{"id":689,"date":"2015-08-02T21:14:59","date_gmt":"2015-08-02T20:14:59","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.peterwoolley.co.uk\/blog\/?p=689"},"modified":"2015-08-02T21:14:59","modified_gmt":"2015-08-02T20:14:59","slug":"sunday-a-hike-in-qaqortoq-greenland","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.peterwoolley.co.uk\/blog\/sunday-a-hike-in-qaqortoq-greenland\/","title":{"rendered":"Sunday &#8211; A Hike in Qaqortoq, Greenland"},"content":{"rendered":"<p>Today we arrived in Qaqortoq (pronounced something like Ha-Hort-tok, with a slightly guttural &#8216;H&#8217;), which means &#8216;White Palace&#8217; in Greenlandic.<\/p>\n<p>I didn&#8217;t quite know what to expect of Qaqortoq, but after yesterday&#8217;s iceberg-watching and the previous day&#8217;s failure to land at Tassilaq because of thick ice, I certainly hadn&#8217;t been prepared for what we encountered.<\/p>\n<p>Tucked away in a fjord, off the Labrador Sea, Qaqortoq is the fourth largest town in Southern Greenland, with only 3500 inhabitants. There are no roads to connect it to any other place in Greenland; transport is by boat or helicopter. In the winter months, most folks travel by snowmobile.<\/p>\n<p>But there was no snow today (other than a few patches on the higher mountain tops). I was assigned escort duty on a hiking tour, billed as &#8216;Hike Along The Great Lake&#8217;.<\/p>\n<p><a href=\"http:\/\/www.peterwoolley.co.uk\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2015\/08\/2015-08-02_quqortoq_1.jpg\"><img decoding=\"async\" loading=\"lazy\" class=\"alignnone size-full wp-image-690\" src=\"http:\/\/www.peterwoolley.co.uk\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2015\/08\/2015-08-02_quqortoq_1.jpg\" alt=\"2015-08-02_quqortoq_1\" width=\"1000\" height=\"419\" srcset=\"https:\/\/www.peterwoolley.co.uk\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2015\/08\/2015-08-02_quqortoq_1.jpg 1000w, https:\/\/www.peterwoolley.co.uk\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2015\/08\/2015-08-02_quqortoq_1-300x126.jpg 300w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1000px) 100vw, 1000px\" \/><\/a><\/p>\n<p><a href=\"http:\/\/www.peterwoolley.co.uk\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2015\/08\/2015-08-02_quqortoq_2.jpg\"><img decoding=\"async\" loading=\"lazy\" class=\"alignnone size-large wp-image-691\" src=\"http:\/\/www.peterwoolley.co.uk\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2015\/08\/2015-08-02_quqortoq_2.jpg\" alt=\"2015-08-02_quqortoq_2\" width=\"474\" height=\"264\" srcset=\"https:\/\/www.peterwoolley.co.uk\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2015\/08\/2015-08-02_quqortoq_2.jpg 1000w, https:\/\/www.peterwoolley.co.uk\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2015\/08\/2015-08-02_quqortoq_2-300x167.jpg 300w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 474px) 100vw, 474px\" \/><\/a><\/p>\n<p>The Marco Polo was anchored in the middle of the fjord, and access to the town was via tender. I have to say that, with the still, sunny conditions, it was probably one of the smoothest tender journeys I&#8217;ve ever made from the Marco Polo; I&#8217;m used to it being a white-knuckle thrill ride. The hike started from the quayside at just gone 10am.<\/p>\n<p>It was only a short distance from the town centre to the lake behind it (named Tasersuaq&#8230; I have no idea how to pronounce that&#8230;) and many independent travellers were choosing to walk alongside it as well as the two excursion groups, each of about 24 passengers.<\/p>\n<p><a href=\"http:\/\/www.peterwoolley.co.uk\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2015\/08\/2015-08-02_quqortoq_3.jpg\"><img decoding=\"async\" loading=\"lazy\" class=\"alignnone size-full wp-image-692\" src=\"http:\/\/www.peterwoolley.co.uk\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2015\/08\/2015-08-02_quqortoq_3.jpg\" alt=\"2015-08-02_quqortoq_3\" width=\"1000\" height=\"561\" srcset=\"https:\/\/www.peterwoolley.co.uk\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2015\/08\/2015-08-02_quqortoq_3.jpg 1000w, https:\/\/www.peterwoolley.co.uk\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2015\/08\/2015-08-02_quqortoq_3-300x168.jpg 300w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1000px) 100vw, 1000px\" \/><\/a><\/p>\n<p>The lake and surrounding landscape was beautiful. It was rather like being at home, visiting either Snowdonia, or the Lake District; the scenery was very similar. Our hike took us along the shoreline to the far end of the lake and back again; a round distance of approximately 5 miles. The path was good; a little uneven and rocky in places, but easy to navigate, and the weather was sunny and warm &#8211; certainly not what had been forecast (cloudy and rainy). The hills swept up away from us to a modest height, and I was slightly frustrated at having been put on tour; if I&#8217;d been able to do the walk independently, I think I would have chosen to head for the top and walk along the ridge, then return via the path that we were walking on.<\/p>\n<p>Before we&#8217;d taken the tender ashore, all passengers and escorts had to wait in the Marco Polo Lounge for a tender boat to become available. Susan, the Shore Excursions Manager, kept in contact with Ruth, the Assistant Shore Excursions Manager (who had gone ashore ahead of us), by radio. One thing that she said in communication was to advise passengers of the mosquitos. Her words were; &#8220;There are loads of mosquitos&#8230; as big as elephants&#8230; please advise passengers to administer Anti-mosquito spray before coming ashore. I thought I had some Avon &#8216;Skin So Soft&#8217; with me&#8230; apparently not. And then I wondered where my mosquito net was&#8230; I remembered; it&#8217;s in my rucksack, back home&#8230;<\/p>\n<p>I honestly wouldn&#8217;t have believed that I&#8217;d need either. Turns out I was wrong.