Words RACHAEL BURKS SOME where off the west coast of Greenland I held my breath, watching the shoreline float farther and farther away, each gust of biting wind dragging our anchor a little deeper from a firm hold. This was my third expedition on the Knut, and I knew I had to raise the anchor again to reset for our next attempt. Weaving myself through the rigging up to the bow, I began to raise the chain. The Knut is no yacht. It is a 50-foot, Italian-made aluminum racing sailboat that felt a bit out of place in the Arctic. It sleeps five, including the captain. While I had lived off the Knut on two prior occasions, it had undergone substantial changes since my last voyage. It had been stripped of diesel lines and now sported a small electric engine. All five bunks were full with our lead guide Jess Baker, photographers Erich Roepke and Sophie Danison, captain Ben Ruffieux and me. With the new “Eco-Knut” as our base camp, we were here to explore and ski some of the most remote terrain on Earth. Our crew had already spent weeks ticking off lines from the boat. Even with only a few hours of true daylight, the days felt long, with extended treks across Greenland’s immense ice fields to approach dizzying first descents. Now my fatigued legs had caught up with me, and as wind cut through my base layers, I watched as our markers for every 10 meter of chain wound themselves back into the anchor winch. When we got to the last marker, I slowed the roll to observe the anchor crest the surface of wind-ruffled ocean. But as the final meter of chain retreated into the boat, my heart skipped a beat. The anchor was gone. “During our 2022 trip, Jess and Rachael peek out the door of the Knut at a line we dubbed the Maniitsoq Mainline given it’s alluring, almost addictive appearance.” Photo: Sophie Danison 052 The Ski Journal
The Ski Journal Volume 16, Issue 3: Page 52
