Geoff and I were up early, very excited about the clear-sky forecast we received yesterday evening. It seemed the rest of Narsarsuaq wasn’t quite as enthusiastic about getting up on a Sunday morning though! We scoffed down breakfast as fast as they could make it, then slurped down a coffee and we were away.

The hotel’s courtesy car scheduled to take us, along with all of our gear to the heli hanger had broken down, but nothing could crush our spirits today! We cheerfully began shuttling a few bags at a time down the street toward the airport. As soon as the doors of the airport hanger were opened, we went into a frenzy of tossing gear into the various storage pods of the helicopter as well as spreading out the cargo net that would be used to “sling” our sleds beneath the chopper onto the terrain. (The sleds were too long to fit inside the cabin.)

Packed up. Go time. Geoff and I sat patiently waiting and looking in earnest to Marco to see when he would give us “the nod” to load in and fly out. The expressions on our faces must have been priceless. With a quick phone call to the control tower our pilot politely petitioned them for an early mark, to which they obliged. “Thunderbirds are go!” (I thought in my head.)
The ignition engaged, the turbine roared, the propellers swooped and hummed, then we were off. We soared over clear blue skies, watching in amazement at the rolling pack-ice in the Fjords below. Soon, the slushy waters turned to ancient craggy slabs of ice as we scaled the foreboding glacier ahead. Once we saw the ominous nature of the crevasses, we made our final decision (in the air) to commence the journey from the southernmost point at the top of the glacier, rather than hauling through the treacherous labyrinth.

After so many embargoed days with unfavourable weather, treading my first step on the terrain was a surreal experience. I had missed the crisp crunch of boots on fresh snow. The official start of our journey home!

We unpacked our gear, received our “slung” sleds and then farewelled Marco, our pilot as the humming of the chopper dissipated into the distance. It's just us now, in an endless white desert.

After about 3.5hrs man-hauling (no wind around) we’ve made a whopping 3.74km into our journey before re-fuelling in our cosy little tent. It’s a game of chess now, waiting for wind, knowing when to push, rest and focus on maintaining morale.

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