8/4/25: Tour to Tiny Akunnaaq Settlment

Steven and I awoke in Aasiaat to see a large cruise ship in the harbor outside our living room window, with its passengers clambering over the rocks to look at the Black Church and the nearby buildings. We were happy that it was the only time we noticed a cruise ship in Aasiaat, although for them to spend only an hour or so in town was a disservice in my opinion. 

Aasiaat was one of just two towns that had a police boat. As we walked by the harbor, we observed lots of activity around it.

As we walked by the shipyard, we remembered that Aasiaat had established itself as a regional center for ship repairs. 

A couple of months earlier, we'd made arrangements for a boat tour to and a guide of the Akunnaaq Settlement, a small village situated on an island approximately 15 miles north of Aasiaat. As it was another uncomfortably cold day, we were thankful that the open boat that was supposed to take us had engine failure, and we had to take a closed boat on the half-hour journey.

Maree, our very young Greenlandic guide, explained she was a high school student in town and working odd jobs at a local hotel during the summer. We hadn't seen the hotel, however, on our tour of the town the previous day. She wasn't a local, so she read off notecards about the sights. What she lacked in guiding experience and a deep knowledge of the area, she made up for in enthusiasm.

As the boat left the harbor with the three staff, including Maree, she pointed out the old ski hill. Too bad I didn't ask when it had last been in regular use.

The nearby elevated structures were storage lockers for meat, so animals couldn't access them. 

One of the items we had asked to be included in the tour was a stop at the former whale graveyard. Maree told us that fishermen and hunters were no longer allowed to slaughter whales there because the location was too close to Aasiaat. In addition, the skeletons might attract ravens and foxes, which might carry diseases. The animals are now slaughtered further north.

Steven and I were glad that we'd been able to persuade Nancy, an artist from Flagstaff, Arizona, who was spending several weeks in Aasiaat, and was the only other guest in our hotel, to join us on the tour of the settlement on the spur of the moment. We'd noticed her on the Sarfak Ittuk ferry, but she only boarded it in Nuuk, as I recall.

As Nancy was now living in Germany, she hadn't seen many icebergs before and was so excited at the opportunity to see them on our tour up the archipelago!

You may recall that I explained in the last post that Aasiaat is known as "the land of a thousand islands." Maree told us that all the islands we passed by had been named, so that hunters could tell each other where they had spotted animals.

The captain told us that the water was over one hundred feet deep in the middle of the bay.

Nancy was smiling, seeing the largest icebergs any of us had witnessed north of Nuuk.

The boat's wake looked like a whale's fluke or tail.

Maree let us know that fishermen were setting nets to catch cod.

It seemed appropriate to spot a ship's graveyard after the whale graveyard earlier. Maree estimated this one was 25 years old.

As we neared Akunnaaq, it was easy to pick out several dogs on another small island. Maree explained that they were hobby dogs and that they had short but thick hair or fur, which is shed during the summer. Their paws are large with wide claws that enable them to stand firmly on the ice. 

I don't want to get ahead of myself or give too much away, but Steven and I attended an incredible demonstration on Greenlandic dogs after leaving Aaasiaat. There, we learned that some dogs are often placed on a small island like this one solely to determine which one is selected as the alpha male. Knowing that now, I wonder if these dogs were 'hobby dogs' as Maree thought.

Maree said that the name of our hotel, Hotel Nattoralik, meant 'eagle' in English, but that eagles are quite rare in the Aasiaat area. 

Aha - the first sign of civilization if a community of 80 souls constitutes civilization, that is! Akunnaaq was founded as a trading station in 1850.

I was surprised (aghast, if I'm writing honestly) at the amount of trash on the rocks we spotted near the harbor. However, that raises the question of where all of Greenland's trash goes, given that it's an island nation with the vast majority of it buried under an ice cap.

Maree told us that the captain, dressed in blue, had been born here in Akunnaaq. No doubt he was happy to spend a few hours with family and friends while Maree showed us around. 

Despite Akunnaaq's remote setting, access to the picturesque village is remarkably convenient during the warmer months by boat from Aasiaat. When winter blankets the archipelago in ice, Akunnaaq becomes a winter wonderland. I read that if we were in Aasiaat in the heart of winter, and the ice were thick enough, we might snag a tour by snowmobile to Akunnaaaq! During the cold months, when ships can't make the twice-a-week journey from Aasiaat, the village depends on a weekly helicopter service as its vital connection to the outside world.

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All harbor facilities we'd seen so far in Greenland were under the auspices of Royal Greenland, which was part and parcel of the Kingdom of Denmark.

One of our first glimpses of the island was of the collection of kayaks and other boats.

Behind the upturned boat was one stairway up to the central part of the settlement. As the island was car-free, we walked the length and breadth of it. 

