Missed yesterday’s post? Click here.
We all were ready to row from 9am, as planned, but as usual, the weather hadn’t received the memo, so we ended up waiting until 11am before we finally lifted the anchor and set off on our 48h push all the way to a new anchorage within easy reach of Paulatuk.
ONE LAST 48H PUSH BEFORE PAULATUK
Once we would be close to that target location, we would contact our ‘mystery rower’ in Paulatuk, who would then get one of the local fishermen to pick us and Hermione up from there.
ROCKY COASTLINE
Early on we passed very close by some magnificent coastal rock formations with arches, pillars, tiny rock islets and all.
CHANGING SCENERY
The stark, dark rock cliffs gradually turned into more slanted, softer, lower, beige sandstone cliffs. Just before we reached the football field sized rocky outcrop called House Rock, the sandstone cliffs became steeper, firmer (less crumbly), taller and more magnificent. Much of the interior of the mainland was still covered in mist and fog for the most part, but we could see some interesting hill formations in the far distance, ranging in shape from table ‘mountains’ to pyramids.
RUNNING AGROUND. THREE TIMES.
Around 4pm we ran aground three times within ten minutes. There had been no warning signs, not visual on the ocean surface or from what we could spot below the surface, nor in terms of debt readings. As a matter of fact, the display still showed a depth of 4.8m when we crashed into the first submerged rock pillar, 4.5m and 4.7m on pillars #2 and #3. Leven said he hoped that the daggerboard was okay. One of my jokester team mates mentioned that we were probably lucky and the hull with the patch on the leak had taken the full force of the impact, leaving the daggerboard unscathed.
KEATS POINT
We stopped at around 6pm near Keats Point for half an hour so that Leven could fire up the internet and get some calls done, while we all had some warm expedition rations.
HOUSE ROCK
With autumn full-blown and winter already looming at the doorstep, it was getting darker quickly after our break, when we were passing House Rock. The sea also got a little bit choppier, but mainly low-frequency gentle rollers. Equally, the wind started picking up but remained easy to handle. At some stage, for only the second time on this journey, we observed wind blowing in diametrically opposite directions where we were, at sea level, and where the clouds were, maybe 500m (1,750ft).
GETTING FOGGY. REAL FOGGY.
For hours it looked like it was going to rain hard, and we could see hard rain falling some distance away from us, but for now it was only going to get gradually foggier and much colder. At about midnight it had gotten really foggy. Whenever the coastline we were following was not entirely even but consisted of lengthy, flattened bay-like sections where we went for the direct line to the far spit of land on the other side, it became almost impossible to navigate. Yes, you could try and pick a slightly brighter patch of fog, then aim a bit to the right or a lot to the left of it, but the brightness of the patch would change, and the wind would move the fog across the ocean. Constantly checking the course on the electronic display on the front of the back cabin behind your left knee didn’t work either.
SWITCHING ON THE AUTOPILOT
Like we had done on one occasion before (once while rowing, but several times while motoring), we switched on the autopilot. Now “switching on” gives a misleading impression. Yes, a switch is involved, but the process takes up to five minutes and requires some skills and various steps to be followed. The short version is, you tie the steering cords, that are attached to the steering handles which you normally use for steering, around the autopilot’s steering control unit, into which Leven had manually entered our chosen course, i.e. the direction from checkpoint to checkpoint until current target destination. Physically. Which means that your steering handles have now become entirely useless and are not easily available to correct any autopilot mistakes (and they do happen) or to avert immediate danger.
PROS AND CONS
This is usually no problem while you are crossing a bay-like section or bay from one tip to the other, provided there are no shallows, shoals, reefs, sandbanks, small uncharted islets or rocky outcrops in-between. But it can become a serious problem once you are near the shore again.
BIOLUMINESCENCE
At one of the next bays, after switching to autopilot, we started noticing bioluminescence in the sea. Every time our oars entered the water, there were small explosions of electric light, not bright, but easily noticeable if you looked in the direction. Shortly thereafter, we noticed signs of Northern Light through the thick fog, basically big patches of it being slightly brighter and somewhat different in colour, with a hint of green. Funny enough, with us being so close to the North Pole, all Northern Lights we saw were to the South of us, over the very Northern tip of the Canadian mainland.
(Photos above: Pexels)
NORTHERN LIGHTS
Another two hours into the trip, we were still in the middle of that large bay, something truly magical happened. We exited the thick carpet of fog and suddenly there were a million stars above us and the real Northern Lights, not just vague signs of them through the fog. The bioluminescence, presumably from some jellyfish or other weird sea creature, also continued to add to the wonder.
