Suited and booted for the brief Arctic night we cruise south along the Blosseville Coast. The wind has dropped to nothing and the seas around us are oily calm. Only a gentle swell rocks the boat. To the north west and on our starboard the sun ducks behind yet another mountain range intricately dissected by glacier after glacier. Gently inclining these icy monsters meander their way from ice cap to sea. To our port, and out to sea, a sparse peppering of icebergs glow yellow in the evening sun. No one wants to leave the cockpit as another magical Greenlandic day comes to a close.
Rarely can anyone sail so close to this coast as it is usually beset by ice. Wild and remote it is untouched by humans and is the domain of the Polar Bear. We would love to see one of these noble creatures but are in no doubt of their danger. Any bears here will have been robbed of their hunting ground which is the ice and will be ravenously hungry. We venture cautiously into their realm.