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    T r a v e l R e p o r t-S e i t e  3
M e n u e
Uummannaq Fjord
In the old days, the Inuit went hunting or fishing with teams of dogs and tents. Nowadays, they put huts on runners and hitch them to their snowmobiles.
  Suddenly, the call of a fog-horn can be heard loud and clear. The big freighter we saw hours ago in the distance is now manoeuvring 100 meters away from the rocks. Two seamen are steering a little dinghy towards us through the meter-high waves. While we rush to carry our gear into the narrow bay, the little boat is thrown hard onto the rocks by the waves. Instantly we, our bags and the folding kayak are in the boat, and not even two minutes of rocking later, we are on the lee side of the reighter, and relatively safe. After having stowed our belongings on the afterdeck, we squeeze into the control room, which only measures 2 meters by 2 meters, with the captain and the two seamen. The rough seas don't seem to faze the seamen, and the captain calmly steers us through the mountainous waves with just two fingers on the joystick. The crossing seems endless because, due to the many breakers that keep hitting the ship, and the heavy rain, we only catch sight of Uummannaq's harbour at the last minute. The proprietor of the Hotel Uumannaq is already waiting for us at the harbour, and he offers us a room and any assistance we may need with our final preparations for our return journey. We gratefully accept, and just half an hour later, we sit in the hotel's restaurant, freshly showered and in clean clothes, and enjoy the specialities of the house and a glass of red wine, while a piano is being played discreetly in the background. The contrast couldn't have been greater. By the following morning, the storm has died down. It is completely still, and the first snow has fallen overnight on the island's striking rock formations.
  The freighter that brought us back to civilization is lying at anchor in front of the Hotel Uummannaq.
  The mountain tops are coloured a soft pink by the rising sun, and there is no sign of the storm. It's Sunday, but the hotel's boss arranges for the harbour office to be opened specially for us, so we can check in our folding kayak for the return journey. We stroll around the town for a while, and around noon, we get someone to take us to the heliport which is situated outside the town. It seems that several flights have been cancelled because of the storm during the past few days, and our flight is overbooked. But since there are flights every hour, we spend the time we have gained in the sun, among the sled dogs. From the air, we once again savour the view across the little islands' snow-covered peaks, the many icebergs, and the distant ice sheet. Then, we disappear into the clouds above the peaks of Nussuaq Peninsula.
  One last look at the bare slopes, the mountains and icebergs below, which have been our home for 3 weeks.
  In Ilulissat, we spend one last evening beside the Isfjord, where the breathtaking beauty of the Greenland Arctic is brought home to us as the biggest icebergs in the Northern Hemisphere glow red in the setting sun.
The time of the midnight sun is already over, and so the icebergs glow in the constantly changing light of the setting sun. It's not for nothing that he Isfjord is on the World Heritage List.
  Even before our flight home, back to Germany's hectic working world, we are certain: We're coming back!
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Last update: 03/14/09
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