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August 21st, 2009 – Gjoa Haven, Nunavut
by Herb McCormick and Zeta Strickland
When you walk up the small ridge here in the Arctic settlement of Gjoa Haven – we’d call it a “town” but, and we mean absolutely no disrespect here, the word seems a little grand – you immediately understand how the place got its name.
Gjoa (pronounced “Joe-ah”), of course, was the name of the purposeful 72-footer skippered by the determined Norwegian explorer, Roald Amundsen, during his epic, historic and inaugural voyage through the Northwest Passage in a journey that took three years, from 1903-1906. And “haven” is an apt and highly fitting description of the snug, protected little cove in which Amundsen based Gjoa over two long winters in the course of his adventures.
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| The Arctic settlement of Gjoa Haven, named after the ship of explorer Roald Amundsen whose historic trip through the Northwest Passage took three years. |
Amundsen once called the anchorage the “finest in the world” and as Ocean Watch first mate Dave Logan and I drank in the view this morning, we realized that when he uttered those words the legendary explorer was not falling prey to hyperbole. Up on the exposed hill, it was downright chilly in a stiff 25-knot northwester, but down in the taut little bay Ocean Watch rocked gently in almost placid waters: a haven, indeed. In fact, Logan and I were jealous that Amundsen was inspired enough to say anything about Gjoa Haven, for we’d been talking about the very harbor incessantly for the last two years, and now that we were finally looking at it, we were speechless.
Twelve hours earlier, it had been a different story. As always, we’d entered the port in the dead of a dark night – honestly, this is our worst habit, and it needs to be broken – and it was not only too dark to get a bearing on the unlit range markers, but our two chartplotters, each running a different software program, had picked a remarkably ill moment to pick an argument. And it wasn’t just the fact that they disagreed so vehemently, it was the manner in which they did so: one had us to port of the anchorage (up on the hill we’d be sitting upon hours later) and the other to starboard (right down the middle of the hamlet’s main street).
Oh yeah, it was blowing about thirty at the time.
As I was up on the bow during this critical juncture fussing with anchors and chain, I learned of this discrepancy only after the fact. Ultimately, skipper Mark Schra der, piloting Ocean Watch in, and Logan, at the helm, split the difference and threaded the needle into the anchorage. Once the hook was down, we took a collective deep breath and I said to Logan, “Mate, this is cool. We’re right where Amundsen was.”
And Logan replied, “Yeah. And we got in here the same way he did – by the seat of the pants.”
Earlier in the day, we’d gained further respect for the navigational prowess of Amundsen and his
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| Fiona Captain Eric Forsyth shares notes with Captain Mark Schrader about Peel Sound – Ocean Watch’s next obstacle. |
crew. On the 24-hour passage from an island called Jenny Lind (midnight to midnight) to Gjoa Haven we’d had to negotiate two roughly thirty-mile sections of water through countless rocks, shallows and low-lying islands. The second stretch, a zigzagging waterway called Simpson Strait, was probably the most hazardous we’ve seen since leaving Seattle.
We had the benefit of, among other things, a 135-hp. diesel, those two aforementioned chart plotters, radar, and a set of waypoints (latitude and longitude position coordinates) that OW crewmember David Thoreson had collected in his previous Arctic voyages. Amundsen, aboard Gjoa, had a 13-hp. engine, a lead line, and no firm clue as to the endless hazards littered in his path (though one of his crew had negotiated the strait the previous summer). His seamanship was impeccable.
A couple of unusual things happened during yesterday’s travels. We saw boats! Trust us, in the Arctic, that’s a rare occurrence. The first was the Nordhavn 57 motor yacht, Bagan, skippered by Sprague Theobold (an old friend of mine who’d started his present voyage in my hometown of Newport, R.I.), which we saw in an off-lying anchorage near Simpson Strait. The second was the Westsail 42, Fiona, captained by Eric Forsyth, which was already anchored in Gjoa Haven when we arrived. Both boats had recently passed through Peel Sound, Ocean Watch’s next Northwest Passage obstacle. We spoke to Sprague via radio, and had breakfast with Eric and his crew this morning. Both fine seamen had excellent advice and it was good to cross notes with them.
