Upernavik Greenland Fjord Paddling Alone in 1992
Gail E. Ferris

	During the fall of 1991 I decided that I would like to continue 
with what had now for me become an annual tradition.  This is a kayak 
paddling trip somewhere in the Arctic. From the past three experiences I 
had found that the Arctic always seems to hold the greatest intrigue for 
me.  I find that I always seem to pursue paddling in relation to 
anticipated Arctic excursions.  I once again visited the Library at 
Mystic Seaport to consult the Pilot Guide Sailing Directions about the 
western coast of Greenland.  I had concluded that north of Disco Bay had 
greater potential of being more remote and less affected by tourists.
	Initially I thought that Ummanaq might be suitable but after I 
read in the Sailing Directions that these fjords during the summer 
months have frequent catabatic winds of high velocity because they are 
flanked by 7,000 foot mountains I immediately reconsidered. 
	I continued reading about the weather and wind conditions farther 
northward and found that the next settlement Upernavik had wind 
conditions which were much more moderate.  As I scanned the chart I 
noticed that there were numerous islands separated by short distances.  
This combination of paddling conditions were much more suitable for me.  
I was anticipating that I would have to paddle alone because previously 
I had found that partners are not available for these long and expensive 
travels. 
	I devoted the intervening seasons to learning more paddling 
skills.  The most important way I improved my paddling was to paddle in 
the Ramsey Sound area of Wales with instruction from a BCU certified 
instructor.  This training experience did much to open my eyes to the 
reality that the waters off the British Isles are very challenging, 
should not be paddled without adequate guidance and require utmost skill 
in all aspects of paddling. Paddling alone is not a casual undertaking.
	I discovered from reading that a compass was best employed as a 
deck ornament at best and the sun was not always there to provide 
guidance for usage of a solar.  Then I realized that I had a slight 
problem, just a slight one, at that.  When I have never been to an area 
before and there are many many islands I know that I can be sure that 
the islands are all going to look the same to me.  There I will be, lost 
forever in the Arctic, going from one cavernous, ice choked fjord, to 
another, trying to find where I am and where I just was.  I concluded 
that I had better immediately pursue the new invention for navigation 
which does cover the entire globe called the GPS.  The GPS had been used 
with great success and I purchased a highly recommended hand held 
waterproof model.  I experimented with the GPS at home and found it not 
only very accurate but quick to respond to change in position as I moved 
about.  I also learned what conditions to avoid that would cause 
problems in reception, such as cloth and leaf canopies.
	I flew to Upernavik on July 4th. and consulted with Peter Bendtzen 
curator of the Municipal Museum.  Peter had me on the edge of my chair 
as he described the archaeology, botany, meteorology, microclimates and 
other special characteristics I would find lurking within the fjords of 
this area.  I regretted that I did not have more time to more explore as 
he elaborated about icebergs, birds and a glacial refugia.
	There was some degree of tension involved because of my being 
alone and in Greenland is unheard of for a woman to be undertaking a 
travel of this sort.  I carefully laid out a route with Peter and a 
contact point to lessen our feelings of apprehension.
	On July 9th., 1992 I set off from Upernavik's southernmost point 
at 72û47.03'N, 56û08.1'W at 1:30 pm after having been assisted in 
navigation details by Peter Bendtzen. I proceeded to paddle northeast 
down the passage behind Upernavik which is on a high ridgebacked island 
that has on it's highest point an Aero telecommunications tower.  This 
tower is visible from some vantage points for many miles.  For 
navigators this tower was handy because no other island had any similar 
structures on them.
	The sun was shining brightly as my hull glided over the clear, 
dark, slightly riffled water.  The wind was blowing from the west at 
less than five knots, typical summer conditions for paddling in this 
area.
	Now came the moment of decision which side of the passage, 
Ikerssuaq, that I am paddling should I choose to investigate.  I looked 
at the chart and decided that the coast of Lang Island looked more 
interesting because it had some peninsulas, a lake fed stream and most 
important for me to locate was a navigational aid which my topographic 
map indicated.  The low angle of bright sun shining into my eyes on my 
right side made looking at this north facing coast and any submerged 
rocks difficult to see until I was in the shadows of the rock 
escarpments.  In my kayak I do not mind paddling close to the shore with 
the exception of reef strewn areas and rock slide areas.  Peter had 
cautioned me that there plenty of unmarked rocks that one has to watch 
out for.  I was glad that the "Hypalon" hull is quite puncture resistant 
even when loaded with month's supply of completely self-sufficient 
dehydrated food and camping gear.
	It had been longer than I wished before I was at long last, now 
able to once again enjoy paddling on the open waters of the Arctic.  I 
had landed in Greenland June 18th. and during the first three weeks of 
my trip had devoted myself to the study of the Greenland kayak.  Now, 
the moment I was underway in my kayak I experienced this feeling of 
relief and this indescribable feeling of reunion with my old friend the 
open water. For me the open water is where there is the world of endless 
changes, waves and tides.  
	The black clear water fell away to depths unknown and rose again 
to visible depths here and there as I peered from my cockpit looking for 
what I might see in this marine world.  This area I knew would be 
different from Baffin Island at the same latitude because it receives 
the warm West Greenland current which has branched off from the Gulf 
Stream in the mid-Atlantic.  Baffin Island receives this current on the 
rebound after it has lost much of it's warmth.  The types and density of 
fish population along this Greenlandic coast is different than what is 
found off Baffin four hundred miles away across Davis Straits.
	I had begun my usual quest of looking for shellfish and sea 
urchins and whatever else was there to see in shallows of this marine 
world.  From past travels in similar areas I was looking forward to 
hopefully seeing some of the exquisitely beautiful jellyfish that ply 
these Arctic waters.  Because the water is especially clear and dark the 
jellyfish are particularially easy to view and study the details of 
their structure while they pass by undisturbed, gliding on the currents 
going from place to place in search of food.  Some such as the 
combjellies or Ctenophores have large irridescent cilia with which they 
actively swim as well as take advantage of traveling on the currents.  
It is delightful to watch the movement of these rows of cilia as they 
reflect the light of the sun and fascinating to realize that these 
combjellies exhibit the largest existing cilia of any organisms.
	The high cliffs along Lang Is. were brown with some white feldspar 
as they descended uninterrupted into the shadowy deep.  As I made my way 
northeast these bare cliffs of igneous rock were sparcely covered with 
plants, however for this year it was still early for summer flowering.  
This year, the season was delayed by a month because of the large 
volcanic eruption in the Philippines earlier in the year.   
	Because my US hydrographic map had some errors and had less 
detail, I had bought a new map published by the Danish Geological Survey 
at the local KNI store.  
	As I made my way down Ikerssuaq I came across the navigational aid 
that I had been looking for which was an orange triangle mounted on a 
pole on a peninsula of Lang Is. that was easily visible from the water.  
The height of the rock coast began to recede and I began to see in this 
area that there were places where one could land.  Around the peninsula 
not only were there some places where one could land in an emergency but 
now I was beginning to find places where one could easily land and flat 
areas for camping.  
	On the opposite side of this passage the island of Akutdliarssuk 
appeared to offer only cliffs with no places to land along the coast 
that I could see.  I long ago found that islands on one side can be 
inhospitable and on another side might be quite the opposite. My chart 
only offered two hundred meter interval topographic lines but it did 
have some color shading to suggest topographic features which was 
reassuringly helpful and my chart indicated that the east side of Lang 
Is. might be quite low.  As I continued paddling I found that this area 
was most convenient for stopping by just resting the boat on the gently 
rounded granite shore in the calm.  I needed a moment to very carefully 
access where I was and relate the information on the map to where I 
should be heading.
	I had been taking readings with my Garmin GPS and I found it to be 
working very well and it's readings were corresponding the position 
indicated by my Davis Instruments plastic sextant.  Also their along 
with three arm transparent protractor which has accompanying compass 
angles was corresponding well.  Having rested my kayak on the rock shore 
I pulled out my sextant, protractors and lined them up on the chart to 
determine where the most likely position of the headland Moruissaq on 
the next island, Atiligssuaq, to the east into the passage Torssžt would 
be.  The positions and sightings were okey.  My GPS read 72û47.20'N, 
56û03.4'W which was to my relief, on the money, so to speak, because now 
I was completely dependent on these instruments to know where I was.  
Being completely unfamiliar with the area and the tension of being 
alone, my usual initial reaction is that everything looks the same.
	After looking at what appeared from my vantage point to be just a 
solid wall of varying heights of rock and comparing to what was on the 
map I decided that the opening to Torssžt had to be out of sight just 
behind a rounded rock of lesser height than the even more vertical 
higher peaks to the south.  Once it was definite or so I told my 
doubting self that this is what maps are for.  Here is one of those many 
pragmatic moments to come when I realized that I had to trust the map, 
because maps are made to tell me what I was actually looking at, rather 
than what seemed.  Once I had convinced myself of what I should shoot 
for, I started my crossing.  I turned on my GPS to see what progress I 
was making and because it is accurate to 1/100 of a minute which is less 
than 50 feet, the numbers as I progressed a short distance began to 
register my new location.  From my starting point, on the northeast 
corner of Lang Is., the passage between Moruissaq and Umiasugssuk was 
not visible and the two peaks lined up in front of each other with such 
little separation that there was no discernable difference in color 
shade to indicate distance.  From my position I was not able to estimate 
what landing areas on the opposite shore might be available on the 
island Atiligssuaq which was directly across from me at a distance of 
one and three quarter nautical miles.  With binoculars I would have been 
better able to judge, perhaps, although from the low cockpit of a kayak 
viewing distances of lower shore details are much less.  Half a mile is 
a realistic distance for obtaining landing information or knowledge of 
any streams coming down to the water's edge.  But when one is just 
starting out one often forgets to keep things like binoculars, that are 
handy in these situations, easy to locate.  
	My crossing started down the coast a less than a mile from some 
submerged rocks rather than spring for it where I first stopped.  From 
this position the crossing distance was from a couple miles to just over 
a mile.  While I was engaged in making this crossing I experienced that 
helpless feeling of being threatened by the unpredictable nature and 
physics of something much larger than I.  What happened was that this 
was the moment for the explosive energy within the large iceberg 
drifting on the tide of this passage had a relatively small section 
explosively split off and crash into the water.  The piece of this 
iceberg created some appreciable waves which traveled across the bay.  
With the exception of that iceberg as I could see no other ice.  	With 
dread I contemplated what would it be like if that iceberg decided to 
split in half and that was one of the reasons why I had started my 
crossing farther down the coast because I did not want to be within the 
possible range of danger from that typically unpredictable ice monster 
which was not just wide but high as well.  I had been warned to give 
wide berth to icebergs.
	When I arrived on the other side there was no place to land that I 
could see.  The rocks were straight up and down with a small nesting 
area for some Little Auks or Alle alle, Dovkies and another area for 
Gulls.  Actually there had been a beach which I had not noticed during 
my crossing.  I was rather ill at ease and was so preoccupied with 
visually exploring the surrounding incredible escarpments to remember 
that my binoculars might have told me more about where there might have 
been a landing place.  But my initial impression was "this is not a nice 
place to be in a storm, there osno place to land unless I were a fly, 
I'm glad the weather is so innocent today."  
	Padding past that opening into the passage, Torssžt, there was a 
visible opening which appeared as a dead end surrounded with 
dramatically high vertical basaltic cliffs, but just inside the passage 
up on the cliffs about a hunderd feet above the water the white residues 
on the stone indicated nesting areas.  Birds nest at the inside of 
Moriussaq point.  I saw  some dovekies, small gulls, guillemonts and 
razorbills here on their nests.  The weather had changed and with the 
west wind from the Davis Straits the day had become cold and gray.  I 
decided that another brighter day might be better for pictures because 
the little black birds at that distance would not make very interesting 
photographs.  
	In the water behind Moruissaq, there was a tidal eddy where I saw 
several types of Ctenophore comb jellies gathered together.  The largest 
were the box comb jelly or Lobata with it's radiently irridescent cilia 
reflecting the light in the sky back through the water into my eyes even 
though it was a gray day.  There were other round ctenophores types of 
sea grapes or Cydippida ranging in size from the usual inch diameter to 
surprisingly small as one quarter inch diameter floating on the current.  
I regretted that I did not happen to bring my underwater camera to try 
and capture on film their etherial structures.
	To my right rising abruptly from the water was the nearly vertical 
escarpment of the 680 meter high Umiasugssuk or Umiak Mountain, so named 
because it unmistakably resembles an inverted umiak with its steep sides 
and narrow flat bottom.  
	I continued along the south side of the Torssžt inspecting the 
steep escarpment studying the columnar basalt noting with secret relief 
it's stability in contrast to a similar Basalt cliff in Pond Inlet.  I 
remembered my experience at Pond Inlet, just across Baffin Bay, when 
from a distance of about four miles I watched with a feeling of 
incredulousness the instantaneous release from the flanks of a traprock 
basalt mountain of a relatively large very threatening rockslide.  
Contrasting with the crystal clear brilliant blue sky that rock slide in 
Pond Inlet filled the air with it's insideous dust for about twenty 
minutes after it's mass of blood red brown rocks crashed down the three 
thousand foot cliff into the water below.  I thanked myself that I was 
not on the receiving end of that slide and I regard similar rock 
structures with greatest respect.  The indicator of instability is 
usually an extensive tallus slope and rocks with no lichens growing on 
them. 	
