Melt

by Robbi McCoy

  “No safety briefing,” the woman whispered to her husband. “Do you think they even have life jackets on this thing?”

  Before he had a chance to respond, they hit an iceberg on the starboard side that sent a substantial shudder through the craft. The jolt caused Kelly to pitch sideways. She moved to the railing and looked overboard to see the berg moving rapidly away from them, propelled by the impact. A chunk of ice like that wasn’t big enough to damage “this thing,” as the woman had called their boat. But she couldn’t know that. What did this frightened American know of icebergs? Kelly knew Amaalik’s joking reference to the Titanic didn’t help.

  Ilulissat Harbor changed from day to day. Sometimes it was nearly full of ice, mostly small chunks that boats could push aside. Yesterday boats had to squeeze past a monster berg at the mouth of the harbor. Today that one was gone. Some days the harbor was nearly ice free. Chuck had explained that it had to do with winds, mainly, and how much ice was coming off the glacier each day. He knew a lot about Greenland. He had been here many times before and was considered a Greenland expert among Associated Press reporters. There were a lot of scientists who spent their summers in Greenland, but not a lot of journalists did.

  Their boat moved excruciatingly slowly toward the mouth of the harbor, finessing its way around the larger chunks of ice. Amaalik didn’t even try to avoid the small ones, so the continual sound of the hull crashing against solid objects accompanied their journey, keeping the American couple’s teeth visibly on edge.

  Kelly glanced up at the helm to see Amaalik peering intently through the window, both hands on the wheel, carefully picking his course. For most of the year he was a fisherman, but for the short tourist season he conducted daily tours for travelers from around the world. In summer, if you had a boat, you could carry tour groups. If you had a car, you could be a taxi driver. If you had a big house, you could rent out rooms. Under circumstances like this, visitors couldn’t be sure what they were getting into when they booked a tour.

  Kelly recalled the dazed looks on the faces of the passengers as they had come aboard expecting something bigger and more accommodating, maybe a luxurious catamaran with a well-stocked bar and an indoor seating area surrounded by walls of windows. Instead they encountered a cramped fishing boat with no provisions for tourists. The boat had been retrofitted as a touring vessel only in the imagination of Amaalik and Pippa’s employer, Arctic Explorer Expeditions.

  Tourists to Greenland were mostly seasoned travelers and they quickly adapted, anxious to appear unruffled. As if they had expected this all along, the newbies gamely picked up a blanket and seat cushion and plunked themselves on any flat surface that could serve as a seat. But the American woman, peering out from the hood of her parka, seemed genuinely frightened that at any moment an iceberg would rip the hull open.

  “The life jackets are inside the bench,” Kelly told her. She didn’t bother to add that a life jacket wouldn’t be much help in this frigid water, not after the first few minutes.

  “You’re American!” the woman proclaimed, relief evident in her voice.

  “That’s right,” she said. “I’m from the Denver area.”

  “We’re the Coopers from Florida. Miami, Florida.”

  Kelly chatted with the Coopers for a few minutes, noticing how much calmer they had become. The presence of another American on board changed everything for them, made the whole experience somehow safer and more legitimate, adding something familiar in an otherwise tensely exotic setting. She understood that. Greenland was so far from anything she or the Coopers knew. It was the most different place she had ever been. Chances were they could say the same.

  Kelly noticed the boat picking up speed. “We’ve cleared the harbor,” she announced, excusing herself from the Coopers to join Pippa in the bow where she stood in a long-sleeved cotton shirt worn loose over khaki pants. Her straight chestnut-colored hair was pulled back into a ponytail and her narrow face and full mouth were uncluttered by makeup. She wore two tiny peridot studs in her ears, the extent of her adornment.

  She turned to smile at Kelly, her clear blue eyes full of joyful enthusiasm. Those eyes were gorgeously incongruous against her bronze skin. She was the only Inuit Kelly had ever seen with eyes like that, here or in Alaska. Five foot two, eyes of blue, Kelly thought, recalling the words to an old song.

