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"Anyone fool enough to go to Greenland for
pleasure would go to Hell for entertainment". Written in the book An Arctic Rodeo by Daniel W. Streeter, this is how my friend, and the leader of an American climbing expedition, Todd Skinner, approached me about going to Southern Greenland to climb a 3500 foot tall chunk of granite named "Ülamertorssuaq" (ooo-lám-er-tor-su-ak). Being a glutton for punishment, I of course could not decline. In the month prior to leaving, I tried to do as much research as possible on the area we would be venturing into, the Tassermiut Fjord in the Cape Farvel region near the village of Nanortalik. Other than an article written in one of the climbing magazines on an expedition there in the early nineties, there was not much else to be learned about this remote area. In all of my research, two underlying themes kept coming up; the unpredictable weather and the mosquitoes. The team consisted of four climbers: Steve Bechtel, Mike Lilygren, Paul Piana and Todd Skinner, all of whom live in Lander, Wyoming: Bobby Model, a still photographer from Cody, Wyoming: Jeff Bechtel, our base camp manager and bodyguard from Casper, Wyoming: and me, a filmmaker from North Carolina who spends a lot of time climbing and filming in and around Wyoming. Paul calls me their "honorary cowboy". On July 4, 1998 we flew into the town of Nuuk, and learned right away that the weather really controls this land. Upon arriving at the airport, in a squall that made it the most precarious landing I've ever been privied to, we were kicked out because they were closing. We had never been to an airport that closed, and we all looked at each other somewhat dumbfounded. So much for sleeping on the floor waiting for a flight that would take us south. We would end up being stuck in Nuuk for 6 days, because of either the weather or lack of space on the planes. We used the time to supply ourselves with enough food to keep us happy for 5 weeks, and also watched a lot of American movies on the television in the youth hostile.The fjords were full of the winter's bounty, so no ferrys could navigate their course through the maze of bergs and breaking pack ice. We finally talked a pilot into flying us and our 1500 pounds of gear to Narsarsuaq, where we hoped to charter a helicopter that would take us to Nanortalik. In Narsarsuaq, an old US Air Force Base code named Bluie West One, we visited the ruins of Eric The Red. He is the famous viking that came here from Iceland and tried to lure his fellow vikings over by naming it Greenland, although Iceland is much, much greener. The next day we were flying over the ice filled fjords to Nanortalik, and upon arriving there we hired a boat and were on our way up the Tassermiut Fjord to find our objective. During the four hour boat ride we were amazed at the beauty of this land, a conglomerate of ice, rock and soil. There were huge mountains all around us, but we knew that our objective would tower over even the largest of the formations we were seeing. Our first sight of Ulamertorssuaq would prove to be a magical moment.We could see a bank of clouds in the distance, obviously clinging to something. As we approached it, the bank of clouds unveiled the prize, and we were all looking at this gigantic piece of rock that would be our home for the next four weeks. Everyone on board was in awe, and for the first time I was slightly intimidated by the task that lay ahead. After hauling loads up the hill we established a base camp below the tower. The base of the wall was still a forty minute hike above camp, but we chose this location because it was flat, had soft grass, a stream which was a constant fresh water supply and it was out of the "strafe zone", no falling rocks could find us here. Now the work began, and the long arctic days would only give Todd an excuse to climb into the nite, which would not come until August! We were south of the Arctic Circle, which meant that during this time of year it would not get truly dark. Around midnight it would get like dusk, then at around 3:00 am the sun would come back up. Around 11:00 am the sun would make its' way over the tower and hit camp, and that's when we would all be scrambling for our head-nets. The first morning, while camp was still in the shade, Steve was mocking what we had heard about the mosquitoes. "The bugs are eating me alive" he cried sarcastically while running between the tents. Little did he know that twenty minutes later those words would ring true. If you were in the sun, there were bugs on you. A mixture of black flies and mosquitoes that were much more of an annoyance than a threat. They didn't bite, but their constant presence was quite a nuisance. The good news is that as each day passed the swarm got thinner and thinner. I believe that it was due to the fact that we were all beginning to smell like we haven't had a true shower in quite some time. For once, smelling bad had it's benefits. |
