Friday 16th August, Day 2: Strip wash

The day started with a strip wash.

Farewell to the caravan. 

Caravan viewed from the lake edge. 

The day started with a strip wash in the lake at about 7am. The water was no where near as cold as I imagined it would be.  This must have been the impact of all the warm weather Greenland had been experiencing.  The water wasn't warm enough for a relaxing soak, but it was warm enough for a refreshing dip without stealing one's breath.  Following our morning ablutions, we surveyed the map. The entire route is covered by three maps and there was a certain psychological boost to be had from crossing from one map to the next.  Route finding was pretty straight forward.  We skirted around the lake, climbed a small hill, dropped down and followed another lake. Whilst the navigation was straight forward, the route was undulating and, at times, exhausting.  At one point the path becomes very narrow with plenty of ups and downs traversing the edge of a steep sided lake. A stumble would definitely lead to a swim.  Three reindeer were sighted today which was nice, but unfortunately, the weather was beginning to deteriorate. It rained for most of the day.  At about the half way point for the day, the route dropped down to a boggy area of land between two distinctly shaped but not particularly high hills. the boggy ground is all that separates two lakes.  This flat area of bog between two hills is dissected by a narrow channel which is wide enough and deep enough to make the removal of boots and the donning of crocks a necessity. 

The flat boggy ground between the two hills.  First (small) river crossing.

The second of the two hills is actually a promontory jutting out from the bank on the opposite side of the lake. Once crossed we paused for a few minuted to take on some calories.  Once the ford had been crossed and we had eaten, we set off once again with the path climbing again providing fantastic views of where we had come from and of the more rugged mountains to the north.  

Cairn decorated with a scull. 

A distinct cairn 

One of the many cairns marking the route. 

After about four kilometres the path began to descend again to the southern shoreline of another lake.  The rising landscape to the left of us obscured the view of the next hut for some time.  As the route turned slightly to the right around the base of a small headland, the next hut, Katiffik came into view.  I for one was hoping to see a canoe parked up at Katiffik hut.  The hut is located at the eastern end of Amitsorsuaq lake.  

Just one of the views. 

At the far western end of the lake is the next hut referred to as the 'canoe centre'.  If one is lucky, hikers doing the Sisimiut to Kangelussuaq route will take advantage of one of the battered aluminium canoes and paddle the length of the lake leaving the boat for other hikers to use from Katiffik.  Sadly, if a canoe had been left at Katiffik, then who ever had reached the hut before us had used it to paddled back to the "Canoe Centre".  Katiffik hut is rather dark and small.  There is just the one little window so natural light is at a premium.  There is a small cooking area and a sleeping platform with enough room for three people on top and three below.  Small and dark it might have been, but it was dry.  We hung up our damp things, made some supper and started to read our books.  

The remains of reindeer 

About to set off from Katiffik 

After about an hour, the silence was disturbed by a group of university students consisting of four Czechs and a German (two boys and three girls). All, apart for one, were PhD students and the exception was studying for a masters degree. They were clearly bright and their command of the English language put our command of any foreign language to shame. The weather had deteriorated further and they had got caught out and one of the girls had slipped up to her waist in to one of the lakes.  They were all cold, tiered and wet.  We made as much room for them as possible and with typical English reserve, tried to stay out of their way as much as we could so they could sort themselves out. As night fell, a couple of the students had retired to sleep in their tent.  Little did they know how lucky they were. The floor of the hut became a mass of sleeping bags, packs and bodies.  The night was not a quiet one.  Richard's snoring was of earthquake inducing proportions. I was beginning to get use to it... sort of.  Those in the tent had the best nights sleep out of all of us. 

Richard and me by one of the many cairns with their distinct red semicircle 

Especially for Daryl; some Arctic fox poo. 

Katiffik hut and the lake 

Early sighting of the hut at Katiffik

The hut. 

A blurry picture of one of the many reindeer spotted.

Sculls of reindeer and a lake. 