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| After breakfast, a stroll through Gjoa Haven. |
After breakfast, we had a stroll through Gjoa Haven and saw numerous references to Amundsen, on plaques and in a tribute to him in the village’s administration building – all of them were unfailingly positive. The history of the Northwest Passage is rife with stories of the Europeans who came plowing through in search of a shortcut to the Far East and its vast, unlimited riches, many of which came to disagreeable ends. You don’t need to read the Inuit version – or even between the lines of the English translation – to understand how the locals feel about this outcome: The greedy, arrogant, overconfident devils (like those in the deadly English Franklin expedition, who packed the highbrow crystal but forgot the bloody snowshoes) got what they deserved.
Amundsen was different. By embracing local language and culture, engaging in the first real trade with the natives, and more or less showing respect for the elements and wildlife on which their lives depended, the new trail Amundsen blazed extended beyond the course he set or the route he established. For heaven’s sake, the place is named Gjoa Haven.
And Amundsen’s legacy is not the only thing he left behind, as OW crewmember Zeta Strickland discovered on her own wanderings in Gjoa Haven. But we’ll let Zeta tell the story:
“As a new traveler to the Arctic, one of the unexpected challenges I’ve had in a new town is
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| Gjoa radio station DJ Leonie Aaluk shared surprising information. |
finding my way from one place to another. While there are usually a fair number of ‘public’ buildings in any given place, the signs for libraries, stores or restaurants are often small, faded or nonexistent. So you can imagine my excitement when I found myself this morning at the clearly labeled municipal center, and inside was a combination of administrative offices; community rooms; a mini-museum dedicated to Roald Amundsen; and the Gjoa radio station, complete with the local DJ, Leonie Aaluk. We talked for a few moments as she changed music (country and polka), took some phone calls, and occasionally broadcast in both English and a native language. My excitement turned to surprised awe when Leonie casually slipped into the conversation one little sentence: ‘I’m Amundsen’s granddaughter.’ (See main photo above.)
“A few minutes later the midday broadcast was over, the radio station closed, and Leonie had called two of her brothers to come talk with David Thoreson, Harry Stern and me. Her older brother, Bob Konana , spoke no English so Leonie translated for us. Sitting in the museum area, with display boards showing the style of fur clothing worn by previous generations, photos of Amundsen, and a variety of stone and bone tools, Bob and Leonie told us about growing up in the area.
“Leonie, born in an icehouse and raised in an igloo, spent her childhood hunting with her father by dog sled. (‘Dogs are slower, but much more reliable than snow machines,’ she said. ‘They don’t break like machines do!’) Her father didn’t tell any of his children that he was Amundson’s son until he was an old man – he was ashamed to be half white and only told his children about their connection to Amundsen as he was nearing the end of his life. I didn’t initially understand: Amundsen charted the course we are able to take today, and is well respected by polar scholars, sailors, and explorers from around the world. But the family story Leonie next related cast a new light on the situation.
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| Fish drying in Gjao Haven. |
“Leonie explained that when her father was a baby he was left in the snow by his mother’s partner, a man who didn’t want to raise a child that was not his own. His mother, crying yet determined, went back for him and saved his life. Because of this shame, Amundsen’s offspring had grown up not knowing their connection to the explorer. As adults, they’ve learned the truth, and today, quite frankly, they seem pretty casual about it all. They’re quite insistent that the knowledge has had little impact on them or changed their lives or their outlooks.
“I wonder if perhaps the explorer blood is a little stronger in them than they realize: Bob has since heard that Amundsen’s home and possessions remain intact in Norway. ‘I would like to go there. I would like to see it before I die,” he said. I hope you make it there, Bob. And to their grandmother, the woman who bravely saved her son so many years ago, thank you for providing us the opportunity to meet your grandchildren 100 years later.”
So, here in Gjoa Haven, it’s all Amundsen, all the time. He was a great man, yes, but like us all, he was only human. And his legacy lives on in ways he never could’ve imagined.
— Herb McCormick and Zeta Strickland with photographs by David Thoreson
This crew log submitted by Iridium OpenPort and Stratos
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