I stare up at the never-ending slope of ice looming large in front of us, trying to discern if I have a good or bad gut feeling. No feelings at all. As we tie the figure-8 loops into our harnesses, I find myself rubbing the tiny brown toy-horse keepsake I’m carrying in my pocket that belongs to my nephew. I am used to assessing risk, especially out on the water; I am not, however, familiar with assessing risk on ice. The uncertainty is daunting. We are remote, very remote, with a real risk of both crevasses and moulins; there is no room for error.
The ground crunches beneath our crampons as we begin the climb, one step at a time. At the crest of this hill, I stop to scan the horizon and take in what is in front of me. A plateau of white, of only ice and snow as far as the eye can see. Vast, pure, and unlike anything I have ever seen.
When we reach the lake, it is breathtaking. We stop. We are really here. After years of planning and hoping, it now lies in front of us, magnificent in its azure tranquility. Here for maybe only a moment, this moment.
our Greenland adventure, paddleboarding 450km self-supported from Upernavik to Kullorsuaq. The goal is to document and share what we find, but to also pack up the inflatable SUPs and trek up onto the ice sheet in search of elusive supraglacial lakes, ponds
