No one travels from Diilerilaaq to Isortoq cross-country in winter any more. The ice is too changeable, the way too unknowable. But Max is determined and so am I. We load Tobias’ small hunter’s boat with twelve dogs, one sledge and six humans (a driver, three passengers, two explorers). Tobias punts us through the harbor’s shallow channel. Then we motor across Sermilik Fjord and break leads through the fast ice at Johan Pedersen Fjord until the ice thick enough to disembark. Max and I hitch up the dogs, wave our companions goodbye, hasten to solid land, find a way through the mountains, camp under a glacier for three fog-bound days, sledge up successive ice shelves onto the sun-dazzled icecap and across and down to the village. At one point we make a wrong turn, come to a precipitous drop, overturn the sledge and fling our 200-pound dog-food pulk into the void. After rerouting and gaining the piteraq-packed icecap the dogs move swiftly. We arrive just in time for a polar-bear feast.