Another blurry picture of another reindeer.  David Attenburgh has nothing to fear. 

            

   

Thursday 15th August. Day 1. The hike begins

It wasn't long after we had emerged from our tents that we were visited by one of the guys who had spoken to us the previous day. He was called Grant.  A nice chap who was clearly very knowledgeable about kit and assumed that we were less knowledgeable and in desperate need of his wisdom. A good 70% of what he said seemed to be a critique of our kit in comparison to his own. I had made the conscious decision that it was worth coming across as somewhat rude if it meant that I could crack on with sorting out my own breakfast, and my own kit in preparation for starting the hike.  Clearly Richard had made the same decision. Grant spoke at us for a while and then paused as if expecting a response.  There was none. I felt bad for not engaging him in conversation but I wanted to be absolutely sure that I had packed everything I needed and that anything I didn't need was packed in a small bag a locked in one of the lockers at the airport.  This had to be my priority.  So, if you are reading this Grant, it was great to chat to you and I'm sorry for ignoring you on the Thursday morning.  I'm sure, as a fellow trekker, he understands.
A quick visit to the loo at the airport saw me surrounded by that morning's new arrivals.  This seemed to included a small but significantly vocal group of Americans wearing their red-neck uniforms of Real Tree cammo. They had clearly come to shoot stuff. "we can go to the store to buy more ammo" said one particularly rotund member of the group. Either they were bad shots or they were here to kill a lot of stuff. Now, I appreciate that describing one of a group of American Red-neck hunters as rotund does not narrow down the choices much.  Rotundity is clearly a relative construct and the majority of the group would clearly fit that description.  However, by not adding any further description I hope to avoid being singled out one specific mammal slaughtering potential nutter.    Perhaps there was some hitherto undiscovered mammal which they were hell-bent on placing on the endangered or, if lucky, the newly extinct list.  
By about 11.30am we had donned our packs each weighing about 30kilos and had made a start on the trail. Cutting through the camp site we came across a tarmac road which lead to the Old Camp area of Kangerlussuaq.

Looking back towards Old Camp and the air port.

Heading up the hill leading away from Kangerlussuaq

The Old Camp was the initial settlement set up to house the workers who built the original airstrip. This is now a cluster of ramshackle buildings which includes the youth hostel.  The road took us through the Old Camp and as we left the settlement of Kangerlussuaq behind the road climbed gently and turned slightly north and away from the fjord on whose banks the settlement of Kangerlussuaq is built.  The road is followed passed a couple of small lakes before coming to a junction situated above a small harbour.  Here our route turns right onto a wide dirt track.  We are now heading North passed a small settlement which houses some of the workers from the harbour and further away from the fjord.  This small settlement consists of about ten dwellings, but there is no sign to announce its name nor is it named on the map.

The harbour as seen from the trail.

The track steepens as it reaches an even smaller settlement called Kelly Ville.  This is a cluster of dwellings which seem to be connected to the atmospheric research station which is a huge dish pointing straight up into the sky.  It's the sort of structure which would look more at home as the abode of some James Bond villain. The sign welcomes you to Kellyville and proclaims a population of 7 on the day we walked through.

The atmosphere research station at Kellyville.

The 'Papps of Kellyville'

In the area of Kellyville there are two large stone mounts on the right hand side of the track.  These have been painted and one can't help thinking that their resemblance to two large breasts is deliberate.

The sign welcoming people to Kellyville.

The track continues to climb where some huge concrete blocks can be seen.  On closer inspection, it is clear that these are the enormous anchor blocks for a long since dismantled aerial mast.  This is where the path leaves the dusty dirt track, this is where the Arctic Circle Trail officially starts. We stopped for lunch on one of the huge concrete anchor blocks.

The first cairn.

   

Me by the first cairn.

The caravan camping hut.

From the echo of the aerial mast, the path drops down into a valley below Mt Evans and skirts the southern edge of an unnamed lake.  The official start of the trail is marked with a cairn painted with what will become the very familiar red half circle of the Arctic Circle Trail. 