	The sun had retreated behind the thickening clouds transforming 
the bright carefree day into a misty, grimly cold sorrowful day.  I 
recalled my new friend Peter at the museum discribing how it is always 
much sunnier and warmer down in the fjords than it is on the outer 
islands such as Upernavik and I remembered my many previous similar 
experiences in other places.  The definate thing about the weather is 
that it will always change.  I thanked myself, once again, for having 
put on my usual winter paddling clothing, especially my hat, scarf and 
pogies.  At least there was very little wind just five knot at the most 
which was pushing me along, but it was difficult to summon sufficient 
imagination to visualize how beautiful this area must be in the 
sunlight.
	I continued doggedly on, or so I thought, when from the opposite 
side a mile away, I noticed the smoke curling skyward from a briskly 
burning campfire.  I thought that to be polite that I should just 
continue on and not disturb the people at their picnic.  I tend to worry 
about my being an outsider invading other's privacy.  I knew that it was 
traditional Inuit custom that if they wish you to come and visit them 
they will wave at you and let you know you are welcome but if they 
ignore you to stay away.  Then a few minutes later as I was gazing 
across a little motor boat was suddenly put out on the water.  I noticed 
that the boat was definately headed for me and I changed course paddling 
to meet them.  The thought crossed my mind when I saw that the boat had 
a man Peter Juul Nielsen and three or four girl in it both Danish and 
Inuit that I bet that fellow is going to be surprised to get to speak 
English in the middle of in a sense, literally nowhere.  Well sure 
enough that is just what happened.  We had a great laugh about the fact 
that not only the world is so small, these days and that he hadn't 
spoken English in eight years, but that one of his daughter's was an AFS 
student who was going to attend public highschool in the United States 
next year.  This was very funny.  The two Inuit girls were his step 
daughters and his wife Mari Petersen, who was their mother and was there 
tending the fire.  They asked if I was on my way to Augpilagtoq.  I had 
the feeling that it was most wise that I tell them who I was, where I 
was going and would they if they got the chance tell Peter Bendtzen at 
the Museum that they had seen me and that I was alright.  Later on this 
proved to have been a very important contact because later I learned 
that I never did suceed in passing on from Augpiatoq by phone the 
massage that I was alright to Peter Bendtzen.
	I brought my kayak ashore and they marveled at how one could be so 
prepared to just step out into the cold water without the slightest 
problem, but I showed them that I was dressed for the occasion with my 
dry suit and neoprene booties.  The winter snow and ice edge along the 
shore had not melted away yet so we used it to slide the boats up out of 
the water on.  It was still strong enough to support our weight quite 
well.  I realized that I had better tie my boat off especially well 
because if it broke loose it could instantly launch itself zipping 
backward down the slope and hitting the water not stopping until it was 
well out in the bay.  That is the type of spontaneous boat happening I 
really didn't want to take a chance on to find out how good melting ice 
is as a lubricant.
	For me I knew that this was going to be one of those precious 
moments, because I greatly treasure the opportunity to see and learn how 
people do things in a traditional way.  Here this family was having a 
wonderful time just enjoying being out on the land together, catching 
and eating fish and shellfish.  The first thing they handed me was a 
nice cup of hot tea.  I felt better already, the cold had started to get 
to me.  We both got out our cameras and took pictures of each other and 
then we ate some Blue Mussels and Arctic clams just boiled in salted 
water.  We feasted on these deliceous things and I felt absolutely 
euphoric to think that we could be together enjoying all this just like 
anybody else the world over but I was thousands of miles from home doing 
this.  I often wonder what you are supposed to be getting when you make 
that purchase of your airplane ticket, was this included?  Of course if 
I found out that I had just unknowing signed up for a walk on the moon I 
would be just a little concerned, as a matter of fact more than just.
	We finished the mussels and clams off and washed them down with 
more tea.  We decided to walk up the hill to see the lake above and look 
for more plants to burn.  I was looking for Arctic heath but they were 
gathering Empetrum nigrum.  I watched with amazement as they showed me 
how well it burns.  The plants in the Arctic that are good for making 
fires burn fiercely even though they are green because they have an 
especially high oil content.
	I was glad to learn that Empetrum nigrum burns very well and is 
used in preference to Arctic heath, Cassiope tetragona, because it is 
good to know these things incase of an emergency.  Peter instructed me 
that a fire built at the top of the land is used as a rescue signal.
	Marie's children showed me that cassiope flowers can be eaten and 
taste medicinal suggesting a cold cure.  I could not imagine myself 
sitting down to a bowl of them unless I thought that they were the only 
cure for what was ailing me.  Even then I would have to be rather 
despirate.  You would probably wind up with bad breath strong enough to 
bole over an ox.
	At last much to my supressed relief as I was staggering by now, we 
decided that we had gone up high enough and had seen enough we headed 
back down with our bundles of plants.  Among the plants to my surprise 
was a birch, this was the Arctic Birch which it's presence was quite a 
surprise to me.  
	I felt that had probably witnessed what was unique to the area 
that we had not continued any farther and that the terrain hadn't been 
any more demanding because walking in my vinyl drysuit is for me an 
awkward struggle, at best.  
	Our next activity was to catch some Arctic Sculpin, Myoxocephalus 
scorpionides, which we would then cook and eat.  I tried to supress some 
of my exuberance but I was undeniably very excited about this because 
this was another opportunity for me to learn traditional ways and 
although I vaguely aware that they are edible I had never had the 
opportunity to experience eating these fish.  With special pride they 
showed me the lure which Peter had specially created out of just a 
shotgun shell some white plastic and a hook out the bottom balasted with 
some pebbles.  These voracious fish will bite on just about anything, 
especially if it is vigorously jigged up and down.  For me, this was 
good to know because I realized that I could with a simple fish hook and 
some line invent a lure that would probably catch them if I was in 
despirate circumstances with no food.  The Peter and the girls launched 
the boat from the snow flat on the shore and set off seeking likely 
places to catch the sculpin.  The sculpin either bite in very short 
order or you just move to another place where they might be lurking.  As 
I looked into the water I found that it was easy to see them sitting on 
the light colored bottom with their distinctive wings extended.  Then in 
just moments they had a big one and then they caught some smaller ones.  
No more action in one place, so they moved to another spot and moments 
later there were some more victims being hauled aboard.  In just five 
minutes they had caught more than we could eat. 
	We hauled up the boat and after we took the appropriate 
photographs Mari cleaned them.  Now that all was in rediness the fire 
was lit the pot with salted water was set on to boil and we had some 
more tea.  
	I concluded that I had done enough paddling for my first day.  My 
first day of paddling had not gotten me more than about seven miles, but 
I wanted to enjoy this favorite place and I was in no hurry to rush to 
Augpialtoq I wanted to adjust gradually to the rigors of paddling my 
loaded Klepper.   I was about one third of the way to Augpilatoq and did 
not need to cover more ground that day.  I consulted as to suitability 
of this site for camping and Mari told me that this was a fine choice.  
I looked for a suitable flat spot which was a tent circle and I imagine 
that this nice place is one of those favored campsites that has probably 
been used for ages, but I did not look for any archaeological evidence 
to prove that this area has been used for many used.  I set up my tent 
in the comfortably flat tent ring.  Then at long last, once all was in 
place I could finally extract myself from my suit and get into my more 
comfortable camping clothing.  It was nice to escape feeling like a 
penguin in my vinyl dry suit and if I had been wearing neoprene I would 
have felt like a yo-yo.  I think it is hard to relate to people normally 
when your body language is reflecting these other than human aspects.  I 
was concerned that these people might think that all American kayak 
paddlers are something other than fully human.  Once again I returned to 
the realm of humanity who wears regular clothes a jacket, a wool 
sweater, the good old reliable hat only twenty some-odd years old at 
this point in it's motley existance, then all is complete with the long-
johns and wind proof pants.  Somehow I cannot bring myself to use the 
present term pant in place of the word pants, because to me the word 
pant is a verb not a noun.  Just think of the confusion I might be 
avoiding.  The same approach goes for slacks as well.  Most people have 
two legs and that is how I think these collective terms many have 
evolved.
	I changed as quickly as possible because I did not want to miss 
any of the cooking activities.  Arctic plants make such a fast hot fire 
that I knew things would most likely be cooked in a very short time.  I 
asked what the recipe was for cooked sculpin was simply boiled salted 
fresh water.  They cook to softness very quickly.
	We discussed the method of serving these delicate things, how were 
we to eat these with no apparent plates or utensils available.  Well 
that is resolved just in moments.  First some conveniently placed 
relatively flat surfaced rocks are chosen, then the excess water is 
dumped out from the fish by being poured off quickly on another flat 
stone.  The fish is then divided up appropriately to accomodate groups 
of people around two rocks.  The fish is poured onto the rocks the 
people sit next to the rocks and scoop chunks up with their hands into 
their mouths.
	Much to my delight I found that these sculpin when boiled in 
salted water are esecially good.  Aside from the fillets these sculpin 
have edible stomachs which are thick and tasty, and the male gonads are 
good eating as well.  This experience was well worth the learning.
	I and the daughters from Denmark giggled about how shocking it 
would be, back home, to serve food in this manner.  I can just imagine 
the horrified exaspirated gasps which would emmamate from my victimized 
guests.  How to win enemies and loose friends in an instant just boil up 
something like some pasta pour it out on some rocks in the back yard 
proceed to put the sauce on it and call the guests to eat.  Needless to 
say there is much that is different between our world to the south and 
the Arctic.
	And then, all too soon, it was time for them to leave me and 
return to Upernavik. It was just as well because rain was threatening 
and it was cold with mist starting to develop.  I worried about how cold 
they would get on the way back sitting in an aluminum boat motoring 
along.  I grew cold just thinking about it.  We waved good bye and off 
they went.  I resigned myself to my chosen solitude and took solace in 
the fire frugally feeding it just enough to keep it going with the 
remaining plant material as long as possible.  I should have been more 
inquisitive about my surroundings but grey weather inhibited my 
curiosity.  I retired to the warmth of my tent and made myself 
comfortable for the somber evening.
 	The next morning I awoke to discover that the grey skies of the 
previous evening had given way to cool mist and light rain during the 
morning hours I decided to continue to doze in my tent while I awaited 
the eventual return of my curiosity and my desire to travel. The view 
from within my enlightening orange interior revealed that for some 
indeterminate time the world was nicely escounced in a shroud of fog to 
a level of about 300 meters and visibility was possibly one mile or 
more.  From my estimate of this distance and my comparison on the 
topographic map to my anticipated crossing I realized that the distances 
were to be at least two miles.  I decided not to place myself in 
complete dependence upon my GPS but rather to wait until coditions 
improved before going on.  I could see no benefit to getting lost in an 
area I had never seen before or any benefit to not being able to enjoy 
the experience of seeing what I have never seen before.  
	Some years earlier this had been very graphically brought home to 
me.  I had several times walked on snowshoes over the top of a peak in 
Vermont and on each occasion it was shrouded in fog when finally I had 
the privilage to find myself on the top of this peak on a clear day.  I 
was most amazed to discover how grand and inspiring the view was from 
this peak and how entirely different I felt about being there on a clear 
day.  
	When I am committed to travel in the fog, unless I preoccupied 
myself with some other challenge, I found that I usually felt 
disconserted and not as likely to observe and appreciate things of 
interest.  I had anticipated the common mood problem one has when 
trapped in a tent by sewing into my tent a suspended ceiling liner 
bright orange nylon.  The suspended ceiling served to insulate and keep 
the frost off me.
	The island I was on was Atiligssuaq my campsite was located at 
72û47.01'N, 55û51.35'W.  The rocks are acidic igneous, with metamorphic 
grey and red rock with iron ore bodies which was why I found the acid 
soil plants and lichens growing in that area. There were inclusions of 
garnets, white quartzite, white, bright orange and pink feldspathic 
pegmatite.  Plant and rock specimens were taken at this site as I walked 
up the hill were the typical acid soil moist vegetation, with a mix of 
Dwarf willow, Salix herbacea, Arctic Willow, Salix arctophila and the 
birch, called Dwarf Birch, Betula glandulosa, which I collected, has 
been found not to range north of here.  I knew that it's occurrance 
would be spotty and that looking for it make this trip especially 
interesting.
	The Dwarf willow was an especially interesting example of adaption 
to the wind and cold of the Arctic by a plant because, although it is 
without doubt a tree, this willow grows mostly underground sending up 
shoots in a circle from the main stem which barely elevate themselves 
above the ground.  On the shoots are just a few branches, perhaps six, 
which have leaves that first appear to be folded and pointed but when 
flattened the leaves are nearly round.  At the ends of the shoot tips 
are very delicate red catkins bearing yellow pollen on these tiny 
pistils.  As the season progressed I noticed that these catkins grow 
continuous sections becoming longer and maturing from the base upward.
	This morning was July 10th, the barometer maximum was 1008 mb at 
08:00 and it dropped to 1007 mb at 11:00 foggy with a five knot wind 
from the west at MSL.
	Later to my delight as the afternoon began the rain ended and I 
emerged from my lair to see what was about.  Then from above on the 
slope behind my tent came a fox prancing along, in it's usual busy pace, 
out to see the world.  Just as I had suspected the fox was on it's 
appointed rounds to inspect the campsite for what ever scraps of food 
may have been dropped by us.  The white fox had shed all but it's winter 
fur on it's ears and tail which gave a rather amusing image because it 
had it's thin summer body contrasted by it's fluffy winter tail and ears 
almost suggesting that foxes are all tail and ears.  I hurridly 
retrieved my cameras only to find that I had barely enough time to 
capture any images on either my camera or video of this fox.  
