling every time I used the rudder. Today I started paddling without.

Today's crossing was going to be around four to five hours depending on various factors. I had already decided to abandon any unnecessary detours and go straight for the island on which the settlement of Saattut is situated. I needed to make contact or at least be in a position to make contact with Lars and Jane as soon as possible. The weather was in my favour and the bergs were again in the minority.

About an hour away from the end of the island, after an uneventful crossing, I found out how badly trimmed the boat was. The weather picked up and I was weather-cocking, bow-heavy with a stern like a sail. I might like to have bulging biceps but I didn't fancy sporting a half-Schwarzenegger as I used way too much left arm to compensate. I decided to drop the rudder and had to grit my teeth as the cramp problem started almost the instant the rudder hit the water. Weird. I couldn't figure out if it was mental or physical pain I was experiencing. I now think that I am abnormally long in the leg and can't cope with one leg pushing on the rudder pedals and the other not. I do have to admit that I have never had much luck rigging the rudder - I can never get the lengths of string/cable right. Regardless, there was nothing I could do about it.

Paddle on.

I like naming campsites. My favourite being Reasonably Flat Rock, because it was. On arriving, finally, at the beachy cove at the far end of Saattut island I explored a little before tossing my dry bags up the incredibly steep slope between the sea and the flat ground on which to camp. I found a dead raven and immediately christened the campsite: Raven's Death Campsite.

I love ravens. I have seen them tease my sledge dogs, hopping into their territory and hopping just out of reach of the dogs' chains. I have tried umpteen times to take good photos of ravens and never succeeded. I have been amazed at their vocal range and variety of calls, and even more amazed at those of my pupils who could imitate them. Ravens are said to be as smart as dogs and I believe they are - sometimes perhaps even smarter. They are big, tough, carnivorous buggers and they are very common in the Arctic. There is no question as to why I have them on the TSS2010 logo.

Of course, this fella was dead.

Time to unpack the boat and set up camp.

It doesn't take long to develop a routine, especially when paddling alone. I knew which dry bags I needed first and in what order I wanted to set up my camp. No matter what, the tent comes first. In foul weather it is a priority of course, but in the sun with a good breeze I can relax and take my time. When I am tired after a long paddle, I just need to keep going before crashing inside the tent. The worst possible conditions for putting up the tent and organising camp is warm, wet weather, no breeze and a shit-load of midges. Mosquitoes I can cope with and the bug repellent holds them at bay, but midges ... midges and I have danced together on countless occasions in Scotland. If the midge population in Greenland ever reaches Scottish proportions ... well ... I would have to seriously consider relocating!

On this fine day though everything went well. I set up camp in good spirits, secured the kayak way above the water and "iceberg" line, then trekked up the cliff side a little to find a signal for the mobile. I sent a few text messages and then decided to settle in for the night and hit "town" in the morning.

Day 5 - some trouble brewin'

2010-08-17T20:53:00.000-02:00

As the fog cleared all my excuses evaporated. It was time to get moving again. Looking at all the gear I had to get in the boat I was constantly reminded that my hectic and stressful start had resulted in at least one dry bag too many. Packing was getting easier, so long as I was on a beach. The Folbot Kodiak has a lot of volume but one has to think carefully about how to pack it to ensure best trim. Trimming the boat made all the difference for each paddling stint. If I had a beach to pack from then I was guaranteed good trim. Give me a bad launching point and a couple of clouds of bugs and I suffered all day, especially in wind and waves.

Paddling along the coastline of Hydralgskis Pensinsula I kept a wary eye on some whopping bergs on the horizon. Bergs make great waypoints on open crossings. Until they begin to explode of course. As I neared the point of the pensinsula and began to edge into deeper water a monster berg decided to calve spectacularly. I was between the resultant icy wave and compassion-less rocks of the point. Perfect. With nothing to do but keep paddling, I kept paddling.

It was a particularly smooth crossing after that with very little iceberg activity. I had hoped to see some sign of whales but knew that they rarely ventured this deep into the fjord. Completely alone, with nothing and no one in sight, I got to grips with solitude and found I kind of liked it.

I pulled into the desert at the bottom of Stor Øen to stretch my legs. It was then that I discovered a rather large amount of water in the bottom of my boat. I began to fear that hasty building of the folding kayak and some "interesting" landings had put a hole in the hull. I started to think about the consequences. It was then that I decided to get out of my dry suit and take a pee. Pulling at the seal on my left wrist I tore off a huge chunk of rubber and reduced my dry suit to a glorified rain jacket.

Crap.

This was just the start of my problems in the desert.

While contemplating the combined consequences of both a hole in the boat and a hole in my dry suit I kicked around in the ubiquitous green fishing line and rope that can be seen all over Uummannaq area, perhaps even Greenland? Anywhere you can fish anyway. As the clouds began to build and the sky to darken I decided I might not push for Saattut this night. I decided to paddle a little further to take a look around the corner. On seeing icebergs move against the wind in the opposite direction I wished to travel I figured the tide was against me and the paddle would be a trifle challenging. I pulled into a bay and found one of the worst take-out points of the trip and made the best of a bad deal. (The pictures below are not the take-out point in question.)

Still annoyed at the holes I went ahead with putting up my tent, wanting to get out of the rain as soon as possible. As I started to push the poles into place I found that the bottom of one pole was missing an end. Damnit! That was three things I had discovered that had failed in the space of a day. I didn't know how long it was going to take to fix the different bits of kit and therefore knew that I was approaching my "window" of five days without contact. It was soon 48 hours since I checked in and there was no mobile signal in the desert or for many kilometres in all directions. If the weather and repairs allowed I could easily get to Saattut within 5-6 hours, but if not I would be approaching the safety margin agreed with Jane and Lars. This was as good a time as any to try out the satellite phone.

I called Lars' mobile in Denmark - a little after midnight Danish time (sorry about that Lars!) - and I got his answer service. I know I said I had a hole in the boat, but I did not remember saying whether or not I was all right before the battery died, completely. It was fully-charged 5 days ago and had not been used. But I had a feeling that it would not hold very long as it was an older Motorola model that I had borrowed from a friend.

Crap.

This was a testing moment. I had included the satellite phone in my safety plan to compensate for my being alone. The Chief of Police in for the North of Greenland had told me that it was not smart to travel alone. In light of the recent tragedy and the annual rescues and deaths in the wilds of Greenland I was conscious that I should do everything I could to compensate for being alone. My margin of error just got bigger.

Apart from the annoying failures of different bits of gear I was frustrated that I could not get a message out. I now felt that the very bit of kit that was supposed to save me in an emergency was now going to force me to paddle in order to get to Saattut to get a signal for the mobile and to let everyone know I was okay.

Of the entire trip this was the single best learning experience for me. The fog outside Ukkusissat came close but in a different way. I suddenly felt that I could relate to how others must feel not knowing how I was or even where I was. In many ways the failure of the satellite phone was the best thing to happen to me. It made me safer. I never wanted to take it with me in the first place, I figured it would be a white elephant that I would lug around and never use. Now it had become a potentially dangerous white elephant depending upon what I did next.

It sounds like I am making a mountain out of a molehill but I was alone. I was however in an area where I knew people fished and even the hotel boat visited during the week. The only thing I didn't have was water - the desert is appropriately named! With nothing I could do about the weather I decided to find iceberg debris for my drinking water.

I heard a dinghy sailing by and on impulse crawled out of my tent to wave at them just for a little insurance. If I missed my check-in at least someone had seen me alive and well on this particular date. Over a fresh, steaming mug of iceberg-coffee, which is basically coffee made from the inland ice sheet, I mulled over my day.