ALREADY MISSED THEM YESTERDAY
I had not mentioned this, not to my wife and not on this blog. But last night, my cabin buddy Mike had ventured on deck in the middle of the night to stretch and catch some air. As soon as he was out the latch door, he stuck his head straight back in towards me:
“You’ve got to come out here, it’s amazing Northern Lights all over the starry sky.”
“How special is it on a scale from 1 to 10?”
“Well, they are fairly faint compared with the pictures on social media that people post, so maybe 6 out of 10?”
“Naaaw, thanks, I’m good.”
For a bit of background, Ellie and I had booked whole excursions in Iceland, mainland Norway, and Spitsbergen, around Northern Lights. Unfortunately, we were never lucky.
BECAUSE I HAD BEEN TIRED
So why, you may ask, would I not make the three or four steps from the cabin out on deck to see the Lights? Well, I felt miserable last night, is the answer. My feet and had never warmed up again since that client call that had not happened. I had finally had a good wash and changed my clothes, but rather than making me feel more comfortable, the exposure to the cold air and water had achieved quite the opposite. I was also still a tad under the weather, like I had been for three days.
NO COMPLAINTS
So anyway, here we were, one day/night later, I was feeling much better, and we were all four of us treated to Northern Lights on a starlit sky with the added thrill of bioluminescent underwater fireworks. No complaints.
For tomorrow’s post click here.
HIGHLIGHTS OF THE NORTHWEST PASSAGE EXPEDITION
22 July – LHR to YCB
2 August 2024 (Cambridge Bay to Starvation Bay)
4 August 2024 (Starvation Bay to Wellington Bay)
12 August 2024 (From Wellington Bay 6h further Westward)
15 August 2024 (53mi/96km from Botany Island to Richardson Islands)
18 August 2024 (from Richardson Islands past Marker Islands)
22 August 2024 (23mi/37km Westward from Miles and Nauyan Islands past Lady Franklin Point – extremely tough conditions – ‘MISSION IMPOSSIBLE’)
23 August 2024 (Dreadful 10 miles – 12mi/19km – that felt like 100 miles to Douglas Island; welcome committee of two dozen seals)
25 August 2024 (An easy 19mi/31km from Douglas Island to Lambert Island; MS Fridtjoff Nansen passing)
27 August 2024 (An easy 7mi/9km along Lambert Island; yacht Night Owl passing by us)
28 August 2024 (STARTING OUR 64MI/104KM PUSH EARLY; passing Hanseatic Spirit, MS Roald Amundsen, yacht Honshu)
29 August 2024 (Arriving at Cape Hope after 64mi/104km – new team best)
30 August 2024 (EMERGENCY BEACHING at a bay next to Cape Hope)
31 August 2024 (CABIN FLOODED; LEAK FOUND)
Mike’s Poem about our Northwest Passage Expedition
3 September 2024 (REPAIRING HERMIONE)
DETAILS OF LEVEN’S MASTERPIECE: THE PRELIMINARY REPAIR and preparation of the re-launch of Hermione
4 September 2024 (A LOT OF DIGGING and another unsuccessful attempt to refloat the boat)
5 September 2024 (REFLOATING HERMIONE, MOTORING TOWARDS PAULATUK; MILITARY PLANE PASSING)
6 September 2024 (BACK TO ROWING AFTER EMERGENCY MOTOR BREAKS)
8 September 2024 (my 50th birthday; ALMOST CRASHING THE BOAT into rocks; Skynet; a pod of whales)
12 September 2024 (starting our last big push before Paulatuk; RUNNING AGROUND 3X; BIOLUMINESCENCE; Northern lights)
13 September 2024 (ALL HELL BREAKING LOOSE – ALMOST CRASHING INTO CLIFFS)
NORTHERN LIGHTS, 15 September, near Paulatuk
15 September 2024 (REACHING PAULATUK)
16 September 2024 (eating proper food; shower; the good life)
19 September 2024 (flying back home; 5 flights; Breakfast Club at Inuvik Airport)
Stefan will be rowing the Northwest Passage this summer – A little Q&A
Northwest Passage Expedition – Kit List
Trevor’s Travel Trivia IX – The Northwest Passage
My home town’s newspaper, Burghauser Anzeiger, has published an article about the Expedition
Post-expedition Q&As – Coming back from the Arctic after two months