The path climbs gently for a short period before dropping down to the shore line of a lake called Hundesco.  On the southern edge of this lake we find the first of our camping huts which consists of a bastardised caravan which looks as though it has had a couple of garden shed stuck to the sides of it.  It has an almost post apocalyptic appearance. I almost expected to be greeted by some long lost hippy with crazy eyes smoking dope and expressing even crazier notions of alien abductions and government cover ups. The reality was somewhat less dramatic.

The caravan camping hut and the Hundesco lake.

However, given the long since disconnected switched and dials, it did look as though this eclectic outpost may have been established by the US military.  However, it's true original purpose is not clear.  There is a loo with a view (long drop style) in another small shed.  I can highly recommend "going" with the door open.  More light and you get a great view. The water in this lake is a bit salty but seemed ok to drink.  The weather for the last week or so had apparently been unusually warm which had had an impact on the temperature of the water in the lake.  As such it was more than warm enough for a much needed bath.  We were please with our progress today and decided to stay the night in the caravan and to try and make an early start in the morning.  We ate heartily this evening, partly because we were hungry but also in a determined effort to lighted our loads slightly.  We slept well.

The inside of the caravan.

Panoramic of the Hundesco lake and the caravan.

Day One. Wednesday 14th August.

Leaving the UK. 

All my plans for this adventure had involved me completing the trek on my own as a solo venture.  However, at the last minute, my good friend Richard had decided to join me much to the relief of my parents and my wife.  What was a solo adventure was now a two person mission.  Richard is a character to say the least.  He has the personality and behaviours one would associate with Victorian gentry.  He works as an English teacher at an independent school and for him modernity seems to be something that happened to other people.  Richard was due to fly out from Bristol airport but unfortunately his bag sparked off a security alert as he had neglected to purge his stove fuel bottle of petrol vapours.  Having missed his flight from Bristol he travelled to Gatwick and was on the verge of actually joining me on my flight which would have been great.  However, he had done nothing about the circumstances which had lead to the incident at Bristol. Hence, for Richard at least, events repeated themselves at Gatwick.  There was a heated exchange between Richard and the airline staff and I did my best to calm everyone down, but missing my own flight was not an option.  The airline staff informed me that my bag had been moved closer to the aircraft door just in case I decided to stay with Richard. Self preservation kicked in. "No" I said. "I am getting on that flight, if that's ok with you".  Richard was escorted to the security area where, apparently, he was asked to remove his stove fuel bottle. And that was the last I saw of him.  The delay meant that there was now no chance of him getting on to the same plane as me.  I apologised to the airline staff for Richard's behaviour which was out of character for him.  I was the last passenger to board the flight and I was instantly aware of stares from my fellow passengers who had witnessed Richard's verbal dexterity and who were clearly concerned about whether I posed a risk.  I smiled politely at them as if in some attempt to reassure them that I was not a risk to their flight.  I took my seat, avoided eye contact with everyone and flew to Copenhagen and then to Greenland on my own.
I had got into the mindset of doing this expedition on my own, and then I had changed my mindset once Richard had asked to join me.  I had become grateful for the fact that I would at least have some good humoured, intelligent company with me on the trail and that there would be an extra pair of eyes to help with navigation. Now, on the plane to Copenhagen, I was beginning to change my mindset once again to psych myself up for the hike being a solo affair once again.

Top Tip:

