Brattahlíð - Erik the Red's residence

With the old Toyota pickup, I am driven to the dock on the other side of the hill. At approximately 4 km, not really far, but the path here is more like a sea of sliding stones. During the drive, I spot a small forest - just a few hundred square meters and the trees maybe 3-4 meters high, but: a forest!

At the dock, the driver says goodbye. The boat will arrive in about half an hour. Now I stand completely alone in the middle of nowhere, it's raining. For a brief moment, the thought flashes through my mind of why I didn't just book an all-inclusive week in Mallorca. In the next second, my eyes focus on the icebergs lined up in the background like a string of pearls. And my soul is focused again. Grounded.

A short time later, the boat arrives - as always at full speed. I now suspect that Greenlandic boats only have two gears: 1 = slow for docking, 2 = full speed ahead.

Upon arriving in Brattahlíð, I bypass the tempting café on the right. A mistake, as it turns out later. In the rain, I walk through the small town the short kilometer to the UNESCO World Heritage Site, the farm of Erik the Red, the discoverer of Greenland and father of Leif, the discoverer of America, and the first church built on Greenlandic soil, through Þjóðhildr, Erik the Red's wife. So, a really interesting, albeit rough family.

The ruins are even larger than in Igaliku, the grounds of the medieval farm are gigantic. The buildings are only preserved in outlines; therefore, a residential house and the church were constructed as impressive replicas. I was particularly looking forward to seeing them. Unfortunately, I found no indication anywhere that you have to register for a tour - the notice only appears on a sign on-site. So no interior tour. Torrential rain, and then that. I am grouchy. Still good one and a half hours until the boat picks me up. So, into the café at the harbor for something to eat to lift my spirits. I saw the offer of a guided tour there. Yes, darn it! If only I had gone to the café right at the start... Now I have neither the time nor the desire to walk the path again.

Together with a Dutch couple, I look forward to the (of course) full-speed approaching boat. Just before the dock, the engine cuts out. Hmmm, ride anyway? The equally unpleasant alternative: stay in the pouring rain in the middle of nowhere without my luggage (which was already taken to the destination before).

We head to the icebergs of Qooroq, much smaller than in the north at Ilulissat, but icebergs! Right up close! Full speed (I don't need to mention that, do I?) we race through the icebergs, sometimes making a sharp turn to avoid one. Fascination and fear alternate. At some point, we can’t go any further, the ice field becomes too dense. Unfortunately, the glacier is not visible due to the rain. However, an incredible pattering can be heard, the bursting of the millennia-old air bubbles trapped in the ice. Magical! The tour guide fishes a small piece of ice out of the water and serves us martini on the rocks. But that’s nothing compared to the enjoyment of the boat driver, who casually drives the bow into a cliff on the way to Narsarsuaq and has his assistant fill a bottle directly from the small waterfall.