On closer inspection the Folbot Kodiak had no real holes to speak of, I had just had one too many hasty wet entrances and exits - the spraydeck on the Kodiak is not the easiest to slide in an out of when launching. My tent - a trusty Quasar from back when Terra Nova was called Wild Country (gear-geek info) - was about 15 or so years old and this was the first breakage during a hard, outdoor life, and I fixed it with a tent peg inside of ten seconds anyway. My only problems were the dry suit and the satellite phone.

At this point, provided I could get a message through, I did not think the satellite phone was such a problem - only the problem it had created needed fixing. The dry suit however, was another issue altogether. But, surrounded by water, anywhere I went would requiring paddling, so I decided to conveniently forget about it. Stupid is as stupid does and all that.

I crawled into my sleeping bag and waited on the weather.

Day 4 - foggy excuses

2010-08-16T22:20:00.000-02:00

I found plenty of excuses not to paddle the next day. Amongst the best were the "promises to be safe" and "not take chances with calving icebergs in the fog". Pretty convincing arguments when you are a democracy of one, in a pup-tent, with a particularly good book in your hands. My most convincing argument was of course the need to "air my finger"!

What?

Remember the slice I took out of my finger on Day 1? No? You're not missing much but I was missing a tiny chunk of skin which I kept cutting away as it dried out. I was taping my finger up when paddling and I needed more air to make it heal faster.

That's my story and I'm sticking with it.

Day 3 - Ikerasak

2010-08-16T22:00:00.002-02:00

It was an overcast day that greeted me when I crawled out of the tent. The heat of the day before had made me reconsider the merits of sleeping through the day. An Arctic Fox woke me and I decided to get going, not least to arrive within the opening times of Pilersuisoq - the local store in the settlement of Ikerasak; I would be arriving at the first of the Seven Settlements today.

The paddling was very pleasant. Overcast and cool, I spent a lot of time looking along the shore, still half-convinced I would see something of interest or even see sign of the unfortunate men lost in the tragic boat accident earlier.

Paddling along the coastline; there is always another point to round. It is like the false summits when hiking in the mountains. What you see before you is rarely the final destination. There is always a little further to go. I found that when I could see my destination I usually had a few more hours of paddling, especially on open crossings. When I could taste the campsite before me I had yet one more hour. It was frustrating at times and paddling faster just didn't seem to make any difference. Getting used to the distances in Greenland is difficult. Geographic features, be they islands or mountains, are always, always further away than one thinks they are.

Nearing Ikerasak I started to see life on the tiny outlying islands. On these islands, Greenlandic sledge dogs would roam free, not even tempted to swim to the mainland - smart dogs! They seemed to be more content than the dogs chained in the larger settlements and towns, and the pecking order was firmly established. The dogs stared at me as I paddled past, losing interest as I showed no sign of dropping off a hunk of seal meat. (Some days later I would meet more hungry dogs on several islands outside Saattut.)

I was a little curious as to how I would be received in Ikerasak. I have been there twice before; once by snow scooter, a second time in a taxi across the sea ice, never in the summer. Each time I have been in Ikerasak it has been to visit Betina and Thomas, colleagues of mine teaching in the settlement school. I have great respect for their work as teachers and could see the results of their hard work when I received the 10th graders from Ikerasak during their final year of schooling. Jane and I drove across the ice to be at Betina and Thomas' wedding a few years ago.

My friends have now moved on and, short of a few student connections, I don't really know many people in Ikerasak. I must have arrived at a particularly quiet time too as there were few people wandering about that I could see. Most people were at work or inside on this cloudy day. Some people might even be sleeping as it is not unusual to be active at strange times due to the 24-hour light that can play havoc on one's daily rhythm. As it turned out I met just a few of my former pupils and spent most of the few hours in the settlement making the promised progress calls to Lars Simonsen, Jane and, of course, my mum!

In the build up to the expedition I had talked a lot with my mum about being safe. Jane and I had avoided talking too much about the subject while Lars was extremely practical and a lot more switched on than I was. I would soon discover what it was like "not knowing" when my blasé attitude was put to the test. However, I did enjoy making contact and assuring everyone that I was well and enjoying myself.

Betina and Thomas' house.

The church in Ikerasak.

The kindergarten.

A thin house.

After a little sightseeing in Ikerasak I was actually ready to leave again. It just wasn't what I had anticipated. Maybe I just slipped in unnoticed or, more likely, I was just another "Dane"/white faced tourist poking around with his camera. I have come to the conclusion that cameras are crap in areas frequently visited by tourists. I don't think Ikerasak has as many visits by cruise ship passengers as Ukkusissat for example, but I definitely stood out. One thing I did find amusing was my sudden need to talk to people - and you think the camera was the problem! - and when I spotted Michael, a student of mine, I launched into verbal diarrhoea. Clearly I had been out in the boonies too long with nothing but foxes for company.

It had been three days!

Leaving Ikerasak I got my groove on and found the boat and paddle responded well and I blasted away for an hour across the bay to my next campsite. It felt good. All my somewhat dulled expectations of the first settlement though resulted in an interesting diary entry that night:

Now I realise, as I perhaps have always known, the Seven Settlements are purely way-points on a deeply personal journey proving to myself that I have what it takes. Pissing my territory and putting ghosts of inferiority to rest. The language be damned, I am who I am and I can do what I say I will! As the icebergs crash and fall around me I paddle on, playing it safe and making progress all the same. I know my limitations but I also know my strengths and capabilities: paddle on!

Growing up in a split family, being raised by my mum alone, competing for the attention from my father and his new family, encountering problems dealing with men in positions of authority during both my schooling and professional life, I have always carried a bit of a chip on my shoulder; an inferiority complex fostered, I believe, by the fact that deep down I might have believed that I wasn't good enough for my father. This has been frustrating at best and downright destructive at worst. I can, fortunately, thank my mum for the drive I have to experience new places, cultures and experiences, to suck the veritable marrow from the bone of life. This ambition to prove myself, however, has often resulted in challenging conflicts where I have always known I have the capability to do a thing but lacked the sense of self-confidence to show others. It was interesting for me to see this manifest itself through the words I wrote on the pages in my diary. This expedition was turning into an inner journey, and I could feel that it was coming perhaps 20 years or so late.

Paddle on!

Day 2 - the hot arctic

2010-08-11T22:46:00.001-02:00

On day two I paddled from Stor Øen to Ikerasak Island, aiming for the "Reasonably Flat Rock" campsite that I visited last summer. There was little in the way of ice compared to what I experienced last year on this stretch of water. I chose an open crossing as I am way too familiar with the coastline of Stor Øen having paddled it many times now. Whereas Uummannaq fjord is pretty sheltered by the Nuugssuaq peninsula it can still be adventurous paddling in iceberg choked waters. Sadly, a couple of weeks before I started, three young men lost their lives when, we presume, their boat hit a wooden pallet lying flat in the water. Their bodies have yet to be found. Being aware that local people have lost their lives in the very water I was paddling is very humbling. Whilst wanting to make the safest crossing at the shortest point at all times I also wanted to avoid large concentrations of ice. As I could clearly see a channel between the bergs for the 18(ish)km ahead of me, I decided to go for it.