If you are flying overseas on a camping trip you need to think carefully about the sort of stove you want to take.  You will NOT be allowed to carry any form of fuel on the aircraft in any part of your luggage. So, if the availability of gas cylinders is unreliable in the area you are heading for, you are pretty much limited to a liquid fuel stove.  This needs to be properly prepared for the flight.  You need to burn off ALL the fuel that is in the stove's system.  The fuel bottle needs to be completely empty.  As any fire fighter will tell you, an empty fuel tank is actually more dangerous than one full of petrol because it's the vapours and not the liquid that pose the risk.  So, you need to purge any fuel bottle of all petrol vapours.  I took two fuel bottles with me and they didn't trigger a single problem, not even a question.  Several days before the flight, I emptied both bottles.  I then washed both of them out with warm soapy water.  To expel much of the vapour, I put a small amount of soapy warm water in the bottom of the bottles and then agitated them in order to fill the bottles with bubbles formed from the vapours. When the bubbles are rinsed out, they take a lot of the vapours with them.  After thoroughly rinsing out the bottles, I left them both outside in a sunny position with the lids off for a couple of days.  This allowed any remaining vapours to evaporate.  If it's not sunny, leave them (lids off) on a radiator.  I then packed both bottles with the lids off in a water proof bag close to the top of my pack.  This way, any x-ray could clearly see that the bottles were packed without lids and if there were any questions, I could get access to the bottles easily.  

Some of the utilitarian structures at Kangerlussuaq.

Sign at the airport 

A visit to the glacier.

The morning started with a visit to the bathroom at the airport to stock up on fresh water. My plan for today was to visit the glacier this afternoon and to use the morning to sort out my kit in preparation of starting the hike tomorrow.
I sat at the picnic table at the camp site drinking a cup of tea and reading my book.  I was enjoying the unusually warm weather.  Looking up from my cup, I saw Richard walking into the camp site with his pack on his back.  He had managed to get a later flight from Gatwick having had his fuel bottle confiscated.  He had had to purchase new flight tickets so his mistake with the fuel bottle proved to be rather expensive.  I was pleased to see him as it was good to be able to share this experience with someone, especially a good friend.  I persuaded Richard to sign up for the truck bus to the glacier.  There are a couple of options regarding a glacial visit.  You can visit an area called Russel's Glacier which is a glacial tongue.  You get to see the glacier but you don't get to touch it. Another trip visits an area called Point 660.  This takes you right on top of the glacier via a walk through an ever changing landscape of gullies, ridges and valleys formed and reformed from millions of tons of glacial rubble gauged from the landscape by the ever moving glacier.  This is the trip we decided to do and it didn't fail to impress.

The river from the glacier which can be seen in the distance.

Pretty pink flowers on the bank of the river.

The Russel's Glacier calves straight into the river.

The river, mud flats and the distinctive Sugar Loaf mountain.

The route roughly followed the banks of the river.  The river flows directly from the glacier carrying melt water and tons of sediment into the fjord.  The sediment creates huge mud flats, the character of which changes each time the river goes into flood.   If the ice goes through a period of rapid melt, this has, in the past created enormous and violent flood waters.  These flood waters have been violent enough to rip out the road bridge further down the river.  The route to the glacier also goes past a mountain called Sugar Loaf which stands out on the Kangerlussuaq skyline due its distinctive shape.

Pretty flower with ice crystals.

Reindeer print.

Melt water lake with the glacier off to the left.

The leading edge of Russell's Glacier

Me with Russell's glacier in the background.

Me on the shore of a melt water lake
with the glacier behind me.

The drive to Point 660 was spectacular.  We stopped at a number of points including a picturesque lake and the wreck of an USAF aircraft which crashed in the 1960s.  Apparently, a small group of aircraft had flown to Kangerlussuaq from the States and had flown straight into a thick snow storm.  Not only did the aircraft not have enough fuel for a safe return journey, but the airfield suffered a power cut and all the lights went out.  The aircraft crews couldn't land and they had no where else to go.  Each were told to fly a course over the airfield and to eject. All the crews were picked up safely, but their aircraft, crew-less and out of fuel, crashed in the surrounding hills.

The remains of a US aircraft crash

Aircraft wreck overlooking the river. 

Part of the tail section of the aircraft wreck.

We passed Inuit graves and a couple of research camps occupied by PhD Students from Columbia State University.  The truck bus stopped short of the glacier and we walked over the fractured moonscape of moraines looking like some huge chaotic stone quarry.

Me on the glacier.

Part of the glacial moraine near Point 660 

The Glacier's leading edge near Point 660

Melt water flowing across the glacier.

