Greenland has no roads between its towns, and in the south, where the green fjords of Kujataa lie, that fact is both a limit and a charm. The Norse came here in the late tenth century, led by Erik the Red, who settled at Brattahlíð, now the farm of Qassiarsuk, and for nearly five hundred years there were farms, churches and a bishop at Garðar, today's Igaliku. The settlers raised cattle, sheep and goats and hunted seals and walrus, and then, around the fifteenth century, they vanished, for reasons still debated, among them climate, trade and conflict. The Inuit farmers and hunters who live there now raise sheep on the same pastures, and UNESCO listed the Kujataa landscape in 2017 as an example of farming at the edge.
What I can say is that the fjord country is green in summer, with grassy slopes, icebergs drifting down from the ice cap, and farms with hay bales wrapped in plastic. The light is clean and long, with a midsummer sun that barely sets, and the water is a deep, cold blue.
The only way here is by air to Narsarsuaq or by boat along the coast. There are short gravel roads between farms and villages, but no network to ride on, so a motorbike is a thing for another trip. Narsaq has about sixteen hundred people and Qaqortoq about three thousand, the biggest town in the south, with shops, a harbour, a museum and the open-air sculpture of the Stone and Man project, carved into the rocks of the town. Fuel is for boats and a few vehicles, and nobody is going to sell petrol to a visitor casually.
Summer, from June to August, is the season, with warm days, mosquitoes and the odd iceberg tsunami. Walking is the way to move, by trail or boat, past ruined Norse walls to the church of Hvalsey, a ruin standing by the water. Pack a thick jacket, a head net and patience, and plan for the weather to change the plan.