Unfortunately the fox was traveling so quickly that in the next moment 
it had merely paused for just a brief instant to gobble a few bits of 
our discarded fish.  And then it was off and gone down over the bank off 
exploring the coast. In dismay I headed back to my tent.
	But in another moment, almost as if by magic, my wish came true 
when, from above came another fox.  This time I was prepared with 
cameras in hand ready for action.  This fox was different.  It's summer 
body fur was of a distinctly darker hue than that of any of the foxes I 
had seen before.  I would assume that it must be a silver fox rather 
than a white fox in the winter.  It is the same species but the less 
common color of gray or silver.  
	This second fox came bouncing and prancing down the slope with an 
aire of purpose in it's gait because, as I suspected, it too was on it's 
merry way to feast on any left overs from our previous evening's repast.  
Such is the life of those with keen eyes and sensitive noses where for 
survival these are key ingredients.
	This fox had a more daring personality or it was not aware of my 
presence because it took it's time inspecting every possible detail.  
When it discovered the remains of our fish the fox engrossed inself very 
diligently eating every possible scrap of food it could recover and no 
crevass was left unexplored.  It stood atop our rock table and cleaned 
it thoroughly while I stalked in those seemingly extended moments to the 
maximum close up limits of my camera and video lenses.  A slight pause 
and the fox looked up to see standing just a few feet away it's glanced 
in alarm with terror in it's eyes it immediately sped off, down over and 
among the boulders to safety and then out of sight.  The fox was gone 
but this time I had been able to enjoy taking very close pictures and 
video footage of a fox.  I had missed the opportunity on previous 
occasions.
	As the fog lifted so did my spirits and I once again felt 
confident about moving on. I marked my position on the chart and wrote 
in my anticipated positions along my expected route.  I evaluated my 
best crossing options from island to island and wrote in their positions 
which I would check on my GPS as I progressed.  I anticipated that I 
would not be able to visually estimate where I actually was or what my 
progress was without these way points being referenced.  I knew that I 
was saving myself a lot of head scratching.  I knew that as I was 
paddling along and mumbling to myself that I couldn't say to myself "Gee 
I haven't seen that before." because that would be the understatement of 
the century since just for openers so to speak, I hadn't been there 
before.  Really what was I to expect but then again there is always this 
feeling that you are supposed to be able to recognize from the cockpit 
of your trusty kayak the features you see on your chart.  I think all 
that is very nice but lets be realistic in the Arctic the clarity of the 
air and low angle of the sun is almost like some wise guy has just 
reversed some immutable law such as that of gravity. Well I am always 
glad that I have done my homework first, not later.
	I put on my paddling attire and slid the kayak on the snow shelf 
into the shallows positioning it partially afloat to reduce structural 
stress from the about to be added weight of my gear among the rocks for 
loading and launching.  This time I paid attention to having important 
things like my binoculars and my hot lunch immediately available in my 
side bags.  It may seem frivilous to purchase expensive binoculars but 
my survival could be directly dependent on these binoculars because I 
must be able to evaluate shore conditions and distant objects to make 
what may be a very critical decision.  I also know how pleasent it is to 
have the next meal at just an arm length away.
	My gear weighed about the same as my kayak 70 lbs.  I prefer to 
get my feet wet rather than stress the structure of the kayak. In my dry 
suit going for a swim is not a problem.  The loading of the Klepper, 
this time, went so easily and rapidly because the bags were narrow and 
did not have many protruding bulges in them I double checked the 
campsite more than once to see if I had forgotten some huge item, or 
maybe several items. After some previous travel experiences with very 
difficult loading problems this was hard to believe.  
	I got happily underway in the now balmy late afternoon, but who 
cares the sun will be just going around and around no matter what the 
hour may be.  That is one of the delights of paddling in the Arctic 
summer.  I estimated where I was as I progressed eastward out the end of 
Torssžt around the low point Katak which featured some black and red 
rock into a group of low islands called Qeqert‰rssuit.  There were a few 
ducks and geese among them.  At low tide these islands on the map are 
only slightly separated but I was passing through on the high tide which 
made them appear to be farther apart.  They were low and rounded easy to 
get out on and pull a boat up on shore on.  I imagined that bird hunters 
might come there at times but I did not set foot on them because I was 
set on covering some distance today.  Boredom is a great inspiration for 
long distance paddling.  I came to enjoy the conveninent combination of 
being able to paddle, rest and explore until I felt satisfied and 
without feeling as though I must interrupt myself for some reason.
	I inspected the bottom as I was making way looking for shell fish 
for future reference and found that the mussels were not everywhere.  
Which reminded me to pay special attention when ever anyone tells me 
where they have found things of this type.   It is most curious the lack 
of mussels off Newfoundland.
	I had noted on the map the way points I was expecting to pass as I 
paddled north to the nearest crossing point between the island of 
Atiligssuaq and the next easterly island called Augmaussarssuaq.  
Somewhere on the upper portion of this island there were found some 
Norse remains of iron implements.  These remains are the most northerly 
evidence of Norse habitation on Greenland.
	Looking at this island from my position on the water to the west I 
could only see vertical rock faces.  I had been informed that there was 
evidence of Inuit habitation on Sagdliaruseq and at some other sites on 
this island.  I checked my GPS readings as I continued paddling I was 
making progress northward, but finally I could no longer resist my 
desire to start the crossing.  Anticipation seems to make everything 
take so very long and the crossing distance of less than a mile and a 
half did not seem all that imposing. The day was radiant that particular 
type of exhilarating radiance one finds in the Arctic. What I did not 
realize was that I was beginning to experience what Peter had described 
about the lush warm bright sunny world which lay in the fjords behind 
the foggy cold marine world of the outer island of Upernavik.  The 
fjords I was discovering have a magical charm all their own that makes 
them vastly different from the sea climate on the outside. I began to 
realize why people in Upernavik always go for picnics to their many 
favorite places in the fjords and why they come back to Upernavik 
refreshed.  There are many places which inhabited by groups of Inuit 
from time to time scattered throughout the fjords as well as places 
particularly good for different types of hunting much the same as other 
Inuit places in the Arctic.  Hunting always requires movement as the 
seasons and populations of animals change.
	My crossing was just the usual paddling with a very light less 
than five knot wind with a barely noticeable tidal current.  I noticed 
this character to the wind in this area which made me realize that I 
might not have an opportunity to sail.  I had included just the small 
jib and drift sail which I was carrying in it's bag on the deck and I 
had hoped to have an opportunity to once again sail as I had done at the 
same latitude in Pond Inlet several years earlier.
	As I began to close on the point Sagdliaruseq on the island of 
Augmaussarssuaq I began to scrutinize with increasing question in my 
mind because it was becoming apparent to me that nobody could possibly 
make any type of landing in any of that area simply because all that was 
available was vertical rock faces for as far as I could see in either 
direction.  Somebody was wrong about this location being any sort of 
village site unless it had become submerged within the last several 
years with the increase in sea level.  But I was able to enjoy viewing 
the gull nesting sites on the cliff faces.  What I did find slightly 
disturbing was to realize that there was no place to land for an 
extended distance had I needed one.  I began to feel less confident 
about this route than I had initially thought because I now realized 
that my nearest landing site might be some two and a half miles. From my 
position I could not determine if I could expect to land at the 
southeast or northwest point of Augmaussarssuaq.
	Passing along the cliffs for a mile I estimated that it was quite 
likely that someone had made an error and that the site of Inuit 
habitation was on the southeast point called Ajage.  And sure enough 
there at that point was land low enough to land a boat and an area large 
enough to have been a village site covered with lush green vegetation.  
Usually lush vegetation, particularly grasses, are indicators of human 
and animal habitation.  I was delighted with the success of my guess, at 
least something was right.
	Now I could get a closer view of my intended destination, 
Augpilatoq.  This time I concluded that I would trust nothing other than 
my gross observation that, yes there is an island over there, but 
whether there is a place for me to land is unknown, until I get there. 
	Then I noticed some smoke coming up from an area several miles 
away to the north of me on the island.  I had been informed that the 
village on that island was somewhere in that region.  I extracted my 
binoculars and peered through them.  Yes, there was smoke, and this was 
smoke from a large source most likely to be the usual daily burning at 
the dump.  Probably the fire would burn for an extended length of time 
and this would serve as a beacon for me to home in on for locating the 
village as I made my way across the water to it.  I thought that I 
should try to make Augpilatoq today and telephone Peter to reassure him 
that I was doing okey from there tomorrow.
	I continued along the eastern side of Augmaussarssuaq toward 
Ivn‡nguaq which was the northeasterly point of the island.  
Unfortunately this side of the island was now in dark shadow because the 
sun was in the west and the island is square and steep sided. I could 
not understand how the Norse had chosen this island to live on the top 
of but from what I read in Frederica Delaguna's book the explanation was 
that this high island had good pasture for livestock and a good visual 
vantage point for any ships passing by.  I did not stop and go for a 
walk on the island because it was large and high requiring more time 
than I wanted to expend on exploring it.  I would have been more curious 
if there had been something more interesting such as a lake on the top 
of Augmaussarssuaq and I thought that I might explore the lower reaches 
where the Inuit had lived because their culture and how they relate to 
the environment is why I had come to Greenland.
	Sighting in with my binoculars on the column of smoke I realized 
that I was still too far away to see any buildings.  I decided to head 
directly for the village Augpilatoq which was three and a half miles 
away because I could see no landing sites directly across in the bay 
called P‡t—q.  After my last experience of no landing sites along the 
mile of cliffs I could see no difference between a long crossing and 
paddling along an inhospitable coast. 	Then, to my surprise, a motor 
boat came across the bay heading for me.  A fellow, his wife and some 
children in a small power boat changed course and headed toward me in my 
kayak as I was making for Augpilatoq they stopped opposite Ajage 
72û49'N, 55û38'W to say hello.  To me this moment was a wonderful and 
thoughtful way, typical of how the Arctic people look out for others.  
This is one of those qualities which makes the Arctic and it's people a 
very special place.  I double checked with them to be sure that I was 
heading toward what looked through my binoculars to be a settlement.  He 
and his family was very excited to see me and my craft.  Almost as 
though he was expecting to see me as if we were old friends.  How well I 
know that these people let nothing escape their keen eyes.  As I 
expected, word had reached town that I was on my way there.  This is 
typical of this world, everybody knows where everyone is, just ask them, 
but don't ask them when somebody is coming back, that is not known. 
	The paddle across the calm waters took considerable time.  I could 
see just a few icebergs that were traveling on the tidal current from 
Upernavik Isfjord or Icefjord to the north.  In this area I knew that 
this was the closest I was going to be to this icefjord.  I wondered 
what it was like and asked myself "How many icebergs are out there 
floating around and where do they go from here.  What is it like living 
on an island that is right next to an icefjord.  Do you wake up one day 
and find that your whole back yard has silently just filled up with them 
and then the next minute they are gone.  They have gone off somewhere 
else just as silently as they came or will they continue to stay and 
pack in everywhere to fill up the passages cutting you off from the rest 
of the world.  Then you have to wait for the winter freeze over to be 
able to go out by dogsled.  The freeze that makes good sea ice for sled 
travel takes and doesn't really happen until late winter.  But this is 
one of those contrasts of how this different world functions which I was 
visiting.  I realized that my point of reference was a product of my 
culture, not of the Inuit culture in the Arctic.
	Peter had told me that hunting and weather conditions were much 
better in the fjords and that for getting seal and walrus the icefjords 
were the place to go.  Halibut are caught in great numbers on long lines 
near the icefjord.  Augpilatoq being right on Upernavik Isfjord is in a 
very good place even if there is some problem with ice.
	I was glad when I finally was within striking distance and could 
at last see what the actual height of the rocks along the coast truly 
was.  I had now learned that if you do not see anyplace to land when you 
are a half mile off that is because there really isn't one.  I began to 
laugh at myself when I reminded myself that desirable places for landing 
don't materialize out of the bottom of the sea at the last moment unless 
you are out there walking on water.  If you walk on water landing sites 
are probably not especially critical. With the now incorrect information 
I had been given I was so expectant to find this nonexistent village 
site that I was quite surprised to  be greeted by nothing but endless 
cliff faces for the next mile in either direction.  I thanked my stars 
that the weather happened by chance to be on favorable this time.  There 
are some chances I will take and others I would prefer not to take, 
especially when alone.
	The golden granite coast had a rounded low profile of less than 
100 feet height in many places but still there were no places suitable 
for landing readily visible.  With close scrutiny there may have been 
something quite small or at least an emergency site available but I 
continued northward toward the village.  The typical Danish roof lines 
had come into view.  This was a new village which had been established 
in the late 1950's.  The official decision for choosing the position for 
these northerly villages is made after evaluating a combination 
conditions for hunting or fishing and accessibility by local ferry 
supply boats that are often converted Danish fishing boats which have a 
fairly deep draft.  The old village on the east shore of the island had 
been relocated here because of better ice and deep draft accessibility 
conditions.
