Greenland Village Needs Sea

A constant parade of Titanic-size icebergs slowly drifts with the currents of Disko Bay in sight of this west coast fishing port.

Spawned by the Northern Hemisphere’s most productive glacier 25 miles to the south, these mountains of ice break off with a thunderous roar and begin their silent arctic voyage.

The barking of sled dogs, which outnumber the 4,000 people of the town, mixes with the chugging of cutters and shrimp boats and the hum of the fish factories in the tiny harbor.

Against the darkened sky, the Northern Lights unfurl in wavy sheets of red and green across the horizon.

Ilulissat, which means icebergs in the native language, is inhabited by Inuits who are culturally and linguistically related to the Eskimos of Alaska and others in Canada and Siberia.

Nearly everyone in the town, 180 miles north of the Arctic Circle, make their living from the sea.

Its economy is totally dependent on shrimp and halibut catches, which the local fishermen deliver directly to the two big state-run fish factories, employing 350 people in the peak season.

Ilulissat, Greenland’s third-largest town, also is known by its Danish name, Jacobshavn. Denmark, which ruled Greenland for 200 years, made it an autonomous territory under the Danish crown 10 years ago.

About 50 fishing boats, ranging from factory trawlers to one-man cutters, operate during the summer from Ilulissat’s natural harbor.

In the winters of 24-hour darkness, many fishermen such as Soeren Madsen go “long-lining” on the Icefjord, a frozen fiord at the foot of the glacier.

“We drive 35 miles overland across rough terrain in dog sleds to the fishing grounds, and the temperature can fall to minus 22 degrees Fahrenheit out on the ice,” Madsen said.

Long lines strung with up to 100 hooks are sunk through holes cut in the ice and then hauled up by hand from the depths.

“You have to return with a catch of at least 400 pounds to make it pay,” Madsen said.

A typical fishing tour on the ice lasts 48 hours, during which the men live in low, conical tents with a Primus stove to keep warm.

The dog teams of 10 to 12 huskies sleep huddled together in the open. They are capable of running 12 hours non-stop.

Some of the fishermen make a little extra money on the side driving sleds for winter tourists who come to see the natural wonders of the Disko Bay area.

In Ilulissat, it’s an unwritten law that dog sleds have the right of way.

Ilulissat municipality includes four small outlying settlements of 80 to 100 inhabitants each. Beyond those tiny villages lie nothing but the glacial ice pack, 2 1/2 miles thick, of Greenland’s interior.

No roads link the town with its satellite settlements. Travel is by boat, sled or helicopter.

The Greenlandic dog, a special breed protected by a ban on imports of other races, is not tame, and visitors are advised not to pet them.

Practically every dwelling in the town has a dog team in the yard where fish for their fodder is hung up in racks to dry.

The dogs must be kept chained, their fangs cut. Stray dogs are shot on orders from the authorities.

Many hunters are embittered over an anti-sealing campaign waged by conservationists that ruined the once-lucrative skin trade.

In the early 1980s, environmental groups such as Greenpeace, spurred on by French actress and self-styled animal friend Brigitte Bardot, launched highly publicized protests against the Canadian practice of bludgeoning seal pups to death for their prized white pelts.

Gruesome pictures of the Canadian seal hunt became associated in the public mind with the Greenlanders’ traditional hunt, which does not include pups.

Seal pups are born on the ice floes off northern Canada and are rarely seen in Greenlandic waters.

Prices for Greenlandic skins plunged in Europe, and the United States, a major market, banned the import of seal skins.

“Greenpeace eventually apologized to Greenland, but they should have admitted their mistake to the consumers as well,” said Adolf Jensen, a hunter who comes from a tiny settlement 62 miles north of Ilulissat.