I visited Greenland.

       I visited Greenland. Isn’t it a dream come true? I spent 3 crazy first weeks volunteering on a geophysics project. A project bigger and stronger than I had imagined, harder as well. I got to be introduced to the pressure of science and be exhausted. I got to be introduced with the impact of science and be thrilled. And I got to be introduced with the meaning of science and be fascinated. At 3000 meters up there, where the light is different, the lack of oxygen brings people closer together. I met wonderful people and got to know them faster that the average social rhythm allows. My two amazing colleagues, Kate and Andreas. And the Summit Station, a heartwarming place and community. All of us being in love with our life out of this crazy world and anchored in reality, as hard as it can get. And man, it got hard driving over thousands of kilometers of nasty sastrugis, working and living in – 30°C when it is June, the wind strength and direction making things a lot more complicated. Every little move would take so much time and oxygen. Body and soul in pain, they would get numb by extreme beauty, extreme exhaustion, extreme human sharing, extreme learning or, at some point, extreme sadness. I feel quite proud that I have been part of the third and last leg of the MAGPIE geophysics project. I won’t be able to forget this crystal light above an infinite carpet of everlasting snow, ever.

       The project being over, I had to say goodbye to people. Even to the one I didn’t get to meet, ever. So I start hiking the arctic circle trail, while all I secretly want is to rest and relax. But since I had decided that 3 months ago, I will be carrying a heavy backpack for the next 9 or 10 days. “I can’t wait to walk” is what I kept repeating for months. 2022 being a pretty rough year my friends, I thought that was what I needed. The mood had shifted since then. I had a good clue seeing how many hours it took to leave the accommodation that first hiking day. It was just easier, at that moment, to lie to myself and start hiking.

        After day one, what I got from Greenland was tens of mosquito bites, a landscape seen through a mosquito net, pain in my back and my feet; which did not agree with all of this since they were obviously not ready after the project. Have I seriously not learned what lightweight means by now? I go to bed. Hum. Do I have to force myself to be thankful for today? I am just not. I go on with the hike, not honestly giving it the chance to get better. Everything feels wrong. The mood is down in the shoes, and it stinks. I don’t feel I have much time to look around because I have to eat those kilometers and get done with the day as fast as possible. Also, I am not hiking as fast as I had expected to. And if I stop, I’ll be eaten by massive clouds of massive mosquitoes. I get to enjoy one last beautiful evening by a lake, with a happy couple nearby. I enjoy the only stretching and sunbathing of the trek before going to bed again, anxious. I see this happy and horrible newly married couple every day for the first 3 days. We often meet on the trail, and we end up at the same place. We talk. They have been together for “a decade” and I am slowly getting tired of their love showcase. Probably because it is a painful daily reminder of how single and independent I am. Yeah Johanna, just like you want to be, good for you. They have been sharing memories for 10 years. I just keep losing mine. On this 3rd morning by the lake, he wakes up very sick. As smart love birds, they decide to turn around. I don’t feel any satisfaction. Even if, once again, I am on my own, like I decided to. I will have plenty of chances to see what I am capable of once again. Why do I keep proving to myself or anyone else that I able? From whom do I need approbation and for what? I’m hoping to get some answer in my next therapy sessions.