	 I decided to look for a campsite within close striking distance 
of the village but far enough away to not have a plethora of evening 
visitors, especially sled dogs.  There was a large iceberg at rest in 
the water near a low rock island a small peninsula with a perfect 
landing site of rounded granite awaiting me.  The friendly late 
afternoon sun was casting gleaming golden rays into the crystal clear 
water as clear bits of ice washed by on the tide.  I gingerly stepped 
out of my kayak and trudged up onto the top of the low grassy knoll 
looking for a nice flat spot for the tent and some water.  The first 
thing that impressed me was how warm and bright this place was and next 
what caught my eye was the enormity in size of the leaves and branches 
on a willow the Arctic Willow, Salix arctophila I might have stumbled 
over.  I had just seen the same plant in two other places at Upernavik 
and Atiligssuaq but it was no where near this size.  I also noticed that 
there were some different plants and that they too were more seasonally 
advanced growth due to the warmer conditions on Augpilatoq at 
72û62.58'N, 55û35.76'W.
	Tide was running and I went wading out on the shallow peninsula of 
rounded granite.  Here was the same type of stone and conditions I had 
often enjoyed off Sachem's Head in Guilford Connecticut.  I chuckled to 
myself about the time I nearly collided with one of these rather solid 
rocks off Sachem's head because was not festooned with the usual mass of 
fucus seaweed which most of the granite reefs in nearby Stony Creek are.  
I had been expecting to see some sea weed poking up before I suddenly 
found that I was about to collide with a nice well rounded piece of 
orange granite.  The tidal currents off Sachem's Head constantly race by 
so quickly that this is why these rocks are so nicely rounded up and 
there are no fucus growing on them.  Here at my feet the conditions for 
fucus establishing itself looked the same.  The rocks were absolutely 
bare but down at their sheltered bases just the small plants of fucus 
were growing.  
	Gazing into the gleam of sparkling golden eddies of this crystal 
paradise I suddenly noticed that the rocks were quickly becoming 
covered, the tidal pools were becoming filling up and the rocks were 
quickly becoming enveloped as the tide started to advance. Something 
told me that I had best move quickly if I wanted to capture this 
rhapsodic moment with my cameras.  Immediately I took my cameras from 
the boat and put it on higher ground.  In just those few moments what 
had been easy wading became a juggling act in a rising, stiff current 
which required diligent concentration especially now that I was carrying 
two cameras.  With just moments to go, I took pictures of the sea weeds 
the rocks and the golden swirls of the current before the water became 
too deep and the essence of the moment was gone.  
	On my first long trip in northerly waters I asked Jon Cons to take 
a picture of the shafts of declining afternoon rays of sun beams hitting 
the swirls of current off Newfoundland.  This image had captured part of 
that special essence of what it is that lures us to go paddling on the 
open water.  
	Something told me that the tide must have been low in this area at 
18:20 as my feet became colder and colder.  I quickly retreated to 
shore.  This was one of those situations when it's nice to have nothing 
go wrong with the cameras.  Somehow I don't care to stand in these 
rising waters with bits of ice coasting by trying to get a recalcitrant 
camera to function.
	The boat I thought deserved some pictures to illustrate how I had 
set up my equipment on the deck for posterity.  How often is one asked 
that question and how convenient it is to have a picture to explain 
these details.
	After I pulled out what I needed for the evening I moored to boat 
off to some boulders with line above the high tide line.  Then it was 
time for the usual tent raising, get the water, cook and eat dinner, 
relax.  But all is not perfect in paradise it so happened that although 
I was far enough from town not to be visited the smoke from the dump was 
carrying downwind to me.  How incredibly incongruous here I am miles 
from nowhere and I am camping downwind from the dump.  Some combination 
while I snort burning garbage smoke I get to look out of my tent at 
pristine mountains flanked by incredibly beautiful snow with crystalline 
icebergs refracting the sun from the waters lapping at my feet.  Who 
reserved for me for this hotel room anyway.  You know that is one of the 
worst things about setting up camp once you have done it it's rather 
unlikely aside from an extreme situation that you are going to bother 
with moving the whole thing.  One thing you learn with time is that you 
can sleep on boulder patches, all sorts of bumps and lumps, with out of 
this world noises, with bullets whizzing by, on floating mats of 
vegetation, in watery bogs with hordes of mosquitoes, just all sorts of 
things; but the other side of all this is that it's the guy in the 
mirror who put the tent where it is now, not somebody else.  Well the 
dump quit burning and all was well with the world.
	There were remains of sod houses in the area which were likely to 
have been recently vacated in the 1950's.  These sod house remains were 
square mounds of sod.  The walls of sod houses collapse within thirty 
years in this area partially because from what I saw the walls are only 
about a foot thick.  	
	Preparing to make camp I contemplated the possible whereabouts of 
burials.  As I pushed my tent stakes into the rich black dirt below the 
thick layer of soft green grass I quietly hoped that I was not 
accidentally disturbing anybody's bones.  In the Mannitsoq area some 
bones were placed in caverns of sod walls of some sort of structure.  I 
did not know what the burial customs may be in this area. I hoped that 
my tent was not sitting directly on one.  I had carefully chosen a 
slight indentation filled with just sufficient soil for my tent stakes 
atop the point that might have been once a tent ring.  
	Tent rings are worth my searching for, I later decided, because 
they have a number of benefits.  Not only are tent rings reasonably 
level and they always have a convenient supply of rocks for ballasting 
the tent flaps to keep out the wind but they seem to bring a certain 
amount of good luck, as well. 
     My camp was on orange granite rock bluff.  The granite was fine and 
of especially high quality similar to what is used where I live for 
construction.  I was overlooking the water from a bluff twenty feet high 
facing southwest looking down the bay at some small islands and a snow 
covered mountain 1,000 meters high.  Gazing at this idyllic view from my 
tent was exhilarating.  
	I made myself very comfortable on the lush grass which had sprung 
up on the remains of this site I was delighted to have beneath me for a 
change some soft and level ground.
	Using some freshly melted snow water for cooking I settled down 
for the usual ritual of dinner.  Dinner progressed as usual little bags 
of dehydrated food became rehydrated with a soaking boiling water in 
lidded polyethylene containers and life was simple.
	Suddenly there was a big noise from the 100 foot high iceberg 
grounded half a mile away and the crash of chunks of ice going into the 
water.  I thought for sure with all the noise that this berg must have 
surely split in half.  Expectantly peering out from behind my tent flaps 
to my dismay all had happened after that crashing and booming was a few 
pieces fell off the top of one of it's faces.  However this was enough 
to change the center of gravity and cause the iceberg topple over and 
bob for several minutes before it established and stabilized at it's new 
center of gravity.  I watched but because the berg was back lit I did 
not try to take pictures.  
	After dinner it was time to once again look out from my tent to 
see what was happening when I noticed that an especially beautiful blue 
veined, small berg had disintegrated in one hour. Without the slightest 
sound the particularly beautiful, transparent blue berg near me grounded 
in the shallows and broke to pieces becoming divested of it's majesty 
and relegated to just chunks of ice. I had taken a picture before and 
then after the berg had fallen to pieces because the translucent blue 
colors in it were reminiscent of beautiful jewels.  I realized that this 
intense transparent blue color of the ice in a berg, must be a product 
of aging and this is more likely it is to disintegrate in warm 
conditions. What was most disconcerting was that it had broken apart 
just a few feet from my tent without making a sound.
	  Looking west, watching the shadows lengthen as the sun declined 
to the north I studied the colors and behavior of the icebergs.  I 
wondered how old these pieces of compressed snow are which have become 
icebergs and how much compression they have undergone to have evolved 
into elegant glowing blue colors before they came to their end, without 
even the slightest sound.  And yet, out in the harbor, a white iceberg 
was exploding with thunderous violence, bobbing menacingly back and 
forth as small pieces separated from it's crests.  The expansion 
pressure within an iceberg must vary with it's color. 
 	Looking south down the bay watching the onset of evening was 
lovely as I looked out from my tent onto the bay with the exquisitely 
pristine blue sky.  Fog developed to the west as the temperature dropped 
with 1 mb. barometric pressure change.  I watched the fog evolve within 
an hour.  This was wonderful subject matter for my video and I was 
delighted to capture this evolution of fog by recording the visibility 
every fifteen minutes of the same horizon so that the viewer could 
easily see this fog in it's stages of development.  	
	I took my last evening barometer reading adjusted to MSL 1007mb at 
22:00 with mist beginning to develop.  By 22:45 a dense mist is the west 
visibility became reduced 
to 1 km as the dew point and temperature collides with the declining 
angle of the sun.
	  The next morning on July 12th. I awoke to a bright sunny warm 
morning with a suspicious white, light gray cloud bank to the west with 
the barometer at 1008mb.  The wind changed from five knots from the west 
at about 10:00 to five knots from the east with a fair blue sky that had 
a hint of white haze to the south.  
	I collected plants which were more typical of what I had 
previously seen to the south at Ilulissat, not at Upernavik.  The plants 
were much larger and different, well developed, suggesting that 
Augpilatoq is much more sheltered and warmer than Upernavik. I could see 
from this drastic difference that the microclimates along fjord coast 
must be interesting to experience.  I had heard about a particularly 
unusual area just south of here at Laksefjord which not only a 
microclimate but a glacial refugia that has an unusual array of plants.
	I broke camp, loaded the boat and headed just up the coast for 
town.  Only a quarter mile away I arrived amidst amused excitement as I 
stepped out of my kayak into the shallow water in the tiny rocky cove 
and moored it on lines.  Nothing was happening no waves no traffic just 
a quiet morning and everyone was working on building a new warehouse and 
store building next to the town landing.  The men were wearing these 
bright blue work suits and the materials for the new structure had been 
brought in by ship from Denmark, being first dropped at a large port 
such as Sisimuit then reloaded onto progressively smaller and smaller 
boats until they arrived by local ferry here from Upernavik.
	The warm enthusiastic welcome at Augpilatoq was very nice, but I 
felt a slightly self conscious as the impact of my visit became 
unavoidably evident to me.  A kind fellow, who happened by chance to 
speak English, escorted me to the Kallaldit Commune office, where I left 
a phone message through Royal Greenland for Peter.  I had not thought 
about what I would do if this fellow escorting me did not know any 
English.  
	Leaving town which was at 72û52.55û'N, 55û35.06'W there were 
twenty people waving and calling farewell to me expressing admiration 
for me.  I was deeply touched as I feel the same toward these people of 
the Arctic who have survived with extraordinary success for countless 
millennia taking into stride the vast changes which have come their way 
not only within the last fifty years but in other earlier times, as 
well.  
	Without turning to look back more than just once to wave goodbye I 
waited until I was well away to look back at Augpilatoq when I knew that 
it had melted into the blue mist and brown color of the rocks.  I did 
not want to think about how long this crossing would be and the sadness 
of departure.  
	I headed for the passage at 72û51.30'N, 55û40.0'W between 
Angmaussaussuaq and Uigordlia.  Now I felt more relaxed when starting 
out paddling on this passage back because I was now familiar with the 
area and I could see no threatening icebergs looming in my path to the 
west.  	
	As I approached the eastern coast of a little island called 
Uigordlia to my right, I noticed that along this area and extending on 
the southern side of this island the gray weathered granite rocks looked 
as though this area might have been previously inhabited. Farther along, 
inside the passage, there appeared to be a few stone caves in the cliffs 
which could have been possible burial caves. Unfortunately I did not 
stop and visit this area because I did not wish to violate what might be 
a special area.
	Contenting myself with peering into the water where the gray 
weathered rock above gave way to the submerged marine world against a 
background of white feldspar where I found some lovely sea urchins.  
This was the first time I had come across any white feldspar and it 
makes a wonderful background for viewing marine life.  While I was 
thoroughly enjoying myself peering into the water snatching glimpses of 
the wonders of Arctic aquatic world beneath me I took pictures of small 
black pteropods and large clear, red orange pteropods, Clione limacina.  
They look to me like swimming puppies but actually they are a snail 
without a shell which swims and eats small organisms suspended in the 
water.  I find it hard to believe that it is possible for any snail to 
swim but these pteropods spend their entire lives swimming and I have 
seen fulmars eating them when they are swimming close to the surface.
	Then suddenly, as if some one were drawing a black cloth through 
the water, the water was filled with half inch long fish larvae which 
were so numerous that they occluded the white background making the 
water become solid black. 	
	I decided that it was time for me to try my luck at fishing up 
some sea urchins. The trick was how to get them up from down below 
without getting myself wet or worse yet without accidentally going for a 
swim by flipping boat over.  It can be very precarious trying to get 
something up from five feet down in the water with your paddle blade.  
So with very delicate balance I gingerly set to work on trying to fish 
up a likely victim.  One's first impression is that these sea urchins 
don't look all that lively until I noticed that one of them was engaged 
in the age old tactic of disguising itself into looking like some 
seaweed.  This is done by attaching some bits of seaweed with it's 
extended tube feet grasping the seaweed by suction.  These funny tube 
feet called podia can do all sorts of things besides just wave around, 
they can be used for used for locomotion, feeding, attachment and 
sensory reception.  I have no idea how many of these strange podia a 
simple sea urchin has but I think that they have about as many as they 
have spines.  Can you imagine what would happen to a sea urchin if it 
became drunk.  It is always so comical to watch a drunk person who has 
gotten to the gangling stage of locomotion that I think it would be 
uproariously amusing to watch a tipsy sea urchin.  
