Day 51

A slightly later rise allows us to muster our heavy kit for a helo lift later in the day. Pulk, skis and much of the heavy research kit will be next to impossible to trek out with us and so we have made the decision to have the kit flown off the ice by helo to join us in Nuuk. A couple of days ago we discovered the Military helo that would have done this lift as a training exercise, and therefore been free, had been prioritised to support the visit of the Danish PM, Chief of Defence Staff and the European President. In a variant of the game paper, scissors, rank slides I guess we had just lost. Unfortunately, that meant a hugely expensive commercial lift of kit by a much smaller Air Greenland helo. As I looked at the growing pile of stuff not accompanying us I began to get a little nervous about just how much the helo could carry.

Still, we had 35+Km yomp through difficult terrain to make the western shore and our 2100 boat pick up - we had to travel light in order to make it in time – in fact so light that tents and all but one of the stoves would also be left behind.

By 1000 we were all delightedly stepping off the ice, removing crampons and reshuffling our not so lightweight bergans, eager for the dash to the coast. Eleven hours of hard work and it should be all done. The map indicated approximately 35km ‘as the crow flies’ to Amaralik Fjord. Greenland had other ideas. Our joy at being free from the ice is short lived. Terra Firma it turns out, is not that firm and we make agonisingly slow progress through the steep moraine and weather shattered crags. Huge quarry-like amphitheatres of rock open up around us, evidence of the enormous power of glaciers that had sculpted this landscape over thousands of years.

Increasingly large glacial lakes dissect the route. We have to circumnavigate at least half a dozen lakes, each of which involves a steep climb up and around treacherous rocky slopes. The largest and final one is filled with decaying icebergs. The route around the northern shore is firmly blocked by a colossal icefall so we are forced to skirt around the lake margin to the south. As our intended pick-up time edges closer we come across a roaring glacial outflow channel cutting through a steep ravine lying directly across our path.

After much consideration we decide the awesome power of the river and rocky downstream rapids prohibit any form of river crossing. Again, we must backtrack up a painfully steep slope until we reach calmer water. Finally, our last-minute decision to drag an inflatable Pacraft all the way across the icecap is justified. After a quick dynamic risk assessment, we brave the precipitous scree to approach the edge of the berg filled lake and inflate the Pacraft. It’s by no means a perfect situation but we do as much as possible to reduce the risk to manageable levels. Josh sets off paddling across the gap with a Bergan balanced on his knees and a line attached to the rear of the raft so we can recover it to the home bank. It’s a long slow process but we need to get it right. An hour later and there’s just me left on the eastern bank retrieving the Pacraft and sincerely hoping it doesn’t snag on a bit of floating ice…… all goes well and we’re soon climbing the far bank and on our way again, but what is rapidly becoming clear is we are not going to make the intended pick up even with a newly arranged 2300 timing, and with it our chances of making the pre- booked flight home are evaporating.

We set out with lightish bergans - no tents and only limited food. Tonight, will be an austere bivi at the top of the final valley. Ironically, once it becomes clear that the pick-up is no longer possible the atmosphere amongst the team becomes strangely relaxed. Almost instantaneously, the landscape changes; vegetation. Moss quickly gives way to grass and flowers. Birds start to appear and clear indications of larger wildlife come into view.

Bivying out like Nansen did almost 140 years before us somehow just feels ‘right’. The spot we find gives us a perfect view down into tomorrow’s valley and a rare opportunity to all sit together in the heather eating the last of our food and reflecting on the journey. It turns out to be the most idyllic of evenings in what in many ways resembles a steep Scottish glen. Eventually, the cold encourages us all back to our bivi spots tucked behind various rocks. For me it’s a cold uncomfortable night’s sleep with all our electronics packed against my body to try and eek out some more battery life and preserve comms for the all too critical pick-up calls.

At three in the morning something triggers me to open my eyes. It’s a crystal clear night with many of the most familiar constellations etched across the sky, and then gradually the most magical display of northern lights unfolds before me in green and crimson curtains across the sky. To me, it seems to draw a line under what has been the perfect adventure. Just 20km down the valley to crack and the journey will be complete.