Last week, my husband was out fishing on a fjord close to Nuuk. When he was ready to return home, he turned the key in the ignition and nothing happened. The engine had failed. There were no boats around. Being still close to Nuuk and fortunately within mobile reception, he called the police. Explaining the situation, that they were drifting toward rocks and there was no help, he asked them to send someone to rescue them. Isn’t there a friend you could call, they asked? No. This was an emergency situation, he replied. Didn’t the police have a role to play here? They could give him the phone number of a company who might be able to tow him, they suggested helpfully, as the boat drifted closer to rocky ground. Insisting on some kind of appropriate police-like response, they eventually conceded that they could call Aasiaat Radio – the coastal radio service. But not trusting the police to do even that, he hung up and made the radio call to Aasiaat Radio himself, asking them to put out a distress message. And then he phoned a friend, who fortunately was able to reach them very quickly and tow them back.
But it could have been worse.
That same friend who rescued him had been out hunting reindeer the previous summer, together with another man. They were far inland near the head of Ameralik Fjord – a tens of kilometre long fjord south of Nuuk. Although an experienced hunter, this time he pushed it too far. Late in the day, they found themselves very far inland and concerned they wouldn’t make it back to their boat before the darkness and cold set in. They had no overnight equipment and might not survive the night. But he had a satellite phone so he called his wife. They were in trouble, he said, but they were heading back and he would keep her informed. He gave her their position. Later in the evening, they realised they wouldn’t make it. He called the police and asked them to send a helicopter rescue. The answer was no. Instead, the police took their position and gave them directions for how to reach the fjord, and their boat, by a faster route. But the police had taken down the wrong coordinates. So now the two men, already in significant trouble, were walking in the wrong direction. Very late in the evening, they reached cliffed, impassable terrane and they called the police again. This time, presumably now recognising that the men were going to die without help, they sent the helicopter, which returned them to their boat. There, they spent a day recovering before they were able to sail home.
But it could have been worse.
Last year, a Nuuk man fell into a crevasse while on a ski-touring trip northeast of Maniitsoq on the west coast. He landed metres down on a snow ledge, badly injured with many broken bones, including his back. His friends were able to carry out a crevasse rescue and get him back onto the surface of the glacier. Fortunately, they had an excellent friend to phone – a helicopter pilot. Within only half an hour or so, the pilot at the airport in Maniitsoq was getting ready to take off. Reporting his intentions to the airport authority, they further reported it further to the police whose response was that he was not to fly. They would arrange the rescue. Hours later, close to sunset, the injured man now hypothermic, a larger helicopter – less suitable for glacier rescue – landed and returned the man to the hospital in Nuuk, where he fortunately survived.
I’m not sure it gets much worse. But maybe it does.
