I arrived in Greenland on 21 Nov just in time to see the sun go permanently below the horizon and the temperature dip to the minus 30-50 degrees below 0 F for the next several months. Winter was long, dark, cold and miserable. Spring came eventually with the sun slowly staying up longer each day until we finally had 24 hours of daylight for several months and temps in the plus 50-60’s. The first day that the sun actually came over the horizon for about 5 minutes was party time at the only bar on the base. With 35 American GIs and about a hundred Danish civilians on the base (no women) it was mostly just drinking till you needed help getting back to the barracks.
I was lucky in that I had a pilot’s license and there was a single engine Cherokee airplane that could be rented at an extremely high cost. There were only a few of us with pilots license so we got to fly for free while taking all the other folks on the base for rides to see the ice cap, glaciers and other amazing sites. They paid for the plane. We could only fly in daylight but with 24 hours of daylight in the summer this was no problem. One of my favorite places to fly was to a place we called Paradise Canyon which was in the next canyon (fjord) that was 35 miles over a 3500 foot mountain range. The landing strip at Paradise was very short and gravel with the river at both ends. The fjord was very narrow with only two places wide enough to make a 180 degree turn in the plane. We would fly direct from Sondrestrom to Paradise canyon, cross over the edge at about 50 feet then make an immediate diving right turn into the canyon to start losing altitude. This always made my stomach go to my throat and the passengers always screamed. We would descend with full flaps looking at the airstrip as we crossed over to see which way the wind was blowing. When we got to the 1st wide place in the canyon we would make a hard 180 turn to go back over the airstrip. The 2nd wide spot was on the other side of the airstrip. We kept this up until we were low enough to land and heading in the right direction for the wind. There was a pile of Caribou antlers at each end of the airstrip so you knew when you had to be airborne or be in the river.
Take offs were a reverse of the landing sequence. Taxi as far to the end as possible, hold brakes while power increased then go like the devil to get it in the air. You would climb back and forth between the canyon wide spots until you could clear the canyon walls and head back to Sondrestom. We always carried minimum fuel (10 gallons usually) so we could carry more load and climb faster.
I had a real close call taking off from here one time. I landed to pick up a couple who had been left to fish for several days. I did not take them out so did not know what they were having to bring back. They were two big folks with lots of gear and a bag full of fish. When I loaded the plane it sank on the rear skid. I moved weight around until it balanced on the wheels and started the take off. At the spot on the airstrip where I usually was able to lift off the plane hugged the ground. With not enough room to stop before the river I had no choice but to continue. When I passed the pile of antlers (still on the ground) I pulled full down flaps (luckily they were manual flaps). This made the plane jump into the air and we went over the river at about 3 feet altitude. I was at stall speed so slowly got more speed while gradually climbing at about 50 feet a minute maximum. There was no way to climb up to the canyon rim so had to fly down the fjord to the main river going back up to Sondrestom. Remember that minimum fuel issue? I’m over the river, no place to land, fuel tanks both jumping around E and I turned a 35 mile flight (direct) into a 90 mile flight (following the canyons). By the time I got to Sondrestom I was sucking fumes and sweating bullets.
