Travel with Indigo

This note is written from an anchorage on the rugged, sparsely populated coast of Labrador on our way to the Northwest Passage. As we move into position on the upper west coast of Greenland and onward through the Passage, I’ll send updates of our progress and describe the sights we come across that may interest you. Attached are the updates I’ve written lately, more to follow. Cell service is mostly nonexistent but our satellite based email works just fine, so please write whenever you feel moved to do so. It’s always good to hear from you. Email address: pphillips.v7ia6@globeemail.com (Yes, I know it’s one of the more unsightly addresses you’ve ever seen.)  All the best, Phil

While in St. Anthony, we rented a van (not easy to do in a village of  2,000)  and drove the ten miles or so to the Canadian National Parks Service site at Lanse Au Meadows and there toured the displays and walked through the authentic replicas of early Viking huts that, from archaeological evidence, we know were built there in around 900AD. What impressed me about those huts was how well built they were for the frigid conditions they faced. Their walls and roofs were constructed of bricks cut from peat bogs and were installed several layers thick, using timbers for roof trusses. Each of the long houses and outbuildings had sloped roofs, doors protected from the wind and cold and excellent ventilation.  When I contrast these with the stone age hovels I saw commonly used in modern day Djibouti, more than 1000  years later, I had to scratch my head and ask, “Why is this?”

Back in St. Anthony, we drove out to the picturesque settlement of Goose Bay and there hiked along a trail through the shoreline rocks and treeless bogs of moss and lichens. As we rounded a corner, there loomed before us an enormous berg fetched up on a shoal right at shore’s edge. The thing was larger than a downtown, high rise office building turned on its side. Waves lapping at its edges were undercutting it causing great chunks of ice to calve off into the sea resulting in giant splash waves.

I had dinner at a celebrated restaurant in Fish Point just a mile outside of St. Anthony on a cliff overlooking the sea. It had once been the home of the keeper for the nearby lighthouse. Its parking lot was full and there was a line waiting for tables, so I figured the food had to be as good as it was reputed to be. Wrong!  They had run out of the dishes I chose, so I ended up with a Newfoundland “delicacy”, Bacalao (salt cod) cakes, consisting of salt cod mixed with potato and onion and deep fried, served with slices of sweet pickle. I ate half of one, had a second local beer and went back to the boat. Chef George has spoiled us all. For lunch yesterday, he prepared a Cajun recipe of alligator meat over spicy wheat pasta. The other day we had ostrich and before that venison (not bad, really) and frog’s legs with the damn claws still attached. I’ve had to insist on more conventional meats from now on.

St. Anthony is a village on the decline. The cod fishing that once sustained it is closed for the long term due to the inevitable overfishing, so the processing plants, fishing vessels, and the businesses that supply both are idled. Only the regional hospital here and the few retail stores provide employment. It’s not surprising, then, that the young people leave here as soon as they are able and the average age of the townsfolk has risen to 50.

We are about to anchor for the night near Battle Harbor, Labrador, north of the Belle Isle Strait. We anchor rather than run all night so as to avoid hitting bergs. The tops of some of these are so low in the water that the radar won’t pick them up, yet hitting them would be disastrous. Eighty-seven percent of a berg’s mass is hidden beneath the water, so it’s what you don’t see that causes the problems.  As we get farther north, this will become less of an issue since we’ll have good daylight 24 hours a day. Today was beautiful, with flat seas,  clear skies and relatively warm air. Steve said we’ll see more of the same for the next few days. On the way to Cartwright, Labrador tomorrow, we’ll come upon the colossal berg, said to be some 18 square miles in size, whose slow disintegration has been littering the sea with building-sized bergs. All of the bergs seen around here broke off from the Greenland icepack at least a year ago and make their way ponderously south using the Labrador Current as motive force. A sign we saw along a Canadian Park Service hiking trail said the ice in these is up to 15,000 years old.

