Disembarking from the Air Greenland flight, I was a wobbly doll with my head swaying from one side to another with exhaustion and sleep. The five hours on the flight passed in a soft lull and in conversations with a Danish Doctor working at Nuuk, the capital of Greenland. Her last piece of advice to me before I dozed off in between, was to wear every piece of Clothing I had in my bags if we went out sailing. Greenland can be cold, she admonished.
Just as the flight was about to land, I caught a fleeting glimpse of the snow-covered mountains from a window two columns to my left, and that spread of white on brown, snow on tall mountain peaks, and a sense of adventure was enough to get me out of my stupor and charged up all over again. We had reached Greenland!
The flight landed in Kangerlussuaq, a settlement in central-western Greenland and our gateway to the country. It was comparatively small and cozy for being Greenland’s largest Commercial airport and one of the only two with considerable traffic. We met Aputsiaq, our Guide from Visit Greenland, and for lack of pronunciation skills, immediately christened him as ‘Apu’. Apu was interning with the organization and coming from the region was not just knowledgeable and resourceful, but also pretty amiable right from the onset.
We checked into the Youth Camp Hostel, a strewn array of red wooden structures encapsulated by mountains in pastel shades of yellow, green and brown that made them look naturally over ‘saturated’. Talk of six degrees of separation and we found out that Sophia, who runs the place, was a friend and fan of Jason’s. What a lovely coincidence! She extended that friendliness to the whole gang by making excellent fish for lunch the next day. This Camp Hostel was to be home for the next week, and the coziness inside was delusional to how cold it was outside.
Outside, the wind in Kangerlussuaq had an icy chill to it. There was freshness in the air. Wind carried the mountain’s scent each time it blew. It smelled of grass and of animals, of snow covered mountain peaks, and of exploration. The scent behind that smell took some time getting used to. The air was cold. Thanks to Alicia who had sent over warm clothing for me, I was thankfully snug.
A quick call with Mads, our ‘original’ Guide for the trip (who couldn’t make it due to a last minute emergency) and itinerary discussions, we zeroed down on areas to visit and hopefully favourable weather conditions. Soon after, everyone else left to pick supplies, while Dan and I decided to take some shots of planes taking off and landing from the airport tarmac nearby.
We ran into a group of Danish Hunters by the cabins close to where we were shooting. Greenland although culturally very different from Denmark, is under the Kingdom of Denmark and sees constant interaction between the two communities. The Danish Hunters shared their thoughts on the hunting season and mutual admiration for each other’s shooting equipment got us talking.
Post a quick lunch; the guys started filming Jason on the Nat Geo series for Pure Photography. Jas is magic on camera and off it, in real life. It’s tough not taking a liking for him instantly. A major part of being a great photographer comes from being an affable person, and he is great on both the fronts. Simon and I were a nuisance for the filming with our chatter, so we decided to walk and talk. I learnt a good deal about his initial travels to China, his journey so far and how he founded the travel insurance company. Thousands of worried parents back home and footloose travelers across 150 countries are relatively relieved because of him.
He explained the concept of pulling and pushing a shot to me, by exposing a shot by one stop less or more (of course depending on what you want) and how to fool the camera into exposing correctly when it tries to fool you by bringing colours to neutral gray. Just as I was thinking of asking Jas to explain more of this to me, Richard beckoned me, saying that I was up on camera next!
Soon we were heading out to the base of Sugarloaf hill, which offers great views of the town. As Apu drove us uphill through the eight-kilometer stretch in a battered blue van he had borrowed for us from his grandmother, we noticed a no-smoking sign inside the van, but what was hilarious and equally debate sparking was the presence of a sign, banning ‘ice cream’! I had an urge to have one, and know what it would be like to have it in that cold and wondered if I could get ice cream somewhere but we had a different destination to reach.
We stopped at a couple of places en route and there was a golf course on the way, probably the world’s northernmost. We were shooting around this 18-hole golf course left behind by the US army base currently in a state of abandon and there, Jason asked me to get his ‘Pano’ out of the backpack and showed me how to use a Hasselblad! Getting the Xpan out, I was excited; I had never shoot on one. Focusing on a range finder requires merging a small frame with the actual point of focus and is very different from auto focusing on a digital camera, I discovered. He explained the other components that come into play and the use of a filter that he had on to even out the distribution of light across a frame. While I was dying to experiment with this Hasselblad, today wasn’t the day.
We drove on, and reached the base of Sugarloaf Mountain. Everyone scurried on, Jason and I walked at my pace admiring the surroundings. I tottered on, battling the cold. It is amazing how habitations and nature work in coexistence and in contrast. The walking trail was utterly cold, a strong wind bellowed and the temperature was so low, barely anything grew. A small gap on the left provided comfort in comparison. The leeward side of the mountain providing enough warmth for myriad hues and colour patterns to grow as a deep barren slope rolled on to the other side.
We lay there, perched flat on our stomachs, and I marveled at the lukewarm coziness around while looking for species and plants. Jason told me that the smallest tree in the world grows in the tundra. I am not quite sure if we managed to find the little fella that day. Later I found that the dwarf willow grows to a staggering height of 5 centimeters and tends to spread over the ground.
While everyone else was at the top of the mountain, soaking in the ever-lasting golden hours, we decided to head back after waiting up. The trail back was a never-ending stretch of beautiful landscapes we had passed earlier. Walking back, Jas and I had time to talk and had long conversations on his life as a photographer, his struggles and, passion. He spoke of how the industry was faring and the ills of ‘citizen-correspondence’ and free-imagery eating into the system.
Long walks, insightful talks, depleting sugar levels, and yet there was no sign of our boys coming back. While we contested their fate - falling off a cliff; eaten by some arctic animal; car breaking down - and ours - dying from exhaustion and thirst- we couldn’t stop walking. The cold would have frozen me to death instantaneously while Jason’s sturdier body would have lasted longer. The thing about cold places is that you always need to make a trade-off. If you walk, you stay warm but you feel tired. If you stay put, you might feel a bit more energized but the cold wind will get on you. A moment’s rest meant bringing my body temperature down by a huge notch, so, armed with equipment, I marched on.
While the long walk back was exceedingly taxing, it was one of the most beautiful ones. At times you wish that time would stop, and it almost does in the Arctic. Just the clock ticks on. It was 11pm in the night and with light still lurking around, it felt 5pm back home. After all, we were in the land of the midnight sun.
A part of me wanted to conquer the 8 km trek, and we were only one kilometer short while another was so dazed from exhaustion that when the moon peeped out from over a mountain, I thought it was the headlights of our mini-van.