Lars Gram of Gram Kajak in Denmark heard of my expedition on Facebook and he generously offered me a Greenlandic Paddle to use on the expedition. When paddling canoes I have always favoured a wooden paddle for both aesthetic and performance reasons. When kayaking, however, I have been won over by the lightweight carbon fibre models that glide through the water. I was a little sceptical about paddling with Lars' Greenland Paddle. I know what you are thinking ... I live in Greenland, surely I should at least try a traditional paddle, especially as I have made sure people see my Folbot folding kayak as a modern interpretation of the Greenlandic skin-on-frame qajaqs. With this in mind I gratefully accepted Lars' offer and arranged for him to deliver it to Lise and Sander in Denmark and they would send it on the ship with our other goods when Jane visited them in May. I just thought I could try the paddle a few times and then strap it onto the kayak and get back to my carbon fibre wonder-paddle.

The above picture is VERY misleading, but fitting if you want to believe that I ditched the wooden paddle at the earliest opportunity. The tape around my finger is from my sacrificial blood-letting the night before. Whereas I did get a few blisters from using the Greenlandic Paddle in the beginning it was nothing I did not expect and was more likely a result of technique than anything to do with the paddle.

I have to say I am a convert. I LOVE the traditional Greenland paddle! (I even took it as baggage on the flight to Qaanaaq.) It took me some days to stop twisting my wrists with each stroke - I am used to a feathered paddle. It took several more days to begin to work up a good rhythm and enjoy the effortless paddling that it allows. Not once did I use my carbon fibre paddle. I started paddling with Lars' paddle from that bloody first day and I stopped using it only when I arrived back in Uummannaq twenty-four days later. During all of the days paddling and especially the long stretches, I would need to stop to stretch my legs before I ever felt the need to rest my arms. Thanks Lars! And to Fat Paddler ... you were right!

I have always said that I paddle after midnight to avoid the worst of the mosquitoes and tourists. Actually, I paddle mostly at night as I used to think that the weather was more stable and it was always cooler. There were many nights when the weather was not so stable, but the worst part of paddling after midnight was sleeping through the day - the heat was unbearable!

Brace yourselves for a scary image, me, naked, sweating in a tent. Not pleasant I can tell you. During the start of the expedition I slept a lot. Okay, I admit that I slept a lot during the entire expedition, I could have easily made it shorter, but the truth is I enjoy the wilderness as it is there that I truly relax. As I sleep so much out there I need more days to enjoy the scenery and wildlife. Sleeping during the heat of the day was not good. At this particular campsite, a little to the left of Reasonably Flat Rock I definitely got a little feverish and dehydrated. The root of the problem would be arriving in camp around five or six in the morning, eating dinner, reading too much (I can thoroughly recommend "A Game of Thrones" - thanks to Jes for suggesting it!), and then finally falling asleep around nine in the morning, just as the Arctic starts warming up.

Sweating through a fever during the day does have some benefits. It is during the night that the wildlife is most active and the light is better for taking photos too. On the days and nights when I didn't paddle I would often wake to the yip of an Arctic Fox declaring its' territory. Scrambling out of the tent we would stare at one another for a few minutes until one of us blinked. He, or she, would then turn tail and scamper off only to stop again to see if I was coming. We played this game over many nights, different campsite, different fox, same behaviour.

All in all the expedition was progressing very well: already by day two I was slick with a layer of salt and sweat, turning my days into nights, abandoning modern technology and flirting with foxes of unidentifiable sex.
What could possibly go wrong?

Day 1 - a sacrificial start

2010-08-10T18:06:00.000-02:00

I just knew the start of TSS2010 was going to be hard. Travelling as a censor, finishing the school year, quitting my job and accepting a new position, submitting my MA project and taking the exam, packing our house down and preparing to move to Qaanaaq ... As it turned out I had little time for anything to do with the expedition. Unfortunately it took a seriously distant second place to everything else I had to achieve before the 25th of June, 2010. I was unprepared, out of shape, stressed and suddenly very alone and homeless to boot. Perhaps the only good thing about Jane, my wife, leaving on holiday and us handing in the keys to our house was the fact that I was forced to leave if only to find somewhere to sleep.

On the morning of the 25th we were still cleaning the house before it was inspected by the housing company we rented it from. By midnight I was ready to leave, and Lars Poort found me by the harbour waiting to launch as a family of several people and just as many boats celebrated their ten-year-old son's first seal that he had shot himself while his uncle butchered it in the water by the slipway. The expedition started with me and my Folbot Kodiak folding kayak bathed in blood, a fitting tribute to Sedna for a safe journey. The only problem was, it wasn't my offering. I wondered if that would count for or against me in the coming weeks at sea?

As intended, I only paddled as far as Stor Øen that first night/morning of the 26th of June. I believe that long journeys should start slowly as I once read that nomads in the desert start by travelling just a mile or so the first day so that they do not have far to return should they have forgotten something. Sentimental crap or desert wisdom, you decide, but I was very pleased to arrive at my first camp after only 8km on the water. I could still see the island of Uummannaq, my home for four very interesting years of my life, but I was very focused on the journey ahead of me and chose to look south as a rule. The landing was annoying as I fought with the tide, a sloped piece of rock and an overweight paddler and payload. It could only get easier.

I often make life more difficult for myself when paddling as I insist on pulling the kayak high up away from the water. If an iceberg calves in the immediate or even far distance it can send a huge wave crashing repeatedly onto the shore and surrounding coastline. I didn't want to have to stop the expedition because of a stupid mistake - more about that later - and certainly not on the first night. I had spent the past few days going over my safety plan and route with Jakob and Taatsiaq from Uummannaq Police, and I was going to do everything to ensure a safe trip. I think it was "big sister" Eva that suggested I should have a safe, and uneventful - as in no dangerous events - trip. I had promised many people to do just that.

Of course, I could still screw up royally!

I am fond of knives. Ever since my canoeing days, poring through Bill Mason's brilliant Path of the Paddle and Song of the Paddle books and films, I have appreciated a good knife when out in the wilds. My current knife of choice when in camp is a Gerber "Big Rock Camp Knife". It is a solid piece of metal and feels good in the hand. Having fastidiously sharpened everything that needed sharpening during the little preparation I did before the start, I seemed to have forgotten to sharpen my wits. Washing the dishes that very first night/morning I cleaned the Gerber and sliced a rather impressive chunk out of my index finger while doing so. It bled well, so well that I needed something quick to soak up the blood. Nearing the tent on the way back from the stream with my bloody hand I saw the mini Greenland flag I had brought along for the expedition. Wrapping my hand tightly in the flag I contemplated my expedition start. The bloody start had continued and now, at least, I had shed some of my own blood in the hope that Sedna, Goddess of the Sea, might keep an eye on me.

She needn't wait too long, were my thoughts before crawling into my sleeping bag in the early hours of the morning.

TSS2010 Teaser Video

2010-07-25T12:49:00.000-02:00

Here's a teaser video for the period I am without a computer. Be sure to check out the Greenlandic band Nanook!

Back Home!!

2010-07-21T15:45:00.002-02:00

Paddled thru the fog to journey's end yesterday

Welcome Home!

2010-07-20T12:33:00.003-02:00

Paddled through the fog yesterday and arrived at journey's end. It has been a brilliant experience which I will begin to share on the blog as soon as I can.

The journey's end!

2010-07-18T11:08:00.000-02:00

Sitting by the sea just outside Qaarsut, I can see journey's end. I will strart the last paddle around midnight. Then comes the hard part - writing about it!

Fog

2010-07-18T10:14:00.001-02:00

Trapped by fog, surrounded by midges, melting bergs to do the dishes!

Heading for Qaarsut

2010-07-18T04:13:00.001-02:00

I’m getting ready to leave Ikorfat, heading for Qaarsut. Lots of whale bones here but no whales yet.