  They had met several days ago when Kelly and Chuck had taken this boat tour to the tiny town of Rodebay. Eighteen-year-old Pipaluk Nannunniaq had been one of their tour guides, her summer job before her last year at school. She had welcomed them aboard with impressive English and barely a trace of an accent. Right away, Kelly had found her charming and likable. She was a spirited girl who’d led a sheltered life dreaming of the world beyond Greenland. Like America. She was nuts about American TV and movies. Which explained why her English was peppered with American idioms.

  “It’s an awesome day for a hike,” Pippa said excitedly. “You’re going to love it!”

  “Can’t wait.” Kelly leaned against the railing and watched a seagull bobbing in the boat’s wake.

  In Disko Bay proper, there was lots of ice, mountains of it, but there was enough open water to maneuver, so the crashing thuds against the hull had ceased. The thing that had drawn Kelly’s eye from the moment she had arrived in Greenland and the thing that continued to do so every day since was Disko Bay. From almost anywhere in Ilulissat, you had a view of it, a body of tranquil water stretching off to the horizon. The changing light throughout the day and night created a wide range of colors on the ice from the most brilliant white to pinkish golds and bluish purples. The entire scene was stunning. No photograph could have prepared her for this, the clarity and three-dimensional exquisiteness. Nevertheless she, like all visitors, took photo after photo trying to capture that elusive beauty.

  Pippa scanned a document on her clipboard. “Seven today, plus you. Three Americans, a British couple, two Danes.”

  “Three Americans? I’ve only seen the Coopers.”

  “There’s another woman, Sonja Holm. She’s standing at the stern.”

  Kelly nodded. “What about the old woman? You don’t have her on your list?”

  “Old woman?”

  “She’s a Greenlander. I think she’s in the cabin.”

  Before boarding, a woman wearing a man’s cotton work shirt and sealskin pants had stood on the dock speaking to Amaalik. She had a perfectly round, weathered face, narrow eyes, a wide nose and yellowed teeth. Her black and silver hair was thin and straight, lying flat on her head, cut off unambiguously just under her jawline. The top of her head had been level with Amaalik’s neck, and he wasn’t a tall man. She had carried a bulky canvas bag over one arm like a purse.

  “I’ll go check,” announced Pippa.

  She walked back to the cabin and disappeared inside.

  In the distance, the closely-packed wooden buildings of Ilulissat receded. The colorful little houses on the hills faced all different directions with no garages, no driveways, no roads leading to them. What became immediately apparent to a woman from Colorado were the odd-looking spaces between the houses. No grass. No trees or shrubbery. No fences. These cheerful little houses struck her as touchingly vulnerable, as if a strong wind could blow them away. But somehow they endured in the toughest inhabited climate on Earth.

  Three or four short roads ran through the main section of town, the business district. No roads led out of town. Out here, there was nothing but wild, solid bedrock. No sign of agriculture or industry or anything to suggest a human had ever set foot on any of it.

  The ice and extreme northern remoteness reminded Kelly of Alaska, but this place was also significantly different. It was harsher, less green and less populated. Ilulissat was the third largest city in Greenland, but back home it would be a small town. The entire population of Greenland would easily fit in one medium-sized American city. Most of the country was uninhabited and uninhabitable. The towns and villages that did exist were cut off fro
m everything. Even in the middle of summer, Ilulissat seemed far from the rest of the world. She couldn’t imagine what it was like in winter.

  “Kaffe!” Nuka announced, standing in the middle of the deck, his golden brown face flashing a cheerful smile. The boy was the only crewmember on this vessel and his duties were to hand out cushions and blankets, to make coffee and to tie and untie the guide ropes whenever they docked.

  The Coopers dashed toward the cabin. A hot cup of coffee was the extent of amenities on this ship, but it was a welcome one. Kelly was ready for a cup herself, her ears and nose partly numb from the freezing wind.

  Pippa returned with two cups and handed one to her. “I added hot water to yours.”

  “Thanks!”

  “The old woman isn’t a tourist,” Pippa reported. “Her name is Nivi. She lives between Ilulissat and Rodebay. She’s hitching a ride home.”

