I visited Greenland 3 years ago; and I have something to say about the proposed acquisition

Greenland has been in the headlines lately, and what I’ve been reading has me in tears. Powerful nations have a long history of preying on seemingly ‘weaker’ territories, usually to exploit and conquer, and Greenland now finds itself pulled into that familiar gaze.

I have been there. I have walked through its quiet villages, watched the light stretch endlessly across fjords, and felt how deeply the land and the people live in mutual rhythm with one another. The idea that a place so ancient and so delicately balanced could face American colonization feels deeply tragic.

When powerful governments start talking about territory, what often follows is not stewardship but extraction — resources stripped away, decisions made far from the people who live there. To those who know Greenland not as a speck of snow-covered nothingness on the map but as a living and sacred place, that prospect is unsettling in the extreme.

An unyielding walk through Greenland’s wilderness

In late May of 2023, I backpacked the Arctic Circle Trail in Greenland from Kangerlussuaq to Sisimiut. It was wild, beautiful, terrifying, fun, and incredibly humbling. I have completed several long backpacking treks around the globe, and today the ACT is still one of my favorites.

The Arctic Circle Trail is a rugged trek through Greenland’s remote wilderness. Though the main trail covers 165 km (103 miles) from Kangerlussuaq to the village of Sisimiut on the west coast of Greenland, I began my hike at Russell’s Glacier, a stunning ice cap known for its striking high ice walls. Starting my trek here added another 35km to my trip for a total of 200 km (or 125 miles). While it’s not heavily trafficked, the ACT sees the majority of its hikers in the summer months between late June and early September. My experience was a bit different than most, as I began my trek in late May. I was spared the infamous mosquito swarms that many of its hikers complain about, but I was granted long, brutal swaths of snow, glistening and gorgeous and deceivingly merciless.

The ACT is a completely self-supported adventure. There is no cell service along the route and no place to resupply. You must pack out what you bring in. (Small side quest: Please respect the wilderness and follow the Leave No Trace principles anytime you go hiking or trekking. That’s all.) I did not download any trails beforehand. I relied solely on paper maps for navigation, which I purchased from a small shop in Kangerlussuaq upon my arrival. I packed a 46 litre backpack with 12 days worth of food, a small gas canister and pot for boiling water, my tent, and a few extra pairs of socks. I also had a couple of head scarves which I used to protect my nose and face from the biting cold, a beanie, gloves, and my hiking poles. 

The landscape was so vast and wild. The air was eerily silent. There was nothing but wilderness stretching before me for days. At times, I was overwhelmed by a terror at the thought I could easily be swallowed up like the little skittle I am. I was so small in a giant tundra in a climate that answered to no one. The animals I encountered reminded me that I’m the stranger in this land; I saw arctic hares, arctic foxes, musk oxen (which I kept a safe distance from), and packs of reindeer on the daily. The mountains, the rivers and lakes, the ice, the bog, the wind, the fauna; all seemed to move in rhythm with one another, welcoming me and warning me at the same time.

The only hint of man that I saw on the trail were nine primitive huts that are maintained by the government trail association only once a year. Those cute wooden huts popped out of the snowy wilderness like a row of bright red exclamation points, so cheerful against the gray and white backdrop of the mountains. I could practically hear Beethoven’s Symphony No. 9 Ode to Joy playing in the sky every time I saw one. A medley of relief and triumph. Inside the huts are pretty basic, most with a simple wooden platform to set up your own air mattress and sleeping bag. The huts did have toilets, which felt like an absolute luxury, and each one featured a guest book where hikers could share musings, art, and messages from the trail. 

You gotta cross to find the treasure

On day four I had to cross Itinneq, the widest and deepest river on the trail. In the summer most people ford right through the water, but in late spring the water is raging and it’s a big risk to cross. Not to mention, the water is pretty darn cold. An alternative is to hike a little farther through willow brush to get to a bridge that takes you over the water. This part of the trail is pretty rugged and it’s easy to lose it. There are also no cairns or signs that lead you to the bridge, so you have to keep a close eye out for it. 

I hiked what I believe was about 2 miles past the bridge. Upon realizing this, I turned around and spotted the welcoming hut on a hill across the river. Anyone who has ever done a long and remote backpacking trip like this knows that feeling - major relief at the sight of something that lets you know you’re not totally lost! I made my way back through the boggy willow brush (by the way, willow brush is an absolute pain to hike through). I still couldn’t find the bridge, so I began to contemplate taking my chances with the river. I tramped along the edge of the banks looking for a break in the torrent. But the water was so deep and the only way to get my pack across without soaking it was to pull out my air mattress and use it as a float. I spotted a group of abandoned old canoes, so I grabbed one and figured I would try to float across on it, braving the currents. Just as I was pulling the canoe down to the water, something glorious caught my eye. It was the bridge! I shouted my excitement to the ether and ran over to the most wonderful bridge I had ever seen. Actually, the bridge looked quite unsafe, and I took caution as I made my way over it. A couple weeks after I finished the hike I read that the current had caused the bridge to collapse. 

