The smell of fish drying on oil-smeared wooden racks is one of the most authentic smells of Greenland. Add the buzzing of flies around the thicker chunks of meat – halibut, or Arctic cod, maybe even the black Greenland shark – and you’ve got the beginnings of an Arctic symphony of the senses. There’s the deep blue sea, the bright pink sky, the white icebergs, and the browns and greens of the land, late summer, that is, not winter. Then more sounds, such as the cawing and croak of the ravens, the whine of the sledge dog, and the immature growls of the puppies rolling at one’s feet. Don’t forget the children, scuffing their shoes in the grit as they chase each other around the drying racks. The keen wind carries all of these things – the sharp and salty fish odours, the raven cries and the giggles of children, together with the bite of the wind as it brushes against your skin, drying the moisture in your nose, as you zip up your jacket in anticipation of winter.