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July 16th, 2009 – Barrow, Alaska
by Herb McCormick
(July 16): Knobby knees: The old fella was sporting a pair of seriously knobby knees. For some reason, his skinny legs and bony hinges were the first thing that caught my eye, though in retrospect, his overall look was rather stupendous. After all, on the dusty Alaskan streets of Barrow on a midweek July afternoon, he was the only bare-chested guy in town decked out in nothing more than baggy swim trunks and water slippers, with a towel around his neck. But it was pretty clear what he was up to.
“How’s the water, mate?” I had to ask.
He flashed a quick grin and never broke his purposeful stride – he’d already put his camera-toting wife and what had to be his son and grandson in his distant wake – though my question was obviously premature.
“I’m about to find out,” he said.
From the open roadstead just off the village of Barrow – at 71 17N, it’s the northernmost town in the US of A, and presently serves as the anchorage for Ocean Watch – we have a clear look at a long, stilted, somewhat dilapidated, two-story blue hotel called the Top of the World. At 5:30 each afternoon, guests of the establishment are invited to immerse themselves in the adjacent Arctic Ocean, an adventure that, once completed, entitles them to a document certifying elite membership in the Top of the World Polar Bear Club. Clearly, for some travelers, it’s reason enough to make the trip.
Powerful easterly winds have been churning the frigid-cold waters off Barrow for nearly three straight days now, and the ongoing voyage of Ocean Watch is temporarily on hiatus waiting for a change in the weather. The good news is that the brisk breeze has sent much of the ice that plagued our arrival skittering off toward Siberia, and they are welcome to it. We’ve used the time to catch up on chores, rest and maintenance before heading east towards the Northwest Passage.
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| Ocean Watch is one of three ships which will soon travel the Northwest Passage. |
Barrow is the namesake of one John Barrow, the Second Secretary to the British Admiralty, who in 1816 launched what’s been called the most ambitious program of exploration the world has ever seen. For the next several decades Barrow’s handpicked teams of Britain’s best and brightest scoured distant waters in the quest of glory and conquest for Mother England. These journeys did not always end well. It was Barrow who dispatched Sir John Franklin on his ill-fated search for the Northwest Passage, a deadly errand that resulted in the loss of 128 men; two ships; and history’s longest and least successful search-and-rescue operation.
Ocean Watch’s first attempt at anchoring off Barrow brought to mind what in retrospect was certainly a poor choice of names for one of Franklin’s ships: Terror. Shortly after dropping the hook, a local advised us that we were in imminent danger of sinking, so we raised anchor and sought a safer anchorage outside of town. Ironically, our second anchorage put us in clear view of a series of small barrier islands called the Plovers, which were named after one of the boats sent to find Franklin’s expedition, the H.M.S. Plover. We parked there for three days until the ice cleared and we were able to return to our initial anchorage closer to town.
During our stay there, we had company. A steel sailboat called Baloum-Gwen, with a crew of four and flying a Belgium flag, sailed right past Ocean Watch the day after we arrived. We had a quick chat and learned they were also bound for the Northwest Passage, having already completed a westward transit in 2008. With their centerboard raised, they were able to duck behind the Plovers and into the shallow waters of Elson Lagoon; we’d made quick plans to meet for dinner the next night, but then the wind filled in and they’ve been boat-bound ever since. We’re expecting more company sometime very soon, as a third yacht, a Canadian vessel called Silent Sound that’s also setting sail for the passage, is reportedly closing in on Barrow.
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| The crew plays soccer at Barrow High school. |
Since our arrival, fellow crewman David Thoreson and I have spent some time with Inuit whaling captain Harry Brower, Jr. and scientist Craig George at their offices on the campus of Ilisagvik College; both have interesting tales to tell, which we intend to do in upcoming logs.
We’ve also had a look around town. Both Thoreson and I played football in northern colleges, but neither one of us ever saw a home-field advantage like the one enjoyed by the gridiron stars of Barrow High. Their bright-blue Astroturf field – reportedly the gift of a fan from Florida – is situated on a spare tuft of sand separated by a cold lagoon on one side and the Arctic sea on the other. The visitor’s bench, not unintentionally, is hard by the brutal Arctic.
The town itself is interlinked by a series of dirt roads sprayed by water trucks on summer days to keep the dust down. One can only assume this is not an issue for much of the year. There’s a hospital, gym, library and three hotels, all of which are currently filled to capacity by tourists eager to catch a glimpse of the famed midnight sun, which this time of year never sets. There are several restaurants but Barrow, like most Inuit towns, is dry, and once they’ve sent a postcard or two, most of the visitors are whisked away from the downtown airport to continue their Alaskan travels in less harsh, more liberal surroundings.
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| Dave Logan’s pass is nearly intercepted by a dog. |
Before departing, some of the heartier types take a plunge in the sea. We didn’t actually watch the newest member of the Polar Bear Club engage his dip, but with the mission clearly (and quickly) accomplished we did see him scurrying back to his hot shower at the Top of the World: the grin replaced with a grimace; another item on the Bucket List crossed off; the educator with the pictures to prove it; yet another rousing tale for the timid souls back home.
- Herb McCormick with photographs by David Thoreson
This crew log submitted by Iridium OpenPort and Stratos
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