Leaving Niaqornat

2010-07-16T05:15:00.002-02:00

Leaving Niaqornat - overcast but good seas.

Rain!

2010-07-14T18:45:00.001-02:00

In tent, wind and rain outside. All ok, just not going anywhere. Melting chunks of iceberg for water and coffee. Reading scifi and fossil hunting.

Niaqornat

2010-07-13T18:46:00.000-02:00

In niaqornat - will paddle when wind stops.

Boat to Niaqornat

2010-07-13T07:38:00.000-02:00

I have a quote on my blog: "throw out plan A and plan B, just relax!" Leaving Uummannaq today I ran into big waves! (Trying to edit a video for you to see.) I got into to town but no further. Flexibility is the name of the game and in that spirit I will sail on a boat to Niaqornat tomorrow morning - thanks Arne, & slee...p in Birthe's guest room tonight - thanks Birthe! I guess now I am just left with the "relax" part!

Last leg!

2010-07-12T04:54:00.000-02:00

Leaving for Qaarsut later today. Weather good with light wind. Have enjoyed lots of good food and now ready for last leg.

In Sermitsiaq's online news service

2010-07-10T23:44:00.002-02:00

I found out from Saamu that the expedition has been noticed by the editors at Sermitsiaq online news service. You can see the Greenlandic and Danish versions here:

Greenlandic

Danish

Here's the English translation:

One-man kayak expedition in Uummannaq A British born English teacher from Uummannaq is these days on a one-man kayak expedition to five of the city's seven districts.

By the editors from 10 07 2010 - 13:16
The expedition called The Seven Settlements Solo Kayak Expedition and the man behind the name Chris Paton and is 37 years.

The goal was to paddle 450 km in kayaks around Uummannaq Fjord and Uummannaq visit all seven villages. The expedition, however, run into problems, and now Chris Paton decided to confine myself to visit five villages.

- Satellite equipment is useless and so is part of the seal on my wet suit was destroyed. Compared with the much fog that makes it dangerous to sail around among the icebergs, I have decided not to cross the fjord to the more northern settlements, writes Chris Baton on his blog.

The route is now limited to 320 kilometers, which means 24 days at sea. Kayak expedition focuses on Greenlandic culture and nature.

- Likewise, I see and meet the people I have come to love and respect. The descendants of the first kayak sailors who still cherishes the noble art of kayaking, writes Chris Paton.

Chris Paton is BA in Outdoor Education from University of Strathclyde and a Danish teacher graduated from Jelling Seminarium. He has since 2006 taught English at Edward Kruse School in Uummannaq.

The story so far ...

2010-07-10T16:13:00.000-02:00

During this brief period of R&R in Uummannaq I have found the time to upload a few photos from the expedition so far. I fully intend to write a more detailed account once I have finished and relocated to Qaanaaq. However, although the mobile has been good for sending some photos from the trip I wanted to give you a better idea of the arctic landscape through which I am paddling.

While there have been many icebergs there are fewer, in my opinion, than I have seen during my previous paddles. They are however rather big. It is difficult to put their size into context but I imagine many of them to be the size of supermarkets (European) with a few moderately sized shopping malls (USA) in between. You just can't see it in photos - you need to paddle past them. The icebergs in these pictures have come from the glacier deep in Uummannaq fjord, close to the settlement of Ikerasak.

There is a reasonably diverse range of flora and fauna, though most vegetation is limited to small plants or trees and bushes stunted in growth. The flower below is known as "Grønlandsposten" but without my guide book I can't tell you much more than it is quite common and I think it is the national flower of Greenland - I'll check!

These guys, below, are all over and they seem to announce their presence whenever they come into an area where I am camped. I have made a point of peeing around my tent to mark my territory! I'm not sure it was absolutely necessary but Farley Mowat did it when researching wolves in Arctic Canada ... and if it works for him, well, I have to do it, eh?

I will be sure to add more photos as soon as possible. The next phase of the expedition begins on Monday as I paddle on to Qaarsut and Niaqornat. Having checked in with the local Police yesterday I am once again pleased to have made the decision to change my geographical goals, especially as three young men died tragically in a boating accident after hitting some ice - we think - about a week before I started. Sadly, their bodies have yet to be found.

The other goals of the expedition - solo, independent travel by Folbot folding kayak are going very well. I am getting well-used to the kayak and have yet to find fault with it. The "hole" in the kayak mentioned earlier turned out to be very minor and the amount of water in the boat had more to do with hasty, wet entries than leakage. I have found that when on a beach free of midges I pack and trim the boat well, and quickly. That results in a good paddle. Packing from a difficult position, plagued by biting insects usually results in a poorly trimmed boat and potential frustration in wind and waves. With a well-trimmed boat, with the weight well distributed, I have no need for the rudder - the Folbot Kodiak glides through the water. I have therefore little need for the rudder. Unfortunately, I think I am a little long in the leg to use the rudder without experiencing some discomfort after a long paddle. The night of Thursday through to Friday morning, 12 hours or so of paddling, however, was pleasant, although I experienced seaman's legs when trying to walk around town the following day!

I have also gotten used to paddling with Gram Kajak's wooden Greenland paddle and find it very enjoyable to paddle with. The combination therefore of well-made modern equivalents of traditional skin-on-frame qajaqs and handcrafted paddles is proving to be very harmonious. Huge thanks to Folbot and Lars Gram!

I'll post more when I can.

12 hours paddle!

2010-07-09T17:14:00.001-02:00

After 12 hour paddle I’m finally in my tent making pasta for breakfast. Totally knackered after effects of iceberg calving and being chased by hungry dogs on island!

Going for it!

2010-07-09T13:13:00.000-02:00

All well. Heading for Uumannaq – conditions are too perfect not to go for it.

2010-07-08T17:19:00.000-02:00

Heading for Uummannaq before paddling on to Qaarsuut

Ukkusissat

2010-07-07T18:51:00.001-02:00

Decision time in ukkusissat. going for 5 settlements not 7. playing it safe. taking no chances.

Decision time

2010-07-06T18:41:00.000-02:00

Having been stalled by fog I have had time to think. Considering the satellite is useless (if just charge it only has a lifespan of one minute maybe), I have torn the wrist seal on my dry suit and the fog. (Last time paddling in the fog was like playing Russian roulette, I could hear icebergs calved but I had no idea when they where, how far away and the direction of the wave!) I am going to change my plan. I will retrace my route to Saattut then head for Niagornat via Uumannaq. I will avoid the two big crossings and visit 5 not 7 settlements. I have never been to Niaqornat. This is a safer plan and easier on the bum. I can’t use rudder without cramp – weird but relevant on crossings. If I continued my plan doing the big crossing I’m was looking at 8 to 10 hours strait using the rudder, not a nice thought. I paddle without rudder now. The Folbot Kodiak and I are now ‘one’ and I have yet to let go of Gramkajak’s gl paddle – no more blisters! New plan = 320 km. and 24 days on the water, a good test of the Kodiak’s expedition ability. Icebergs are still high on my ‘to avoid’ list though they don’t seem to have got the memo! Chris

Paddled through fog

2010-07-05T14:40:00.004-02:00

All well here. Still midges! Saw 3 littel arctic fox cubs. Paddled through fog - unavoidable, bit like midges. Hotel in France sounds nice right now.... (my mom is in France :-))

Getting water outside ukkusissat

Paddled through fog last night

Continuing the trip!

