Town of the Icebergs
OK, so I’m not going to do this in sequence. Too boring.
I’m struggling a bit with my English at the moment, so flowery descriptions will have to wait for my BNA writeups…
16th August 2006
I have travelled the world—well, fifty countries or so—but only rarely have I seen a sight which literally made me gasp.
This morning, after I had peeled myself out of the tent and piled some rocks on the pane to keep it from flapping in the breeze—which would be called a ‘gale’ back home—it happened again, just as I turned around on my way to the toilet block.
The mundane reality of campsite life was brushed aside as the Northern hemisphere’s mightiest glacier lay spread out in the bay below like a dish on a plate:
It was hard to decide where to turn first: towards that expanse of white, which lay just over the rocky outcrop, or to town. In the end, my stomach won. As usual.
The entire area along the long, winding road which leads from the campsite to town was covered in �hundepladse�, areas where the sledge dogs are chained up over the summer. It sounds cruel, and my first impression yesterday night was one of mild shock as their howling sounded out over the outskirts of town. However, adult sledge dogs have to be chained or locked up by law. —With over 6000 working dogs, chaos would ensue if it weren�t so. Next to the runs, wooden sledges are piled high against make-shift sheds. The impression is one of run-down chaos, but it is in fact carefully arranged.
At a closer look, the dogs seemed mostly content. Yapping and howling occured intermittendly when two dogs pick an argument or a handler approaches with food. The dogs are on runner chains, carefully placed so that each one or two occupy a circle sufficiently far away to keep them from running into the others. When they come too close, fur tends to fly. Greenland sledge dogs are a wild breed.
It is hard to imagine in the summer sunshine, but dog sledges are still the most important mode of transport around here when winter arrives.
Once past the dog area, the view opens on an idyllic scenery of colourful houses with the ice-strewn bay in the background.
I’m happy that I have chosen to come to Ilulissat. Yes, the whales are in Aasiaat. And no, I may not be able to return there—it being a five hour boat trip away, with the local boat sailing twice a week. But Ilulissat truly is ‘The Perl of Disko Bay’. And camping means that I’m flexible and can go on local trips. Who knows, perhaps I will see the whales again.
After a short walk across town, I reached the bay and the majestically floating icebergs.
It was definitely the right decision to come here.
Denni