Fiona Arrives Gjoa Haven

Entry from Russ Roberts journal on 8/20/09:

46 miles to Gjoa Haven at 0815.  It will feel good to get there.

Rae Strait is bumpy this AM after overnight winds which have swells unsettled.  It's raining and damp.
 
Last Message received from Russ on Wednesday night: "Quiet night tied to floe. Underway 6AM. Motoring well. 130nm (nautical miles) to Gjoa. Biggest story on this trip is how little story there is. Glassy water. Visibility great today. Egg salad sands for lunch. Advise all well!"

The SPOT tracker sent coordinates at 1:04 PM this afternoon locating Fiona in Gjoa Haven. Congratulations to Fiona and crew on a safe passage through icy Peel Sound, Franklin Strait and Larsen Sound. Hopefully hot showers for all! ~DH~

A moment to reflect upon the ice. When one embarks upon the Northwest Passage, even in years of minimum ice coverage, one has to expect to "get up close and personal" with big hunks and sheets of frozen water. One must accept the possibility that any vessel other than an ice breaker or ice hardened ship could be lost due to damage by ice. Vessel loss or damage must be placed into the "acceptable risk" equation.

My personal emotions on this trip are fueled by the fact that I do not own the vessel I sail upon. I can only feel vicariously what Eric of Fiona, Sprague of Bagan, Jovar of Perithia and the other boat owners are experiencing as the reality of the Northwest Passage begins scraping, gnawing and shrieking against their beloved hulls. Polar ice creates noises only Steven King or Bram Stoker could describe in words! Not knowing what damage may be accruing below the waterline is a mystery I'm sure none of them enjoy.

My primary concern, that feeling I am closest to as a non-owner crewmember, is personal safety for life and limb and the safety of those with me. At no point in the Peel Sound or Franklin Strait, at the points of maximum ice concentration, did I ever fear. The imminent danger of a swim in the Mustang suit due to hull rupture never came close. In the event that our situation had deteriorated and the sad eventuality of sinking did occur, the land was always close. The radios, Epirb and SPOT beacons always functioned and stood by in case they needed to be employed to send a "Mayday." The options for safety aboard and ashore and help if needed always remained open and available. We never exhausted our plans for a safe outcome.

-RR

Waiting Game

The winds have shifted from the south to the north slowly pushing the ice in a more southwesterly direction and hopefully opening a passage with low enough ice concentration to make it possible for Fiona, Perithia, and Bagan to arrive in Gjoa Haven soon.

12:03PM Email from Russ: "All well & happy. Waiting game. Fog. Wind shifting. 'Breaker Laurier ETA late tonight. Rec'd e-mail from Sprague on Bagan; all well, they are tied to floe and drifting 57 miles south of us. We drifted 12nm north last 18hrs [always staying about a mile offshore]."

11:32PM Email from Russ: "Got clear of ice and underway this PM. Made 15 miles. Now tiny anchor sitting on another floe to hold while getting more clear sea room ahead. 'Breaker' Laurier decided to hang out in Ross. We didn't need them for anything. If nothing else, it would have been nice party..."

Note added by RR on 8/29/09:





Earlier Fiona had called Coast Guard Station Iqualuit to give them a 'head's up,' a sort of 'float plan,' on where we were and what was happening; that she was surrounded by ice, making no progress and awaiting a change in the ice drift. They indicated Laurier was headed in Fiona's direction, we postulated perhaps in anticipation of the Hapag Lloyd expedition cruise ship Bremen steaming in from Greenland, and would check in with us upon arriving in the area. Iqualuit Coast Guard recommended that we review our abandon ship drill and make sure a "go bag" was packed and at the ready.  This seemed wise since ice can change rapidly and there was always a chance of our vessel being crushed.  They requested that Fiona check in every six hours via the Iridium phone with a position and status report until she was once again underway in clear water.

After two days and a half days of drifting with the ice, and a night about eight miles offshore maneuvering to find an open passage, Fiona started back in toward the forecasted open lead along the coast.  It was a magical journey through an 'ice bayou' ... lots of twisting and turning in channels that continued to open, open, always open ahead of the boat. Rather than being 'tortuous,' as others have reported, I found the trip in toward the open lead to require little effort . However time consuming it might have been, there was a wonderful 'meditative' quality about it.

Photo is Canadian Coast Guard icebreaker, Sir Wilfrid Laurier. ~DH~

An Interesting Day In Resolute Bay

On Friday, August 7th, we awoke at 4:30 to someone "you-hooing" from shore. My first thought was, "Damn kids, don't they ever go to bed?" Then Joe rolled out, popped his head out the hatch and said, "Shit. Look at this." Resolute Bay was full of ice and it was moving our way.

Beyond the ice Fleur Australe, the French boat, was making its way out by way of the only lead along the shore (Fleur has a swing keel and draws, with keel up, two feet less water than Fiona). But the German Perithia and Fiona were trapped. I wonder why Fleur did not give a toot on the horn or a call on Channel 16 to let us know about the ice, but I can only surmise that the skipper, Phillippe, the winner of two single-handed O-Star races, had his hands full. Or maybe his competitive nature promotes a philosophy of everyone for himself.

I got Eric out of the rack and said, "We've about five minutes before a big hunk of ice touches the boat." On deck a minute later, we raised the anchor and for the next couple of hours maneuvered as we could. After awhile Perithia commanded the only deep water hole left in the small area of clear water. Fiona was just a few feet from shore when the keel gently touched the glacial mud and she stuck ... at high tide on a full moon. A couple of hours later the tide receded, we listed to our side and spent the morning onboard on an angle. Sleeping in the "V" made of bunk and locker is not so bad!

Hard aground.  A 35 degree list.  A day like this moves one to ask, Why am I doing this?  Why did I want to come here?  It's not a job.  There is no livelihood.  I have no mission.  Why make a choice to put oneself in harm's way with no tangible reward?

Does one need an excuse to do something like this?  I suspect, as I lay 'tween locker and bunk, that some people may need to "cook up an excuse" to come here; watching the environment or climate change, scientific research or maybe a good-will tour.  What if all those reasons are just excuses?  Perhaps some people need a disguise to mask their real desire - a desire that lies somewhere buried below articulation, buried somewhere in the "Why."

I suspect, as Gordon Lightfoot wrote, we can know the wherefore, the outward appearances, but may never know the why.

Good for us that the afternoon tide was just a couple of inches higher. With the help of both dingys from Perithia and Fiona we were able to push the bow to the south, unstick the keel and maneuver to water that had cleared of ice.

For the past two days we've been raising and lowering the anchor and moving the boat trying to stay clear of the ice floes. By now we've become a bit blase about it. So we touch one now and again ... it bumps, we bounce off and, if the worse happens and we get some damage, the hotel and airport is just a dingy ride away ...

The wind blew hard this morning from the east and the bay seems to be clearing a bit. Let's see what the next few days bring to us.

Today was supposed to be laundry day.

-RR