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July 11, 2009 – At Sea, 68 55N 165 56W
by Herb McCormick
(July 11): We’ve broken out the sunscreen. Tiny flowers are blooming on the tundra. Never-ending squadrons of guillemots and murres are framed against a piercing blue sky, and when they whoosh directly overhead, if you hold your breath and listen hard, the soothing sounds you hear are the beating of tiny wings, the flapping whisper
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| Flowers are blooming on the tundra. |
of flight. Scientist Michael Reynolds has broken out his shorts, and we are all in awe of his manly, pillar-like stems.
With one exception, all of the above are true.
After a day-and-a-half at anchor in Ledyard Bay, the cutter Ocean Watch resumed progress towards the Arctic village of Barrow today, as the crew hoisted the anchor just around two in the afternoon local time. The day is beyond spectacular, and we are counting our many blessings. It’s hard to imagine better weather – did I mention we were in the Arctic Circle, closing in on 70N?! – or if this perfect example of glorious summer is as freakish as it seems. It seems like only yesterday that we were cold and layered and miserable.
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| Murres framed against a piercing blue sky. |
Oh, that’s right: It was yesterday.
A howling westerly gale strafed the boat for the better portion of Friday, and the crew took advantage of the ideal excuse to stay below to catch up on sleep, email, slumber, reading and, um, sleep. It was the first long, lazy day in what seemed like an eternity, and the rest did everyone a world of wonder.
First mate Dave Logan whipped up some tasty burritos for dinner, and by 9 o’clock in the evening, the most amazing thing happened. The wind stopped. The skies began to clear. The southwesterly waves and swell that had pummeled us all day long instantly settled down; Ocean Watch was the proverbial painted boat upon a painted sea. Photographer David Thoreson and I glanced at one another, and didn’t have to say a word. In minutes flat, our feathery light Little Wing kayaks were in the drink, and we were off.
First we made for the long flank of beach lining the bay and hoisted the boats across the pebbles and beyond the tide line. The melting tundra was squishy beneath our kayak booties, but after several days at sea, it was great to stretch the legs. From the boat, the permafrost had been a wide expanse of brown and green, but treading upon it, we were treated to a zillion miniature gardens of delicate florets, in endless variety of shape and color. After the gray trip north, the soothing blues and violets and pinks and lavenders were gloriously hypnotic. It couldn’t have been better, and then it was: Low evening sun blinked free from the clouds, and washed the whole scene – flowers, valleys, hills and snow – in clear, brilliant, radiant light.
David and I stood grinning like lunatics, grand-prize winners of the paddlers’ sweepstakes: It was midnight at the Arctic oasis.
Fresh winds filled in before dawn, but by mid-morning the calms had returned, and soon after, the sun had made an encore, as well. I hopped back in the kayak for another sweet paddle, and when I returned Ocean Watch was a
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| The author, grinning like a lunatic after a sweet paddle. |
veritable beehive of activity: Oceanographer Reynolds – did I mention those gams! – had the junior members of the crew, Bryan Reeves and Tyler Osberg, engaged in various scientific enterprises. Skipper Mark Schrader and mate Dave Logan were emptying jerry cans of diesel into the fuel tanks and attending to all sorts of boat-related chores. Photographer Thoreson had fished out a long lens and was freezing birds in motion. I realized all I would possibly do is get in the way, so I eased back in the kayak’s cockpit and caught a few rays.
Our well of good fortune was full, and we drank deeply from it. Afterwards, refreshed and recharged, on the brightest of shiny days, Ocean Watch was northbound again.
- Herb McCormick with photographs by David Thoreson
This crew log submitted by Iridium OpenPort and Stratos
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