The Sirius Dog Sled Squad patrols 1 million sq km of Greenland north of their base in Daneborg, shown on the map. Photo / Google Maps
The Sirius Dog Sled Squad patrols 1 million sq km of Greenland north of their base in Daneborg, shown on the map. Photo / Google Maps
On Christmas Day, Frederik Oxlund won't see his family or even the sun. His parents are 2500km away and, in northern Greenland, the sun hasn't risen since late October.
But he might sneak a peek of Santa leaving the North Pole.
Despite the harsh conditions, the Danish soldier tells news.com.au, he wouldn't change a thing. In minus 32 degree cold and shrouded in 24 hour night time he is quite literally on top of the world.
As close as you can get to the pole but still be on land, for five weeks the only company he has had is 13 huskies, one fellow soldier and the odd man-eating Polar bear.
"Right now it's complete darkness, there are many stars in the sky and there are small icebergs surrounding me. You feel so small and alone here," he says by satellite phone from far above the Arctic Circle.
Frederik, 26, is part of Denmark's elite Slædepatruljen Sirius - the Sirius Dog Sled Patrol. Comprised of elite members of the Danish armed forces, only one in ten who apply are good enough to make it to the frozen and desolate vastness of the world's largest island.
Greenland has a population only slightly larger than Shepparton in Victoria, with those few thousand people mostly huddled around the south west coast.
While the land is self-governing, it is part of the Kingdom of Denmark, with Copenhagen taking responsibility for defence.
The men of the Sirius squad, who can be away from home for two years at a time, police the almost one million square kilometres of the uninhabited Northeast Greenland National Park.
That's an area larger than New South Wales patrolled by just 12 men. Even then only a few at a time are out on the ice with the rest back at the base station in the tiny settlement of Daneborg.
"To claim Danish sovereignty we have to be here on the land. It's not enough by plane," says Frederik. "The terrain here is so rough that a snowmobile might break down. That's why we do it by dog sled."
Patrols can last as long as five months during summer but in midwinter the patrols are shorter. Enough time to teach a new soldier some old tricks, from shooting to sewing, how to manage 13 energetic huskies, hitch a tent and work a sled all in temperatures that never rise above freezing.
"On the five week Arctic survival course, they learn to survive up here and it's very tough," he says. "After eight months of education and this course, if he gets through all the tests he will be ready to do the patrol himself and then he will have two years of service."
Together the two man teams - there are so far no women in the squad - will cover the entire 3500km coastline of Greenland. Sometimes on land and sometimes on the pack ice that stretches to the pole and Russia and Canada beyond.
Along the way they ensure nothing is out of the ordinary and measuring the thickness of the ice and snow cover, crucial work when it comes to studying climate change.
They have five years to map the whole area, "but we do it in three years because we are quite fast," says Frederik.
The oldest man in the squad is just 32. It's a young person's job - those with partners and kids find it difficult to be away from those they love for so long.
With no sun, distinction between day and night melt away. The best time to sled is during the night when the moon rises and lights up the snow. Frederik will spend six to eight hours in every 24 sledding.
Portable burners keep the freezing weather bearable in the tent and at night thick sleeping bags keep them warm.
The two men eat cereal in the morning and freeze dried food after sledding, perhaps soups and pasta with chocolate bars to keep the energy levels up.
There is no electricity in far north Greenland. In summer, when the sun is constantly in the sky, the men carry tiny solar panels - enough to charge an iPod so they can listen to music and podcasts.
Not so in winter, so evenings are sedate. "After we plan the next day, read a lot and talk a lot," he says.
Being alone for so long, the bond the men have is strong.
"You are dependent on each other and I know my partner better than my dearest friend. I know that if I go through the ice he will pick me up again and if we get attacked by a bear he will be there for sure."
Polar bears are always keen to sniff around the soldiers' tents. Photo / 123rf
Polar bears are a constant presence in the icy plains. Weighing up to 700kg and 2m high on their hind legs, humans have been known to become tasty meals for these stealth predators.
"They come next to the tent quite often," says Frederik. "Yesterday, when I woke up, I could see the foot prints half a metre from the window."
But he has an early warning system.
"The dogs sleep around the tent and they can sense the bear and will start barking. The bears will usually run away but we can come out of the tent and make noise and fire off shots to scare them away.
"But I haven't met a bear yet that's tried to attack me, they're just curious really."
Frederik says his favourite dog is Odin. Whereas the other dogs run in pairs, Odin is the lead dog and pulls alone at the front of the pack.
"He is like my steering wheel. When I say 'Odin turn right', he goes right. If we are in darkness, like right now, I can't see him so I just have to trust he doesn't do anything stupid.
"He will see things before I do so if Odin doesn't go right you know something is wrong, like a crevice in front of us. He is the one making the decisions."
Frederik understands that the sheer isolation of his job wouldn't suit everyone.
"I like being in the silence and the extreme conditions. When you go back home people can't really believe what daily life is like here."
He has already spent two years on the ice and went back home to Denmark for a spell but was so eager to return he applied again.
He tells news.com.au, he may have "Arctic fever." He loves the raw beauty of the Greenland so much. However, in six months he will have no choice; his time on the ice will be up for good after his final patrol.
"You get attached. I will be very sad as every time you go up here it's more difficult to go back and adapt to normal life."
He may go return to the army he says. "I'm not sure what's coming next."
But a more immediate concern is getting back to base for Christmas night. There will be beer and presents and phone calls to family.
"We keep traditions from home alive. Every guy talks about what they eat on Christmas Day and we try to make that food and then we dance around the Christmas tree and do all those funny things.
"It's a really great evening, just 12 guys in no rush and happy to see on another.
"I could defiantly imagine being in Australia on Christmas Eve but the heat is a problem," he says.