	So I concluded that this sly and unsuspecting sea urchin ought to 
take a ride upward on my paddle blade.  With greatest of patience my 
very delicate probing, scooping and doing some underwater juggling while 
minding my balance at long last reaped my reward for the expenditure of 
my efforts.  Ah, with greatest relish I ate the orange gonads of this 
and several more green sea urchins, Strongylocentrotus droebachiensis. 
	And then I continued westward down the passage with a guillemont 
escort, flying circles by me as I paddled also some petrels joined in 
and I enjoyed watching the petrels glide in long low paths over the 
water.  I was watching them and they were watching me. Then to my 
delight at another mile distant I saw some Arctic terns and as I watched 
their exquisite flight.  The terns weren't diving for food but they were 
scrutinizing me because I was probably near their nesting site.  Seeing 
terns when they return to New England or when I find them in the Arctic 
always makes me feel restored in some indefinable way. Here was the 
first time I was able to see both petrels and terns flying in the same 
area and because they are both so breathtakingly beautiful to watch in 
flight I wondered to myself was the flight of the petrel or of the 
Arctic tern more beautiful to watch.  Then I decided that both the 
flight of petrel and the tern are beautiful, each in it's own way.  	
	The dominant seaweeds are knotted wrack, Ascophyllum nodosum, and 
kelp with long leaves, Laminaria longicuris and palmate kelp, Laminaria 
digitata.  The palmate kelp is rather interesting to watch in the water 
because it's unique shape of a large fan waves back and forth in the 
water.
	During the past two days of paddling it seemed as though I was 
expending too much energy for the progress I was making.  I began to 
wonder how could I resolve this problem. What was quite annoying was 
that after several hours of paddling which was that the clothing 
articles I was sitting in my dry bag on would begin too feel hard and 
lumpy no matter how carefully I had packed them.  The worst item to sit 
on is a pair of rolled up socks, that becomes very painful in a short 
while and there is nothing that can be done about it until the paddler 
beaches the boat and gets out to redistribute those dreadful socks 
elsewhere.  
	But this time the problem I was noticing which was even worse 
aside from the discomfort of sitting on hard lumps was the feeling of a 
distinct lack of power in my paddling stroke.  Then I recalled that on 
my past trips that I had greatly improved the comfort of my seat and the 
power in my paddling stroke by lining my seat with my "Thermarest" pad 
folded and slightly inflated.   The paddling was easier and sitting in 
the seat was much more comfortable because not only did I soften my seat 
but I elevated my position which gave me much better leverage.  Now my 
boat felt like a kayak not a barge.
	The partial cloud cover at the beginning of the day had resolved 
into overcast conditions at noon just as I started out from the village 
but there seemed to be no immediate threat of fog or rain.  I had chosen 
this passage between two islands which started out as an urn shaped 
quarter to half mile wide because the end of the passage looked very 
interesting on the map.   The passage became offset to the north side 
along the Uigordlia island restricted and narrowed into a very tiny 
passage of a just a few feet on the map.  I took the conservative route 
and stuck to the north side so that I would come out in line with the 
passage.  After I threaded my way through the narrow passage I scared up 
some ducks and shags as I rounded the bend.  
	Now I was heading for another one of those hypothetical passages 
on the map. The tension started when I began at first to succinctly 
mumble to myself and then as the tension continued to mount to out and 
out talking to myself you know you are going mad when you are out in the 
middle of nowhere without out a soul anywhere near for miles around and 
you stop and check to see if anyone might hear your palaverings about 
your perceived impending crisis.  Then you settle back and ask your 
disconcerted self under your breath so that nobody will hear, not even 
God maybe "So who's going to hear all this anyway?" because I could not 
help but wonder if there was actually a passage with sufficient water to 
float my kayak through the next tiny passage behind two islands.  I just 
enjoyed the encounter with the same degree of special pleasure I 
experience when an unusually high tide allows me to pass between two 
normally impassable islands where I live in Stony Creek.  This passage 
was not only tight and shallow but the large island which I approaching 
from the east was on the map was not visible until I was right on it. 
enough to make taking a motor boat through difficult. 
	On the outer little island called Erqa I noticed a very solid iron 
deposit similar in color but of greater density to what I noticed there 
is on one of the islands in Casco Bay Maine.  This dense deposit must 
have been one of those deposits which Frederica Delaguna and the Coastal 
Sailing Directions must have been referring to that has a very drastic 
effect of compass function in this area.  I was beginning to wonder 
where these deposits were because I had seen none until now although I 
had been warned of their existence.
	  Before I started my crossing from Erqa to Atiligssuaq at 
72û48.30'N, 55û51.35'W, I checked my GPS and found that it's reading 
corresponded with the map of 72û49.9'N, 55û44'W.  The conditions were 
gray solid overcast and calm.  When I thought that I had completed my 
crossing I checked my progress on my GPS and it was reassuring to know 
where I was from this perspective and correlate it with what I could see 
because some of the features which I could see on the map were not 
visible from my position on the water and things not only did not show 
up as I had expected but they looked unfamiliar in the gray surroundings 
of the day.
	The paddle from Erqa to the mouth of familiar territory of Torssžt 
I hadn't quite thought about as the time seemed to drag on but I had 
neglected to consider that the actual distance was three and a half 
miles not just two miles.  Conditions were glassy calm which makes for 
very boring paddling but as I neared the passage of Torssžt I realized 
that these are the ideal conditions for looking for some more sea 
urchins on the bottom and whatever else of fascination could been seen 
in the water.  I was hoping for some comb jellies those etherial 
prismatic glittering transparent orbs with trailing tentacles resembling 
gossamer silk threads.  The dark rock background and overcast sky hid 
all but the sea urchins which I fished up and ate here and there.  I 
slaked my thirst with bits of floating glacier ice.
	Making my way past my previous campsite I had used a few days 
earlier I continued heading westward for the opening on the other end 
called Moriussoq.  This time I paddled along the north shore of the 
passage because on my previous passage I had not seen this area and I 
thought that it would be interesting to look at.
	Just as I had passed by a peninsula of steep striated rock I 
causally looked up at Umiasugssuk mountain and noticed that there were 
some low clouds spilling over this 680 meter peak of Umiasugssuk 
mountain and the adjacent higher peak of 780 meters.  I thought nothing 
of it.  The sky was not especially dark it was just gray and I had been 
warned to be on the lookout for black sky to the west as a warning of 
any fast moving low pressure systems coming in off Davis Straits that 
would packing powerful winds.
	Not realizing that this was the vanguard of a forty knot wind 
storm on it's way from the west where I would have been able to see it's 
dark cloud bank I casually continued paddling on.  What was happening as 
this storm was approaching was that the lowest clouds the scud layer was 
pushing in first over the high altitude mountains and as the storm got 
closer the winds and clouds were going to drop down lower with cold air 
replacing warm air.  Although I had checked my barometer there was no 
change in it to indicate this strong low pressure ocean system with the 
barometer at 1001 mb and in retrospect this was another example of when 
a barometer does not register the incipient change associated with this 
type of storm.  One just has to use their eyes and study the cloud 
behavior to anticipate this type of meteorology. 
	I began to feel an increase in the wind from dead calm, to ten 
knots.  I thought I would continue.  Then to the west within the fjord, 
Torssžt, about a mile away I saw breaking waves.  In disbelief I told 
myself that possibly I was just seeing a tidal rip kicking up in that 
area ahead of me.  But then I noticed that there was some more wind was 
in another direction making cats paws about a mile from me.  Then I 
could not deny the reality of my situation as the gusting wind tried to 
rip the paddle from my hands.  Recalling some similar situations I 
accessed my options and checked for landing options.  I concluded that I 
may as well trust myself to my skills and the kayak I had under me.  I 
saw two landing sites one ahead and one downwind to my right and I knew 
that if things became too difficult that I could double back to my 
former camping site which was fairly sheltered. Given the present wind 
conditions if they did not increase appreciably I concluded that I could 
probably make either of them.  
	Now all around me the wind started hitting the water.  The cloud 
layer became denser and even lower, and was moving faster.  I felt 
stronger blasts of wind twenty knots enough to cause an upset, I 
hunkered down, facing the blasts, stopping paddling, leaning toward the 
wind with dogged determination and confidence in my strength to handle 
this. Since this wind was blowing in gusts I took advantage of the lulls 
between the gusts and resumed paddling with calculated resolution.  I 
had decided to head for the coast which was about a mile straight ahead 
of me, which was at a right angle to the waves because it's location 
relative to this wind was the best for making a landing and bringing the 
boat up on a shallow pitched flat rock surface without risking damage. 
	When I was close enough to make a landing I waited for the 
quietest moment to gingerly hop out and pull my kayak up onto a rock 
slab coast where there was a low break. Moments like these always make 
me glad I am wearing my dry suit so that if I happen to make a mistake 
and go for a swim or have to do some wading to safely bring the boat 
into shore, it is a very minor inconvenience.  Using the wave surges I 
brought the boat up as high as possible and then knelt down to remove 
the all of the items I would need for the evening.  Then I resorted to 
an old trick which does not abrade the hull except in the specially 
protected bow and stern keel area.  This trick was to zigzag walk the 
boat up by picking it up on one end and walking up the shore until it is 
as high as possible then pick up the other end and walk that end up.  
The only problem is if one of the ends becomes jammed between the rocks.  
Anticipating the possible storm surge height to be above the shore ice 
pans from last year I walked the boat end over end up above the twenty 
foot high tide maximum range on the shore.  Although this was heavy work 
the risk of storm damage to the sole form of transportation, my kayak, 
was not for me.  
	Next I tied the boat both ends securely with 50 feet of line a CKS 
polypropylene throwline.  There is nothing more convenient than 50 feet 
of 1/4 inch line in a throw bag for this type of mooring situation.  It 
is enough to get around a rock and secure both ends of the boat for 
these threatening situations.  I know very well what a strong wind does 
with kayaks.
	Now it was 16:30 I looked for a dry tent site preferably a 
previously used site.  After much plodding around seemingly all over the 
place I finally found the only tent ring for miles around with it's 
handy supply of previously collected rocks and reasonably level and dry 
ground.  Here I realized was not such a popular site as the site around 
the bend that I had stayed at earlier.  Part of the problem was that 
there was very little flat ground and I also thought that there was not 
as much food here to attract game.
	This was a particularly curious area I discovered what may have 
been another possible reason why this spot was not so popular.  While 
walking with my shoulder bags filled with my camping gear nicely 
weighing me down, my feet suddenly plunged down to my knees in mud, and 
there I was again experiencing just another one of those little arctic 
surprises.  
	This seemingly solid looking soil turned out to be very 
surprisingly deep muck.  To my amazement, I noticed that this defrosted 
dirt was a type of dirt formed from rock flour as a sort of glacial clay 
that was actually a type of colloidal suspension.  
	I had happened to step into this weird form of dirt only to find 
that it was the type of muck that is perfectly happy to suck your boots 
off, like the some of the black mud in a salt marsh will do to the 
unwary visitor.  
	Then I noticed that where plant roots were not dense enough there 
were dirt slides that had zoomed down the smooth inclined surfaces and 
collected in a heap at the bottom of the rock face in this area when the 
ground thaws every year.  Only plants roots keep the dirt from sliding.  
	While I was having such fun experiencing this little episode the 
wind was on the rise.  I had to plan how to set the tent up without the 
wind doing any damage to the tent or having the wind carry off anything 
bits of equipment or stow bags.  The trick of erecting the tent is very 
simple first you gather a collection of large rocks.  Next you pile your 
equipment in the area which will be within the tent, then you take the 
tent out of it's bag stretch it out weighing each corner with rocks.  Be 
sure that the door is zipped closed. Then you assemble the tent pole and 
you position the tent pole into the reinforced pocket in the center of 
the tent, but to have the pole stay in this pocket the pole must be 
inserted from the side of the tent that is facing the direction of the 
wind.  Now here comes the best trick this is how you erect the tent in 
30-40 knots of wind with out ripping the fabric.  To present the least 
area for the wind to grab onto and how are you going to get under the 
tent to erect it.  The trick is you allow just enough slack at the base 
of the tent, that faces the wind, so that you can slither under this 
edge while holding the pole in place and then erect it into it's 
vertical position.  Once the pole is up the only thing you can do is put 
a flat rock under it to prevent it from gradually digging a hole in the 
ground to keep tension on the tent.
	Ah now you are set for a wonderful evening in a slatting tent.  
Now you slither out the back side opposite from the wind and tighten up 
and improve your rock ballast so that the tension is evened out and the 
limit wind blowing under the tent walls.
	I checked to see that everything was secure and crawled back under 
the rear wall of the tent just try doing this with a tent that has a 
floor in it.  With wind blowing like this you can see the advantages of 
erecting a single pole tent without a floor.
	I attempted to ignore the violent slatting of the tent this was 
not my first experience in the Arctic with my tent in strong winds and I 
was glad that I knew what winds this tent could tolerate.  
	Finally after toughing it out for a few hours boredom the wind had 
risen some more and I noticed that my rock ballast which was holding the 
tent down was insufficient. Considering the consequences if the tent 
blows away I put all my equipment into my large shoulder carrying bags 
and tied them together so that if the worst should happen at least my 
equipment would be all together in one place.  