The anchorage we are about to enter is set in a stark, bleak landscape, nearly treeless, covered over in gnarly volcanic rocks, themselves wearing a patina of mosses and lichens. Patches of snow pack left over from last winter dot the higher elevations, but these are no more than five hundred feet high. There is very little human habitation in the area, just the few tiny hamlets here and there that engage in subsistence fishing and are supplied by weekly ferries. It reminds me of the east coast of Scotland, classified as Highlands but actually low in elevation. We ducked into the tight harbor of the nearest hamlet, Battle Harbor, for a look around and as we did every inhabitant stuck his head out of a window or came scurrying down to the waterfront and began taking pictures. With only about thirty houses in the whole community, there evidently is not a whole lot to do.

This morning (July 23) has dawned bright blue, cloudless skies with calm winds, so we’ll soon be off to Cartwright. The shore around the small bay in which we’ve anchored is lined with low hills of gray volcanic rock on which hardy grass, moss and lichens have taken hold. There are few trees visible.  A nearby village is built on the lee side of a high escarpment left over from an ice age glacier on which is erected a very high antennae, heavily guyed against the frequent North Atlantic storms. There is no cell service here, so I guess the antennae is for VHF radio or possibly the military. This region once had DEW (Distant Early Warning) stations, so it could be connected to one of those, some of which are still maintained. There are also two much smaller antennas on the same hill, probably VHF for maintaining contact with the village’s fishing boats.

Last night we anchored in a secluded, well protected bay called Hawke Harbor (53 degrees, 02 minutes N; 55 degrees, 48 minutes W) under a perfectly clear sky that only darkened around 11pm and lightened again in the false dawn of morning around 3:30am. We took the tender ashore to explore the remains of a whale processing station that in its prime hired up to 400 people but closed in the late 50s. Using Labrador math, our cruising guide says of the 400 employed, 350 worked ashore and the other 150 at sea. All that remains now are rusting boilers, vats, pumps, winches, and storage tanks and two old whale boats. Until the cod fishing industry closed, it was a busy summer fish camp whose few cabins remain in various states of disrepair. From the looks of several, though, it appears that locals still use some cabins for fishing or holidays.

We took our two polar bear guns ashore to make sure they worked properly and they did. Both are 12 gauge, pump action, short barreled shotguns capable of firing shells up to 3.5 inches, magnum load. We tested the guns using these shells, some loaded with slugs, others with double ought and triple ought buck pellets. With these extra large shells magnum loaded, Mates John and Tucker, who I placed in charge of the weapons, were grateful I had equipped both guns with rubber recoil pads. Our plan is that whenever we are hiking in areas that may be inhabited by polar bears we’ll have both mates along, one in the lead, one at the rear, with weapons fully loaded, four shells in the magazine and one in the chamber, safety off, guns held at port arms. Polar bears are among the most cunning and vicious animals on the planet and lightening quick on their feet, so we have been warned. They will plot where best to hide, lurk there until you come near then spring on you at close range. That’s why I bought short barreled guns, so they can be wheeled around quickly if needed. Of course, the best plan is avoidance, which we’ll take great efforts to practice, but even with that we’ll be prepared for the chance encounter. They are known to roam enormous distances in search of food and so can appear in places they’re not expected. In general, though, they follow the retreating ice pack north of our intended course and should pose little or no danger.

