NWP 24. Mud. Glorious mud.

7-Sept-24 Ilulissat, Greenland

Slight feeling of weightlessness in the night. As the ship drops in the swell. Until body is then pressed firmly into the mattress. And repeat. All night.

Clocks move forward again in the night. Another hour lost. That’s five days on the bounce now. 23hr days not good, dear reader. Reminds me of a mate of a mate. Owned a garage. Offered 24hr recovery. But signage shop had run out of ‘4’s so made do with 23hr recovery. At least when they rang up at 2am he could say it’s out of hours.

Reliably informed that as we sail past Disko Island on our port side early morning that the scenery is stunning. So. Make the effort. Set alarm for 0800hrs. 0700hrs body clock time. You all know by now TT does not do mornings.

Ready for a morning brew.

Routine is take a Twining’s English Breakfast teabag from the deck 6 tea kitchen. Fill up with hot water. Sugar. Splash of milk. Only enough for a milk cloud. Nothing too extravagant.

Then go to deck 10 Explorer Lounge. Window seat. Admire the view.

Wake up sloooowwwwllllyyy.

Read Daily Telegraph on mobile phone. Because I’m civilised.

Routine is to have three mugs of tea. Before even contemplating a day’s activities.

So. Imagine my concern when I see only three individual Twining’s English Breakfast teabag packets left in the tea kitchen.

Hmmmm.

Will they restock before I want my second and third brews?

Doubtful.

What if someone else is in need of a Twining’s English Breakfast teabag. To start their day.

Good God. What if there is another person like me!?

Doubtful.

You laugh.

But what if there were? What a team we would be! World would be sorted. UK would be a nice place to live.

Apply within.

Well, dear reader. Like the Artful Dodger. Pocket the other two.

Sneaky I know.

But needs must.

Grim. Is the start of the day. Grey. Low hanging cloud. There’s more grey than a school sock. Circa 1981. Oh. And icebergs. More icebergs than you can shake a stick at. Disko Island obliterated by grey cloud.

Baffin Bay has calmed down somewhat but still a bit of a swell. Taken two days to cross.

Lecture on glaciology. By a PhD glaciologist. Bright young girl in her thirties. She spent months on the Greenland ice cap doing this, that and the other. Including laying some electronics on the surface to monitor earth’s magma flow below the crust. Important because it enables them to ascertain how much the crust has been pushed down by the ice mass of ice above. Thus creating a pinch point in the flow. Bit like sitting on a water bed. Your mass pushes the bed down and creates a pinch point in the water. Assisted by NASA’s latest technology. Impressive results. We’d seen the velocity flow maps yesterday. But she shows further imagery to enhance a really interesting talk on glaciers. Ice at the bottom of the glacier we’re walking to shortly is 90,000 years old. There is a hotspot under the Greenland ice field. Which came from the Icelandic hotspot when Greenland passed over where Iceland is now millions of years ago.

If the Greenland ice cap melts. Sea levels rise by 7m.

Goodbye Norfolk.

If you place Greenland over Europe. It stretches from Estonia to the Greek Islands. And primarily all ice. Just think about that for a moment.

And in that massive area. Only 56,000 inhabitants.

Arriving Ilulissat the schedule is to arrive 1330hrs. Just outside the port. Set free a lifeboat to act as tender to transfer through the tiny port/marina. Disembark 1400hrs. For shore excursions.

Ilulissat is Greenlandic for icebergs.

Some have paid EUR169 to go on a local pleasure boat to the glacier. This is cancelled a couple of hours beforehand due to currents. And the fact that water access to the glacier is denied by. Well. An exuberance of ice. What they call a glacial melange. Big ice bergs have grounded on the lip of the fjord creating a log jam of ice.

Bit of a swell as we sail through the ice bergs into Ilulissat. Lifeboat set free. Takes some time. Glad we’re not sinking.

Many are suited and booted for the imminent transfer. No life jackets needed as it’s a tender boat (always nice to travel in a caring and loving boat). Can wear own footwear. But kitted up in full polar gear. On account of…rain…sleet…snow. And the cold. About 2C.

Then.

Announcement.

Too much of a swell to board the lifeboat.