Another stairway up from the harbor:

A view from the top of the stairway to the harbor:

Maree mentioned that many of the small homes on the island are vacation homes for people wanting to get away from life in the 'big towns.' They prefer the "nice and calm out in nature, with no internet," according to Maree.

The island's small population is served by the Lutheran church that opened in 1908.

The stairs to the left of the church led to the island's state-run grocery store, Pilersuisoq. Maree described the hoarding that occurs when helicopters land in the winter because islanders rush to buy all the food they can in case another helicopter is unable to land for weeks. 

The Pilersuisoq store, one of 60 locations in almost every small town and village across the country, sold everything from rice to rifles. The selection of fresh and frozen foods, canned products, snacks, and pastries was beyond mindboggling, especially for a community of only 80 people. And no, the prices for the items I checked were only slightly higher than back in Aasiaat.

The store also included offices for Post Greenland and the Bank of Greenland. If the government didn't operate the generally unprofitable Pilersuisoq stores, many towns and villages wouldn't have either a grocery store or access to a post office or bank. However, what I didn't see anywhere in the small towns and settlements were any drug stores or pharmacies. They must have been in hospitals or medical clinics, but I'm not sure.

There was even a large supply of gluten-free food!

I've mentioned in prior posts about the color-coding system introduced to help distinguish one building from another, as they arrived in Greenland as plywood kits and were all very similar. All buildings connected with religion, education, or retail were painted red. All health buildings were yellow. Power, communications, and transport buildings were a particular shade of green. White was the color selected for government buildings, and black for police stations. The light blue color below was generally chosen for water utilities.

Though this color-coding scheme is no longer officially in effect, Steven and I didn't notice any of the country's very colorful houses painted in the specific shades noted above as we toured a good chunk of Greenland.

The island's government office:

I should have taken a picture of the large number of boats in the harbor because Maree later told us that people on the island often have a second boat, which was akin to people in other countries having a second car. But here on Akunnaaq, there are no roads anywhere, so the locals hop in the boat to visit people in the next settlement.

Maree indicated that it was mostly only Greenlandic people who lived in the small settlements, and it is there that the old traditions are kept alive. 

Maree, our guide:

Maree cautioned us not to get too close to the dogs, as they weren't pets but were used for hunting. 

The wildflowers on Akunnaaq were what flower lovers dream of!

Cottongrass grew profusely all over Akunnaaq.

At one end of the island was one of its cemeteries, where Maree told us that it was customary for people to step only on the graves of those they were named after. 

Though there were so few people on the island, it had its own elementary school up to Grade 9. Older school-age children must transfer to the high school in Aasiaat and, I imagine, live there for the school year.

These wheelbarrows were, I kid you not, the local 'taxis,' but they were used to carry heavy items around the island, not people!

Snowmobiles are a common means of transportation during the colder months, not only on the island but also on the archipelago when it's frozen solid.

Akunnaaq's second smaller cemetery:

The local preschool:

The local volunteer fire department:

As we got on the boat to return to Aasiaat, Maree pointed out the medical clinic that was, of course, located in the yellow building. I wrote 'of course,' because all health services are in yellow buildings throughout Greenland. 

The tour of the Akuunaaq settlement had been illuminating, as it gave us an insight into the day-to-day life on the small island. While it was hugely impressive that the village had essential community facilities, including a grade school, a supermarket for daily needs, a church, medical care access, an administrative center, and a fish factory supporting the local economy, and was undeniably beautiful in a stark manner, I would find it too isolating.

On our way back to Aasiaat, I peppered Maree with questions, as I was so curious what a local's life was like in Greenland and the country's relationship with Denmark. The latter was what intrigued me the most, but she was still in her teens and didn't have the introspection or life experience to understand the nuances. She said she felt that, though Danish people are being discriminated against by the Inuit, the same situation occurs in reverse in Denmark. She added that she had no problems with the Danes or Denmark and didn't think that Greenland would (soon) become (fully) independent of Denmark because of her country's economic dependency on Denmark. When she visits Denmark, Maree said she's considered to be Japanese or Asian (because of her looks). Danish and English are now taught in Grades 3 and 4 in Greenlandic schools. That is why she is used to hearing more English spoken by younger children now. French and German are taught at the high school level.

She mentioned that locals are only permitted to hunt ten whales a year and that they must record what they have caught to receive a hunting certificate, which costs DKK250, or about $39, for the following year.

When we returned to Aasiaat, we discovered that the meat and fish market we'd seen the night before was open, so we stopped by. Unlike the similar market we'd looked at a few days earlier in the capital city of Nuuk, where photos were discouraged, there was no issue about my taking a picture. The only 'issue' was that I didn't know what it was!

More shots of Aasiaat's busy harbor that afternoon: 

As we walked past the harbor, we noticed an ambulance and two police cars met the police boat as it entered the harbor.

