Greenland 2009. The heart in the ice — part 2.
After two or three days in Tassiilac, where we fine-tuned the flying gear and did a few small test flights, we head by means of a boat into the interior of a fjord where, after several hours of navigation among the ice, we finally arrive in a gulf where no fewer than 4 glaciers converged. The four glaciers advanced a few cm each day toward the salt waters of the fjord and it was a continuous succession of collapses of the glacier fronts that plunged into the water with the deafening roar of an avalanche. An incredible spectacle. There are no words to describe it. Here the force of nature expresses itself in all its power, making us understand, we who think we're great, how small and insignificant human beings we are. The boat painstakingly makes its way to the bottom of the fjord, the icebergs are very dense and only the extreme skill of the Inuit accompanying us avoids serious damage to the craft and the engine.
We disembark in a spot that seems propitious to us both for the base camp and for the surrounding reliefs, which at first glance seem fairly accessible. There's a river of icy glacier water a few hundred meters from us and this guarantees us an inexhaustible water supply for our primary needs. We set up the base camp, pitch the tents and place the food containers far from the tents, surrounded by a wire for the perimeter alarm. Here, polar bears are a reality you have to coexist and survive with. They aren't those adorable little creatures you see in cartoons but powerful and ferocious 500-700 kg carnivores, starving because of the thaw and the resulting lack of food. The authorities, through a weapons-handling permit, made available to us a large African hunting rifle in caliber 375 magnum Holland & Holland. For the uninitiated, a sort of small cannon disguised as a rifle that fires anti-aircraft projectiles. Obviously, the rules of engagement were precise. To be used only in case of real extreme danger, when the animal wouldn't be frightened off by the blast of a shot fired into the air. Luckily, apart from the fact that I saw one 2 km away (already too close for my taste), there was never any need to have to defend ourselves. Besides being dangerous, it would have been a mortal sin to shoot one of these splendid creatures. All the more so since it's we, in their home, who are disturbing them. We're the guests.
That same day, we started to climb a 700 m mountain and there we realized we had reckoned without the host. We had trained to climb with snowshoes and ice crampons. So a very grueling walk but constant as movement. But what appeared before our eyes was glacial terrain that had been under the pressure of tons and tons of ice that had crumbled and compressed everything beneath. The climb toward the summit thus proved murderous, because our feet had nothing secure to rest on and everything slid and crumbled underfoot. Moreover, often there rose huge boulders that had to be overcome only to immediately find another one ahead. After several hours and several changes of shirts soaked with sweat, we reached the first ledge of the summit. The spectacle that appeared before our eyes had something incredible about it (how many times will I use this term): beneath us, the immense fjord teeming with glaciers that, like the purest diamonds, reflected their light, creating a fantastic halo of plays of light. An incredible kaleidoscope where lights, colors and reflections blended into an unimaginable spectacle. The fatigue gone as if by magic, we prepared for the flight. There was a problem. In fact, the strong wind we had forecast wasn't there. The takeoff was short and bumpy and the wings extremely small in surface. Luckily, the training and the great skill of all the members made things much easier for us. We had a weak wind of perhaps 10 km/h and, once the wing was raised and controlled, we launched ourselves with all the determination we were capable of. In such a situation, a lack of confidence in one's means would surely have caused big problems. Everything went well. We took off and flew toward the fjord above the icebergs only to then return over the terrain and land not far from the base camp. Fantastic. On landing, we hugged and congratulated one another with the awareness of having done something special and united by the mutual desire to try again as soon as possible.
In the following days, we climbed even higher in an exhausting 6-hour ascent. Once we reached the summit of a new mountain, we found there a splendid glacial lake of stunning beauty. There we ate a bit to regain our strength and we set about searching for something that resembled, even from afar, a takeoff. After several attempts, we found a slab (plate) at more than 45° that allowed us to spread out the wing whistle-fashion. The scarce wind conditioned us enormously here too. We had only one attempt: hope that the wing inflates without snagging on the tormented terrain below and then, at full speed, toward the slope. On this occasion, I personally snagged the wing on the ground no fewer than 8 times before having the luck to bring the wing to the vertical. I was as black as a charcoal ember with rage and I let out a liberating shout at the takeoff that could be heard all the way to the South Pole. But, as always, it was worth it. By God it was worth it. Every drop of sweat spent was compensated by what showed itself to my amazed eyes. And again… incredible.
