Living on the Edge: How Ittoqqortoormiit Rewrote My Understanding of Life
Dramatic view of the sea ice, small houses, and a bear skin that you find everywhere in Ittoqqortoormiit.
There's remote, and then there's Ittoqqortoormiit. Wedged between the world's largest national park and the world's largest fjord system on Greenland's eastern coast, this settlement of 345 souls exists in a reality so far removed from modern convenience that it fundamentally alters how you understand human existence.
The Raw Edge of Survival
My first morning, I woke to the sound of crack-crack-crack - the sea ice shifting in Scoresby Sound. The temperature was -30°C, and my host family was already preparing for a seal hunt. This wasn't some tourist exhibition; it was breakfast. When your nearest neighbor is 500 kilometers away and supply ships only arrive once a year, hunting isn't a hobby - it's life.
I watched AB, my host, prepare his rifle with the same methodical care that I used to apply to checking email. "The seal," he explained, "will hear your heart beating from 100 meters if you're not calm." That day, I learned that survival requires a state of mind as much as it does skills.
AB untangling a seal from the net. He will use this seal to feed his dogs. He needs a seal every 2 days or so to feed his 19 dogs.
Time Moves Differently Here
The western concept of time dissolves in Ittoqqortoormiit. Days aren't divided into hours but into opportunities - when the ice is stable enough to hunt, when the light is right, when the seals are likely to surface. I learned to read the subtle signs: the way snow crystals form on windows indicating temperature changes, how the sledge dogs' howling patterns signal approaching weather systems.
During the polar night, which stretches from November to late January, the community's rhythm shifts entirely. Families gather in homes, sharing mattaq (whale skin and blubber) and telling stories that connect present-day hunters with their ancestors. These aren't just entertainment; they're survival manuals wrapped in narrative.
Community gathers on land at the edge of town to watch the sled dog race
Annual dogsledding race around Easter. My guide AB won!
The True Meaning of Community
What struck me most was how the harsh environment forges unbreakable community bonds. When Pipaluk's snowmobile broke down 20 kilometers from the settlement, the response was immediate. Three hunters dropped everything to mount a rescue, not because it was extraordinary, but because that's what survival requires. There's no concept of "every person for themselves" when the environment demands collective effort for survival.
I participated in the community's food sharing system, where successful hunters distribute their catch among families. This isn't charity or socialism - it's practical survival strategy refined over generations. When your life depends on others' success as much as your own, competition becomes meaningless.
I was given the best piece of meat from a muskox that we harvested. We cooked it that night. I had never had fresh meat before… only fish
Cultural Identity in the Modern World
What's remarkable about Ittoqqortoormiit isn't just its isolation or traditions, but how the community maintains its cultural identity while selectively embracing modernity. Yes, there are satellite phones and internet connections, but they serve the community's needs rather than reshape them. Traditional knowledge about weather patterns and ice conditions takes precedence over weather apps. GPS devices are backups to inherited knowledge of hunting grounds.
I watched young hunters learn to read ice conditions from elders, their traditional knowledge augmented by - but not replaced by - modern technology. This isn't resistance to change; it's practical adaptation that preserves what works while adopting what helps.
We used a snowmobile to drive up on a mountain to check the sea ice conditions for open water. Send photos to the community on Facebook for their knowledge.
The Transformation
Living in Ittoqqortoormiit fundamentally rewired my understanding of what's essential. The questions that dominated my previous life - career advancement, social media presence, the latest technologies - seem almost comically irrelevant against the raw clarity of existence here. When your daily reality involves decisions that directly impact survival, you develop an acute sense of what truly matters.
I learned that true sustainability isn't about buying eco-friendly products; it's about living in harmony with your environment because anything else means death. I learned that community isn't about networking events or social media connections; it's about the intricate web of mutual dependence that keeps everyone alive.
Guide and hunter AB was given permission to harvest a muskox in March 2022
Beyond Tourism
This isn't a place you visit; it's a place you survive. Every meal you eat, every warm night you spend, every successful return from the ice is a testament to thousands of years of accumulated knowledge and community cooperation. The experience strips away the layers of comfort and convenience that insulate most of us from life's fundamental realities.
The locals don't view their lifestyle as extreme or remarkable - it's simply life as it has always been lived here. But for someone coming from the outside, it's a masterclass in what human beings are capable of, what community really means, and how differently life can be lived.
The Lasting Impact
My time in Ittoqqortoormiit didn't just change my perspective; it altered my DNA. I now measure everything against the crystal-clear priorities I learned there: Will this help my community survive? Does this strengthen or weaken our ability to sustain ourselves? Is this in harmony with our environment?
These aren't abstract philosophical questions in Ittoqqortoormiit. They're the daily reality that has kept this community alive in one of the world's most challenging environments. And in a world facing climate change and social fragmentation, these lessons aren't just interesting - they're essential.
Those words are from the heart. I’ll leave you with a low quality video I made that covers some of the topics in this post about Ittoqqortoormiit and remote parts of Greenland.
All photos in this post were taken by me, Arielle Montgomery.