2010-07-02T17:35:00.000-02:00

Chris called me (Lars) from Saattut, telling about the problem with the kayak. It had a small hole in the bottom maybe from a sharp stone or from sailing through ice. Which meant it was taking in to much water and Chris had to go on land to empty the kayak. But the problem is fixed now and he is continuing his trip. On his way to Saattut he told me about an iceberg the size of a village, that suddenly broke into 3 small village size icebergs and had send a big wave towards the kayak. He turned the kayak around it in time and was able to take it head on.

Shower

2010-07-02T03:21:00.000-02:00

Found a shower in saattut, it was needed!

Saattut

2010-07-02T03:08:00.003-02:00

Am now in saattut despite gear problems

Hole in the Kayak

2010-07-01T09:53:00.000-02:00

Chris called me (Lars) on his satellite phone last night, and left a message: I’m fine, but the kayak has a hole in it, and the wind is picking up, so I have to go on land. I’m fine but it will take a few days before I’m on the water again. I’ll contact you if the situation gets any worse.

Time to move on!

2010-06-30T13:28:00.001-02:00

The weather has improved, tent is dry – it is time to move on and make up for lost time. Just need to finish my maple walnut coffee and get may head out of the book!

Freshly-baked blueberry bannock!

2010-06-30T13:10:00.001-02:00

Raining

2010-06-29T14:40:00.001-02:00

Still raining & fog – I am going nowhere. I don’t like the Idea of calving icebergs & not being able to see them! Just have to read more ‘game of thrones’ :)

Ikerasak

2010-06-29T13:58:00.002-02:00

bald in ikerasak! overcast - perfect 4 paddlin!

bald in ikerasak! overcast - perfect 4 paddlin!

Moving on

2010-06-28T13:54:00.000-02:00

looking back but moving on - next stop ikerasak!

Toughening up!

2010-06-27T12:39:00.002-02:00

Getting used 2 gram kajaks beautiful gp - soft hands need toughening up!

Ikerasak Island

2010-06-27T12:19:00.002-02:00

I’m in my tent on Ikerasak island with determined mosquitoes, thinking about bursting the blisters on my hands. 4½ hours paddle past monster bergs.

Paddling has started

2010-06-26T05:31:00.003-02:00

I’m in my tent after a long paddle through headwind and choppy sea. I just downed 1 liter tang and some chocolate. It’s 4 a clock a night and time for bed. Outside I can hear a whale, good night!

The route

2010-06-21T12:24:00.000-02:00

The route is taking shape. I have decided to drop the portage in favour of exploring a secluded bay instead.

There is still plenty to do and there is so little time. However, I hope to be on the water in the early morning of the 24th June.

30 days at sea

2010-06-19T18:54:00.000-02:00

Between packing boxes, moving freezers, serving coffee and Skyping with the family, Jane and I managed to get my food packed for the expedition today. Jane has been brilliant finding food in Denmark and online and getting it all here in time, before the house disappears into small containers bound for the far North of Greenland.

While I have been preparing blueberry and savoury bannock mixes Jane has been vacuum-packing pasta and Tang. She has also pre-dried vegetables and chicken ready to be popped into pasta and sauce dishes or added to couscous.

It takes a bit of time but it is very satisfying to see 30 days of food come together. Of course, there is plenty of room - I hope - for luxuries ...

The final daily ration looks something like this:

Oats for breakfast
Fresh-baked bannock bread with butter and tuna for lunch
Couscous or pasta and sauce with home-dried meat and vegetables for dinner with Cadbury's chocolate for dessert.
Assorted drinks like Tang and Cappucino with a cup-a-soup each day.

It doesn't look like much to get through a long day of paddling, but then you haven't seen what I have been squirrelling away in the pockets of my BA!

The bergs are back ...

2010-06-17T19:07:00.001-02:00

... they never actually left but now it won't be long before I am paddling among them.

It is crazy at the moment with exams, graduation and packing our house for the upcoming move to Qaanaaq - yes, it is official now. However, my food for the trip that Jane bought in Denmark has arrived and so has the paddle from Gram Kajak - although I have yet to actually see it.

When I have more information about the Seven Settlements expedition I will post it here, I am just a bit snowed under with ... well, with everything at the moment! ;O)

Watch this space.

I Love Adventure

2010-06-08T08:44:00.000-02:00

TSS2010 on the front page of Air Greenland's "I Love Adventure" webpage. I have to admit thought that anyone can make a profile on this page! So, it is not an endorsement, just a means of spreading the word!

Ice Free!

2010-05-19T18:44:00.000-02:00

There is a lot going on right now ... too much. But the expedition should be due to start around the 22nd/23rd of June, weather and ice depending. However, as you can see, the ice situation today is pretty good for paddling.

Further and Farthest North!

2010-04-20T14:02:00.000-02:00

A time will come in later years when the Ocean will unloose the bands of things, when the immeasurable earth will lie open, when seafarers will discover new countries, and Thule will no longer be the extreme point among the lands. SENECA, from the Introduction of "Farthest North" by Fridtjof Nansen, 1897

It's no secret I am a bit of a fan of Nansen. Hell, even my dog is called Nansen! But while tidying up the house recently I rediscovered Nansen's book Farthest North and I was immediately reminded of our own coming adventures. Adventures bookmarking the TSS2010 expedition.

Jane and I thought that Uummannaq was pretty damn far North but in May I'll be travelling further North to Upernavik and then on to Kullorsuaq in connection with the oral examinations in Geography and English.

Kullorsuaq is located just below the start of the diagonal line to the right of the text: Baffin Bay.

This will be Further North but Farthest North will be when Jane and I move to Qaanaaq ready to start the new school year at Avanersuup Atuarfia.

Yep, 2010 is gonna be busy!

You can read more about Fridtjof Nansen and Hjalamar Johanson's catamaran kayak on Thomas Armstrong's fantastic blog, 70.8%.

Arctic Crossing - inspiration

2010-04-14T06:22:00.007-02:00

Two quotes from a great book that sounds oh so familiar when reading it here in Greenland.

"With a soaking wet rear end, I wonder how to define the Northwest Passage. Although five different water routes pass through Canada’s northern islands, most are locked in sea ice year-round. I have chosen the most southern and ice-free passage, hugging the warm and silted roof of North America. As I begin paddling out into the ocean, I decide to impose only two conditions for continuing each day: I have to be able to handle being alone psychologically, and I have to be safe."

"The message I got was that this trip would kill you if you didn’t take your time and listen to Inuit. There’s no margin for error as a soloist."

Jonathan Waterman, "Arctic Crossing"

No heroics

2010-04-05T10:52:00.005-02:00

This is in many ways a personal journey. In preparing for it I imagine I am going on an extended summer kayak holiday, like I have done with Jane, and alone, the past three summers. I want to keep it simple and I want to keep it safe.

Just like last year I will be leaving a detailed plan of my route and personal information with the local police and agreeing with Lars, in Denmark, as to how I keep in touch, and how he will update the different web pages that enable friends, family and interested folk to follow the expedition.

Is "expedition" the correct word for this journey? I believe it is in that I will be exploring the culture of the Greenlandic people living in Uummannaq fjord, and, not least, exploring my own self and discovering who I really am when completely alone.

Just how alone will I be? This aspect of the journey seems to be an interesting topic of speculation amongst several people I know. I will be alone in the fact that I am paddling and camping by myself. I am responsible for my own safety and my own actions. Is it risky to paddle alone? Sure it is. But it is a calculated risk. I have considered the pros and cons of travelling alone and I believe it is a risk worth taking, one that I would not even consider were it not that I felt I had the skills and experience necessary to safely complete the journey. Thus the mental preparation is just as important as the physical and logistical. I have to know I can do this.

