Traditional Greenlandic tent
“In the winter, igloos or ice caves are used to protect against the Arctic cold,” Unaaq explained. “The snow and ice provides better insulation. Because it is spring and the temperatures are warmer this tent should be all we need.”
“What if the weather changes and the temperature drops?” Wyatt asked.
“The tent and furs will protect us in temperatures as cold as minus 20°F. If we encounter lower temperatures, we will build an igloo or ice cave.”
Definitely pumped about staying in an igloo at some point, but jeez, I sure hope it doesn’t get any colder than 20 below. Today was pretty warm. Almost uncomfortably so. Late-afternoon, I actually broke a sweat, but I’ll take a little perspiration over 20 below any old day of the week!
As for the dogs, once we settled on a location for our campsite, we drove metal stakes into the ice and chained each dog up separately. Unaaq explained that it’s important to put some distance between each dog. Otherwise, they get on each other’s nerves and that leads to all kinds of roughhousing and sled dog roughhousing is pretty serious business. Now, I’m a total animal person, love them to death, especially dogs, so it’s hard for me to keep from plopping down in the snow and playing with them like I would a pet, but Nuka told me that I need to gain their trust before I do any of that. Otherwise, I’m asking for trouble.
According to the detail nerd, aka Wyatt, we ran the sleds for five hours today and covered about 19 miles. Not exactly what I’d call epic. I know Unaaq said not to think ahead and take our expedition one day at a time and all that, but after only sledding 19 miles today I can’t help but worry that we may never get to the Inughuit. I mean, come on! 19 miles? I could’ve walked farther in snowshoes.
Then again, it is only day one, and technically it wasn’t even a half-day, and there were definitely some hiccups along the way (mostly Wyatt’s), so maybe 19 miles isn’t all that terrible. Anyway, tomorrow is going to be much more challenging, without a doubt. Unaaq said we should have mostly flat ice for a good clip, so our goal is to cover a total of 75 miles. Now, that’ll be epic!
It helps that we won’t have to hunt for food along the way. But in keeping with the Greenlandic tradition, we will get a chance to fish when we visit the Arctic village. Mostly, though, we’ll eat the food that was pre-packed, which leads me to tonight’s menu. So, for starters we’ve got some tasty looking caribou jerky, and for the main course some not-sotasty looking dehydrated salmon with a side of rock hard biscuits. As for beverages, we have a choice—a warm cup of tea or melted snow, straight up.
Mmm, yummy!
WYATT
APRIL 2, 10:17 AM
70° 09′ N 49° 05′ W
34° FAHRENHEIT, 2° CELSIUS
CLEAR SKIES, NO WIND
In early April at this latitude, sunlight lasts about 15 hours per day. Not much different than what we’re used to back home. However, that’s about to change dramatically. By the time we reach northern Greenland, around 78°N latitude, we will have close to 24 hours of daylight.
This morning the sun is intense. Its reflection on the ice cap is almost blinding, even through my tinted goggles. The sun and lack of wind make it feel much warmer than the air temperature indicates. I was sweating while I harnessed the dogs and have been running the sled without my fur coat all morning. I’m curious to see just how warm it gets out here today.
For this expedition, I brought along a great new gadget; a barometer, which will help us predict the weather by monitoring the rise and fall of barometric pressure in the atmosphere. To give an example, the pressure right now is at 30.20 millibars and falling rapidly. That means the air temperature should get warmer and the skies cloudier.
Unaaq explained to us that in the spring and summer it can actually be warmer on the ice than it is on the coast. The sun reflects off the ice and warms the air, while the coastal areas are cooled by wind currents that blow off the ocean. It is still early spring, but we have already come across large pools of ice melt.
Puddles on the ice sheet
“It’s unusual to have this much standing water so early in the spring,” Unaaq said, as we navigated what seemed like hundreds of puddles. “Warm weather seems to come a little earlier every year. Last summer more Arctic sea ice melted than ever before. This year it looks like the warming cycle will continue.”
