SUDDENLY QUIET, the bright-orange, one-time Danish Coast Guard boat drifted with the current, water lapping rhythmically at its sides. Glass to eyes, we stared at a massive ridge scattered with boulders of every size and shape. My eyes didn’t know what they were seeing, and I couldn’t quite comprehend the landscape.
Then outfitter Frank Feldmann spoke in Danish to our guide, Knud, who drifted alongside us in a second boat and nodded in agreement, pointing at a distant spot on the ridge. A dozen or so musk oxen were spread out across the slope, but I could not see one of the thousand-pound animals.
Then realization swept over me, and as if seeing for the first time, the oxen appeared separate from the rocks, and I caught my breath.
The…