<\/p>\n<p>The mosquitos were truly horrendous, and a nuisance the whole way. Only occasionally, when a breeze would get up, would they take a break from mithering us. It was hot, yet I had my fleece on&#8230; because I&#8217;d believed it was going to be cold. However; I ended up keeping it on most of the way because it afforded me some protection from the masses of black beasties. I had a hat on, but finished up flapping the hat around in front of my face to try and keep the mozzies away. I was offered spray from a fellow passenger, but I&#8217;m still covered in itchy bites&#8230; dang! It&#8217;s at times like this that one wonders if we truly are at the top of the planet&#8217;s food chain&#8230;<\/p>\n<p>Wallking tours like this always bemuse me slightly. Why would anyone pay to join a tour when they could walk it independently for nothing? What makes it even more confusing &#8211; and this is nothing more than a personal observation, of course &#8211; is that half of the group were clearly keen, fit, regular hikers who wanted to walk faster and broke off, ahead, and away from the guide, while others lagged behind struggling to keep up. The laggers complained that the walk was too fast and didn&#8217;t give them time to rest and take photographs; the keen ones complained that the walk was too slow. Some fell behind and eventually chose to walk back at their own pace; others, when they reached the head of the lake, decided they wanted to continue walking, and do a complete circular, returning to the town on the opposite side of the lake. By the time the guide (who was a young German girl) and myself arrived at the head of the lake, the group of 24 had dwindled to 6.<\/p>\n<p><a href=\"http:\/\/www.peterwoolley.co.uk\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2015\/08\/2015-08-02_quqortoq_4.jpg\"><img decoding=\"async\" loading=\"lazy\" class=\"alignnone size-full wp-image-693\" src=\"http:\/\/www.peterwoolley.co.uk\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2015\/08\/2015-08-02_quqortoq_4.jpg\" alt=\"2015-08-02_quqortoq_4\" width=\"1000\" height=\"591\" srcset=\"https:\/\/www.peterwoolley.co.uk\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2015\/08\/2015-08-02_quqortoq_4.jpg 1000w, https:\/\/www.peterwoolley.co.uk\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2015\/08\/2015-08-02_quqortoq_4-300x177.jpg 300w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 1000px) 100vw, 1000px\" \/><\/a><\/p>\n<p><a href=\"http:\/\/www.peterwoolley.co.uk\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2015\/08\/2015-08-02_quqortoq_5.jpg\"><img decoding=\"async\" loading=\"lazy\" class=\"alignnone size-large wp-image-694\" src=\"http:\/\/www.peterwoolley.co.uk\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2015\/08\/2015-08-02_quqortoq_5.jpg\" alt=\"2015-08-02_quqortoq_5\" width=\"474\" height=\"266\" srcset=\"https:\/\/www.peterwoolley.co.uk\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2015\/08\/2015-08-02_quqortoq_5.jpg 1000w, https:\/\/www.peterwoolley.co.uk\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2015\/08\/2015-08-02_quqortoq_5-300x168.jpg 300w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 474px) 100vw, 474px\" \/><\/a><\/p>\n<p>Despite all this, the wallk was fantastic, and the scenery was stunning. We started out from the quayside at 10:15am and arrived back at 2:35pm.<\/p>\n<p>I would have lingered and had a beer in the town&#8217;s only hotel, but I had no money on me, so I took the tender boat back to the ship in the hope of catching lunch. Unfortunately, lunch had been and gone, so I waited until 3:15, when it was Afternoon Tea in Marcos, and had a plateful of sandwiches and three cups of tea.<\/p>\n<p>Greenland, it seems is a mass of contradictions. Qaqortoq has a polar climate with cold snowy winters and cool summers. The southern tip of Greenland does not experience permafrost. Qaqortoq has only one bar and three supermarkets. With only three and a half thousand inhabitants, you&#8217;d think crime would be low, but folks are alway knicking stuff from other folks, even though you&#8217;d think that everyone must pretty much know everyone else. The main industries are fishing and shrimp processing, tanning, fur production and ship maintainance. If there was a fight between Icelandic Mosquitos and Scottish Midges, my money would be on the Icelandic Mosquitos.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>Today we arrived in Qaqortoq (pronounced something like Ha-Hort-tok, with a slightly guttural &#8216;H&#8217;), which means &#8216;White Palace&#8217; in Greenlandic. I didn&#8217;t quite know what to expect of Qaqortoq, but after yesterday&#8217;s iceberg-watching and the previous day&#8217;s failure to land at Tassilaq because of thick ice, I certainly hadn&#8217;t been prepared for what we encountered. Tucked away in a fjord,&#46;&#46;&#46;<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":[],"categories":[14,6],"tags":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.peterwoolley.co.uk\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/689"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.peterwoolley.co.uk\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.peterwoolley.co.uk\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.peterwoolley.co.uk\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.peterwoolley.co.uk\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=689"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/www.peterwoolley.co.uk\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/689\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":695,"href":"https:\/\/www.peterwoolley.co.uk\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/689\/revisions\/695"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.peterwoolley.co.uk\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=689"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.peterwoolley.co.uk\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=689"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.peterwoolley.co.uk\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=689"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}