	But by now after a distressing three hours of pounding by the wind 
and some rain I was disgusted with all this noise and violence.  I had 
to go out to get some water and it was time to reaccess life on the 
outside.  Crawling out under the lee tent wall I first looked at the 
wild clouds that were pouring over the mountains and the down drafting 
or katabatic gusts of wind tearing up the water and then I looked at my 
kayak.  The surges were sending spray high up the shore and wildly 
cascading waves were just starting to threaten my kayak. I decided that 
I had best go down there and to bring the kayak up even higher.  Getting 
there was quite a project, there were 40 knot gusts of wind that made it 
difficult for me not just walking but staying upright.  Not only had the 
wind increased but because this storm typical of katabatic low pressure 
system there was fog and the temperature had dropped drastically from a 
range in the fifties about twenty degrees close to freezing.  
	The wind had dislodged some of my rock ballast on the tent flaps, 
so I immediately changed my mind and quickly gathered the largest rocks 
I could find to add more weight to the flaps of the tent with not just 
some big rocks, but with lots of rocks to distribute the stress as 
evenly as possible. 
	Then I struggled against the now very cold wind down to bring the 
boat up out of the waves range.  I took my water bag and filled the bag 
without filling my boots with mud with the wind buffeting me I 
delicately balanced on round rocks while I concentrated on filling up my 
water bag by scooping up the water without grabbing a hefty infusion of 
mud. I really did not want the wind to send me sprawling into the mud 
and somehow cooking with muddy water just doesn't seem to please my 
sense of healthy or tasty eating.  
	Probably there will be some gourmet health fad someday for cooking 
with muddy water as a reaction to using all those clear spring waters 
from exotic places.  Yes, you too can cook with our famous mud water 
from far away mud oasis in the middle of nowhere. Here is our famous mud 
in the bottom bottled waters, just shake before opening so that you can 
fully appreciate it's true character as "mother nature" intended.  We 
gather our waters just after our dogs have been romping in the spring 
catching frogs, etc.
	At 20:00 I proceeded to cook dinner inside the tent despite the 
wind.  This was a challenge I had wanted to try and I was delighted that 
cooking inside this tent with 40 knots of wind blowing on the outside 
was perfectly feasible.  I had planned on an emergency escape should 
something go wrong with the stove or if the stove happened to have a 
violent flare up.  Dinner was a welcome change.  I was delighted with my 
success at cooking under stressful conditions. 
	At 22:00 blue sky was over head, mares tails mackerel sky, large 
puffy cumulus clouds and scud.  Then to the southwest over Umiasugssuuk 
there was racing scud and puffy solid white cumulus sometimes building 
cumulus spires on top.  Gusts of wind especially down drafts hitting the 
water on the other side, katabatic cold air.  The air temperature had 
dropped about 20 degrees fahrenheit into the high thirties and I was 
seeing the eye of the low.
	All in all I would conclude that this had been a nasty storm which 
was more typical of June rather than July.  I took good video shots of 
the clouds and scud.  
	Next morning, July 13th., at 72û47.03'N, 55û56.02'W.I awoke to 
gray mammiform clouds with dark upper streaks and calm winds.  The sun 
peeked out under the cloud cover from 08:00 to 10:00 giving me enough 
time to take photos of flowers and gather some plant samples.  In this 
area in just the few days I had been away the Arctic summer had 
progressed at it's breathless rate.  Now it was now warm enough for many 
flowers which had just days ago emerged from the snow to be in full 
bloom and these were acid soil plants.  But what was more exciting was 
for me to happen to see my first bumblebee of the season.  I always 
delight in looking at these Arctic bumblebees because these creatures 
seem to be nearly double the size of the bumblebees I see in Connecticut 
and it is even more amazing that these huge things can actually fly. 
They are like the largest military cargo planes in the world of bees and 
when they fly as you might expect the sound their wings make is like an 
ominous low pitched hum.
	From the quiet solitude of my tent looking down on the water a 
guillemont came into view.   I was able to watch a guillemont diving for 
food in the fjord.  This guillemont was just being itself as it would 
dive, then surface for a few moments paddle a moment and then look 
around again with a demeanor about it suggesting that it owned the whole 
place. It would reappear from the depths five to ten meters away and 
repeat the whole performance another moment later.  When the guillemont 
decided to leave it flew away in a manner that suggested that it thought 
this place was a just a bore.  This guillemont reminded me of the early 
morning quiet moments when grebes and mergansers are doing the same 
antics during spring in Long Island Sound.
	This morning I decided that I would take my time getting going and 
get caught up on my records.  These simple records I knew would be very 
rewarding to consult later.  
	The morning winds were calm from the southwest less than five 
knots and now the sun was bright.  I checked my position 72û47.03'N, 
55û51.35'W and the previous reading was 56.02'W and the new position is 
51.35'W, I am 1.5 nautical miles from my campsite which I was at two 
days earlier when the storm came in I paddled one mile before I hit land 
where conditions looked good enough to beach my loaded kayak.  This 
storm had been an excellent learning experience for me because I saw how 
different storms behave over water and when the storm encounters land.  
I watched this storm come in when it actually did not behave like it had 
in Upernavik where people have just thirty minutes to make a landing.  I 
saw clouds pouring over Uuiasugssuk of 680 meters height and the 915 and 
780 meter high mountains next to each other which I did not perceive to 
bee critically dangerous wind.  The wind was in gusts as the weather was 
trying to go over these high mountains.  Where as in Upernavik it just 
comes in unobstructed from the open sea. There it blows with consistent 
power, not in gusts.  Because of the open water and topography these 
storms which come from Davis Strait can pass over Upernavik in a much 
shorter time than they do in the high topography of the fjord which is 
restrictive to air flow.
	Today as I started out after lunch my barometer read 1008mb when 
part way across I happened to look at the highest point in the area 
which was a 915 meter peak behind me while crossing from Moriussoq to 
Sarpinat on Long Is. some clouds in the west were coming in, but mostly 
there were high cirrocumulus spreading more and more over me.  It was 
clear to the east.  Looking at the mountain I noticed some low cumulus 
gathering on it.  The wind from the west at five to ten knots hitting me 
just as I neared Lang Is.  After my recent experience the day before I 
decided that I should not trust anything as I began to feel a slight 
increase in the wind.  I pushed my way across the fjord with some 
expediency and cut in close to shore for protection just in the event 
that this conflagration of clouds was the vanguard of another 
threatening wind storm.  I verified my position to check instruments and 
myself and continued north considering the options for landing with an 
eye on the clouds which were just gathering or what you might call 
rubbing their stomachs on the 915 meter mountain.  This time things were 
different these clouds were not moving that fast and this time there was 
no scud madly blowing over the top of this high mountain which would 
have indicated that there were strong upper air winds. 
	I rechecked my position just to see what progress I was making and 
rounded the bend of Ikerssauq passage, keeping options for landing 
available by staying to the left along Lang Island where there were 
plenty of landing places as the wind increased to a steady fifteen 
knots.  I watched closely the water westward up the passage for any 
indication of developing white caps, anticipating that the stronger 
winds would most likely arrive there first unless there was a 
topographic feature which might deflect the wind as it's velocity 
increased to another area.  
	I found that, because of Arctic lighting conditions, visual 
estimation as to which island or peninsula is nearer is rather difficult 
unless there is a few miles separating these objects.  It is better to 
compare changes in visual references while I am moving past things that 
appear as one land feature.  What may appear as one piece of land may in 
actuality might be a series closely associated islands lined up in front 
of each other.  This is due to the typical Arctic atmospheric clarity 
which makes especially visible the effects of the atmospheric refraction 
and the declination or low angle of the sun, differential refraction. A 
slight mist helps lessen some of this problem, but I did avoid paddling 
in fog because I was not sure how dense it might become and I did not 
want to do crossing completely dependent on GPS navigation for fear the 
batteries might decide to quit.  When it is clear I prefer to rely on 
more than just my sextant and protractor.  I should have also brought a 
small two or three inch diameter solar compass which is often used in 
this type of area. 	The barometer had changed from the earlier 
reading in the morning of 1008mb to 1001mb but I decided that the 
conditions were not quite so bad because the wind from the west was just 
staying at fifteen knots.  I crossed Ikerssauq passage and ferried past 
the leading point of Akutdliarssuk Island, noting that on it's east side 
there was a place to land should conditions decide to change and become 
especially threatening.  
	I continued on to the eastward, back side of Upernavik, which for 
the most part is impossibly steep, heading for a landing area behind a 
rock island.  I was thinking looking for a place to squeak in and with 
the possibility of spending the evening.  Now the options of squeezing 
in with a kayak are quite different than with an ocean liner but in 
actuality you can find in areas which have extensive distances of 
vertical rock cliffs it is just as difficult for the disconcerted kayak 
paddler as it is for the navigator of the ocean liner.  When it comes 
down to any port in a storm and there ain't none, it's all the same.  
	My weather observations and time options suggested that I might 
not necessarily have to put to shore, but I couldn't decide if these 
conditions were going to do.  For the moment I decided that I would 
rather hang out and occupy myself with looking for those tasty morsels 
the sea urchins.  	
	But for all my looking on the bottom for some unknown reason here 
there were none.  This is one of those quizzical dilemmas of why are no 
sea urchins here.  I guess it is because the food they like is not here 
perhaps because of current conditions.  
	The weather made a subtle change as the wind blowing from the west 
dropped to ten knots while I was busy studying the bottom and I decided 
that there would probably be no problem if I continued on paddling west 
around to the west side of Upernavik.  
	Now as I headed out into the westward channel, the wind dropped to 
less than five knots and the waves were less than one foot not breaking 
often.  I decided that I should be able to find a place out of the waves 
to put in. 
	Rounding the peninsula northward behind a small island I found 
that there was nothing quite suitable.  I knew that even though there 
was no sand beach on this side of Upernavik that there must be a tiny 
sheltered cove somewhere.  
	I continued to look, and as luck would have it, just around the 
next point heading in the waves were just washing into a shallow V in 
the rocks just wide enough for me to bring the boat up onto.  With a 
nonchalant air I conveniently stepped out and using the surges I brought 
the boat up onto the flat rocks, just as if this landing spot had been 
awaiting me all this time.  
	I was able to unload and carry my gear up the rocky bank.  
Fortunately there were no sled dogs happened to be tied in that spot and 
I was also fairly near the museum storehouse where I would leave my boat 
in safety. 
	While I was unloading my friend who operates the museum, Peter, 
was to be out walking and he just happened to see me.  As I was 
awkwardly ambling about in my dry suit Peter came down and helped me 
carry the kayak up the abrupt bank to the storehouse. Nothing is more 
unwieldy than a well saturated beamy folding kayak when you have been 
paddling all day thoroughly scrunched up in the cockpit.  
	We locked the kayak and my boating equipment up in the storehouse.  
I set aside my camping, food and photographic gear which fit into one of 
my shoulder pack bags.  For the evening of camping up on the hill above 
town.
	I took a short trip up by local ferry for several days to a kayak 
hunting town, Tasiussaq.  On July 20th I was once again in my kayak on 
the water.  I got on the water at 12:30 after Peter and I discussed more 
interesting places to visit we made a general route that I would paddle 
down in the fjords behind Upernavik.  
	In the first portion I paddled the same route as I did on my 
previous paddle which was reassuring because this time since I knew more 
about the area and was accustomed to the local navigation I was able to 
look about and explore in greater detail.  
	On my way heading east, down Ikerssuaq passage I was in no hurry 
and I didn't want to miss the opportunity for cruising the shallows 
because I wanted to see what was down there lurking on the bottom, 
especially the clams and mussels I had been told about.  I pulled into a 
little very shallow cove and there I my curiosity was rewarded.  Sitting 
in the sunny shallows were some of those lovely delectable Blue Mussels.  
I gingerly reached into the water and yanked up until my hands couldn't 
stand the cold and the incoming tide made grabbing by hand from the 
cockpit too difficult.  With the dozen that I had gathered I estimated 
that I had gathered enough for a light meal.  This was my first time for 
finding these Mytilus edulis, Blue Mussels.  But unfortunately I 
couldn't retrieve the sea urchins I saw because they were too deep.  
	I continued on down through Torssžt, this time at the end passing 
by a little island called Simiutaq.  This island had some nesting sites 
on it's south vertical face for Little Auks.  Although the Auks fled I 
was able to take video pictures of what their flight looks like as they 
fly over the water.  
	Peering from my kayak into the water at the base of this rock 
island I saw large red sea anemones that were six inches across with 
bluish iridescent red tentacles waving in the water.  These anemones 
looked to me as thought they should be in the tropics, not the Arctic.  
This was my first time seeing these and I had also been told that there 
were some sea cucumbers in the area as well.  When I paddle my kayak I 
always enjoy knowing that I never know what I might find when I look 
into the water.
	Coming out of Torssžt into the open water behind Qaersorssuaq 
island looking east I saw that there were many more pieces of icebergs 
in Augmaussarssuaq island area this time.  A few days ago there was 
another one of those windstorms like the one I had described earlier 
that had some 40 knot winds and lasted for a very long twelve hours I 
know because I sat it out in my tent and trying to sleep in a fiercely 
slatting tent is a gruesome experience.  Some of the icebergs out in 
Upernavik Isfjord were most likely pushed these bergs down wind into 
this area by all that intense wind from that wind storm. Then you have 
the currents to carry them about along with the fair weather wind 
blowing from the east.  The weather is now much more stable and typical 
of summer which is nice to see.  
