Fifth Journey Day 14: Sound of the Distant Crack

Date: May 22, 2025
Location: Ilulissat, Greenland

Today, I walked alone along the trail to Sermermiut Valley. There is a feeling of stillness here that feels older than anything I know. The path was rough and dusty with old snow, and my boots made a soft crunching sound as I walked. I kept stopping, but not because I was tired. I had to stop because I couldn't take it all in at once. The icebergs, spread out like silent giants across the bay, drifted slowly. Every now and then, I heard the loud sound of ice breaking far away. It was both violent and strangely relaxing.

The sky was a heavy gray the whole time I was walking, which made the colors of the landscape look dull and pale. The cold felt honest, not punishing. It pressed against my skin, reminding me of my presence. I stood at the edge of the lookout, the wind tugging gently at my coat, and watched the massive ice formations move and twist under the low clouds. There was no dramatic light show or special moment—just the deep, patient conversation between ice and water, and I was allowed to listen.

I felt more at ease because the situation wasn't urgent. I stayed much longer than I had planned, breathing deeply, with my sketchbook in my hand. I couldn't draw something that would capture this. It's all in the past. I walked back slowly, my fingers stiff, and my mind was unusually calm.

I think this is why I travel the way I do—not to capture, but to witness.