Morning mail from Greenland: Board a "floating prison" that offers freedom to those who work hard.

A large Greenlandic fishing trawler has docked in Nuuk. *Morgenpost fra Grønland* boarded the vessel to get a closer look at life at sea.

Malik Christensen was born and raised in Greenland. At 15, he got his first job on a fishing trawler.

Six hours on duty. Six hours off. Six hours on duty. Six hours off. No days off. Extra shifts if needed. Roughly two months at sea—broken only by a single port call.

The ship arrived in harbor early Wednesday morning. In one day, the hundreds of tons of catch must be unloaded before it sets sail again.

I meet the seasoned fisherman and current helmsman Malik Christensen. He hasn’t slept in many hours, but that’s fine, he says. You learn to trick your body when you’re out at sea.

*Morgenpost fra Grønland* has boarded the large trawler in Nuuk to gain insight into the daily life aboard.

I ask Malik how it is to fish at sea for weeks on end.

“Have you ever tried sitting inside behind the bulkheads before?” he asks.

Isn’t that just a prison?

“Yes. It’s a floating prison.”

It’s about freedom. Both the freedom you get when you’re off for two months, and the freedom you don’t have when you’re at sea.

“Because you can’t really do what you want. You’re limited in everything: you have to eat what’s served, go to bed at a certain time, work. I’ve never been to prison myself, but that’s probably the best comparison I can make,” says Malik Christensen.

He was born and raised in Greenland. At 15, Malik started as a fisherman on a trawler. Today, 20 years later, he serves as helmsman on one of the upper decks, surrounded by radar systems and screens, responsible for both the catch and a crew of nearly 30 men.

As we talk on the bridge deck, the trawler’s crane outside loads pallets of packaged codfish from the vessel.

It takes about a day to unload all 1,400 tons.

On the trawler, the crew typically has a two-month rotation at sea with one port call per month. The days are structured around shifts:

The six hours off are for eating, showering, washing clothes, talking to family back home, and—if possible—sleeping. Malik operates on sleep quotas, saving his rest for when the ship returns to port.

“I’ve never watched a movie during a trip. There’s no time for that. For us, it’s: work, work, work. And you don’t reach land until the cargo is loaded.”

The 35-year-old Malik Christensen in the chair he uses for most of the day’s waking hours.

The crew has just finished lunch, and the menu included meat, potatoes, and béarnaise sauce. Occasionally, a treat is served too.

“And there’s always cake,” Malik adds.

The hardest part of being at sea is missing out on things at home.

“Now I’ve been doing this for 20 years. I’ve missed out on a lot. We plan trips two years in advance. As a rule, something always happens when we’re away. I missed my son’s first day of school.”

As Malik rose through the ranks, he wasn’t home for Christmas for several years in a row.

“Last Christmas Eve, we stopped the ship for about six hours. We ate together and then set off again. We’ve come out here with one goal: to work.”

According to Greenland’s national statistics office, fishing is the country’s largest industry. Cod and shrimp dominate the catches, but species like haddock and crabs also play a role.

Though life at sea is tough, there are rewards to the work, Malik Christensen explains.

“There’s more freedom when you’re off for two months. Yes, it can be hard, especially when you have children. But when you’re free, you have more time for them.”

“And in principle, I can decide where I want to live in the world,” he adds.

We’ve probably talked for about an hour, and our conversation has been interrupted a few times by young men who’ve stuck their heads in to say hello to Malik. They’ve come to sign up for a kind of waiting list while the ship is in port. If a cabin becomes available, they might be lucky enough to secure one of the coveted spots and join the crew at sea.

It’s a job many would love to have, Malik says.

“It’s very normal for fishermen to earn well on six months of work. You won’t find many other jobs like that here in Greenland. Nor one with so much freedom.”

Greenland’s government highlights the fishing sector as a key entry point into the labor market for young people, especially in coastal towns and smaller communities where job opportunities are limited.

But you also have to be made of a certain kind of stuff to keep the job for many years.

“When I first started, it was with some tough guys, that’s for sure. As I see it, it’s just built a foundation for me,” Malik says, adding:

“If you rise through the ranks, it’s you who has to lead. You have to be made of the right stuff so they don’t take power from you.”

And there’s plenty of “sailor talk” aboard.

“Things don’t get wrapped up—let’s put it that way.”

“The most important thing is that you shouldn’t feel sorry for yourself. It’s your mind that plays tricks on you. That’s the worst thing you can do to yourself—self-pity.”

The crew on a fishing trawler works a bit like an orchestra: everyone has their role and knows exactly when to step in. The work follows a strict rhythm, and if one person falls out of sync, it’s noticed immediately. Everyone depends on each other.

“I put on my captain’s hat when we’re out at sea. And people know well: remember, out here I’m not your friend. It’s about the ship’s operation. Every movement must make sense when you’re on the water.”

“My most important task is keeping an eye on whether bad morale is developing. As soon as the dynamics are ruined, it affects the entire team.”

Little seems to scare the experienced fisherman. When the ship hits ice blocks during sailing and it makes a loud crash, it’s just part of the daily routine. The ship is built for it, Malik says.

“But what can be unsettling is when there are strong storms and I have people on deck who need to set equipment out. Sometimes a lot of water comes in. They have to be able to get away before the wave sweeps over.”

“And I have to load and unload equipment in the safest way possible, always assessing: when will the next big wave come?”

But how do you mentally handle it?

“You just have to accept it. I’ve told many people: if you can handle this work, there’s no job in the world that will be too hard for you. I’d always prefer to work with someone who’s sailed before.”

“Everything here on land moves too slowly.”

As soon as we go one deck down, we’re met with a sharp smell. We’re approaching the ship’s factory. Here, the cod is processed and packaged. I cover my nose and apologize to Malik: it’s not to offend anyone. He shrugs his shoulders. “You get used to it.”

The smell on the ship changes with the seasons. At that time, the shrimp fishing won’t be as strong, Malik says.

But first, the trawler prepares to leave the harbor and head out on the final leg of this trip at sea.

Today at 10:00 a.m., Malik sets the course: roughly 300° west. Eight hours of sailing, and the crew will reach the fishing grounds.

And that’s the end of today’s *Morgenpost fra Grønland*. Thanks for reading along. We’ll be back tomorrow.

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