         20th of June, the first hardest day. I keep telling myself that I am not ready for this, putting one foot in front of the other, for several hours. I don’t enjoy any of it. As days after days, it won’t get easier. How come is it getting harder? Well, it’s getting colder. And wetter. And lonelier. And the sun doesn’t show up anymore. At least it is a change of being surrounded by mosquitoes. I start the day tired, stressed and alone. Feet hurt, back hurts, hips, shoulders and soul as much. 22 km ahead of me. I walk slow. It’s getting very soggy on the ground. After 7 km, I am done with this shit. It’s getting even colder, and the wind starts to blow. Ok, I’ll walk 45 minutes and I’ll have lunch. I started at 08:00 and it will be 12:30. At lunch time, the wind has picked up even more, the sky is lower and darker. I don’t manage to find a shelter place. I walk another 30 minutes. I find a sad corner and have a miserable lunch. That’s when it starts to rain. REALLY? The cabin is about 12 km ahead, with about 400 meters up of elevation. Let’s go. Blisters are starting to talk. Shut the fuck up, not the right time. About an hour later, I am officially wet. Should I just camp here? I won’t dry in the tent, and I will be cold. Life will be so much easier in a cabin. Walk, just walk. The wind is now strong enough to push me away from the path from time to time and throw the bottom of my hiking pole in places that don’t fit my expectations. Often, my ankles are down in rainy boggy muddy swampy water. I can feel my heel skin reaching a point of no return from the feet sliding around in the shoes. I am now soaked and cold. I have been walking for 150 hours since lunch, so it seems. Probably 2 hours left to the cabin. Am I totally insane right now? Why don’t I stop? Because I am wet already, right, and I will warm up a lot better in a cabin where I can easily boil water out of the wind and hang my clothes. Keep walking woman. It’s brutal. I thought it was hard the day before. I am crawling in the mud of this steep hill today. I start to cry. But when I do my vision gets blurry and I have to slow down. So, I stop crying. Seriously, how heavy is that backpack, like 200 kgs? Nothing won’t change my mind now, I am going to that cabin. Forever later, it rains even more. I am most likely flirting with hypothermia and there is more than an hour left to go. My underlayers and my bones are wet. My soul is broken. All I see is mud. How much time left? 40 minutes. 40 – fucking – minutes. Is it realistic? Can I actually make it to the cabin? What if something goes wrong now? What if I hurt myself? I am so exhausted, that would be real bad. I realized I slowed down and got colder. Ok, RUN. Careful Johanna, but run. It hurts so bad I shiver. My buff is so wet I can’t breathe through it. If I take it down, the wind throws cold sharp rain drops on my skin. Well, better be breathing. Deep inside, I am in tears. I miss my life, my family, my home. I just wanted to relax. Instead, I am running away from death for what feels such a very long time. The cabin! In the mist, about 10/15 mins away. Going up and down those hills, I am hoping no one will be there. And if there is someone, it better be a handsome guy and we better have sex. But even with this warm thought, I reach a point where all my power runs down. I don’t recall being that exhausted, ever. I don’t even know if I can physically make it to the cabin. I look again. Ok, yes, the cabin is there. I can see it. I blink. Am I dreaming? Am I dead already? Nope. It’s here! Right here, I can touch it. I really want to cry, but I will start with peeing. I must prioritize my energy consumption. After stuffing my stomach with warm food, I will crawl in dry clothes and in my sleeping bag. Chocked and traumatized. It will take a very long time before I warm up. I have all the time to watch the water from my clothes dropping on the cabin floor and the snow covering the landscape around the cabin. Let it be a sunny day tomorrow, please.

          It is really hard to leave the shelter the next day. And all the other days. I have to use mental violence. I am worried about what next plague modern Moise will release. I will suffer 2 other days in the swamps and shit conditions, at the edge of a nervous breakdown. Until I meet rotten snow. It starts with small patches I can avoid or walk on without sinking too much. It just takes a little extra fucking time and energy. In addition, the hiking path is getting mixed up with some illogical dirt road which makes the route finding confusing. Like I am not confused enough. The patches of spring rotten snow are also getting longer and wider through the days and are now covering a decent amount of the trail. The soaked trail becomes flooded. Suck – it – up. Suck it up, suck it up. I start dancing. Then walk the trail again, with all possible despites. It’s too early in the season, it’s too cold. I carry my anger from cabin to cabin. Never I have been so aggressive against the world and against myself. Luckily, I am not meeting anyone. Man, I am not meeting anyone. I am alone and lonely. It never felt so lonely before. Big waves of negatives feelings, picking up in the evenings. Music and writing are the things helping my mind to recenter a little. I am grateful for the cabins I met along the way. They gave me the strength and energy to go on. One morning, I am having breakfast and my spoon breaks. THAT IS TOO MUCH!!! I get so mad, screaming hysterically at the sky while pointing finger. That is obviously “la goutte de trop”. I am having a nervous breakdown. I am in the middle of nowhere, with no one to stop me from completely losing my shit. After almost getting a voice extinction, I sit down, and I laugh. I’m going insane alright. I can go through clouds of mosquitoes, mud up to my knees, rainstorm, swamps, snowfall, freezing river crossing and rotten snow. But not the spoon. Not what is left of my happiness, my access to food.