	This evening the wind is at less than five knots from the east the 
fair weather direction with scattered high clouds working in from the 
west.  I had originally planned to camp down inside a mile long cove 
Kangerluarssuk which faces east but I decided that perhaps it might be 
safer to camp on the peninsula outside the cove.  The thought of waking 
up the next morning only to find that this cove is choked with an 
assortment burgee bits and no exit because that nice wind from the east 
all night pushed that innocent looking ice out there into this cove was 
not a comfortable idea.
	I concluded out of discretion that I should stop and camp on the 
peninsula at 72û46.75'N, 55û42.48'W at the entrance to the cove.  I got 
off the water at 19:00 and found that I was camping in a most 
fascinating place with all sorts of interesting things to look at 
without my even having to cover much ground.
	Here I discovered much to my surprise that there was an 
interesting assemblage of minerals a mix of feldspars and iron, etc. 
showing some very wild colors.  For geology there is behind me to the 
west a mountain of metamorphic rock and in the lowland there is igneous 
felspathic granite red, orange, dark red, white feldspar, green beryl, 
bluish grey quartzite an area of flint structures stone each piece 
breaks with a very sharp and has a distinct ring to it.  White is the 
most common color of stone.  The flint was especially unusual to me 
because this was my first experience of finding a large strata of it 
anywhere. I wonder if it was used for projectile tips and tools when 
metal was unknown to the Inuit. For me it was a very strange experience 
to walk over stone chips which rang slightly like bells as they hit or 
fell against something else hard.  Another equally odd contrast was to 
find that this flint strata was over a soft light grey colored 
metamorphosed sedimentary layer of what appeared to be clay.  Very 
strange to think about one layer of sedimentary with another layer of 
igneous rock side by side.
	Just up the bank while I was wandering around trying to find some 
place to put my tent that was reasonably dry and level I noticed that 
there was an abundance of lush moss and huge lichens here are quite 
different than in other places suggesting past human occupation.  There 
is Birch here too! but strangely enough it was in just one tiny spot. 
From that spot I walked all over the place looking for more only to find 
that either I was going blind or there was none elsewhere.  I took some 
interesting plant samples for study later.
	The tent had to go up in a slightly bumpy place because there was 
nothing better the other choices were bog or rock and rocks had to be 
brought up to use as tent stakes on the soft ground.  It is amazing how 
many big rocks you need to secure a four cornered tent, somehow the 
number just seems to multiply when the rocks have to be carried any 
distance and there is nothing more annoying than thinking that you can 
settle down now for a comfortable evening only to find that there is 
something ominously looming about you tent ceiling.  Could it possibly 
be that your tent might be precariously, unmistakably sagging because it 
is possibly in dire need of some genuine bolstering up before you can 
call it an evening?  Oh perish the thought, that couldn't be happening 
to me, or could it now?
	So much for the lecture after dealing with reality now I could 
safely contemplate cooking within my fabric abode.  Then the issue of 
water arises, now where is there some water around here I query to 
myself.  Out again in the cool grey world I go in search of water.  I 
find it in an odd collecting place among the rocks where it is running 
out of the bog above.  No waterfalls here just squishy bog, as a mater 
of fact the whole place is a squishy bog except for the stones along the 
shore and the barren rock escarpment that leads uninterrupted up to the 
top of a 500 meter peak above the bog.  There is enough loose rock a 
metamorphosed rock that breaks loose too easily on this escarpment to 
discourage climbing it.
	I have decided to content myself with the bog and marine world at 
the campsite. The regular dinner preparation proceeds as usual but I 
have the dozen mussels from dredged up out of the bottom of my kayak to 
cook.  For this there is to be a special feast preparation which must 
have a fire made of the special plant called Arctic heather.  Since this 
fire will burn very hot immediately and requires constant attention 
because the fuel must be replenished constantly, I must have pots and 
the mussels with some water prepared to cook in advance. 
	What is to me so special about cooking with Arctic heather is the 
wonderful aromatic smoke it generates reminiscent of eucalyptus and 
conifer.  The pots become very heavily coated with the volatile resins 
that because they are black and sticky to the touch they are lots of 
work to scrub off using some acidic mosses and sand.
	It was a great surprise to begin cooking the mussels just a few at 
a time in my small pot and to discover that these mussels which were 
three and four inches long entirely filled the interiors of the shells 
such that just a dozen of these mussels was so rich and filling that I 
had trouble eating the entire twelve of them.
	I retired for a nice after dinner nap in my tent and when I later 
awoke and looked out over the water I found that there were three pairs 
of King Eider which just diving for food and preening as they were 
paddling past the point, heading north to  Qeqertarssut and Simuitaq 
islands which I had paddled past earlier in the day.  
	Being very careful not to make any noise which might alert these 
weary creatures I captured them on video from within my tent.  Taking 
advantage of my being undetected I could watch them behaving naturally.  
For me it was exciting to watch the male eiders engage in specialized 
behavior was as their form of display by constantly were rocking back 
and lifting their breasts off the water.  I had not expected to have 
this opportunity to watch King eider.
	At about 22:00 the barometer is at 1015mb which suggested that 
probably two weather systems are over each other for such a high reading 
and to have the wind blowing from the east.  
	At midnight I just for the fun of it take video shots of the sun 
at 0û to prove that yes the sun does not set here at this time of year.   
Preferring to believe that my barometer is indicating fair weather and I 
arbitrarily dismissed the thought that the growing collection of high 
clouds is the vanguard of rain for the next day, so I announce to my 
video camera that these are just a few innocuous high clouds.  It adds 
another very amusing quality to your video when one records their 
prognostications complete with the imagery of cloud cover at that moment 
on video for posterity.  Yeah! that's the least one can say and be kind 
about it all.
	Rechecking my GPS reading with my sextant and protractor I found 
my visual check of points to be working out well.  Identifying what I'm 
seeing what I should be seeing which is most excellent for confidence 
building.  It is such fun comparing sextant angles with protractor 
angles on the map because it gives me a picture of what my eyes can see 
with these atmospheric and lighting conditions from this height above 
the water and location compared to what is on the map.  Little low bits 
of land cannot be reliably seen from this position and islands lying 
close together in line with each other cannot be visually separated. I 
so clearly remembered paddling in the mist on Narragansett Bay in Rhode 
Island when I came upon a view that had the water before me, fog and 
just the upper rigging of a ship. It is very strange these things mist 
does to vision on the water.
	The wind had stopped at 02:00 because it was going to switch to 
the west probably with the tide and during the evening the cloud cover 
increased so that by 07:00 on July 21st. the next day there was a nice 
assemblage of mammiform clouds those harbingers of rain overhead and the 
sky was solid light grey with small clouds in the west.  My barometer at 
07:00 was at 1020mb and at 10:00 at 1016mb  I suspect this maritime low 
pressure system may be small and moving through quickly at 12:00 my 
barometer was at 1019mb rain is very slight.  These barometric readings 
demonstrate how confusing it is to evaluate their readings if you are 
unaware of the drastic reduction effect the ice cap has on barometric 
pressure. This is why the best way to read the barometer up here is to 
take numerous readings and look for a trend.  The barometer does not 
reflect fast moving low pressure systems, I found, until an hour after 
they have already arrived.  Observations of clouds are important 
indicators of these systems.  The few clouds I had mentioned observing 
at midnight on the previous evening I was wishing would not be heralding 
of this morning's dismal conditions which resulted in much mumbling in 
the tent by yours truly.  The wind rose to a maximum of fifteen knots in 
the open areas but now the wind is slacking off.
	I have been watching pieces of ice move past this peninsula and 
the ice moved surprisingly fast as I had suspected because there is a 
good current here.  These bits of ice float right along at about four 
knots.  I wisely took advantage of this opportunity by recording on 
video what this movement of these pieces of ice on the tidal currents 
looks like.  It was very interesting to watch because when I went to 
sleep the previous evening there was a berg which appeared to be 
grounded and some others within a narrow passage between some islands to 
the south which did not appear to be going anywhere especially soon the 
next morning about eight hours later these bergs had all moved a 
considerable distance with only the tide to propel them.
	My barometer at 14:00 is at 1022mb with a very even light grey 
cloud cover interspersed by a few odd lower clouds just hanging overhead 
and no wind.  At 15:30 barometer 1020mb. not raining stopped at 14:30 
looking lighter in the west. 
	I adjusted my traveling strategy for today now I privately 
conclude that the rain has gone away, or my other option is that by the 
time I finish with travel preparations maybe the rain will have stopped.  
"Of course the rain have stop sometime the when part is an inexact 
science anyway but I'll take a bet on my guess it sure beats this 
boredom" I say to myself.  What is embarrassing to me is that I can't 
blame someone else who is weatherman because here the weatherman is the 
sometimes nebulous person in the mirror.  No that couldn't be me! 
	Daring to be the idealist "of course I'm right" I tell myself.  I 
decide that now I am going to prepare my traveling food in the thermos 
bottle have lunch and some reliable espresso coffee.  I tell myself that 
even if the rain continues I will head off to my next destination 
because I want to see what Peter has described as a lovely valley which 
lies due east from here. 
	Between here on the peninsula on Qaersorssuaq and Nutarmiut are 
several low rocky islands that are small.  One of the islands Savigssuaq 
has remains of habitation on it which I believe Frederica Delaguna did 
some archaeological work on.  I am not in the mood for archaeology today 
I'm most curious about in the wildlife that is out there on and in the 
water because on the previous evening I had watched three pair of King 
Eider and two Guillemonts, and one Cormorant looking for food off the 
point. 
	It's now late in the afternoon but, who cares and let's be 
realistic, the sun will not be going down for another few days yet I 
have all the time in the world for paddling my only limitation is how 
many hours do I feel like paddling for.  It has been convenient to have 
these unstructured days to explore this area by water and in detail on 
land.  Being alone, when the weather is fine, I can set my own pace.
	I pile myself into the boat and shove off into just a light mist 
and the remaining overcast, the rain did indeed stop earlier.  I'm 
pleased with my accidental meteorological expertise.
	Heading fairly due east I find that there is more wildlife in this 
area while crossing from 72û46.75'N, 55û42.48'W to 72û46.91'N, 
55û22.11'W.  It was especially wonderful to happen to have a dozen 
little auks which kept circling me almost the same as the guillemonts 
do.  I guess that I was the only show in town.  I did not expect the 
auks to be as curious as the guillemonts are because they are hunted 
quite heavily.  I was a few miles from their nesting site in the stone 
cliff faces and usually when I happen to close in on their nesting sites 
they flee immediately.  I saw many gulls and fulmars suggesting that 
they nest on Nun‰ ¯ Some fulmars oddly enough some of them had a gap 
between their primary and secondary feathers on their wings which I do 
not know was due to age or molting.  I was quite surprised with their 
curious behavior too in previous encounters with fulmars I have only 
seen these birds when they are busy making short surface dives or 
sitting on the water to feed on swarms of sea butterflies and other 
organisms.  Usually I thought that the fulmars only fly overhead enroute 
and do not alter their course to fly inspection circles around solitary 
boats on the water.  Their elegant flight is precise and exquisite, long 
and low a symphony of motion, something inspiring and hard to believe, 
actually in the realm of being etherial.
	There was just one little problem with these curious avian 
creatures, no matter how I tried, when I set my paddle down and picked 
up my video in it's bright yellow case everybody disappeared.  Patient 
waiting was to no avail.  Stoical resumption of paddling and there they 
were again flying by keeping an eye on my visitation to their world.  
The paddle is dropped on the deck again, the camera in hand and in an 
instant my avian observers have disappeared.  After several fruitless 
attempts at this, with sad resignation I conceded that I must hope for 
my opportunity some other time.
	On my excursion when I once was among the islands, called 
P‰gtorfik, I cut closely among the rocks of the closely set islands to 
contemplate the underwater world in the shallows and there my diligence 
was rewarded because there they were again, some more of those sea 
urchins.  I fished some of them up and dined on these delectables.  I 
chose this route among these islands, P‰gtorfik, because they had many 
little coves on them.  They seemed interesting because they were low and 
had assorted beaches and suitable landing sites on rounded rock ledges 
but, aside from stopping to get a stone to crack the sea urchins with, 
they did not seem particularly interesting, just stone, mostly.
	From these islands to Nunç Island I had two choices for 
circumnavigation, which seemed equal, either I would go around to the 
north or to the south, either way the distance was the same.  One side 
looked steeper on the map and less interesting but I forgot to think of 
the two archaeological sites that I had previously noted on the map.  I 
took the northern, lower profile route I thought it might be more 
interesting to see lower terrain because cliff faces can be monotonous.  
Unfortunately I likely missed some bird nesting sites, as well, which 
might have been one of the reasons why people had lived on the southern 
side as well as having some fresh water lakes there too.
	I did not see anything especially exciting on Nunç island from my 
boat probably because it was gray and I was just interested in paddling 
to my next destination.  I think that getting out and actually exploring 
areas rather than by paddling by is the best way to find interesting 
things I certainly would have never noticed the ordinary looking gray 
rock layer of flint that chimed as they hit each other, if I had not 
happened to decided to stop at my last campsite.  