Once I made it across and to the hut, I was treated to a delicious surprise. Someone had left behind a heapful of hot cocoa and instant coffee packages. It felt like Christmas! That night I slept cozily in my sleeping bag after slurping down a steaming cup of hot cocoa.

Inside lay many treasures!

The trail turns white… and then a sea of colors

Overnight my boots froze - fortunately I had packed an extra pair of shoes. Sayonara boots!

The last three days of the trek were the toughest. I labored my way through the snow, at times falling in and having to dig my legs out with my hiking poles. On the ninth day I planned to reach Sisimiut, however only a few miles into my route a snowstorm crept up. I knew I had to find a way to seek shelter. Ironically, just as the storm began to pick up, I noticed a strange little toilet hut at the top of the hill above me. I ran up the hill as the storm intensified, and used my poles to pry open the door lock, which was too high for me to reach. I spent the night in the toilet, the storm raging until morning. The temperature dropped and I set up my mattress and sleeping bag, trying not to panic at the sound. The next day I opened the toilet door to find the ground blanketed in powdery snow.

The day I arrived in Sisimiut was sunny and calm. The quaint coastal town lay quiet, yet the bright colors of the little wooden houses set against the muted gray of the mountains made it feel as though I’d wandered straight into a scene lifted from a storybook about a charmed fishing village. I was surprised to learn that Sisimiut is the second largest city in Greenland, though with a population of just over 5,500 residents it still seems quite small. The locals were very friendly, and life seemed to move with a soft, peaceful rhythm that felt timeless.

Whenever I tell anyone back home about my trip to Greenland, the response I receive is surprise, amazement, and curiosity. It’s not a typical travel destination for Americans. (At the time of my trek, there were only two countries from which you could fly direct to Greenland: Iceland and Denmark. As of the date of this article, Americans can now fly direct from New York.) 

The reaction I received when I shared my trip with people I met while I was in Denmark was much less enthusiastic. Greenland is a territory of Denmark, and gets over 16,500 more Danish visitors annually than US visitors. About 80% of the island is covered by a vast ice sheet, and ice is so deeply woven into everyday life that it’s said the locals have over 50 distinct words for it.  Regrettably, over the last 29 years the island has been experiencing an overall mass loss in the ice sheet. Hunting and fishing remain central to life there, practiced by locals year-round and forming the backbone of the island’s economy. From a young age, children are taught to craft clothing and household goods by hand, skills passed down through generations. All around, the howling of dogs echoes across the tundra—loyal companions, vital to survival, and celebrated as heroes in the island’s history and culture.

The air is fresh and the water is so pure you can drink straight from the rivers and lakes. Close to the shore, the water shimmers in pure turquoise, gradually deepening into the dark sapphire of the open sea. Icebergs add their own palette, some gleaming pristine white, others dusted with the lightest hint of blue, like delicate brushstrokes of color. All around is a profound, satisfying quiet. You won’t hear the brash hum of cars; there are very few roads in Greenland, and only 5% of the population own a car. Instead, people navigate the island by boat, and in winter, dog sleds and snowmobiles become the primary means of travel.

A people that matter

While small and sparsely populated, Greenland has a rich history. It tells a tale of resilience, a people in tune with nature. Ingenuity and endurance have been tested under the most extreme conditions, and tribes have had to adapt creatively to not only survive, but thrive on the island. 

Learning about the history and cultural traditions of the Greenlandic Inuit peoples reminded me of the history of my own culture. My maternal grandfather is Cherokee, and I grew up feeling a strong connection to that side of my bloodline. Some of the most prominent similarities are the spiritual beliefs and practices, the reciprocal way of living in harmony with the Earth, and the rich traditions of storytelling over generations. 

I truly believe that indigenous people, in Greenland and in OG America, had it right. Their deep respect for nature and emphasis on community over consumption was woven into the recognition that survival and identity are not separate from the land but accountable to it, a truth modern society has largely forgotten as we make the Earth suffer a long, slow, torturous death. Despite assimilation and colonization by western society, Greenland Inuits continue to carry on longstanding traditions and practices like a soft light in a winter storm.

As I read about current events, and specifically Washington’s renewed interest in taking Greenland, it truly saddens me that America still has not learned its lesson after what it did to pre-colonized America, to Alaska, and to Hawaii.

There’s no doubt in my mind it would be absolutely tragic if America did the same to Greenland. The Inuit people would be forced to assimilate into consumerist culture, highways will be built in disruption of pristine land, resources will be stripped for the benefit of a capitalist agenda, and McDonald’s and Starbucks will be planted in the rapidly melting snow against a backdrop of a slowly desecrating landscape. The culture and lifestyle of a beautiful people, in a stunningly wild and rugged country, would be destroyed. 

I only hope that the EU will stand behind Denmark and Greenland and tenaciously stand up to America; because the beautiful people of Greenland matter, their remarkable history matters, and their sacred future matters.

*I encourage you all to read this beautiful article about the Inuit culture

Women Belong Outside

 I am raising money for The Cairn Project, a nonprofit that promotes equity in the outdoors and helps more women get outside. Visit my ambassador page at the link below:

Click Here