Interdependance in East Greenland - Day 4
My alarm buzzes at 12:15 am, just enough time to put on every single layer I own. Stepping out into the subarctic twilight feels surreal; even past midnight, East Greenland doesn’t surrender entirely to darkness, suspended instead in an eerie, milky dusk. It is foggy and it reminds my of the San Francisco bay fog. Mel is just finishing her shift. We share a quick, quiet laugh and a warm hug goodnight, or good morning! whatever this hour actually is as she debriefs me on her watch. She points toward a massive boulder perched high above our camp and the open water, suggesting it’s the prime vantage point to keep vigil.
Honestly? Not reassuring in the slightest.
I take my post, my eyes fixed intently on the waterline, every nerve ending alert. At the faintest scrape or rustle, my heart jumps into my throat. But the tension stretches time in strange ways; before I know it, the sixty minutes vanish into the stillness. Relieved, I pass on the prime vantage point spot to Maggie and I slip quickly back into my tent. To my surprise, I drift straight into a deep sleep.
Morning brings a familiar dampness. Dew clings to everything, and even the foot of my sleeping bag feels damp and heavy. John already has coffee going and warm pots waiting, an absolute act of grace, even if the oatmeal looks and tastes pretty grim. We swallow it down, tear down our damp camp, stash our lunch sandwiches, and strap on our daypacks. The heavy gear is getting a boat transfer around the island with Jukku, leaving us free to tackle the trail unburdened.
Today’s push is a 21-kilometer (13-mile) cross-country haul to a camp where we’ll pitch for 2 nights.
The terrain demands our constant attention: we crunch across a glacier, rope up to haul ourselves up a steep snow pass, pick our way down to a pretty fjord, kick off our boots for a frigid, painfully cold, river crossing barefoot, skirt 3 lakes, crest yet another ridge, and finally scramble down to our new home.
We navigate scree, massive boulders, slick snow patches, and cushions of vibrant tundra moss punctuated with tiny, resilient alpine flowers. With no trail to guide us, every single step is a deliberate calculation. My trekking poles feel less like gear and more like direct extensions of my arms, saving my balance and my ankles a dozen times over. By the final stretch, my feet are throbbing, and a tiny pang of worry creeps in about whether they'll rebound by morning.
Yet the rhythm of the march is pure joy. Conversations weave in and out as we break into small, wandering pairs. The wild, raw scent of the landscape, damp earth, wild thyme, crushed moss, and dwarf birch fills the air. We pause along the way to graze on tart berries and fresh sorrel straight from the ground.
Just before reaching camp, we skirt a small, pristine lake. Maggie turns to John with an unmistakable spark in her eye: "Is this good for a plunge?"
Before he can even say anything, Maggie, Bethany, Lisa, and Lisa have stripped down and launched themselves into the water. Standing on the rocky bank with my camera, I can't resist documenting the pure, chaotic hilarity of it, wild grins, breathless gasps, and contorted faces hitting glacial meltwater. Naturally, they turn their sights on me. It takes almost no convincing. Stripping off my sweaty, trail-worn clothes, I plunge in. The cold is an electric shock to the system, but washing off the miles of dust and salt feels downright transcendent. Easily the best decision of the day.
When we stumble into camp, Jukku is already there, a quiet legend who has already spread our tents in the breeze to dry. Better yet, while waiting, he managed to catch fresh cod and harvest a bucket of local mussels. John works his culinary magic over the camp stoves, and we devour the fresh feast together, completely renewed.
Tonight, my shift on bear watch falls at 1:30 am. Before I crawl into my sleeping bag, relishing the luxury of space in my tent tonight, I methodically lay out my layers in the exact order I’ll need to step into them at 1:20am.
Eyes heavy, body spent, heart full. Night night!