The concerns and interest of others are important especially as they give me good reason to evaluate my plan again and again. However, if I can process the questions raised and then give qualified answers that justify my continued argument for going ahead with my plans then I am confident I can do so. Again, I would not undertake this journey if I did not think I could do so safely. I believe that one should not enter a wilderness area without the skills to get safely out of it again - without help.

I have been paddling canoes and kayaks in remote areas for many years now. I started as a teenager paddling unfinished canoe shells made by Pyranha on the Bridgewater Canal near my home in Preston Brook, England, UK. I dreamed of paddling wilder waters while I negotiated grumpy fishermen casting their long lines from the banks of the canal. Uummannaq is a long way from the Bridgewater Canal in almost every way. Thankfully I have put a lot of river, lake and sea miles under my hull since then.

There are of course unseen events that may play a role in my journey and these are to be expected. The trick is to adapt to the unpredictable and change one's plan accordingly in order to be safe. If the weather kicks up and I am at sea then I will take the shortest and/or safest route back to land depending upon the conditions. If I am stuck in camp for a few days because of the weather then so be it. If I cannot reach a settlement because of the ice conditions or sheer size and concentration of icebergs then I will not force it. Large open crossings will be attempted when I am well-rested and the conditions are favourable. You get the picture.

However, it is local knowledge that is my not so secret weapon in this endeavour. I am meeting with local hunters and people who sail the waters regularly to ask their advice, plot strong tides and tricky areas on my map, and, not least, hear their stories and adventures from decades of sailing in Uummannaq fjord. I may see these same hunters, fishermen and tourist boat skippers as I paddle. In fact I count on it. With 24hour sunlight it would be surprising not to meet someone fishing at 4am on a Thursday morning!

The bottom line is that after all my preparation, choice of equipment, drying of food, gathering of knowledge, training, you name it, if the unexpected happens then I deal with it in that moment and react accordingly.

No heroics.

Just keep paddlin'.

Oh yeah, and enjoy every damn minute of it! :O)

Bert's Atcama Crossing 2010

2010-04-04T13:26:00.000-02:00

Better late than never - my post that is, not Bert's finishing position. I have followed Bert's preparation for the Atacama Crossing 2010 with great interest. Dealing with pre-challenge knee injuries and an earthquake prior to the start of the race can't have been easy. Bert just took it all in his stride and got down to the business of running. You can read all about it on Bert's web page Inuksuk.

As Bert continues to be a great source of inspiration and support for me in my coming adventures, I just wanted to take the time to encourage you to head on over to Inuksuk and follow his exciting career in the world of adventure and human endeavour.

It's that kind of day

2010-03-14T14:43:00.000-03:00

You know the kind of Sunday that feels like it is going slowly and yet, because you're not getting anything done, it is speeding by? No? You're lucky!

This particular Sunday is rapidly dissolving into very little of anything much at all.

Oh, well. Back to the grind!

Getting down to business!

2010-03-08T19:21:00.004-03:00

It's time to get serious.

I have been checking out the route and adding up the kilometres. Before calculating in any detours or back-paddling to avoid huge whales the kilometre total still stands at approximately 450km.

I have been looking into interesting variations on the route and emergency contingency plans should the weather or ice demand them. The most interesting variation is a portage of 3km (multiplied by the number of times I walk it!) to get from one fjord into another. I can pack the Kodiak into a large backpack and carry it overland to put in at a hunter's cabin opposite two huge glaciers. Jane and I visited this area a few years ago and walked the portage route. We didn't carry anything though. Jean-Luc Grossmann and his team portaged it on their 2007 expedition. I saw them off from Uummannaq that summer and wished I was going with them - this summer I will follow at least part of their paddle wake!

Jean-Luc's expedition comprised 4 guys in hardshell boats, paddling 600km over 45 days. I will be one guy, one folding boat and about 450km in about 30 days. I just hope I can take pictures at least half as good as Jean-Luc's!

Back to the drawing board ... I am also confident that I can get on the water at midnight on the 22nd June. Leaving Uummannaq and paddling an easy 8km over to Stor Øen. When I was reading a lot of desert literature in my late teens I came across a passage describing how nomads began long journeys by travelling just a very short distance the first night. In the event that they forgot anything when they struck camp, they could easily return for it. Whereas I don't intend to forget anything, I really like the camp on Stor Øen! Good memories of summer trips.

I will then paddle on to Umanatsiaq on Ikerasak island and then on, and on and on ...

Gram Kajak sponsors TSS2010!

2010-03-03T20:45:00.007-03:00

Today I received an email from Lars Gram of Gram Kajak. He would like to sponsor one of his beautiful Greenland paddles to be used on the TSS2010 expedition. A very generous offer I simply can't refuse!

From a paddling perspective I should experience a more efficient paddle allowing me to eat up the kilometres. From an aesthetic point of view, it would be crazy of me not to use a Greenland paddle. I have previously thought of making my own but I seriously lack even the most basic carpentry skills!

Be sure to check out Lars' range of Greenland paddles.

I am very excited about paddling The Seven Settlements with a modern skin-on-frame kajak from Folbot and to use a Greenland paddle from Gram Kayak!

Thanks Lars! You made my day.

Blogger Pages

2010-02-26T23:08:00.002-03:00

A relatively recent addition to Blogger, "Pages" are hopefully going to make this blog more dynamic. Of course, I'll still have to write interesting posts - could be difficult at the moment! I am not feeling poetically inclined. But, if the sea ice comes then maybe there will be plenty of pre-expedition stories to share about adventures on the ice.

Until then, keep an eye on the pages under the header as I add different bits of information relevant to the expedition.

Follow Bert's Atacama Quest!

2010-02-21T21:54:00.004-03:00

Not much happening here at the moment. We are still waiting for ice and hoping for the winter to start in ernest ... soon.

While waiting for winter in Greenland, or escaping the winter in your part of the world, you might want to check out Bert Poffé's preparations for the Atacama Crossing 2010.

Click on the picture above or here for the link.

Best of luck Bert!

Bubbles!

2010-02-13T00:15:00.008-03:00

Thinking of the coming summer I had a look through some of my whale video again. Besides scaring the crap out of myself I had fun trying to figure out if the bubbles I saw came from my paddle or the whale. At the end of this short video you can see just how big a bubble the humpback blows when it is feeding.

Modifying the Folbot Kodiak

2010-02-04T17:14:00.006-03:00

I am not known for being particularly good at practical projects. Nor am I known for repairing things neatly - if I repair something I can't hide the fact! My favourite material to work with is dental floss and I liberally thread it through everything, many times, until I think I have solved the problem - i.e. it is "fixed". Not pretty, but fixed!

Luckily, the Kodiak lends itself to plenty of subtle modifications without too much invasive surgery. Using brass rings found on tarpaulins - not very technical language here I know - I made a hole in the spray-deck to allow the rudder cables to pass through without rucking up the deck. The cables themselves have been switched out with good old Greenlandic fishing line - the metal cables proved too complicated for me! The line itself is encased in poly tubing used in aquariums.

A small carabiner and some parachute cord is used to hold the seat in the upright position when entering the boat. I have also made some small cuts through the seat in order to attach a Crazy Creek inflatable cushion to make life a little more comfortable. I learned quickly that too much air makes a cushion into concrete!

The aluminum frame is great for attaching gear and with some nylon webbing and assorted plastic fasteners I made a home for the camera drybag in the space under my knees.

It was so easy to install these straps that I can't wait to figure out what else I can "secure" to the boat in this way.

The sun might have returned but I have plenty of projects to occupy me during the winter before the expedition is scheduled to start.