  “Oh. I didn’t realize this was a ferry service.”

  Pippa shrugged. “Not exactly. Amaalik’s just giving her a lift. Somebody else apparently took her into town. She had some seal pelts to sell. So we’ll be making a stop along the way to let her off.”

  Kelly held the coffee under her nose, letting the steam thaw it before she drank. Mr. Stewart, the elderly Englishman, wobbled toward his bench, both hands around his coffee cup in an unlikely attempt to make it back without a spill. Pippa ran to his aid, taking the cup from him until he was seated.

  A young woman appeared from the back of the boat and slid her sunglasses onto the top of her head before peeking into the cabin. Sonja Holm, Kelly surmised. Someone put a cup of coffee in her hand, then she walked toward the bow, giving Kelly a brief smile before tasting the brew. She was attractive, in her mid-twenties with long legs, a lanky frame and short platinum blonde hair full of sharp edges. She wore a dark blue turtleneck sweater, blue jeans, and well-used hiking boots. A point-and-shoot digital camera hung on a cord from her neck. After taking several gulps of coffee, she regarded Kelly more directly, her hazel eyes lingering familiarly. Her wide mouth turned up slightly into a subtle, ironic smile.

  “Hej,” she said. “Jeg er Sonja.” Her pronunciation was marginal but understandable.

  “Hi, Sonja. I’m Kelly. Sorry, I don’t speak Danish. It’d be easier if we stuck to English.”

  “Oh!” She laughed. “You’re American. You must know some Danish. You understood me just now.”

  “I know a few words. Very few.”

  “Me too. About all I can manage in Danish is to order a cup of coffee and say thank you for it. What do you think about this Danish coffee anyway?”

  “It’s impossibly strong for me. I usually water it down about halfway.”

  “How long have you been in Greenland?” asked Sonja.

  “Two weeks. A business trip. I’m a photographer.”

  “That’s awesome. What a place to take pictures!”

  “What about you?”

  “It’s business for me too. I’m working at a science base a few miles from Ilulissat. For the entire summer. I’m a graduate student.”

  “Where at?”

  “University of Colorado in Boulder.”

  “What?” Kelly was stunned. “CU? That’s my school! I mean, my alma mater. I still live in Broomfield.”

  “Weird coincidence. So we have something in common.” She regarded Kelly with undisguised interest. “Speaking of coffee, there’s this place near campus called the Jumping Bean. Do you know it? The barista there is a genius.”

  “I do know the Jumping Bean! I used to go there years ago. Back then, they’d just hired this tattooed feminista who could write your name in the froth on your latte.”

  “That’s her! She’s still there. She goes by the name Absinthe. People come in just to watch her make coffee.”

  “Absinthe,” Kelly said, remembering the spiky hair, black eye shadow, nose ring. “She was an interesting character. I should stop by there some time.”

  “You should, if just to see Absinthe again. If she didn’t already have a girlfriend, I’d make a move on that. God, she’s sexy!”

  “You’re gay?” Kelly asked incredulously.

  Sonja nodded matter-of-factly.

  “Me too!”

  “Shit!” Sonja shook her head in disbelief. “We’re like twins separated at birth!”

  Kelly laughed, marveling at the coincidence of meeting someone from home way up here in the Arctic. “Is this your day off? Or is this a working trip?”

  “Just sightseeing today. I haven’t seen much of this country yet, so I thought I should get out and take a look. A couple of my team members took a tour to the Eqi Glacier to watch the calving but I’ve been camped beside a glacier for three weeks now, so I wanted to see something other than ice.”

  “You’ll like it. Rodebay is a very cool place. Let me give you a little advice, though. At lunch they give you samples of local specialties like fresh fish and shrimp. Most of it’s terrific, but don’t try the dried halibut, the stuff they call ræklinger.” Kelly laughed and shook her head. “You’ll be sorry.”

  “You’ve been on this tour before?”

  “Yeah, but I’m not here for the tour this time. Pippa and I…that’s one of our guides.” She pointed Pippa out. “We’re hiking back.”

