Tekst: Brian Mohr
Fotos: Brian Mohr/EmberPhoto.com
Peering out our airplane windows, our eyes were fixated on one of the most fascinating land and sea scapes that we have ever laid eyes upon.
Snow-streaked mountains towered over an ice-choked sea. Fjords and waterways carved a coastline into pieces. Signs of human civilization were non-existent.
“We have to go there,” Emily announced. “We have to plan a ski trip to East Greenland.”
Fresh off another month-long backcountry skiing adventure in northern Iceland, we were already vowing to return to the Arctic Circle. And once Emily and I get an idea in our heads about a ski trip – we never let it go.
A few years later, on the summer solstice in June 2005, we finally pointed the compass for East Greenland. On assignment for the Vermont, USA-based Backcountry Magazine (www.backcountrymagazine.com), our plan was to climb and ski the mountains surrounding the region’s Ammassalik Island, while camping out and fishing by the sea. Based on our experience in Iceland, and some pre-trip investigation, we felt that the wild mountains of East Greenland would still hold substantial amounts of snow well into July – snow that we hoped we’d be able to ski right down to the ocean.
Flying into Kulusuk, we caught our first glimpses of East Greenland’s mountainous shores, and immediately confirmed our suspicions about the snow. A dry winter and warm spring had left behind far less snow than we imagined there would be, but there was still plenty to go around. The trick for us was to find an area with a good concentration of top to bottom ski lines, good fishing and great views.
A morning later, on the fog-shrouded docks of colorful Taasilaq, we met up with boat captain Dines Mikkaelsen with our packs and skis in tow. A full-blooded and gregarious East Greenlander who grew up hunting for seal, polar bear and narwhal around Ammassalik, Mikaelsen was excited to join us a different kind of hunt – our hunt for precious, snow covered gems.
At first, he thought we were downright crazy. Then, after showering him with stories and photographs from past trips, his eyes lit up. He sensed our dedication to our prey of choice, and admired us for going after it – even if we didn’t take any shotguns along.
With Dines and his brother, Lazarus (Mikaelsen Tours) , at the helm of their sea-worthy cabin cruiser, we spent most of the day motoring up the iceberg-choked Sermilik Fjord. We were in search of an ideal location for the first of two “ski camps” that we would establish on this trip. Picking a camp in the fog however, proved to be no easy task. It felt like we were going in blind.
Half way through our boat trip, Dines pulled into the tiny village of Tiniteqilaq - the last and only settlement we’d pass today. Several packs of sled dogs – on summer rest - welcomed us with their friendly barks and howls. Dines hopped off the boat to say hello to some elder friends, and deliver some groceries that he brought from Taasilaq.
Six hours after leaving Tasiilaq, the ice in the Sermilik prevented us from traveling any farther by boat. We spotted a comfortable camp at the edge of a fish-filled cove, at the lower end of a river valley lined with 1000m peaks – so Dines left us there.
“I’ll see you in ten days,” Dines confirmed. We thanked he and Lazarus and their younger friend Mikisuluk – who kept us well fed on salmon, cheese and crackers - and wished them a good trip back.
When not at camp on the shore of the mighty Sermilik, and fishing – for Arctic char – we filled our days with summer skiing adventures that often carried us home under the light of a midnight sun. Discovering that the best skiing close to camp was on the far side of the river, a waist-deep crossing in near-freezing water became a morning ritual. Yet, the cold toes had its rewards. Occasional breaks in the relatively wet weather gave us fantastic mountain top views of the ice cap and this great Arctic wilderness. And the skiing, although relatively slim-pickings at the time in this area of the Sermilik, left us with memories that we will never forget.
Ten days later, as we motored away from our camp on the Sermilik, and headed back toward Tasiilaq via the north side of Ammassalik Island, clearing skies gave us the perfect opportunity to scout our second ski camp of the trip. Surprisingly, the mountainous islands to the east of Ammassalik Island offered the most inviting combination of skiable terrain and non-glacial snow that we had seen yet. And one such island in particular seemed to be chalk full of the kind of steep, summit-to-sea skiing that we enjoy most.
“That’s it!” I announced, while pointing toward our island oasis. “Can you believe it? It’s what we’ve been dreaming about.”
To be continued…
Look for the full feature story in Backcountry Magazine this February 2006, or by going to the author’s website at www.emberphoto.com after February 2006.
Brian Mohr is a writer and photographer who lives in the Green Mountains of Vermont, USA. He is a contributing editor at Backcountry Magazine (www.backcountrymagazine.com) and has a knack for planning backcountry skiing adventures in far off places. You can reach him and his wife, Emily Johnson, through their website at www.emberphoto.com.
Mohr and Johnson would like to thank Destination East Greenland and Mikaelsen Tours,Karhu USA, Cloudveil Mountainworks, Badger Balm, Rottefella, Klar-Ulfrotte and Black Diamond Equipment for making this trip a success.