Here Comes the Sun ... kind of

2010-02-04T16:34:00.002-03:00

Today saw the return of the sun in Uummannaq. A special day, even more so because of the 15 minutes extra sun/light we get each day now until the midnight sun sometime in May. We certainly have a lot more light now. Now all we need is the ice and some minus temperatures!

Of course, I did not have the camera with me to school today. So no pictures of the sun I am afraid. But last night, the Northern Lights were quite spectacular. I was too late to catch the different colours but I had plenty of green to keep me occupied.

About the only thing I could wish for during the expedition this summer is the the Northern Lights. They will be there, just invisible. However there should be plenty of other things to marvel at!

Mike & Francine speak Greenlandic!

2010-01-27T22:12:00.009-03:00

Introducing Mike and Francine for a bit of fun and shameless expedition promotion!

Here's Part I of Mike & Francine speaking Greenlandic.

Thanks to Bryan over at Nessmuking.com for the heads up about Xtranormal text-to-movie animation tools. I have to get busy now on the script for Part II where Mike and Francine conjugate Greenlandic verbs!

Wishing on a Sky Lantern!

2010-01-12T12:56:00.004-03:00

It takes one thoughtful mum and a lot of publicity on the tv to create a great entrance to the New Year, 2010, the year of The Seven Settlements kayak exped! We launched four of these biodegradable beauties on the 4th of January, each one carrying wishes for the coming year.

As the latter half of 2009 was pure survival, from a non-kayaking point of view anyway, it is with some expectation that we are all looking forward to 2010. However, inspired by a Slovakian (I think) big-river-swimmer I saw in a television documentary, I would like to paraphrase and share the wisdom of his river boat captain:

There are 3 things you should do ...

1. Throw away plan A
2. Throw away plan B
3. Just relax!

I honestly don't know or can't remember in what context he related such pearls but, I have taken them to heart!

With 170 days (ish) before expedition start I have plenty to keep myself occupied with, not least: getting in shape! But with the last of the four sky lanterns I would like to wish everyone embarking on or currently participating in expeditions in 2010 Happy Trails and many interesting adventures!

Clim-ATIC!

2009-12-10T23:04:00.003-03:00

Now that the ice is beginning to form - yes, really - I have no kayaking stories to tell. The Folbot Kodiak is packed away for the winter and the carbon-fibre paddle really doesn't need sanding and varnishing. However, I could make a "ditch kit" as suggested by Bryan over at Nessmuking. Brilliant article.

But, I have opted for a little more Arctic News. I am currently in the process of finalising my participation on a course for teachers in Lycksele, Lapland in February next year. As more details become available I'll post them here. In the meantime, check out the Clim-ATIC website for information about this forward-thinking group.

International Polar Foundation, Part II

2009-11-02T19:50:00.002-03:00

If you are following my interview then I'd like to let you know that part two is now online at the International Polar Foundation's educational site: Educapoles.

I have really enjoyed my relationship so far with IPF and would like to thank Clémentine Rasquin for collaborating on this project which is not quite finished yet! My 8th grade students and I are working on a presentation which we hope will be ready during the ice season.

International Polar Foundation

2009-10-13T19:40:00.004-02:00

For something completely different; less kayaking anyway, click here to read the first part of an interview I did with the International Polar Foundation for the educational website.

Our backyard!

2009-09-27T18:48:00.004-02:00

The kayak season might be over - almost - but it is now the perfect time of year for walking the dog. It is too hot for a Greenland Sledge Dog to run in the mountains during the Summer, but Autumn is balmy with temperatures just slightly above and then slightly below freezing. The mountain is right outside our front door and we are on it within the few minutes it takes to get the dog off the chain and on the lead. Perfect!

The snow cover is also enjoyable with plenty of exposed rock to walk upon. Soon, however, we will have more snow, and then the walks get interesting! With ice just beneath the surface you need crampons to walk the dog! Then we get more snow and you need to switch the crampons for snowshoes and some serious gaiters. Nansen, my dog, doesn't have any problems.

As the sun starts to disappear the walks will be confined to the two hours of twilight we get each day during December and January. The ravens remain throughout the winter, teasing the dogs and stealing the fish we hang up to dry. They are clever birds though, I have to give them that!

I have to get out in the kayak at least one more time next week before flying to Ilulissat and Nuuk for a course. The winds are picking up but maybe there will be a slight window of opportunity. I'll swap my oatmeal that morning for a spoonful of cement as a famous paddler once suggested! ; )

Sleet, snow, hail ... and brief moments of reprieve!

2009-09-19T10:09:00.003-02:00

Yep, winter is upon us. The paddling season is drawing to a close as it gets darker and colder and generally less pleasant on the water. I had a quick paddle on Wednesday and had the pleasure of a Fin Whale for company, surfacing just a few metres in front of my kayak. The prospects of paddling this weekend though look very bleak - it is hailing as I write.

The "mothership", our very own Umiak, cunningly disguised as a Folbot Greenland, is now washed and ready for storage over the winter. I say "ready" because it hasn't actually got beyond the kayak rack on the deck outside our house. I have to wait for another dry spell ...

Sledge dog puppies were curious about this rubber whale. They didn't get the chance to chew on it though like they have done my Folbot Cooper!

Back on the water. the light is fading. The winter dark will soon be in effect and it really is all about enjoying the daylight hours before they dissapear altogether.

Have you seen the Great White Whale?

2009-08-28T19:32:00.003-02:00

Getting too much of a good thing can drive you a little crazy at times. Full of adrenalin having spent two nights with the whale I decided to take whale watching to the next level ... underwater!

At the risk of frightening the whale with my lilly livered cheeks I chose not to stay in the water all that long - in and out in less than 25 seconds. Inspired by some crazy Norwegians on TV I decided to document this asspicious occasion. The camera was still running when I surfaced and exited. My caring and supportive wife asked later if I really felt it necessary to "cover up"!

I now fully appreciate why one should wear a drysuit when paddling up here!

It's getting cold!

2009-08-22T11:05:00.003-02:00

It is getting colder here in Uummannaq. Last year we had snow already in September so I am anticipating the end of the paddling season soon(ish).

Whilst the Folbot Kodiak has been cleaned and packed away I am still paddling the Cooper and enjoying the massive icebergs that have been plying these waters the past few weeks.

You might also be interested in finding out how Sean Smith is getting on with his Folbot Cooper in Alaska and be sure to check out Bert Poffé's new and improved webpage with lots of information about past and upcoming adventures.

Meanwhile, I will try and get on the water this weekend - see if I can catch a whale!

Slow Motion Screenshots

2009-08-04T15:08:00.002-02:00

No text needed really ...

Geez ... more whale!

2009-08-04T13:44:00.006-02:00

I like this one because you get to see the whole of the whale's head, albeit briefly.

I have about one and a half to two hours of whale footage. These short videos of a couple of minutes each are the bitesize chunks!

Telephone Book or Outdoor Brochure?

2009-08-04T10:54:00.005-02:00

Just in the door, the new TelePost "brochure"!

It's a great telephone directory. Very thin and acts like a family tree. Jane was often surprised to see staff reading it during a break but I am sure it is a great way to find out where people you know have moved. With only 57, 500 + people, it's not all that impossible!

I just like the cover.

Hide & Seek

2009-08-01T11:35:00.004-02:00

Another short whale video with the humpback and me playing hide and seek between the icebergs. While not as dramatic as the previous video you can clearly see the whale fluke when he dives.

