We have flown over this land and gazed upon the massive streams of ice pouring from its crest. We have cruised its edges and danced between icebergs and bergy-bits spawned from glacial faces. Today, we set foot upon its shores and discovered that Greenland’s palette is bursting with brilliant colors.
Gaze upon a scene and utter the first word that pops to mind. This morning, quite unexpectedly, “soft” leapt to the forefront. What a strange way to view a place where mountains slip to the sea. And yet it was so. The quiet charcoal waters were gently crumpled by the wind and a downy sky enveloped and blurred the hillsides. Later it would rain and the moment of quietude would be shattered, leaving droplets like glistening diamonds scattered here and there.
We stood in the footsteps of the Vikings at the place where their known world ended. Upon their arrival in southern Greenland more than a thousand years ago they were the pioneers, the first wave to move west. It is little wonder that they chose Hvalsey as the place to stay. Today we would choose it for its beauty, for the mats of wildflowers carpeting the soil and peeking from cracks and crevices in the bedrock. They, however, saw much more and thus they stayed for possibly five hundred years or more.
Not far away, an easy sail, the bustling port of Qaqortoq echoes the vibrant theme. Vividly painted houses sweep up the hillsides and down into the valley. Magenta fireweed dashes against cerulean blue siding. Lush lupines line the streams and stand out against buildings painted mustard yellow. The main street has a delightful name, Tassuunnaqquunnerit Tamaasa, which translates, “I think of you every time I pass by.” We very much doubt that we will ever be able to utter a sound in this gutteral language where statements and thoughts are compounded into impressively lengthy words. Consuming some of the local foods was another matter and in very short order masses of seafood disappeared when offered by the local hotel. Back on board, a tiny taste of local lore and drumming enriched our social hour.
As darkness falls, the softness has returned. We are wrapped in a blanket of fog.
