Edward
Umimmak
Wednesday 16 May 2012: Kap Høegh – Kap Høegh
Blinding sunlight again outside but what a sight awaited when the sunglasses went on; while there had been thousands of Little Auks last night at the colony, the numbers overnight had increased massively – there were Little Auks everywhere, huge clouds of them swirling overhead and settling in great numbers on the scree on the headland and on the snow-covered slopes of the mountain across the fjord. The day was spent doing a circuit on the sea ice. We tried to reach the ice edge but it was simply too far away and the further away from the coast, the more chaotic the jumble of ice became. Around midday I heard the unmistakable chatter of Little Auks in the air but looked in vain for a polynya which I assumed was the source of the noise. It took me a few moments to realise that I just needed to look up: high above there was a constant stream of tens of thousands of Little Auks flying from colonies at Kap Høegh and elsewhere in Liverpool Land to the open sea to feed for the day. By July the sea around Kap Høegh is open but in May and June they have a long commute to the feeding grounds. The rest of the afternoon was spent admiring towering icebergs, and holding tight as the sleds bumped over the rough sea ice and on two occasions having to leap off the sled at the last second as the dogs disappeared into a two-metre deep hollow in the ice. As we turned north up the coast, I asked Johan how far north he'd been and he told me he'd sledded up to the Danish base at Daneborg, 450 km away, three times, once on his own just to see what it was like to spend six weeks solo. They are tough people these East Greenlanders.
1. The hut at Kap Høegh
2. Walking on water on Kolding Fjord
3. Heading north up the coast
4. Typical view
5. Iceberg held tight by the sea ice
Blinding sunlight again outside but what a sight awaited when the sunglasses went on; while there had been thousands of Little Auks last night at the colony, the numbers overnight had increased massively – there were Little Auks everywhere, huge clouds of them swirling overhead and settling in great numbers on the scree on the headland and on the snow-covered slopes of the mountain across the fjord. The day was spent doing a circuit on the sea ice. We tried to reach the ice edge but it was simply too far away and the further away from the coast, the more chaotic the jumble of ice became. Around midday I heard the unmistakable chatter of Little Auks in the air but looked in vain for a polynya which I assumed was the source of the noise. It took me a few moments to realise that I just needed to look up: high above there was a constant stream of tens of thousands of Little Auks flying from colonies at Kap Høegh and elsewhere in Liverpool Land to the open sea to feed for the day. By July the sea around Kap Høegh is open but in May and June they have a long commute to the feeding grounds. The rest of the afternoon was spent admiring towering icebergs, and holding tight as the sleds bumped over the rough sea ice and on two occasions having to leap off the sled at the last second as the dogs disappeared into a two-metre deep hollow in the ice. As we turned north up the coast, I asked Johan how far north he'd been and he told me he'd sledded up to the Danish base at Daneborg, 450 km away, three times, once on his own just to see what it was like to spend six weeks solo. They are tough people these East Greenlanders.
1. The hut at Kap Høegh
2. Walking on water on Kolding Fjord
3. Heading north up the coast
4. Typical view
5. Iceberg held tight by the sea ice
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