The warmth just increases the urgency to get north as quickly as possible. It should be colder, the ice more solid. Running the sleds through slush is hard work. The good news is that I have the commands down pretty well now and I’ve finally gained some control of the dogs. I’m using a more authoritative voice and have learned to crack the whip with a loud snap, which also helps keep them in line. All in all, I’m more confident that we’ll actually make it to northern Greenland and the Inughuit. I just hope we make it there in time to help.
GANNON
DAY #3 ON THE ICE CAP
Warning: Crevasse!
When I looked into the crevasse, I got so dizzy my legs almost gave out. For real, I felt like I was about to fall over and go tumbling into the crack. And this thing was deep. Like, disappear-into-the-center-of-the-earth deep. There was all this snowmelt flowing through the upper section of the crevasse and cascading over the edge into an abyss. I stepped back behind Unaaq and knelt down.
Luckily, the dogs slowed down ahead of the crevasse without me even giving a command. I just figured they were getting tired and needed some rest since we’d been running them hard for hours through wet snow. But they definitely knew something wasn’t right. Eventually, they came to a complete stop and got all tangled up in the ropes. I cracked the whip a few times and told them to stop loafing, but they weren’t having any of it. They just stared at me with these scowls on their faces, almost like they were trying to say, “Trust us, buddy. You don’t want to go any farther!”
On the ice cap, the entire surface is white and mostly flat and that makes it hard to spot crevasses until you’re literally right on top of them. Unaaq shouted for all of us to stay put, as he and Nuka hopped off their sleds and went to check things out. About thirty or so feet ahead, they both stopped and knelt down. Walking up behind them, I could hear the rush of the water, and next thing I know there’s this massive crack right in front of me, probably ten feet across, if not wider.
“This is a moulin,” Unaaq said, pointing to the blue hole that sank deep into the ice. “A moulin is a tunnel that goes all the way to the bottom of the ice cap.”
“And how far would that be?” I asked.
“The ice here is two miles thick,” Unaaq said.
“Two miles thick?” Wyatt asked. “As in 10,560 feet?”
I rolled my eyes. Drives me nuts when my brother tries to act all smart.
“That’s right,” Nuka said.
“And this is why I only travel by dogsled,” Unaaq said. “If we had been on snowmobiles, we might not have seen the crevasse until it was too late. Sled dogs are brave, strong, and most importantly, they sense things we do not.”
“I was about to scold them for getting all tangled up in the ropes,” I said. “But I should be praising them. They just saved our lives!”
“They sure did. They are good dogs, aren’t they?”
“Good dogs? Sorry, but that’s a major understatement. Dogs that save my life aren’t just good dogs, they’re the most awesome dogs ever!”
WYATT
APRIL 3, 6:42 PM
40° FAHRENHEIT, 4° CELSIUS
ELEVATION: 10,560 FEET (2 MILES HIGH)
DISTANCE COVERED TO DATE: 137 MILES
Never could I have imagined a glacial lake as big as the one we saw today. It looked like a glowing blue gem sitting atop the ice sheet, so vast it could have easily been mistaken for a sea. The water was crystal clear and we could see the bottom. Along it were black marks where something called ‘cryoconite’ had settled.
Cryoconite on the ice
“Cryoconite is pollution carried to the
Arctic by the wind,” Unaaq explained. “It is made up of volcanic soot, fires, coal burning fuel, and other pollutants that come from as far away as Europe, North America, and Asia.”
Looking around, I noticed for the first time the black marks that were staining the white landscape. It is amazing to see the impact of air pollution in a place where there are no factories, no cars, no real way of creating any kind of air pollution at all. It seems the Arctic is an innocent victim of the pollution we create in other parts of the world.
“You know,” Gannon said, “I’ve been sweating so much today I’m honestly thinking about taking a dip. You have to admit, the water looks really refreshing.”