Walking ashore was so boggy it was like walking on marshmallows. Underneath the surface, it was not wet, just spongy due to the underlayment of dense mosses and lichens. A local fisherman who I had flagged down the day before said there are no bears in this part of Labrador and few moose. We saw no signs at all of these or other larger game, though just why I can’t say. After a restful night in cold, clear air, we left next morning at 6am for our last stop in Labrador at the tiny hamlet of Cartwright before setting off across the Labrador Sea to Greenland. Captain Steve and I have decided to leave Cartwright now (the engines are warming up as I write this) bound for Nanortalik Town at the extreme southern tip of Greenland, where the world’s most stunning fjords await us.  From there, we’ll make our way up the west coast to Nuuk, the capital town of Greenland, and eventually farther north to Ilulissat, our jumping off point for the Passage. By going from here to Nanortalik rather than from farther north in Labrador to Nuuk as we had originally planned, we add about a hundred miles to the trip but avoid a four-day weather layover and get to visit the famously scenic fjords of South Greenland. The forecast is clear all the way with winds steadily out of the west at 20 knots on the stern. All reports are that the Labrador Sea, the body of water we’ll be crossing, is free of icebergs. As a precautionary measure, we’ll have two on watch at all times, both for extra eyes and for keeping each other awake. At this latitude and time of year, the night is never truly black, just a darkened gray with visibility of a mile or so in all directions, plenty of distance for spotting errant bergs. We’ll be underway twenty-four hours a day for the next three days but in relatively calm and safe conditions.

The captain led the crew and me in a thorough life safety briefing, a refresher really, that included the location and use of escape hatches, smoke hoods and the all important survival suits. This morning the crew all tested our emergency crash pump, a high volume, diesel powered pump for ridding us quickly of potentially catastrophic water. Our two life rafts are certified to date and in good shape and there are bolt cutters positioned near the tender with which to cut it free of its lashings. Jerry cans full of gasoline are stored in deck boxes near the tender. We leave here with a competent captain and crew, well equipped and well trained, in conditions about as benign as we could ask. If there is anything to report along the way, of course I’ll write, but if I don’t, you’ll hear from me next when we get to our destination.

Travel by sea above sixty degrees north latitude is thought by the Canadian government to be so potentially dangerous that vessels are required to report this event to its Coast Guard and keep it updated throughout the time spent there. Canada is nothing if not heavily regulated in the European tradition. Despite its unwelcomed tendency toward being meddlesome, it does provide useful information on the location and condition of sea ice.  Please visit its website on the subject at: ice-glaces.ec.gc.ca. There, you can with a click or two get satellite imagery and charts showing the current ice conditions throughout the arctic, updated regularly. By comparing conditions of the present with those of the past, also possible on the website, you will gain an understanding of the general trend toward early melting and clearing of the NW Passage and see where ice congestion remains an obstacle.

As this is written, from Cartwright, Labrador on July 26, the Canadian Ice Service charts reveal that sea ice has cleared in the easternmost reaches of Lancaster Sound south of Devon Island from Baffin Bay west to the Inuit town of Resolute. From that town south and west, the channels remain heavily clogged, though we expect these to clear within a few weeks. Because winter closes in by mid September in Alaska, we hope to be among the first vessels through the Passage thus allowing us sufficient time to get out of the Arctic and Bering Seas and into balmier climate.

When looking at a chart of the area, it appears at first as if the most direct route through the Passage is through the Hudson Strait at the north end of Labrador, into Foxe Basin, through the Fury and Hecla Strait then north to Lancaster Sound. Appearances, as they often are, are misleading. The distance saved by traveling this route is small, on the order of a few hundred miles, offset by the risk of having to backtrack due to ice congestion in the Fury and Hecla Strait. This narrow passage, famous in  the historical attempts to locate the Northwest Passage, remains blocked by  ice floes much of the year due to unfavorable wind and tide conditions.  Everyone from whom we have sought advice has cautioned us against falling into this tempting trap.

When we speak of the Northwest Passage, the image that comes to mind is that of a defined route through the Canadian arctic archipelago between the Atlantic and Pacific Oceans, as though it were an interstate highway. The term, however, is misleading. It means nothing more than a route, any route, through the arctic’s maze of islands and waterways. Through experience, good and bad, there is an established route that most of the time offers the most favorable conditions with the fewest risks, but it is not by any means the only route. Smaller vessels especially can choose among a variety of detours and shortcuts that, ice conditions permitting, allow passage between the oceans. Our plan is to adhere mostly to the established route, which I will describe along the way, with time to explore detours and side adventures as the opportunities present themselves.  Best to all.