Prince Christian Sund, Greenland, September 1, 2017
On the eastbound leg of this trip we couldn't make it through the Prince Christian Sund. Ice had blocked the eastern opening. This time we awoke to blue skies and sun (!) and an ice-free entrance to the Sund.
As we approached, around 9 am ship's time, I first saw a grey pyramid structure rising above the mists at sea level, then a lot of splashing around and then ice. First was a navy destroyer (and considering their record lately, it was comforting to see it w-a-y off to port), next whales and then icebergs. And then the "spotter" helicopter flew several loops overhead as he communicated with the bridge about conditions ahead. Goooooood Morning, Greenland.
The Sund is just 36 km long but we'll spend all day going through it. When an especially impressive glacier is spotted the captain stops the ship and then does a 360 so everyone on board gets a good view. He also goes in and out of the odd fjord, once again giving everyone a chance to enjoy it without having to scramble from one side of the ship to the other. The forward deck is open to passengers. I walked around the promenade deck taking pictures and wishing I'd worn a heavier jacket but when I got out on the deck it was bright and sunny and quite comfortable, in the mid-50s. Lots of people, both passengers and crew, we're taking pictures like mad. The weather so far north is so quixotic that no one wants to waste a perfect day.
Just as Iceland is the newest spot on earth, Greenland is one of the oldest. It is part of the American plate, in fact connected to Canada by an underwater land bridge. The island rises straight up from the water, no shoreline at all. The mountains are creased and rounded, looking like the surface of a brain. There isn't any vegetation to speak of, just mossy spots. But there are glaciers along the peaks and then occasionally massive ones that have made valleys as they moved to the sea. It's so quiet until you hear something that sounds like freeway traffic but is really water from melting glaciers running down the mountains and finally tumbling into the sea. The rocks and gravel dragged into the sea by the moving ice turns the water a milky, emerald color. It looks much like the water along the Gulf coast of Florida except this stuff is about 50 degrees colder.
There really isn't anything other than birds flying by to give an idea of how big all this is. We've seen some decent size icebergs, rounded from melting in the warm sun. Lots of smaller bits of ice floating on the surface. Once again, hard to judge the size. We have two ice pilots from Greenland on board. I'm guessing they KNOW the size. Which reminds me in a round about way that there is a tour in Halifax, Nova Scotia that stops at the cemetery where 121 victims of the Titanic sinking are buried. I'm thinking that even a century later when you arrive by cruise ship, too soon.
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