The Kodiak - the verdict

2009-07-31T18:46:00.006-02:00

I had a pretty good idea what to expect of the Folbot Kodiak having paddled the double Greenland II and the single, leaner Cooper. But I was still pleasantly surprised at both the similarities and the differences between the three Folbot kayaks. The Kodiak is as easy to build as the Greenland with great volume. However, the Kodiak is similar to the Cooper in terms of speed and tracking. It fits well inbetween the two models.

Whilst not intended as a professional review of the Kodiak, here's a quick run down of the more important points I found - in no particular order:

Seating Position/Cockpit
I had already imagined what it would be like to sit for a long time in the Kodiak as I know from experience that my bum usually goes to sleep and then my legs start to ache after a couple of hours in the Cooper. The standard seat is mainly to fault but this is, and luckily was, easily remedied. Either buy the inflatable seat that Folbot now offers or make your own modification. I settled for an inflatable cushion - be careful not to inflate too much - and after some experimentation I found the right amount of air to provide a comfortable and higher paddling position.

The seat back needs a quick modification to secure it in the upright position to prevent it falling down when you enter the kayak. It can be a real pain to reposition the seat when sitting on it. Annoying but easily fixed.

My knees were often braced against the washboards of the cockpit but this was only a problem on the very first night of paddling. Most kayaks are modified to fit the paddler and the Kodiak is no exception. A bit of ensolite foam taped to the washboards should solve any future problem.

The Position of my legs was an issue at times as I felt there was little room for movement when I was using the rudder. Luckily, the Kodiak cockpit is large enough that you can pull back the spraydeck and lift your legs and move them around without making the kayak unstable. On longer crossings I will remember to make the spraydeck ready to be removed for this purpose.

Stability
The Kodiak has very good initial stability. It can, however, still be leaned relatively easily to assist "cornering", okay, turning, without feeling off balance. The inflatable longerons running along each side of the kayak help both in stretching the skin and provide built in bouyancy. I am sure it is possible to roll the Kodiak - never say never - but it will not be easy. It is more a question of recovery and self-rescue than rolling. I have yet to try that out - was too busy videoing whales!

Being flexible the Kodiak also absorbs waves very well. I did not experience rough weather but neither did I feel the small waves out on the water.

Speed and Tracking
Folding boats are not as fast as hardshell boats but I was pleased with the way the Kodiak responded from stationary starts, and the tracking is superb. I did have a problem with the rudder but more as a result of me tying the rudder lines than anything else. Something I need to work on.

Packing
Packing the Kodiak was a dream. Very quick, easy to experiment and position the weight for trim with good access and loads of room in the bow and stern. While only packed for five days, it was not necessary to have anything stowed on the deck of the kayak other than my deckbag.

Material and Quality
The Kodiak is well made and very tough. Although a tighter fit than the other models I have built and paddled, this is no bad thing considering the whole kayak feels solid and tight. The hull is made of hypalon and this seems to stand up well to abrasion from sand and ice. I can see no sign of damage on completion of this short trip and at no time did I stop to think I should take care of the hull - I paddled and "parked" carefree. It was also quick to build and for that reason the Kodiak should be easy to maintain. Folbot stock all the necessary replacement parts, should they be needed.

Portage/Handling
Whereas portage is not an issue it is neceessary to move the kayak relatively high up the beach so as not to lose it when a wave from a calving glacier or iceberg catches you unawares. Having to move the kayak it is nice to known that it is easy to do so, although I am sure I can refine the technique yet. The dry weight of the Kodiak is just under 24 kilos. At the end of a day of paddling, tired and wet, this is appreciated.

Watertight?
I had no water enter the boat during five days of paddling. However, I did not experience any rough weather either. But the skin does not leak; it sheds water well from the deck.

Conclusion
I am very confident that the Folbot Kodiak will perform well on the expedition next year. It does need a bit of fine tuning for comfort but then most kayaks do. It swallowed gear without feeling sluggish in the water, and it actually felt sporty on take-off. The fact that I could sit comfortably and enjoy the nature and yet feel secure amongst calving icebergs and feeding humpbacks felt really good.

One last thought ... why did I choose a folding kayak when there are so many hardshell kayaks to available? Well, the fact that they can carry a lot of weight without being very heavy, they absorb waves rather than bounce off them and, not least, I can store the kayak inside the house. We don't have a lot of storage options and it gets way too cold to keep things outside during the winter. The modern folding kayak is also very closely related to the Greenland skin-on-frame kayaks in terms of construction and it feels good to be paddling such a kayak alongside the traditional qajaqs in Uummannaq.

I feel I have chosen the right folding kayak for the expedition and looking forward to filling it up with gear and starting next summer!

Following this link you can see all the technical details concerning the Folbot Kodiak.

The Folbot Whale Magnet Part II

2009-07-26T09:54:00.007-02:00

You may have seen this video on the TSS 2010 Facebook page but if not here is another teaser of what happened on the second night of paddling!

I tend to paddle late at night during the summer; it is not quite so hot and the weather seems to be more settled. Starting often around 11pm I make my new camp anywhere from 2am to 7am depending upon how far I have to paddle. It was around midnight that I found the whale among the icebergs!

Watch out! Folbots are whale magnets!

2009-07-24T19:14:00.008-02:00

I have just got back from a short paddling trip to try out the Kodiak. I was very privileged to enjoy two nights in a row paddling alone with a humpback whale. Here's a short video clip from the first night.

More about the trip and the boat later.

Building the TSS 2010 Kodiak

2009-07-15T22:33:00.007-02:00

I thought I should record the process of building the Kodiak if only to show that it is indeed a kayak that comes out of a bag - two actually.

However, the dogs got bored and the kids playing hide and seek under the deck didn't seem all that interested. So, instead of 30-40 minutes of me sweating and puffing in the heat I thought I'd speed up the film and only take a few minutes of everybody's time ... unless you want to play hide and seek - don't let me stop you! ; )

Screwing the camera onto the neighbour's bathroom window was perhaps the most risky part of this daring documentary. I had no idea how I was going to explain myself in Greenlandic if they caught me. I haven't really figured out how I would explain myself in any language! Given the position of the camera you can perhaps appreciate why the film is "silent"!

Without further ado - here's the film:

The finished Kodiak was worth all the sweat. It was the sun on the deck rather than hard work that had me sweating. It really is a straightforward build, especially if you refer to the instructions once in a while - or a lot, as I did.

Everything clicks easily into place without the need to be heavy-handed. No tools are needed either. I have built three different brands of folding kayaks and canoes and the Folbot is by far the easiest and quickest. This is a bonus when the mosquitoes are out for blood!

All that remains now is to thread the rudder lines, attach the rudder and make my seat comfy. The Folbot standard seat is not comfy at all. They now make an inflatable optional seat, but I will use a lightweight thermarest placed on the seat with an inflatable cushion behind me.

Folbot included a spraydeck and skirt with the TSS 2010 Kodiak along with lots of other goodies like the rudder and a sail etc. I am excited to be using a Folbot kayak on this journey and very grateful to Folbot for agreeing to sponsor the expedition! A huge thanks to David and Co.!

From Hi-Tec to Low-Tec ... my wet shoes are an old pair of running shoes worn over my drysuit, seen here drying out after a quick trip in the GII the other night.

Sea Trials begin on Monday when I will be paddling solo for a week in Uummannaq fjord.

One year to go!

2009-07-01T21:36:00.005-02:00

The expedition ticker says there is one year to go before the start of the expedition. Suddenly it all seems so real!

Having just returned from a summer trip in the Folbot Greenland II (double kayak) I am looking forward to paddling the Kodiak on its maiden voyage in a few weeks time. Until then, here's a short video of paddling through ice left over from an iceberg calving.