Beyond the Charts

What a sight: small icebergs drift across the water while, directly behind them, a 165-foot wall of blue glacier ice rises into the sky. We leave the sailing vessel anchored in an unnamed fjord in southwest Greenland and weave our inflatable boat through the floating ice toward shore. Algae-covered rocks make for slippery footing, but we manage to step onto solid ground. No sooner have we landed than the landscape begins to change. The water retreats, exposing a vast sandy beach that grows larger by the minute. Stranded chunks of ice remain scattered across the shoreline beneath a towering wall of pure glacier ice – the backdrop for an adventure in Greenland’s wilderness.

At high tide, the water reaches the glacier’s edge, making it easy to land nearby. Then, surprisingly fast, the water level drops by several yards, making it almost impossible for the dingy to reach shore. Between loose moraine debris, polished bedrock and the massive glacier sealing off the valley, we fight our way uphill.

Higher up, we finally step onto the ice itself. Using crampons, we make our way through a maze of crevasses to reach the skiable slopes hidden in a neighbouring valley. It’s the thrilling start to a breathtaking traverse that ends in a nearby fjord, where our boat will eventually pick us up again.

“I just want to say I had a great day,” says Paul Walser, looking back on the tour with a big grin, even though the incoming tide almost spoiled our plans. The mountain guide from Obergurgl in Tyrol is always on the hunt for new terrain beyond the established ski touring destinations. He has explored Norway, Iceland, Svalbard and even the volcanoes of Chile. Spectacular places, but all much closer to civilization than this. “Greenland sounds truly exciting and wild,” he says, smiling broadly.

Out here, there are no settlements, no houses and no cell service. Instead, we find untouched nature and countless mountains lined with tempting ski descents. Planning relies on little more than rudimentary online maps. Using slope angles and satellite imagery, Paul studies potential routes without knowing whether they are actually skiable. The uncertainty starts long before the first turn. Reaching Greenland’s capital Nuuk is straightforward enough, but the flight onward to Maniitsoq, a community of roughly 2,500 residents, depends almost entirely on visibility.

Before our arrival, no aircraft had landed there for a full week. From Maniitsoq, another 60 miles by sailing vessel carry us into a northern fjord that seems to stretch endlessly into the Greenlandic interior.

After a long journey, we enter a hidden side arm of the fjord. On one side, a glacier calves directly into the sea; on the other, landing is possible even at low tide. We travel deep inland across a glacier several miles long, surrounded by photogenic peaks. Somewhere along the way, we turn right and climb steeply onto a broad plateau. It is already evening, yet in May the sun lingers until midnight. Snow quality hardly notices the hour. Down low, temperatures no longer freeze overnight, while sheltered north-facing slopes still hold pockets of soft powder. With every passing minute, the shadows lengthen and the light grows richer. While a blanket of clouds spreads beneath us, we enjoy the evening sun and eventually reach an unnamed summit rising to 5,400 feet above sea level.

Like all its neighboring peaks, it has no official name. The reward is a summit photo filled with happy faces and an astonishing panorama. On one side, rivers of ice flow toward the fjords. On the other, the glaciers appear to merge seamlessly into Greenland’s vast ice sheet. We are alone. The nearest inhabited settlement lies 40 miles away. Even the wildlife is sparse, apart from two ptarmigans watching us with apparent indifference.

At night, we head to the next fjord. Long before the glacier comes into view, we can hear and feel its presence. A thick blanket of floating ice spreads out before us.

Time and again, thunderous cracks shatter the silence, followed by waves that roll across the fjord like miniature tsunamis. Then the massive glacier tongue comes into view. It seems as though every few minutes another block of ice breaks off and plunges into the water. Of course, after our next tour, we cool off with a dip in the sea. It is just one of many unforgettable scenes we collect on this trip – memories that will stay with us long after the fjords have already disappeared beyond the horizon.