Arctic Circle Trail: Day 11

An anxious wait as the airport runway is hidden in mist and rain. The 37 seat plane is overbooked due to the cancellation yesterday. Although receiving a boarding pass, I may be asked not to fly if there’s a lot of weight and the temperature is too high. I don’t think the latter will be a concern.

It’s high fives and hugs as Carlos and Pia appear. I’ve not seen either of them since the trail and more tales are swapped. I’m reminded of that children’s game where a message is passed down the line, being distorted or embellished by each person. It’s the same with trail stories. You can imagine hearing an amazing story and then realizing that it was your story originally, being rather less exciting in reality.

The plane is delayed an hour and my name is called. My heart sinks. I’m relieved that it’s only a seat reallocation, and it’s a surprisingly smooth flight to Kangerlussuaq given the weather.

Tomorrow I have a tour to the ice sheet at Point 660 and was due to stay at a hostel tonight. However, after resting in Sisimiut, I’m keen to explore and make the most of my final two days in Greenland. So, after the plane has landed around 1pm, I set off along the only road east, aiming to walk 16 miles to the Russell Glacier, camp overnight and join my tour tomorrow. They’ve agreed to pick me up on the road to Point 660.

Shortly after leaving town, I skirt round a surreal golf course with lonely flags dotted around the sand. Golfers bring their own artificial grass mats to lay down before each stroke.

A powerful river carries meltwater down from the glacier. It’s easy to see why this area is prone to flooding.

Vast sand flats, built up from material washed out of the glacier, are used for military exercises and car testing. There is wreckage by the side of the road. In 1968 three US air force training jets ran into bad weather. They circled, looking for a place to land, until they ran out of fuel. The pilots ejected safely and the planes crashed.

Approaching the ice sheet, it’s getting late in the day. The temperature drops, the skies darken, and the weather turns horribly, with freezing wind and rain. Thoughts of a leisurely pitch and evening photo shoot of the glacier are abandoned. There’s only one priority – shelter. I’m still on the road, winding through a flat, wide valley. There’s no cover. I’d expected the trail to the Russell Glacier, a popular tourist destination, to be signposted but there’s nothing. Checking my map, the trail should be nearby. I see some rough atv tracks heading up a ridge and decide to follow them. It means being more exposed to the weather as I climb, but I have to make a decision as I can’t stay out here in the open.

Cresting the ridge, the wind is howling across the rock strewn ground. There’s a narrow path running down into the next valley toward the glacier, which looks promising. I descend quickly to get out of the wind, making a note of fallback places to shelter and pitch. Then I find it — with a loud celebratory shout — a small patch of grass nestled in a sheltering crescent of rocks. The rain stops, so I pitch quickly. Now I can relax and explore.

An arctic hare approaches the tent, brilliant white in the evening gloom. It’s more inquisitive than afraid, allowing me to come within a few feet, before hopping away. It’s turning out to be quite a day.

I pick my way across the rocks, thrilled by the ice sheet rising up before me, accompanied by the thundering roar of waterfalls. There are dark caverns carved in the ice by the water. It’s desolate and exhilarating.

The river allows me to fill my water bottles, dwarfed by the ice wall rising 60 metres above. It’s constantly cracking and groaning, with chunks falling into the water, so I don’t linger by the water’s edge.

A huge block of ice, the size of a mini, is stranded on the rocky shore. I’m right to be wary.

Back in the warmth of my sleeping bag, I listen to the sounds of the ice. I’m truly on the edge of what I know. The bleak tundra has been my home for a short while, but I know absolutely nothing about surviving on the ice. It may as well be an alien planet. Hopefully, I’ll get the chance to walk out a little way tomorrow.