Steps from the harbor was the Aasiaat Museum that had been closed the previous day. It was located in the old Governor’s residence, which dated from 1860.

The umiak was a large Inuit, flat-bottomed boat used by women, and it was covered by several hairless sealskins sewn together with waterproof stitches before being stretched when wet over a frame, so that it fits snugly when dried. The umiak was usually about 24 feet long and almost 5 feet wide at the top. Considering its size, it was very light and roomy. It was rowed by four to six women and was most often steered by an elderly man, a fact I hadn't known before. Because it was not possible to travel in heavy seas, the umiak traveled along the coast, so they could go ashore quickly. An umiak would typically travel anywhere from 25 to 40 miles a day as it moved from one settlement to another, transporting children, dogs, and all belongings. Umiaks were always accompanied by kayaks, the boat of the Inuit hunter. 

The photos, taken on a June day one hundred years ago, show families joined together by umiaks, kayaks, and skin tents, having set up camp on their way to a summer hunt. They would return in September to their winter camp. 

The model of a Greenlandic settlement from the early 1900s provides a historical impression of what life was like then.

I read an interesting panel in the museum that said boys were raised to be hunters, and girls were too if there were too few men in the settlement, or if it was decided by their names that they should be hunters. However, there was no date provided for when those practices were commonplace. 

Dog sleds were standard in Greenland, but their shape and the number of dogs varied by region. Ringed seals were caught in breathing holes during the winter and on the ice during spring. Hunters, wearing bearskin sandals and sitting on bearskin-covered stools to prevent noise, would wait for the catch with a harpoon. Polar bears were killed with heavy lances, with the lances hung in a strap around the hunter's neck to be easily accessible. 

I found it interesting that while nature had a soul, the tools also had a soul or an inua. The figures on the tool depicted both the prey and spirits, which strengthened the relationship between humans and animals. The Inuit believe (d?) that when the relationship between those two is good, the animals will allow themselves to be killed. 

The Greenland Kayak: The kayak has been a requisite piece of hunting equipment for Inuit survival in Greenland. Not just built to carry one man, it was designed as a hunting vessel with room for all the hunting gear and tools that were developed specifically for use from the kayak when hunting sea mammals. 

A kayak's construction was a job for both men and women, with the former responsible for the kayak's framework made from driftwood that arrived from rivers in Siberia to both the country's coasts. Each kayak was constructed to fit a specific hunter's measurements. Women sewed the kayak's cover that was stretched over the kayak framework from three or four harp sealskins. Generations ago, hunters had two kayaks, one for use in the summer and one in the winter. The latter one needed to be as light as possible, so it could be carried on the ice a long way if necessary before reaching open water. The shaping of the bow and stern depended on the locality.

The photo showed an old Greenlandic home in Aasiaat with a kayak rack in 1900. 

Children are pictured behind a typical Greenlandic peat house in one of the district's settlements in an undated photo. The children received basic education from a catechist. 

The Colony Bell was used in the 1930s to call people to and from work and was also used as a fire alarm. It hung next to the Governor's residence, now the museum's location. 

While in the museum, we met a young Greenlandic man who was studying in Copenhagen, but was home for a short break. When he heard me ask the museum attendant where she thought I might buy some souvenirs, he suggested we look at his mother's nearby shop.

He showed us items he had carved, including some tupilaks, the small statues made from horn, bone, or stone, with scary faces that were once believed to protect people from enemy attacks.

His mother, on hearing we were visiting from the US, showed us a t-shirt that no doubt resonated with many Greenlanders. It read, "We don't want to be Americans. Nor Danes. We are Kalaalit." The latter refers to the Inuit people of Greenland, specifically the majority group living in West Greenland. Kalaalit is the name Greenland uses for itself in its official language, which is Kalaallit Nunaat, or "Land of the Kalaallit."

From Aaasiaat's center, we hiked up a steep hill that overlooked the town. How the Inuit could call Aasiaat 'flat' was beyond me!

One of Aasiaat's daycares was housed in this turquoise building, which featured images of Arctic animals!

Steven and I had hoped to view the paintings by Danish artist and sculptor Per Kirkeby that he had bequeathed to the Assembly Hall, but it was closed. Oh well, after climbing all the way up to the building, at least we had a better view of the Inuit Land mural than we had the day before!

Outside the Assembly Hall was a relief sculpture by Christian Rosing of Peter Olsen, a talented Greenlandic author and composer who, at the age of six, played the church organ in the local congregation. With his unusual musicality, he composed several church songs and folk music, and he was popular among the Greenlandic people for incorporating’ Greenlandic tones’ into his work. 

Next post: A walking tour of Aasiaat's historical buildings.

Posted on October 18th, 2025, from our home close to the Foothills west of Denver, where Steven and I hope you and your loved ones are well and safe during these profoundly unsettling times for many in this country.