Before we knew it, we were walking on the ice.  The glacier stretched out before us disappearing over the eastern horizon. It's truly vast. I drank from one of the melt water streams.  The water tasted as you'd expect - fresh, clean and untainted by chemicals. The colour of the ice varied from white to blue and even black depending on the age and air content of the ice. On the return journey was passed the worlds most northerly golf course and then in the distance our attention was drawn to a small cluster of huge moving figures.  This was a small family unit of muskox; a male, at least two females and at least two calves.

The fragmented landscape in front of the glacier near Point 660.

Stepping foot on the glacier

Richard set against the glacier.

On our return to the camp site, we met two guys who had just completed the trail starting in Sissimiut.  As we were due to start our adventure tomorrow, we picked their brains for any useful hints and tips.  They talked a lot about their experience of the trail.  It was as if they had become somewhat trail crazy and were relishing the opportunity to talk to someone other than each other.  Perhaps this would happen to us! Their enthusiasm was great, but their presence began to grate on Richard and me just a little to begin with, but the irritation increased as they began to actively interfere with our own plans and preparations.  It was almost 11pm by the time these two guys had finished talking at us and we were beat.  Instead of talking about our own route and instead of me learning how to deal with any issues relating to Richard's diabetes, we just retired to our respective tents and went to sleep.  The weather today was pretty good.  Cloudy and cold but no rain.  The plan for tomorrow is to get up when we feel like it, sort out our kit, pack and hike.  Having our own tents gives us the independence to walk as much or as little as we like as you can camp anywhere.

Me on the glacier.

There be polar bears!!

As I try to get to sleep, my mind thinks about my short visit to the Kangerlussuaq museum before Richard turned up. One thing in particular sticks in my mind.  None of the guidebooks or articles I had read about the Arctic Circle Trail mentioned anything about polar bears.  Indeed, the impression I had was that polar bears had not been seen that far south for many many years. However, there, in the museum was the skin of a very large polar bear which had been shot on the outskirts of Kangerlussuaq in 2001, just 11 years ago! I couldn't help thinking about how many polar bears could go unnoticed for every polar bear spotted and shot. I thought about the geographical area and the population of Kangerlussuaq, and tried to estimate the probability of a polar bear being spotted in all that open space. The label in the museum stated that only two polar bears had been seen near to Kangerlussuaq since the late 1940s and that one of these had been in 2001. For me the key word was "seen". But just how many polar bears got to within sniffing distance of Kangerlussuaq without being seen?  Obviously no one knows.  This wasn't the comforting thought that I needed floating around my head as I tried to go to sleep.            

Finally it starts

The temperature outside is -48, but above the clouds the sun always shines. The inflight information presented on the back of the chair in front of me also informs me that we are at 38000 feet and traveling at a ground speed of 532mph. I glance out of the window on to the tops of a sea of clouds cunningly disguising the character of the weather below them. The dynamic map on the seat in front of me also informs me that we are about half way across the Southern part of Greenland. The pilot confirms that we are approximately 24 minutes from landing and that the ground temperature is a very comfortable 9 degrees. I had enjoyed the flight. I had nattered to the Danish medical student and her mother who sat next to me. We shared something in common, a relief that the man who had originally sat in front of me had been finally granted an upgrade. Living proof, if ever I needed it, that it does, sadly, pay to be rude and obnoxious at times. One can only hope that karma visited him later with the gift of food poisoning. The highlights of the flight were a half watched film staring Robert De Nero and a program on Greenlandic cuisine presented by an Australian using Lee and Perins Worcestershire Source. Very authentic. The best bit was when the Ozzy chef garnished his crab risotto with a huge crab claw and declared that now it looked "Chefy"!

