Much like coming into Kulusuk back in
May, flying into Kangerlussuaq through bad weather in our bright red
Dash 8 Air Greenland plane was a feast for the eyes.
After leaving Nuuk (no wrong boarding
passes or security this time—in fact, no ID check or security at
all, just me handing them a receipt and them handing me a pass to get
on the plane and choose a seat) and getting above the clouds which
had been causing major storms for days, the flight passed quickly.
After less than an hour seeing nothing but white, we dipped below the
grey and were treated with our first views above the arctic circle
and of a landscape vastly different from what was seen either in East
Greenland or the Capital Region. Immediately below us was a snaking
river through green mountains, followed by glowing blue glacial water
feeding off a glacier and ice cap through the fjord. The plane banked
and we seemingly fell downwards towards the glacier, making me
realize why so many people spent large sums of money to take
helicopter or small plane tours of the area.
Kangerlussuaq is the former Sondrestrom
US Air Force Base from World War II. It's built in an estuary and has
steep mountains on either side, and is divided by the airport and
runway running parallel the two mountians in the middle. This means
that you will either be on one side of the runway (with the airport
itself, the main hotel, and the two hostels I'm residing in) or the
other (with the post office and grocery store, or the other side with
residential housing, the sled dog kennel, and the old air force base
equipment and buildings), with no way to cross unless you go all the
way around.
After arriving and putting my things
into a hostel near to the airport owned by World of Greenland (a tour
agency), I went to the store for food and settled into the airport in
hopes of getting one or two surveys to start the trip off on a good
note. As my job the five days in Kangerlussuaq was to survey visitors
(both land and cruise based) to assess a number of things for the
strategic plan, I would be based at the airport for the time there in
order to try and catch people are they were leaving the country; as
Kangerlussuaq is the only airport in the country which can
accommodate jets, it's the only airport which has flights into
Copenhagen. The airport at Kangerlussuaq is made up of the main room
with two gates (one for domestic flights that you simply walk onto
the tarmac and onto your flight from, and one for Copenhagen flights
that contains security, duty free, and a separate sitting area), the
entrance to Hotel Kangerlussuaq in the middle room with couches for
waiting guests, and a cafeteria on the other end.
Almost immediately I noticed that the
only flight left for the day was a delayed flight to Sisimiut, and
there were only perhaps ten people heading to that destination. All
appeared to be local (thus could not participate in the survey)
except one; a bored looking man who took me up on my offer for a beer
and survey to pass the time until his late flight would leave.
Although the bar wasn'et yet open we sat in the cafeteria, and he
spent a good hour talking to me about his life in Lithuania and his
obsession with fly fishing, which had brought him to Greenland as a
chartered guide for other Europeans.
By the time we were finished speaking
the flight was soon to leave and the airport empty. I decided to go
on a long walk down to the other side of town, and meandered down the
sandy edge of the estuary past the abandoned military buildings and
signs warning of arrest if one were to pass. I stopped for a bit by
the water's edge; around me was beige sand, purple flowers jutting
between white cotton grass and green mountains, with a gray river of
glacial water rushing before me. Colors beyond anything I would see
at home, let alone what I would expect to see in Greenland,
surrounded me.
For a while there laying in the sand
with the midnight sun beating down on me, I pondered reality—I kept
saying to myself aloud, 'this cannot be real. This is not reality',
and in fact, it seemed as though it could not be. Everything looked
just like a painting rather than scenery, in ways that I cannot
describe them because they would simply seem fake or false.
The next morning I awoke early and
began talking to guests, gaining a few interesting conversations and
a notice from Jørgen at World of Greenland to be awake early and
meet with the company on the other side of town where they would be
bringing the guests from the Fram ship of Hurtigruten, which would
end their voyage that morning and would be waiting until their flight
at 2100. When I arrived the next day I met with Sofia, a woman from
Grenada, Spain who had recently moved to Greenland with her Danish
husband, who was a tour guide with WoG. After enjoying a cup of
coffee the busses started to arrive, filled to the brim with older
Northern European guests off the Fram who looked exhausted and not at
all thrilled to then sit in a modified old set of barracks for more
than twelve hours with only a few tours running.
As the time passed and the guests got
more bored, they began to catch my eye and speak English (despite an
hour or so before when they claimed they spoke none). By the end of
the day, nine hours later, I'd spoken with twelve couples/individuals
about their time in Greenland, and was invited to join the group at a
barbeque at Restaurant Roklubben, a restarurant a few kilometers from
the airport in the moutains, at the head of Lake Fergusson, where
Kangerlussuaq gets its water supply from. After enjoying some
reindeer and musk ox, I heard American English coming from the dock
outside and followed it down to meet six scientists from the US. I
had a beer with them and caught a ride back in their work van,
enjoying being around people my age who spoke my language who were
also living far from home.
The next day I again woke early to
speak to guests off the ship Clipper Adventurer, contracted by the
Danish company Albatross Travel. I spoke for a while with a travel
agent off the ship who refused to do a survey—however overhearing
us and then asking if I would interview her was a 92 year old
grandmother, who was wheelchair bound. Surprised, I sat on the gravel
next to her chair as she talked happily to me about her trip and
reasons for coming. Goosebumps appeared on my arm as she told me
outright she didn't have many years left or long to live, so she sold
her flat and wanted to spend all her money before she died by
traveling with her family to places she wanted to go and wanted them
to see. Later another couple I was interviewing told me that the
entire ship called her 'grandma' and that they would carry her when
she could not get somewhere; renewing my hope that, in fact, people
are good if given the chance to be such.
Time flew by and before I knew it I was at the end of this trip—I
had been told before my departure that it was foolish to get my hopes
up, and that I would be extremely bored while in Kangerlussuaq
because its 'nothing more than an airport'. Funnily enough, it ended
the exact opposite for me; even after traveling to more touristy
deastinations such as Tasiilaq or Ilulissat, Kangerlussuaq remains a
haven for me because it's nothing more than an airport. The absolute
silence and peace, framed by unreal sights, away from life—to me,
that's what I enjoy most about Greenland; experiencing a place which
most people land into and fly from without more than a cursory glance
or camera snap.
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