Change course to Pond Inlet and Northwest Passage
Our failed attempt to reach the shores of Canada
Change course to Pond Inlet and Northwest Passage
Our failed attempt to reach the shores of Canada
Isolated in Qaanaaq
We woke up late the next day…
We had already decided to be much more careful from now on in order not to relive similar experiences.
Now we knew and felt a lot.
We were much more experienced than ever.
We were not feeling goof from the day before, but deep inside, there was an unspeakable pride.
Pride, because we made it.
We managed to navigate for many hours in particularly large, 4-6/10th according to the egg codes, ice concentrations.
This means that 40 to 60% of the ocean was covered with ice. In addition we had very dense fog, 0 degrees air temperature and bitter cold, elements that constitute the highest degree of difficulty for every boat and crew.
Our experience was unique, and we were no longer intimidated by the 4-6/10s.
The only thing that really scared us was that none of us knew what we would meet next…
DAY 35th – Saturday, August 6
Unlike Friday afternoon, this morning Qaanaaq was completely different. Great atmosphere, bright sun and a temperature of 12°C which felt like 30 degrees to us.
We left our nightmarish experience behind us and decided to tour the neighboring glaciers, taking advantage of the rare sunny day.
We went down to the pier, cleaned the boat and in a short time we were on one of the most impressive glaciers in the area.
We were slowly moving among the innumerable and all kinds of ice that, cut off from the glacier, filled the sea from end to end. We were completely focused while Cris stood on the bow and, with the long carbon pole we had made for this purpose, cleared the way for us by constantly pushing the blocks of ice that blocked our way.
We were trying to get as close to the glacier as we could so that we could immediately admire the wonderful sight.
Of course, it was not easy at all and it took us more than an hour to get there.
But it was worth the effort even more.
We were completely overwhelmed by the breathtaking images that beheld our eyes.
The glacier was several hundreds of meters long and over 30 meters high.
Of course, we were standing at a safe distance, with the bow facing the open sea, because we knew very good that if suddenly a large iceberg breaks off and collapses, then a small tsunami will be created, “kanele” as it is typically called, while it is very likely that they will be thrown in the air small pieces of ice with great speed and unpredictable consequences.
And of course there is no warning for this, other than a loud noise that sounds like an explosion of dynamite just a few fractions of a second before the iceberg collapses.
While keeping an eye on the edge of the glacier, we tried to listen to the enormous energy lurking around.
You could even absorb it very strongly in an otherwise incredibly quiet and peaceful harmony.
No sound and no noise.
Absolute silence in this completely deserted place.
Serenity at its highest.
But this immense silence of the landscape was deafeningly powerful in our soul.
It spoke to us so loud and clear, but words seem to be too poor to explain it.
It is enough to listen to her and feel her to reveal her deeply hidden secrets.
We stood speechless and spellbound in front of scene that we couldn't believe it was real.
It was like a living dream.
Although it was late noon, we spread the small trays on the aft sundeck and scooped out small breads and honey.
It was the most magical morning of our lives.
In an unsalable sea, under the hot sun, between ice and icebergs.
We knew very well that we would never have this opportunity again and so we sat for hours enjoying the most shocking moments that Mother Nature could give us.
And we were totally grateful for that.
We couldn't have asked for anything more.
Isolated, without comforts, without anything to touch us, at the Top of the World.
And yet we had everything.
Our souls were full and we felt wiser than ever.
DAY 36th – Sunday, August 7
Until noon on Sunday we were reminiscing about yesterday's wonderful day that gave us unique moments and images.
But little by little we came back to reality.
We took out our maps, opened the computer and studied the forecasts for the next few days.
Grise Fjord continued to look ice-locked while the nor'easters raged for days to come.
Our psychology began to take a downward turn again as everything showed that we had no chance of approaching the Northwest Passage.
We didn't leave the house that day.
We were trying to find some solution but it was impossible.
With great focus, not even talking to each other.
Approaching the shores of Canada now seemed like a midsummer night's dream. We now began to realize that this was the end of the mission and we had to figure out how to get back to Upernavik.
Isolation, frustration and low morale.
Fortunately we had Cris, who as our personal chef undertook to prepare us wonderful meals, inspired by the few ingredients we had at our disposal.
After midnight we were all laid in our beds.
But my eyes wouldn't close.
I may have been disappointed but I felt more rested than ever.
Maybe because all the tension and anxiety of the consecutive navigation went away and I didn't feel that heavy weight on my shoulders.
I no longer cared about the constant inspection of the boat's instruments and the horizon, I was not concerned about the fuel consumptions and constant calculations, there was no constant stress of the fog and the strict and so painful adherence to our course, nor that unbearable insecurity that it weighs on you when you are in the middle of nowhere with no one to help you.
DAY 37th/38th – Monday/Tuesday August 8-9
Those days of waiting at Qaanaaq seemed like a century.
Trapped by both ice and strong winds, we were not in the mood for anything anymore.
Two hours before midnight on Monday, when the sun was high on the horizon, having turned to the north, we left the house for a little while.
We went down to the pier to see the boat and stood for a long time gazing at the sea.
It was the only thing that could make us feel better and change our psychology.
We returned to our apartment and re-examined the forecasts to see if there was any favorable change.
But most of the Northwest Passage still seemed ice-locked and the winds in it for the next week were strong so it was not worth the risk to even go to Pond Inlet where there was a good chance of being stranded there.
I rolled up the window and stuck my head out.
In the morning the whole bay was empty from the small pieces of ice and only large icebergs were here and there. But now it was becoming inseparable because many pieces of ice, of all shapes and sizes, were falling down from the icebergs.
It was shocking how quickly the landscape changed in just a few hours.
On Tuesday morning, without a great mood we went to the gas station to refuel the boat. We filled the 600 liter flexible tank and carried it twice with the help of a new friend who happens to be one of the oldest Eskimos in the area.
At noon he invited us to his home and told us stories from the past, about the ways they hunted and the harsh conditions of survival before global warming affected their way of life.
In the evening we returned to our apartment and sat around the table.
We had to make a decision as in a few hours it would be "dawn" on Wednesday and we would be untyingthe bow lines.
Although none of us really wanted to, putting safety first, we unanimously agreed to end the mission and return to Upernavik and then Nuuk.
...keep Ribbing!