	Gray weather and gray rock becomes uninspiring after a number of 
miles.  I plodded my way around this island and consulted my GPS to 
ascertain my progress.  I had prior to launching penciled in the 
coordinates to head for from which I would start my crossing down into 
the cove I was going to camp at the head of.  My progress seemed 
gruesomely slow but in retrospect I may have been fighting a contrary 
current.  At the appropriate crossing point I headed for the point on 
Nutarmiut called Eqalugkat.  The prospects began to look much brighter 
on the other side.  The destination had a certain charm and inviting 
character to it as the sun broke through cloud cover.  My mood did the 
same.  Once I was across I looked at the yellow granitic stone of the 
outer reach to my cove.  The rock was very pretty and softly rounded not 
broken and jagged.  I wandered in the shallows looking at the bottom and 
at the lush grasses on the banks extending up the knolls.  There was 
just one thing lacking, no water.  No inviting brooks bounding and 
racing down the slopes to give me water, no snow from last winter among 
the rocks, just elegant but very dry rock. I could only tarry here not 
stop and camp.  My destination had to be for the water at the head of 
the bay.  To stay here was not worth a night without water.
	Meandering, as is especially convenient to do in a kayak, among 
the shallows I indulged in challenging my ability to estimate depth, 
speed and distance from the cockpit which added a measure of suspense 
and required delicate maneuvers at the last moments to skirt the rock 
reefs, that I really did not want to collide my kayak with, here and 
there. Continuing in the quiet calm here the bottom appeared to be more 
barren because oddly enough in this area there seemed to be relatively 
few sea weeds adorning the rocky bottom. This wide but shallow cove 
appeared to have more of a freshwater environment rather than the 
strictly marine environment found among the islands and straits and 
perhaps this was due to the large introduction of freshwater which I 
found at the head of the cove.
	My exploration had taken me along the south shore of this lovely 
cove which was flanked by a gentle boulder strewn rise that increased in 
elevation as I progressed toward the head of the bay.  Along the north 
shore extending down this side of the wide valley was a series of large 
symmetrical granite domes in a dramatic succession one behind another 
running east to west up the northern periphery of this gentle valley as 
far as my eye could see.  The orange brown granitic domes were 
especially large and high nearly perfect having such small amounts of 
exfoliation that without this telltale exfoliation, they almost appeared 
to be imaginary.   	
	The sun was hanging bright in the sky as I pushed on down to the 
mouth of the cove where Peter had told me there was a lovely brook 
babbling over the rocks where I could camp, as many people have been 
doing here for untold centuries.  My expectations were more than 
fulfilled, for here I found a truly beautiful place to be.  The gentle 
shore and the calm conditions were ideal for approach by kayak and small 
craft.
	I just pulled the boat up, tied it off and looked for an old tent 
circle.  Curiously enough the tent site choices happened to be limited 
to the only tent circle I found in this particular shore section.  The 
alternatives were assorted lumps of rock here and there everywhere which 
aptly qualified for any port in a storm but not exactly hospitable for 
horizontal comfort.  Not feeling at this time that I was in immanent 
need of personal reform or additional time spent in martyrdom I 
ensconced myself in the lone tent circle.
	Everything hauled up, the boat up or so I think, the tent up, food 
prepared, GPS reading some rest, look at the cloud formations, write 
down the details and now to settle in for a nap.  Oh wait a second is 
the tide coming or going, how high is it going to come, did I bring the 
boat up high enough, it would be terrible if I was blissfully snoozing 
away while my boat was being bashed about by the waves.  I better check 
that boat and probably better bring it up higher I don't trust my high 
tide estimate.  Oh maybe it's alright I tell myself as I crane my neck 
from my tent doorway in a haphazard attempt to check it.  Then I put my 
mind through the same questions an hour or so later.  Finally I could 
stand the suspense no longer.  Something just didn't seem right either 
time was not going by although time on the watch appeared to be passing 
or is there something else going on.  I jammed my feet into my shoes and 
dragged myself out for a closer look I had already repositioned the boat 
slightly higher, once already, but now I notice that the tide isn't 
really doing anything and with a two meter tide things should have 
changed by now if they are going to change.  Alas, all my effort was 
unnecessary, as I realized that in this cove the tide happened to have 
only one high a day not twice a day and during the rest of the time the 
water just recirculates.  This limited circulation pattern is another 
reason why this is more of a freshwater environment than a marine and 
why there were so few seaweeds on the rocks.
	Now at my new campsite at 72û46.91'N, 55û22.11'W I watched as 
small rafts of an eider type of duck worked the water for food at the 
head of the bay where the brook fed into the bay.  Everything was fine 
until the ducks discovered my presence and then they flew off to a safer 
haven.  Some gulls visited to gather food in the same area and the 
fragility of the ice became rather obvious when a gull landed on a what 
appeared to be a substantial three foot long chunk of glacial ice.  In 
an instant the ice collapsed from beneath the gull into a million 
crumbs.  The gull betrayed not the slightest intimidation as it 
immediately reverted to being airborne.
 	I was particularly interested to see that the ducks and gulls were 
confining their feeding along the eddyline of the current from the brook 
discharging into the cove.  This specialized feeding pattern showed me 
that there was some food coming into this cove from that brook. 
	A somber evening passed by for me next to the babbling brook.  
Plans for the next day included exploration for plants with emphasis on 
lichens and minerals.  Just a general overview to see what liked to grow 
here and always a look for the unusual, such as a fern hiding in a cleft 
in the rocks.  This is just about the maximum northerly range for any 
ferns.  I went on my usual tramp to look for birch because the 
occurrence of birch is spotty in these fjords.  This is the farthest 
north that birch grows in western Greenland.
	The next morning dawned very bright and promised to be a summer 
day complete with certain admiring winged visitors in black and awfully 
hungry though they are on a liquid diet.  And guess what! here in this 
lovely warm place the sun is beating down on my double walled tent, 
heating up the interior which is becoming ever increasingly torrid with 
every passing minute.  The winged visitors hummed with delight as they 
plied their emanate adoration upon me and tried to give me their 
undimished attentions to the point of such ravenous ravages that the 
final resolution had to be employed.  Swat!   
	Today was July 22nd. I was at 72û46.91'N, 55û22.11'W my barometer 
reading 1022 mb. it is a bright sunny day with a few clouds in the 
northwest and a long vapor trail remains in the sky.  Just now the moon 
is visible it is able to sustain it's visibility into the day light 
hours it is 09:00.  This is a special event I am looking at the high 
broken clouds, cirrocumulus, and low and behold, the moon breaks through 
the cloud cover.  It is just about half full just preceding the sun by 
about an hour separation or 15û.  This is the first time I have seen the 
moon since I left New England 42ûN in mid-June.  It's appearance gave me 
an augustly mystical feeling as somehow the solemnity of this rare event 
profoundly affected my emotions.  Although I had been scrupulously 
avoiding thoughts of home where one could always see the moon, my 
disciplined abstinence from thinking about home was just completely 
overwhelmed the moment my eye glimpsed the moon.  	Part of visiting 
the Arctic is that one cannot see the moon in the summer except for 
those rare instances of sufficient atmospheric clarity and separation of 
the moon from the sun.  
	In 1989 at Pond Inlet there I was sitting in my kayak I could just 
see the moon but the cloud density increased just precisely where the 
moon was, of course, as I was waiting to see the total lunar eclipse.  
Well, all that happened was, the cloud cover ruined the entire event and 
just as I was to experience here in Greenland because here I never saw 
the moon again.  
	After breakfast with two cups of espresso, "the good stuff 
otherwise known as flight juice", I began hopping from rock to rock 
making my way up along the brook for about a half a mile.  Between the 
endless granite boulders there were many clumps of very thick tundra 
vegetation that were treacherous to walk on.  On my way up the rushing 
brook I looked for algae in the brook and liverworts along it's fringe.  
Nothing found, no filamentous strings of pale green algae streaming from 
the rocks.  This told me that this water was running from acid ground.  
I found no liverworts because I was probably too far north for them.  
However had I found a liverwort it would have been very exciting because 
they are elusive.  On the Baillie I found one by hanging upside down 
over a bank of a rivulet.  The liverwort was growing in the spray of a 
tiny cascade.
	I gathered lichens from well weathered grey stone.  Brown new 
stone, unweathered, has only bright orange black and black and green 
lichens which are not possible to scrape off easily.  There were many 
examples of very large lichens and I believe that I must have found 
almost every cetraria known to exist.  It was exciting when I finally 
found some Drabia, Dead Man's Fingers, a large lichen in a deep upper 
area which is sufficiently moist and likely to be warmer being near the 
huge open rock faces.
	The type of epilobium which here is a low growing fireweed with 
brilliant magenta blooms delighted my eye because it's startling color 
and large flowers were the first epilobia I happened to find in bloom.  
	
	Bright sun makes picture taking much easier.  It will be 
interesting to compare plant communities, I am finding no birch here and 
I think that the birch does not like the depth of soil and dampness or 
this area maybe too cold.  Dwarf birch is prefers gravel and this area 
is bog even though I do not find any ledum here.
	Now I realized that there was much to look for in this area and I 
glanced under around and over many suspended boulders I poked my head 
into the smaller crevasses and crawled beneath the larger suspended 
boulders looking at what grew there.  My first impression of the great 
number of precariously perched, well rounded boulders lead me to think 
that they may have fallen there from a higher elevation but in 
retrospect I now realize that they must have settled into these 
positions as the glacier that was carrying them melted and gradually 
deposited them on top of one another.  Had they fallen from above they 
would have been more severely broken and would have landed in much more 
stable positions.  Many or these glacially deposited five to ten foot 
diameter boulders were not only on top one another in unstable positions 
but were accidentally wedged with the precision of a stone mason.  
	I had to be careful as I stepped from boulder to boulder not to 
unbalance them and risk injuring myself because I had neglected to bring 
a broadcasting radio or EPIRB.  I would have been wise to have a radio 
or EPIRB broadcasting on 121.Mhz.  I sincerely regretted my oversight as 
my fear of sustaining an injury became increasingly pervasive.
	As the sun's angle changed the immense granite domes flanking the 
valley were continuously showing new colors and casting new shadows that 
were profoundly awe-inspiring.  
	At last I am satisfied with my jaunt and it's time to hide from 
the sun and the mosquitoes and have some lunch and a nap.  Looking 
forward to my tent's shelter I open the door of my tent and I am 
instantly rebuffed by conditions within.  Not only is the temperature 
within my fabric abode beyond being unpleasantly warm but rather that 
the brilliant sun has elevated the  temperature within to being 
absolutely stifling.  
	I brace myself, but to no avail, as I admit that it's time to make 
some modifications here.  Now I tell myself "I am going to explore the 
merits of application of external insulation."  The sleeping bag and a 
reflective ground cloth are positioned strategically on the outside to 
screen out the sun.  Life becomes more bearable within and I continued 
with my agenda.  
	After some horizontal time, my second wind arrived it was now 
16:00 and thoughts as to how to further enjoy exploration and escape my 
winged, voraciously ravaging, admirers came to mind.  First I would have 
a nice cup of "the good stuff" then I would prepare my dinner in a 
thermos bottle "special" for travel.  Then I would get on the water and 
stay on the water until the sun became low enough in the sky causing the 
temperature to drop just enough to inactivate the mosquitos, my little 
musical antagonists, then I could enjoy the evening at another location 
without that pestilence.
	I am on the water by 17:00 on my way to the east side of 
Augpilatoq where I can see that there is a large amount of ice is 
melting in the hot sun in the passage east of Augpilatoq.  I am 
considering paddling along the east side of Augpilatoq to get closer to 
the Upernavik Isfjord but I will consider the ice density before 
committing myself because getting close to a large iceberg is not for 
me.  After I have just watched as a gull landed on a small burgee bit 
and it broke immediately I realize that I must be very careful.  My 
fragile kayak is no match for rolling and disintegrating icebergs.
	I paddled from the fjord 72û46.91'N, 55û22.11'W across to 72û47'N 
and worked my way through the ice up to 72û49'N, 55û25'W in a quest for 
the older village site of Augpilagtoq.  
	The crossing was quiet and the back side of the dramatic granitic 
domes was just erratic rock escarpments typical of the rest of this mile 
wide passage between Augpilatoq and a much larger island that I had just 
come from a large island called Nutarmiut.  The two little islands which 
I was supposed to pass and then find the village site behind them became 
confused with two other little islands but neither of them mattered.  
There was no likely haven for a village site, abandoned in the 1950's, 
there because the shore was limited to a narrow strip of ragged pitched 
rock.  
	Wending my way north, since the ice density here did not seem 
especially threatening and the weather was quite stable, I did not feel 
threatened the possibility that a wind might come up and pack the ice in 
around me.  
	At 72û49'N I came upon an enthralling waterfall bounding down from 
above which I couldn't resist disembarking at and I also thought that 
there might be a remote possibility that there could have been a village 
next to this water source.  There were some stones piled on top of one 
another here and there as could only be possible through human agency, 
as evidence of human habitation, but there was nothing to indicate any 
recent habitation.  
	As I ducked into the shadows and made my landing so that I could 
more see the area in greater detail, my eyes fixed on the most brilliant 
array of glorious mineral colors I had ever seen.  The beach and all the 
metamorphosed granite rocks around were composed of an endless, 
patterned crystalline, mosaic of truly red, dark red, bright orange and 
white feldspar with some black and green minerals intermixed creating an 
intensely colorful beach surrounded with a tapestry of crystal water 
bounding from the heights down the rocks resplendent with this 
kaleidoscopic mosaic of color.
	On the southern half of Augpilatoq Island I noticed that east 
shore with high rock escarpments the area below them is especially dark 
after the noon sun has passed.  The low angle of the Arctic sun makes 
for an especially short day in those areas.
	Continuing northward I found relatively little evidence of any 
village sites among these rocky ledges but when