           25th of June, the last day, the second hardest day. After a night of insomnia, excited about the idea that the nightmare is over soon and anxious about what will be coming across my way before I arrive to town, I boil water for a last meaningful cup of tea. The pot handle slip in my hand and the newly boiled water spread over my skin. I stand there. I am scared. I am scared to leave the cabin. I am afraid something will go wrong. I first take very good care of my hand. Leaving it in snow for a while, then covering it with fatty compress, plaster and bandage. I get my stuff ready and look outside. It is not inviting. It’s ugly. But the pull of civilization is strong. If it gets worst, I’ll come back to the cabin. I give the absolute best spirit that there is in me, the true and the fake, and off I go. It is with no surprise that the last day will bring me closest to a panic attack. I start with a long tricky steep slippery hill under a faint rain. I am dedicated to being done with this. Slowly making the first 8 km, I can’t tell if I am wet from the rain or from sweating. All I know is that if I take a too long break, I get cold. Crossing a few small streams and a few big patches of rotten snow, I get mad at my backpack. Even if at its lightest, it would always make me go a few centimeters deeper. The snow patches get bigger and bigger, up to the point that they cover the whole landscape. They cover the trail and the small streams. It’s wintertime. Again, and again. After about 2 hours of sinking down, my spirit is still holding. Soon it’s over. Soon I start to go down the mountain. I thought so. Passing over a tiny hill, I get a vision of horror. A flat valley of about forever long is opening in front of me, with slopes too steep and snowy to hike on. All I see to be considered is rivers and wet snow. And I can read in the terrain that I will meet overwater. Let’s do it motherlovers. I start my way across the valley, being knee/tight deep in the snow for a good while. I get wet. I get a bit cold as well. Luckily, I have amazing waterproof winter socks. I somehow manage to distribute my weight thanks to the hiking poles, but the backpack always brings me down. One deep step, after another. Ok, le… ee… eft. Ri… Nope. Righ… Fuck, left again. Breath. Ok and riiiiight. No, not my hand! I have to stop and catch my breath. I’m so tired. One step more, and the crisis starts. I am suddenly in overwater. I won’t turn around, I have to go forward. My feet are getting stuck in the water hiding under the snow. Baby steps after baby steps, I fight against the situation, in complete denial. All of another sudden, my whole body goes down. I have overwater up to my hips. So stuck, I feel the freezing water infiltrate my skin. I lose control over my breathing. I panic, seeing how far from a safe place I am. Again, I quickly stop crying because it is not helping. I try to push myself out with the poles, trying to lift one foot. I manage to get one of my knees out and place it on a layer of wet snow. Pulling my other leg out, I firmly peg my pole again and shift my weight forward. The rotten snow collapses under my knee. I now also have my 2 arms in the water, which feels even colder from my hands. The poles are somewhere. I can see wet snow few cm from my eyes. Breath Johanna. I push the snow with my face and succeed in turning around on my back. I am exhausted. Can I just lay here for a while? It feels so good to rest. Everything gets softer. Quiet. It would be fast and easy to leave this world. I finally wake up. Deep breathing. Move bitch! It doesn’t matter if I press the SOS button right now, I have to get out of here before hypothermia gets me. I honestly don’t remember the next 15 minutes very well to that day, I was trancing out. I just keep moving. The overwater gets shallower and the snow a bit more compact. Looking ahead, I made it about 1/4 of the valley. I will go from rotten snow, to shallow overwater, to river crossing for about 2 km. It will take me 2 hours. After that, 10 km to go. I can see the trail showing up on bare ground again. FUCK – YEAH. After a well-deserved short lunch sheltered behind a rock, no one can stop me now from reaching safety and comfort. I just keep walking in the trail, flooded with water and snow, and cross knee-deep rivers like they weren’t here. Ohhh! A… I blink. A ray of sunshine… As I go down, the temperature rises and the clouds drift away. The sun dries up my clothes and my soul, warms up my skin and my heart. The pain and the suffering vanish. All the pain killers I had for lunch probably helped a little. And then, a smile. A smile, that I refused to put on my face the last nine days, is taking over my will power and I feel happy. I had forgotten how it feels to be happy, for months. I stop. This time I can cry freely and let everything go. Once I am dry, I continue for a bit. Around the corner, under the most dramatic mountain of the trail, down the hill, bathing in the sun, Sisimiut. Greenland, I see you for the first time. Only at the end of a long journey through hell. I am officially tired of expending my comfort zone and testing my limits. Here they are, right in your face girl. Don’t look any further.