Sitting on the edge of an isolated cove, sixty miles north of Ilulissat. It's already past midnight, but you can't really tell at this latitude. I don't think a soul on earth has the slightest notion of where I am. The motor is acting up again, I neglected to buy a replacement oar for the one I left in Sisimiut, and I don't think I have enough fuel to get back to town. The weather turned south just before I made it to the end of the glaciers that I've come looking for. An ugly band of gray blue clouds rolled in from the south east, sending my mood south as well.
Had been feeling very lucky indeed, a free man at my age, exploring this remote edge of the world. There's a cool iceberg, check it out. I think I'll go climb alongside that waterfall, at least until the bugs drive me back to the water. It's a pretty sweet deal, but I worry that I'm missing something along the way.