At night, annihilated by fatigue and wrapped in a -27° extreme sleeping bag, we were trying to regain our strength when the food's perimeter alarm went off. Panic… We grabbed the rifle that slept with me beside my thigh, cartridge in the chamber and ready for the worst… but… nothing, it was just a splendid arctic fox vixen that, in search of food, had cut the perimeter wire, thus setting off the alarm. Said vixen didn't know man. In fact, she wasn't frightened of us at all. She thus became our mascot for the entire duration of our stay at the 1st base camp. I forgot: to reach the base of the mountains, we crossed a small stream of icy water at 2°/3° centigrade every day and we took off our footwear up above the knees so as not to wet our trousers. The first experience with that icy water, which blocked your joints and your breathing, was at first hallucinating, then over the days and the dips we became so “Greenlandized” that we washed our heads, armpits and feet in those liquid ice cubes. I never thought I could do it. Hence the awareness that we can do and think beyond what we believe possible.
After a few days and the area exhausted, we called the support boat by satellite to move base camp 1 to base camp 2. We returned to the main fjord filled with gigantic icebergs and from there, pushing inland by water, we reached and passed the 66th parallel, entering, in fact, the Arctic Circle. After a vain search for climbable mountains and a zigzag among the ever-tighter and more dangerous ice, we came back out of the Arctic Circle again, setting course toward a secondary fjord surrounded by a crown of mountains with an alluring look for our flying purposes. There too, we disembarked near a course of fresh water for our needs and we set up the 2nd base camp of the expedition.
The wind in this area (a narrow valley) was very strong and you had to be well dressed to protect yourself as best you could from that cold that got into your bones. This time, we had hoped the strong wind would be present on the summits so we could exploit the dynamic of the magnificent ridge. And instead, nothing. The wind, present strongly in the low layers because of the Venturi effect of the valley, was then almost absent at altitude. This created a not insignificant problem because here the takeoffs weren't at 60-80 degrees but presented ledges and, although having the minimum wind to inflate the wing and bring it to the vertical, we couldn't, given the little space available for the run, get that speed apt to create immediate and optimal lift. Here too, training and experience came to our aid. In fact, with the wing perfectly controlled at the vertical, we ran giving the maximum over those few meters available, then the takeoff happened with a fall to the vertical or nearly so, until we reached the max of lift and the wing began to fly in the usual way. The equipment we had at our disposal, of great reliability and safety, allowed us to use this technique without extreme risks. Even if, honestly and without hiding behind a finger, it must be admitted that we always put something on the line.
We continued in the following days with climbs and flights without however finding thermal conditions. We climbed a virgin mountain of 1200 meters, with an incredible view of the glaciers and fjords of the area and a perfect takeoff on the snow. Probably the most beautiful flight ever done. Michael, to stay up in the air a bit, even had to fly with a tandem of his own design. And for this we teased him to death. On one of the last days, a nasty inflammation of the tendons, following a sprain caused by having put a foot into a hidden crevice in the terrain, gave me strong pains in my right leg that immobilized me for a day. A situation then resolved with appropriate medication in 24 hours.
The return to Tassiilac held a fine surprise in store for us. While waiting for the boat that would take us back to the airport of Kulusuk, we found at low altitude (400 m) a small lake surrounded by a natural amphitheater and struck head-on by a clean wind of more than 25 km/h. This allowed us to soar for hours dynamically along the entire length of the amphitheater, capturing the attention and astonishment of the local Inuit who had never seen a paraglider fly. The local police car and an ambulance also came to take a look. Were they there for us? To posterity the arduous answer.
The expedition then concludes as a No Limit expedition must conclude. In fact, Roberto Peroni, a great and legendary character at the head of the No Limit center in Greenland, suggested to us without giving us too many explanations to put on waterproof gear during the return by boat to Kulusuk. In fact, on the way back we found an extremely rough sea and the waves didn't hold back from drenching us like chicks for more than two hours of crossing.
Moral and reflections
I'm at home with my legs massacred and I'm slowly recovering. It was truly hard and every emotion, we surely earned it. But I wouldn't sell a single instant of what I lived for all the gold in the world. I'll go back to Greenland, I don't know when or how, but I'll go back. I left a piece of my heart there and I want to take it back.