  “Hiking? How far is that?”

  “About twenty kilometers. Twelve and a half miles.”

  “That sounds like fun. I might try that myself on my next day off.” She held Kelly’s gaze briefly, then drained her coffee cup. “Greenland is such a remarkable place, isn’t it?”

  “It’s fascinating,” Kelly agreed.

  Sonja’s eyes lit up as she caught sight of a beautifully sculpted iceberg approaching on the port side. It had a smooth-sided hole through the center with a halo of soft blue framing it. “I have to get this.”

  She stepped to the side to take photos. Though the midday glare off the ice wasn’t ideal for photography, Kelly unpacked her own camera. Removing the lens cap, she got momentarily distracted by Sonja leaning over the railing, her sweater riding up to reveal the bare skin of her lower back, her jeans stretched tight across her shapely rear end. Kelly pressed her lips together to suppress an inappropriate smile, admiring the view.

  Chapter Four

  By the time they’d reached the halfway point of their journey, most of the passengers had lost their initial sense of excitement and were seated quietly, huddling together under blankets. Kelly and Pippa stood on deck talking to the young Danish couple, Christian and Brita, who were both fluent in English, both tall, thin, blond and blue-eyed.

  “This is our first trip to Greenland,” Brita said. “We’ve just come up from Narsaq. We were there for three days.”

  “Did you see Brattahlid?” Pippa asked.

  “We saw it,” Christian said, nodding. “We love the old Viking sites. We have seen most of them in Denmark.”

  “What’s Brattahlid?” Kelly asked.

  “It was a Viking village,” Pippa answered. “Established by Eric the Red in the tenth century. It’s called the Eastern Settlement and there are some ruins and a reconstructed chapel and longhouse.”

  “Is there anything to see of the Western Settlement?” Christian asked.

  “Not really. There’s been excavation, but it isn’t a site for tourists. Same for the Middle Settlement.”

  “Middle Settlement?” Brita asked. “We have not heard of it.”

  “It was smaller than the other two. There are no written records of its existence so we don’t know who lived there, but ruins have been uncovered that show about twenty farms. The site was occupied for a few hundred years until the fourteenth century like the other two.”

  “What happened to them?” Kelly asked.

  “Nobody knows for sure. There are a lot of unknowns regarding the Greenland Vikings. All we know is that when the Little Ice Age was over in the eighteenth century, missionaries came back looking for the colonists and didn’t find any. The settlements had been abandoned
for a long time by then.”

  “They all died,” Christian said confidently. “They couldn’t make it here without supplies from back home. Once they were cut off, they died.”

  “Most of them probably did die,” Pippa agreed soberly. “But some of them might have survived.”

  “If they had,” he reasoned, “they would have still been here when the ships came back to find them, wouldn’t they?”

  Pippa shook her head. “Not necessarily. They could have survived by assimilating into the native population. The Thule were here at the time. They were well adapted and did survive. As you can see all around you. The Thule were the ancestors of the Greenland Inuits. Like me. It could explain why I have blue eyes when nobody else in my family does.” She flashed Christian her playful smile. “So maybe the Greenland Vikings didn’t die out completely. Maybe they’re still here in their blue-eyed descendants.”

  Christian looked intrigued, gazing into Pippa’s light eyes. He smiled warmly and nodded, then the two of them wandered off.

  “Is that true?” Kelly asked. “Are there no other blue-eyed people in your family?”

  “Nobody knows of any as far back as anyone remembers, so the blue-eyed gene has to go way back, back before the modern Danes arrived.”

  “How do you know there’s been no mixing with the Danes?”

  Pippa shrugged. “I can’t be a hundred percent sure, but my family comes from a village where no white people ever lived. My grandmother says she never even saw a white man until she was nineteen. There are a lot of them in Nuuk, but not so many in the rest of the country, and definitely not then.”

  “But why the Vikings?”

  “It’s the only explanation that makes sense. There had to be a bunch of people with blue eyes who got it started. And the most likely place, the only place we know of, to find a pool of blue-eyed people was in the Viking colonies.”