Really?!?!

Oh wait. What if we’re sinking?!

So.

Now a Zodiac transfer to the marina.

Which needs lifejackets.

And because there’s only 10 to a Zodiac. Will take longer than the 100ish on a lifeboat.

Fortunately. One of the first on shore.

Shuttle bus from the local Spar to the Icefjord Centre car park. Then walk nearly a mile along slippery board walk to the glacier viewing point.

Pretty impressive view.

And.

Silence.

Apart from two chatterbox Chinese.

Air so still.

Water so still.

Impressive sight.

Fjord is covered in ice. Lots of little floes sitting still. Obediently. Like first years. Waiting. For the gigantic icebergs to melt so they can flow over the lip of the fjord 300m below. Like sixth formers having one last laugh at school.

Did I mention the rain, dear reader?

It’s raining as I walk the near mile to the view point. And snow. And sleet.

At a point in the board walk it’s clear there is a natural footpath left off the boardwalk to the rocks above. Expedition Crew stands guard preventing people veering off. Boardwalk then goes downhill and then up to a low level view point. For amazing views.

High level view point at top of the rocks has picnic table, bench and telescope. Scramble up smoothed glacial rock to high view point. Magnificent views would be better with clear blue skies and sun. But no. Rain. Sleet. Snow. And low cloud.

Further along the rocky ridge other people congregate. So assume another view point. Off I wander.

Then realise that if I veer left off the designated path I should come to the boardwalk. Which means a shortcut. Which means not walking downhill for some time to then walk uphill. No need to exert one’s self unnecessarily. And a bit of fun in the process.

But.

Dear reader.

In that process.

Slip on a bit of mud.

Knee crashes on rock.

Body falls sideways.

To soften the impact. Put my possum fur gloved hand out.

And land.

On my bottom.

In a. Big. Muddy. Puddle.

Ouch.

With my possum fur gloved hand in same puddle.

Quite fond of my possum fur gloves. Bought in Antarctica. The fingerless type. Ideal for photography. Keep hands warm but fingers available for fiddling. The sort you see a market trader use. On a Saturday morning.

Now covered in sodding mud. And sodden wet.

Bugger.

Soggy bottom.

Soggy gloves.

At this point. Realise I’m being watched. It’s friends from the Back Row Brits. A motley crew. Mr Engineer and wife. They too have the same idea as me.

Take the shortcut.

Bit of a scramble back to boardwalk.

But caught in the act. By Expedition Crew.

Like two naughty schoolboys make up some story about getting lost Miss. Followed other people’s footsteps Miss. Thought it safer to come this way Miss. Ticked off. For damaging the flora and fauna. Somewhat abundant here so no great shakes.

Finish the boardwalk with two other Back Row Brits. Say I feel like I’ve just completed a Duke of Edinburgh expedition. Soaking wet. And muddy. Turns out they’re both D of E Gold assessors.

At the beginning of the boardwalk is the Icefjord Museum. But it’s a ‘take your boots off before you enter’ sort of place. It’s hot. And sticky. Everything comes off. Boots. Soaking wet polar gear. Waterproof trousers. Along with hordes of others doing same. In a cramped space. Bit of a faff. Everyone tripping over everyone sort of thing. And getting in the way.

Walk into museum. Not really a museum. More a glorified coffee shop. Two minutes later walk out.

Faff putting on boots, waterproof trousers and polar gear again. Not easy when everything soaking wet. Walk outside. Discover coat hanger is somehow caught on coat. Return coat hanger.

Bus back to the harbour passing the dog parks. Large open spaces on the outskirts of town where Greenland dogs are tied up. Each with own area. And little kennel. Just sitting there looking sad. And lonely. Looking bored. In the pouring rain. Used for sled pulling in the winter months.

Ilulissat is the place to buy tugtupite. Only found here and on the Kola Peninsula in Russia. Tugtupite is a red coloured stone. Derived from the Greenlandic for reindeer ‘tuttu’ and means reindeer blood.

And what better way to showcase this stone than in jewellery. Not a frequent jewellery purchaser. Somewhat shocked at the price of it all.

Will you be one of the lucky ladies?