As the aircraft descended, the clouds gave way to a spectacular view of the Greenland icecap. Melt water ravines, rivers and streams could clearly be seen as could the pools of every size and shape of still melt water reflecting the deep blue of the sky above us. As the glacier gave way to Arctic tundra, the realm of the muskox and Arctic fox, so did the clouds to reveal mile after mile of mountains, valleys and lakes. 
I stepped off the plane at Kangerlussuaq airport, an American relic of the Cold War and World War 2. Apparently the place has hardly changed since the Americans left in the 1990s and handed the base over to the Royal Danish Air Force.
The warmth of the air was a pleasant surprise as I stepped onto the tarmac and walked towards the arrivals office. No one checked my passport or my bags which in our post 9:11 world felt strangely reminiscent of that bygone era of air travel when everyone dressed like the cast of Madmen. I was also struck by the utilitarian appearance of the place. There is nothing here to justify the existence of an airport, let alone and international one. There is the airport and the homes of the people who work at the airport and that is pretty much it. You could not describe Kangerlussuaqu as a pretty place. There are no chocolate box little cottages. Buildings are built to serve a practical purpose and not to look pretty. Instead everything looks as though it was built up out of prefabricated units offloaded from the back of some transport plane. Thing is, that's exactly how Kangerlussuaqu came to be here. It feels like a frontier town that could so easily become a deserted ghost town overnight. The entire place could be packed up into half a dozen large transport planes while you slept. It would be like waking up in one of those Twilight Zone episodes. It has a temporary feel and you get the sense that the "locals" know this and are trying to make as much money as they can before the places is packed up and shipped out. I get that if stuff has to be flown in then there is a premium to pay, but these guys charge you the earth for stuff that isn't flown in. The fish they catch in the lake for example, one could be forgiven for thinking that before the fish is dispatched and prepared for the table it is given an opulent send off consisting of round the world air ticket in first class to say its fond farewells to all its fishy friends and family.

This is the start of the Arctic Circle Trail and while the tiny town of Kangerlussuaq looks as though it was knocked up in a welders workshop in Daganham, the surrounding scenery is truly spectacular in a barren sort of way. The Arctic Circle Trail runs from Kangerlussuaqu to Sisimiut on the Western coast. This is a remote long distance path offering complete isolation should you want it. Most people walk from Kangers to Sisi and then fly back to Kangers to catch their onward flight to where home is. With this in mind, wouldn't it be great if you could leave a bag with some clean clothes in somewhere near the airport so at least you could smell and feel clean before heading home? Space is certainly in abundance here and doesn't have to be flown in from anywhere. You can hire a locker at the airport for nearly £4.00 per day!! For a 2-week hike, that's over and additional £50 quid just to leave your bag! Clearly the staff feel that this is a bit steep too.  The lady at the counter told me that, as a rule, they charge a maximum of 200DK (about £24.00). Much more reasonable.  This, on top of some very restrictive baggage allowance provided by Air Greenland to accompany the very expensive plane tickets. Greenland has a lot to offer the adventure traveller, but if they are not careful, they'll price themselves out off the market.

I set my tent up on the only camp site in Kangers. Would it really kill them to build a toilet and shower block here? The camp site is essentially a patch of scrub land about 2 minutes walk from the back door of the airport.  It's now 7 in the evening and the sun is still really high in the sky. This is the land of the midnight sun after all. I have no idea how unrelenting daylight will impact on my sleep patterns. Inside my tent it's like a sauna which is weird considering I'm about 60 miles north of the Arctic Circle. This has been a long journey and now it's time to try and sleep.

Shaving the weight off

Only 2 days to go until I fly out to Greenland to hike the Arctic Circle Trail. Today was a good day of packing, unpacking, re-packing and changing the way stuff is packaged. My buddy Daryl, who is a self declared kit junky, came to my house and helped go through all my kit. After much squeezing and pushing, we shaved off about 5kg and reduced the pack volume significantly. With all my food and kit, my hiking pack weighs in at a 30kg. My calorie count should be about 3000 calories per day but my current calorie count was about 2500 calories. So, I've bought some more high calorie snacks to make sure I have enough energy. Sadly, think an excess baggage fee is pretty inevitable.