Unaaq and Nuka laughed.
“It does, but I wouldn’t recommend it,” Unaaq said.
“Why not?”
“Well, it is melted ice, for one. So it is extremely cold. More importantly, a split could open in the ice and drain this lake very quickly. And, trust me, you do not want to be anywhere near the lake when it goes. Especially not swimming in it.”
“You’d be like a small toy getting sucked down the drain of a bathtub,” I said.
“It would definitely be an exciting ride,” Nuka said, with a chuckle, “but it would be your last.”
“Okay, I get the point,” Gannon said. “No swimming.”
We stood quietly for few minutes, just staring out over the glacial lake while the harsh Arctic sun beat down on us from above.
“Kiappoq,” Unaaq said, fanning his coat as he eyeballed a path around the lake.
“Kiappoq means it’s warm,” Gannon said to me.
“I think I could have figured that out,” I shot back.
“Could you have?” he asked, raising his eyebrows.
“Yes, I could have.”
“Mmm, I’m not so sure about that.”
Amazing. Even in the middle of nowhere Gannon finds a way to get on my nerves.
After dinner, clouds came and there was a brief period of misty rain. I did not expect rain this high in the Arctic. Not in early April. This time of year, it should still be cold enough that all precipitation falls as snow. Again, I’m surprised by the warmth this far north. Nuka and Unaaq seem just as surprised. They are actually worried that we might get stuck out here, surrounded on all sides by a massive sea of ice melt! And if they are worried, I’m worried.
Witnessing these massive pools makes me wonder: What if the Arctic ice were to melt? I’m talking all of it. What would that do to sea levels around the world? Would coastal cities be completely flooded? Would it be just like one of those Hollywood doomsday films where the skyscrapers in New York City get half submerged by a tidal surge? It seems unlikely, but given all the melt we’ve seen I can’t help but wonder if something like that could actually happen one day.
The Greenlandic ice sheet alone is more than 1.7 million square kilometers (656,000 miles), which is almost 2½ times the size of Texas. It covers over 80 percent of the country and is two miles thick in some places. Scientists note that the Greenland ice sheet has shrunk at an alarming rate over the past few decades. The polar ice cap, which covers much of the Arctic Ocean, is melting, too. Most climatologists say that it is only a matter of time before there isn’t any sea ice at the North Pole during the summer months. These are major changes that we can’t ignore. I really don’t know what can be done, but it will be the responsibility of our generation to figure out a solution and prepare for what might lie ahead, just in case nature gives us no other option but to conform.
Inland ice moving out to sea
GANNON
EVENING
Today we got to our supply depot and thank goodness for that because the meat we had for the dogs was almost gone (thanks to the extra helpings I’ve been giving them), and our rations were running low, too. No joke, I felt like I was about to pass out from hunger, so it sure was a sight for sore eyes to step into that bear-proof hut and see that huge stockpile of food. There was salami and jerky and nuts and noodles and canned vegetables and fruits and some curry powder to give an extra boost of flavor to whatever we cook. It was like a little Arctic mini-mart in there!
“How the heck did you get all this stuff out here, Unaaq?” I asked.
“A very big sled and a lot of dogs,” he said.
“Well, I don’t mean to be impatient, but I’m drooling at the sight of all this food. So, what do you say we get the dogs fed ASAP and get on with stuffing ourselves silly?”
“Good plan,” Wyatt said.
So that’s what we did, quickly feeding the dogs a hearty meal and gathering around a little table inside the hut to enjoy a feast of feasts. Unaaq brought us a healthy sampling of foods from the shelf, while Nuka, Wyatt, and I snatched it all up before he even had a chance to put it on the table.
“Mmm, that looks good,” I said, grabbing an unlabeled aluminum can from his hands.
“What is it?” Wyatt asked, his cheeks swollen with food like a chipmunk.
“Doesn’t matter,” I said, peeling back the lid to find a can packed with diced carrots, green beans and corn, all bright and colorful and delicious looking.
