"Are you sure this is your flight?" the nice lady at the Air Greenland check-in desk in Copenhagen asks us as we push our bike boxes towards her for check-in. We're going to Greenland in winter. Yes, we're sure of that. But whether it's a good idea is a completely different question. We don't know whether the largest island in the world is suitable for biking, especially in winter, any more than the airport employee does.
A friend had told me about a 170-kilometre hiking trail in Greenland, the Arctic Circle Trail. More or less cut off from civilisation, this trail leads from the eternal ice of the glaciers in Kangerlussuaq to the coastal town of Sisimiut. In summer, it should take around ten days to complete the route - on foot. After a short internet search and a few emails, I knew that the route would be more difficult to complete by mountain bike in warmer temperatures during the summer months. Between June and September, the ground is swampy depending on the weather. The mosquitoes are aggressive. And the trail is only roughly marked with cairns. As the fun is obviously limited during this time and the ride/push ratio is around 40:60 per cent, I quickly dropped the summer option. Especially as several people have already had this Greenland experience.
Together with my long-time expedition mate Claude Balsiger and the Valais mountain guide Fabian Mooser, I came up with a new plan: a first ascent of the Arctic Circle Trail in winter! And with fatbikes, whose massive, high-traction tyres are perfect for such an undertaking.
Our hotel - or as we say as soon as we enter: "shack" - is located right next to the airport runway in Kangerlussuaq. From here, we take a chartered bus around 40 kilometres to the starting point of the Arctic Circle Trail: the edge of the Russell Glacier. The wall of shimmering green-blue, shattered ice is a natural monument that we simply stare at for minutes. The ice is millions of years old. It is up to three kilometres thick. Of course, we can't see with our eyes how it is pressing against the sea, which is also currently solidified. But it creaks and you can literally feel the pressure. Unfortunately, we only have just over an hour. By nightfall at the latest, we have to be back in the town of 500 people at the airport, where we want to spend the night again. The trail passes right next to the "shack".
The first few kilometres are quickly completed. But what will the rest of the route look like? We have planned three days for the remaining 160 kilometres. If the weather, daily workload and equipment play along, we should be able to do it. But our guide will tell us this evening whether we have any chance at all with our fatbikes on the snow. Jens Erik is a Greenland giant with a shoe size of 54 and travels the route several times a year with his 16 sled dogs. He will transport luggage and food for us on his sled, as there are no shops or hotels along the way.
Our planned daily stages are between 52 and 60 kilometres long. Distances that you would never manage here in summer on swampy meadow mats. Especially as you would then have to cycle around the fjords and lakes. Now in winter, however, there is a metre-thick layer of ice on the water. We can therefore cross the fjords straight ahead and make rapid progress. Our fatbikes soon prove to be perfect: skidoos and dog sleds are already pulling beautiful trails through the Arctic snow in this landscape. Thanks to the wide contact surface of our tyres, we ride on the grooves rather than in them. Nevertheless, we have to keep our speed down. We realise this at the first long stop. With daytime temperatures between minus 10 and minus 30 degrees, we sweat as soon as we move too fast, despite the freezing cold. The outdoor freezer then bites mercilessly every time we take a breather. Everything moist and liquid turns into a solid, frozen state in less than a minute. So we better adapt to the pace of Jens Erik and his dogs. Being faster is no use anyway, as he carries everything he needs on his sled. It also gives us a chance to talk a little about his life in Greenland. The 25-year-old man of two loves the hard and rough life, his dogs and hunting. What we experience as a unique adventure is a daily reality for him. And yet he would never swap places. He lives in paradise here, he tells us. We wonder how it is that people can settle in one of the most extreme places in the world. It stays dark here in winter. The thermometer only rises above zero degrees during the four summer months. Agriculture and livestock farming are only possible in very few areas. Practically everything has to be imported and is extremely expensive. Nevertheless, more than 55,000 people live in this inhospitable region.
The first 59 kilometres and 750 metres of ascent and descent drag on. We reach the canoe camp after almost eight hours. An old, holey canoe half indicates a failed business idea. But the hut offers more comfort than we had imagined. The stove is quickly heated up and we hang our damp clothes and shoes over it to dry. There are even decent beds with mattresses. Over candlelight and musk ox ragout, we discuss the next day's route.
When we push open the cabin door at seven o'clock the next morning, we can't see anything for a few seconds. Our room is flooded with fog, as if we were in a disco at Ballermann. The minus 29-degree cold air outside immediately condenses with the heat from our stove in the hut. Outside, the dogs yawn and howl. They've spent the night chained up outside. Not snuggled up warmly together, but at a distance of two metres from the nearest animal. While Jens Erik feeds his pack and attaches them to the harness, we spoon up our ready-made muesli. Our clothes are dry, our bikes are defrosted and we are warm all round. Still.
The first 25 kilometres of the day are again relatively flat over a lake. There is not a cloud to be seen in the sky. The steel blue colour forms a perfect contrast to the glistening white of the winter landscape. At the end of March, the sun is still fairly flat here, which guarantees good photographic light all day long. The batteries in my camera last surprisingly well. I just keep the spare batteries close to my body so that they don't self-discharge in the cold. We stop for lunch at the foot of the first serious climb. Chewing hungrily, we follow the white trail of snow with our eyes, which first climbs straight ahead, then zigzags about 400 metres up a mountain range. It's hard to imagine that the dogs can pull the heavy sledge up there. Jens Erik goes first. His dogs give it their all. We, on the other hand, let the air out of the tyres first. From 0.5 to around 0.3 bar. This increases the traction surface. We actually manage the first part of the steep ascent on our tyres. But now we're steaming out of all our clothes. So we quickly take off as many clothes as possible so that nothing gets wet. I even stuff my gloves into my rucksack. After about two thirds of the ascent, we meet up with the sledge again. The path is now flatter overall. But Jens Erik still gets off the sled on some of the ramps - 130kg of relief for the dogs. The rest of the day is child's play. After 52 kilometres, we reach the next hut in the late afternoon. Tonight, however, it gets a little more crowded. A Greenlandic family is using the weekend for an excursion and is also spending the night here. Because of the snoring in the dormitory, we soon move into the common room. A good decision, because from the large windows we can watch the shimmering green Northern Lights twinkling across the night sky. A marvellous spectacle!
The last stage: 56 kilometres to the coast to Sisimiut. Jens Erik shows us a chain of hills on the map in the second half of the route. "Once you've climbed these 600 metres in altitude, you'll be rolling to the finish on your own," he promises. The closer we get to the highest climb of this expedition, the more traffic there is on the white motorway. Skidoos whizz past us, dog sled teams chase towards us. People know each other, greet each other, exchange news. The big uphill in front of us looks like a ski slope, and our path rolls up it as a wide, white track. Again we let the air out of our tyres and struggle. Skidoo drivers give us an appreciative thumbs up. After 90 minutes we reach the pass. Jens Erik's dogs smell home and can no longer be stopped. So we skip lunch and shoot off after them towards the sea. We soon spot the first rows of houses in the village of 5000 people. Now it's only 20 minutes to a hot shower and a well-deserved reindeer burger.
INFO GREECE
Greenland is the largest island in the world and about six times the size of Germany. Politically, it belongs to Denmark. The Arctic Circle Trail is snow-free from mid-June to mid-September, but very swampy (mosquitoes!). If you want to tackle the 170-kilometre hiking trail on the west coast of Greenland in winter: www.greenland-guide.gl
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