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August 24th, 2009 – Oscar Bay, Boothia Peninsula
by Herb McCormick and Harry Stern
(August 24): When it comes to breathtaking vistas of Mother Nature at her wildest, the Arctic leaves something to be desired. The austere landscape can at times still be rather arresting, the wildlife can be off the charts, and we’ve learned to discover a certain beauty in the ice, as terrifying as it can be. But when it comes to tall peaks and deep ravines? Not so much. So when we left Gjoa Haven at the crack of dawn today to begin perhaps the most crucial stretch of our travels so far, we were startled to see, right there on the chart of the east coast of King William Island, the slightly inland position of something called Mt. Matheson. Yes, Mount Matheson.
It was a foggy morning as we turned north and before long we were closing in on the latitude of the eagerly awaited mountain. But by now the island was completely shrouded in mist. On watch, Zeta Strickland and I strained our eyes to catch a glimpse of Matheson, and we soon identified its foothills. But the summit itself was lost in the clouds. Now one of the many excellent features on our Nobeltec electronic charting software is the topographical feature that allows you to scroll your cursor over a land mass and discover all sorts of interesting things. So I called down to Dave Logan at the chart table, “Hey, how tall is Mt. Matheson, anyway?” It took him a moment before his voice rang up from the cabin in a tone that could not be described as “excited.”
“Ninety-nine feet,” he said. So, ladies and gentlemen, Mt. Matheson! The sound you hear is one hand clapping.
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| Ocean Watch is the first of three boats coming from the west to chart a course for Peel Sound. |
Today, Ocean Watch is again bound almost due north, to a long finger of water known as Peel Sound. We’ve been looking at the charts for Peel for months. In this ongoing era of climate change and melting ice, Peel Sound remains the primary obstacle for those hoping to transit the Northwest Passage in small boats. In 2007 and 2008, Peel opened up in mid-August and small yachts like ours skated right on through. The story is different in 2009. Old ice to the north was dislodged last spring and mixed in with new ice in Peel to form a rather imposing blockade to safe navigation.
Though it’s been nearly impassable all summer, with great effort and difficulty, three small boats have made it through Peel this month on east-to-west NW Passage attempts. Ocean Watch is the first of three boats coming from the west to chart a course for Peel and beyond. It’ll be an interesting week. Stay tuned.
Yesterday morning, around breakfast time, we received a call from the Canadian Coast Guard light icebreaker, Sir
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| Ocean Watch receives an invitation from the Canadian Coast Guard for lunch and a tour. |
Wilfrid Laurier. We’ve seen Sir Wilfrid on several occasions this summer, the latest being the night before, when she dropped anchor in the deep water outside the inner harbor at Gjoa Haven (it’s hard to miss a 270-foot ship painted bright red with a helicopter on it). The captain was inviting the crew of Ocean Watch and the two other sailboats in Gjoa, Baloum Gwen and Silent Sound, aboard for lunch and a tour. They even said we could bring our laundry (though even we decided that was probably pretty tacky and declined). On top of it all, they offered to give us a briefing on the latest weather and ice reports. Now that was an invitation none of us could refuse.
We won’t go into the vast differences between the U.S. and Canadian Coast Guards. (Actually, we will. A year-and-a-half ago, just before crossing the U.S. border as we delivered Ocean Watch from Mexico to Seattle shortly after the boat was purchased for this expedition, we were buzzed by a helicopter and a search light in the dead of night, and twenty minutes later an armed gunboat was alongside and a boarding party with side-arms were rifling through our cabins. They did not inquire about our laundry, which was considerable. Eighteen months later, the skipper’s blood pressure is almost back to normal.)
But the Canadian Coast Guard Service, though it is an organization under the banner of the Canadian government, is not an arm of the military. While the crew wore uniforms, they are all civilians, though some of the officers are graduates of Canada’s Coast Guard College. In fact, they’re merchant seaman, licensed as such with appropriate tickets and qualifications. During our tour, one of the Coasties said, “We’re not like the U.S. Coast Guard. We don’t carry guns. If we did, someone might shoot at us!”
At the stroke of 11 a.m., a big hard-bottomed inflatable with twin 150 hp. outboards was alongside and in very short order we were whisked aboard the Sir Wilfrid. On the bridge, Captain Mark Taylor welcomed us aboard and explained the ship’s primary missions: buoy tending, scientific research, search and rescue, and so on. On occasion, they come to the aid of sailors in the Northwest Passage, a subject we’ll get back to momentarily.
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| Captain Mark Taylor explains his mission to the crew. |
“We also try to encourage these visits where we bring sailors aboard and some of the locals in the towns we visit,” said the captain. Indeed, a small fleet of powerboats was hovering around the stern, and a long line of Gjoa Haven residents were standing in line for the ship’s canteen to buy all sorts of stuff they can’t normally get in town. “It’s interesting to learn what sort of challenges you face. We learn ways we might be able to help in the future.”
Captain Taylor’s friendly message set the tone for the visit. We couldn’t have been made more welcome or at home. He then introduced the ship’s resident ice specialist and meteorologist, Bruno Barrette. Since Cambridge Bay, Ocean Watch has had its own resident ice expert aboard, Harry Stern, a senior mathematician and sea-ice researcher for the Applied Physics Laboratory. When it comes to ice, Bruno and Harry speak the same language. So here’s Harry’s report on Bruno’s briefing:
“On the bridge of the Laurier, ice specialist Bruno Barrette briefed us on the latest ice conditions and weather forecast. He had just received the most recent satellite image, acquired barely two hours earlier by the Canadian RADARSAT satellite, whose radar beam penetrates clouds and darkness to give an unobstructed, high-resolution view of the Earth’s surface.