“Anyone mind if I polish off this entire can?” I asked.
“Help yourself,” Unaaq said. “There is plenty more for all of us.”
I turned the can up, pretty much inhaling the veggies as they spilled into my mouth. After that, I tore into a strip of beef jerky, then some kind of dehydrated fruits, then this chewy thing that stuck to my teeth and tasted real smoky. Half the time, I wasn’t even sure what I was eating. Didn’t matter. It all tasted delicious.
By the time the feast was over we could hardly move we were so full and ended up lying around in the sun for a good fifteen minutes or so before we packed up the rest of the food and continued on. What’s crazy is that I’m already hungry again, and it’s only been a few hours! My brother the brainiac says we’re burning something like 6,000 calories a day out here, so I guess we’re almost always going to be hungry, no matter how much we eat.
Speaking of Wyatt, man did he pull a boneheaded move this afternoon. A couple miles past the hut nature called, so Wyatt stopped his sled to relieve himself. What he didn’t realize was that one of the sled ropes had somehow gotten twisted around the belt on his polar bear pants. Well, just as he finished turning the snow yellow a couple of his dogs got in a bit of a tussle. So, what does Wyatt do? He accidentally yells “huughuaq” (go) instead of “kángisârut” (stop) and the dogs take off like a shot, dragging my poor brother alongside the sled.
He went zipping by on his back like a horse jockey being dragged down the final straight away at the Kentucky Derby. Think he might have been yelling, “Help!” but I was laughing so hard I couldn’t really tell for sure. Nuka caught up with him and brought the dogs to a stop, but not before Wyatt’s ego had been banged up pretty good. No denying it, the kid’s done some lame-brained things in his day, but that ranks up there in the top five. Maybe top three. Lucky for him I didn’t have my video camera handy. When I think about it, it’s tragic, really. It would have been the most hilarious video footage ever!
WYATT
APRIL 4, 7:41 PM
72° 57′ N 51° 05′ W
35° FAHRENHEIT, 3° CELSIUS
SKIES CLEAR
I was in a pretty foul mood and ticked off at Gannon for reasons I won’t mention and thinking of how I could get him back when suddenly, a fight broke out between Tooguyuk and Big Foot. These two have gotten in minor scraps before, but this was different. This was a fight to the death!
Big Foot is the second largest dog on my team, a young and strong male, and he was challenging Tooguyuk. Survival instincts passed down for thousands of years took control and they attacked one another with jaws wide and snapping. Unaaq and Nuka ran over to break it up, but the dogs were insane with rage and oblivious to the whips cracking atop their backs. They were up on their hind legs, lunging forward with their front paws, their jaws striking out at one another’s jugulars. Fighting his
way in between them, Unaaq shouted and tried to break them apart. He took the handle of his whip and brought it down repeatedly atop the dogs. Finally, the dogs acknowledged Unaaq’s presence. He was the true alpha male. The master. And the dogs had been trained well enough to know that you never challenge the master.
Big Foot had a deep gash over his nose and bright red blood was smeared across his face, making it clear who had won the fight. Bowing in defeat, Big Foot took a position away from the rest of the pack. Unaaq tended to him, cleaning and bandaging the wound. I helped Nuka inspect Tooguyuk for injuries, but we found none.
All things considered, it could have been worse. Much worse. At least my dog team is still intact. Maintaining the health of the team is critical given the great distance we are attempting to cover on our expedition.
In four and a half days we have traveled a total of 248 miles. That’s an average of 55 miles per day. Taking into account that we ran dogs for approximately 12 hours each full day, and 5 hours on the half-day, we’re averaging a speed of 4.7 miles per hour. That’s not bad. It’s not great either, but overall I’m happy with our pace.
Earlier, we radioed the village of Siorapaluk to report our coordinates and check on the weather. Our contact there is a woman named Suunia.
Greenland Page 3