“The radar image allowed Bruno to clearly distinguish between first-year ice (formed during the previous winter)
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| Bruno Barrette briefs Dave Logan on the latest ice conditions and weather forecast. |
and multiyear ice (which has survived at least one summer’s melt). This is an important distinction, because as sea ice ages it loses salt and becomes stronger, making multiyear ice more difficult for the Laurier to plow through than first-year ice. (According to Capt. Taylor, the Laurier ‘can make progress’ through three-foot-thick first-year ice.)
“From the RADARSAT image and other information, the Canadian Ice Service in Ottawa creates a color-coded ice chart and posts it on their web site, which is the normal route by which Ocean Watch obtains ice information. But here we had the latest RADARSAT image in front of us, and ice specialist Bruno to interpret it. So, what did we learn?
“The good news: While there are some large ice floes along our intended route up the west coast of the Boothia Peninsula, they should be easy to go around if we hug the coast. The bad news: The west end of Bellot Strait is still clogged with ice, making it impassable for Ocean Watch. If ice conditions don’t improve by the time we get there, we will have to proceed northward through (ice-free) Peel Sound and sail around the north end of Somerset Island, a slightly longer route than through Bellot Strait and up Prince Regent Inlet.
“Next, Bruno gave us his interpretation of the current weather map and the computer-modeled forecast maps. But first, like any good meteorologist, he delivered this disclaimer: ‘I do not risk my reputation by making predictions farther ahead than about five days.’ Then, pointing to a high-pressure ridge on a succession of weather maps, Bruno showed us that the current 25-knot winds from the north will die down over the next two to three days, and the high pressure system will persist, giving us sunny skies and (relatively) warm weather – the high temperature in Gjoa Haven is predicted to peak at 55-degrees F on Thursday, which surely counts as bathing-suit weather in the Arctic. Bruno, we’re counting on you.”
Harry, we couldn’t agree with you more.
Lunch was terrific – served by the cook, at proper dining-room tables, with a set menu from which to choose. Afterwards, we had a long tour of the ship, the crew’s lounge (with unlimited Internet access), the cash bar (!), the gigantic crane, the helicopter port, the gym and the engine room. That’s when one of the Laurier crew, in an aside, mentioned that the ship had burned $25,000 of fuel last week when it went to the aid of a 42-foot sailboat called Fiona, skippered by Eric Forsyth.
That one perked up our ears.
We met Eric and his crew the other day in Cambridge Bay and had breakfast together. They were headed west; we were headed east. Eric mentioned that Fiona had become lodged in ice, a situation he described as “anxious-making.” He continued: “The thing about sailing in the Arctic is that you can do everything right and something might happen out of your control and you might lose your boat.” After two months up here ourselves, we couldn’t agree more. And we did know the Laurier had headed toward Peel Sound when Fiona and another boat, a motoryacht called Bagan, were more or less stuck in the vicinity. But this was the first we’d heard that they were responding to a distress call issued by Fiona.
It’s not the first time the crew of Sir Wilfrid has responded to recreational sailors (like us, not commercial vessels) requiring assistance. In 2005, the icebreaker came to the assistance of two yachts in deep trouble in almost solid ice in Franklin Strait, a powerboat called Idlewild and a sailboat named Fine Tolerance. The talented seamen on the Laurier went so far as to lift Fine Tolerance’s stern out of the water, remove a bent propeller shaft, repair the shaft in their machine shop, and put everything back together before cutting a swath to safety.
American sailor Roger Swanson was there, aboard his 57-footer Cloud Nine (which Ocean Watch crewman David Thoreson joined for a successful NW Passage Transit in 2007). Here’s how he described what happened aboard Idlewild on September 8, 2005:
“The Coast Guard icebreaker Sir Wilfrid Laurier reached Idlewild and spent most of the day getting her off the ice floe and back into the water. She then tried to follow the icebreaker out to an area of less concentration. Because large chunks of ice immediately filled in behind Sir Wilfrid Laurier, the only way Idlewild could follow was to press her bow against a cushion hung over the stern of the larger ship as they slowly moved forward. Although her bow area was bent up pretty badly doing this, they did reach thinner ice where Idlewild could maneuver unassisted.”
Harrowing, right? So you might understand the disappointment Capt. Taylor of the Laurier felt, which he also mentioned yesterday in passing to David Thoreson, when he learned that the crew of Idlewild later wrote that they did not need or want assistance at the time.
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| Ocean Watch, in the foreground, is joined by two cruise ships filled with German tourists eager to see the Northwest Passage. |
We dredge all of this up because some of the crew aboard the Laurier apparently experienced similar misgivings after burning massive amounts of fuel, and then watching in surprise, en route to Fiona, as the 42-footer suddenly approached them, having extricated herself successfully from the ice. They were relieved for the crew, but it was pretty clear they would’ve appreciated a call.
So, potential Arctic sailors: If you find yourself in the Northwest Passage, and you call the Coast Guard, and then you manage to get yourself out of the jam, could you please radio back and tell them so? They won’t shoot! They’re cool! They’re Canadians!
A few hours later, the Laurier was joined outside at anchor by two cruise ships filled with German tourists, some of whom had paid over $40 grand to see the Northwest Passage, butler included. Along with the three sailboats, the locals said they’d never seen such a sight. It was a very good night to be a soapstone carver in Gjoa Haven.
After a 12-hour run today, Ocean Watch dropped anchor for the night at Oscar Bay on the Boothia Peninsula. Mt. Matheson was far behind. Someday, if we’re in the area and we have a few spare minutes, we may make a run at the summit.
- Herb McCormick and Harry Stern with photographs by David Thoreson
This crew log submitted by Iridium OpenPort and Stratos
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