Newsletter 10/02/2006 Fine Tolerance and the North West Passage Escape

Fine Tolerance and the North West Passage Escape.
Position: West Palm Beach, Florida, USA

Date: 10/02/2006

Somehow the disappearance of Fine Tolerance didn't have a huge impact on us. We still had enough on our immediate plate to be concerned about. Idlewild was now immobilized on a floe and so close to the shore of one of the Tasmanian Islands that we had more than our hands full as it was. Any thought of walking the 100 meters to shore and climbing the rocky hill was out of the question. The ice was still active, increasingly so, and to have climbed off the vessel could too easily mean that it would be impossible to get back to it later on. There was nothing to do but wait and see what happened. A few hours after dawn the ice pack started to accelerate and we were carried even closer to the island. It's quite something to be swept along at speeds of up to 2.2 knots in a boat stuck on top of a chunk of ice which at times was only a boat length away from the rocky headlands sticking out from the island. The current swept us around the western end of the island and into a channel that led to the north. As we progressed we could see that to the north of the Islands there was a large area of ice free water towards which we were being swept. While to the South of the islands the ice had been building up pressure, the cause of our present problems, to the north there existed this approximate 2 sq miles of open water. We were swept into it and soon were sitting alone in its centre. There was a southerly wind of around 15 kts blowing and with Idlewild's higher profile propelling the berg faster than those around her she soon cleared the pack and began sailing to up the northern edge of the open water. Looking back at the islands one of Idlewild's crew spotted a mast. It could only be Fine Tolerance. She was being swept through another channel between different islands but she too had made it through to the north of the islands. For a brief period there was even open water between both vessels but again, with the ice moving so rapidly, it was deemed too dangerous to dinghy the mile or so across to her. At least we could see that she was now upright, having at some time slipped safely back into the water from her perch on a berg. Unfortunately she was not swept out into the open water but seemed to be held against the end of one of the islands by a back eddy. Still she was afloat and was following us. Things were looking better.

About halfway across the open patch of water we had a call on the radio from the Sir Wilfred Laurier, the Canadian Coast Guard Ice Breaker saying that they were breaking through thick ice about 60 nm south of us and had just dispatched their helicopter to check on the ice conditions between them and us and to make a visual assessment of our situation. The helicopter hove into view twenty minutes later and via VHF radio was pointed in the direction of Fine Tolerance which she flew over and called back with the news that although she was very close to the island she looked fine. She then flew on towards Idlewild with directions from the Idlewild crew through the VHF radio. Even from 1 nm away she could not spot us which made us realize even more just how insignificant we really were in that landscape. After they had taken photos and received a report from us that we were all fine they flew off further north to check on the status of Jotun Arctic and Cloud Nine and the ice conditions ahead of us. Before long we were against the northern edge of the open water and were back with the ice all around us again. There was nothing much we could do but sit and wait for the Sir Wilfred Laurier to see if they could get Idlewild off the ice floe and get us back onto Fine Tolerance which had finally been swept clear of the islands but was on a north westerly course while Idlewild was on a more north easterly one. By the time the Sir Wilfred Laurier appeared around the western most island of the Tasmanian group just before dark there was no open water in view. By the time she had reached Idlewild it was dark and with the decision to try rescue operations in the morning stopped in the ice about 500 meters ways to wait for dawn.

Dawn broke without a breath of wind, nor a cloud in the sky, and the Sir Wilfred Laurier edge up to within 100 meters, to the far side of a large flow, and two of their crew walked over the ice to Idlewild. Then, leaving Liz and one of the crew members on Idlewild, the rest of us walked back over the ice to have a discussion with the Sir Wilfred Laurier's Captain on a plan of attack on how they planned to break Idlewild off the ice floe, get us back onto Fine Tolerance, and to get us up the remaining 30 nm of ice to open water on the other side of Bellot Strait. It was felt that the best way to go about things was to get Idlewild back into the water, then return us to Fine Tolerance and bring Fine Tolerance over to Idlewild. With us both together, and if ice conditions permitted we would then be able to follow behind the icebreaker north to where Jotun Arctic and Cloud Nine were, get them to also get in line behind and to break us all out to the other side of Bellot Strait. If the ice was too thick for us to follow then Canada's Largest Icebreaker, the Louis St Laurent, which was due in the area in the next few days would go first, breaking up the ice, followed by the Sir Wilfred Laurier helping to clear the ice away a bit more, followed by us four small vessels. So now we had a plan, quality help, and even a nice day to start with as well. Even then, it was to be seven days before we would say goodbye to the Sir Wilfred Laurier only 50 nm further northwards than where we now stood

Idlewild, twenty minutes before she slid finally back into the water. (photo curtsey of 'Sir Wilfred Laurier)

Day One.

The first order of the day was to make Idlewild secure by sealing all the deck openings in the event that if, while getting her off the ice she rolled over, water would not pour down below. While the Idlewild crew and one of the Laurier's crew went about doing this the helicopter flew over, picked up Liz, and with Liz and I, the pilot, and one crew member, flew out to check Fine Tolerance and the ice surrounding us all. Fine Tolerance had once again disappeared during the night but the eagle eye of one of the crew spotted her emerging from between two islands while we were having our discussions. It appeared that she had drifted with the ice pack to the south side of the Islands with the tide and had once again been swept northward between the islands. Everything appeared alright with her as she sat in some loose pack ice with no pressure and we returned to the Sir Wilfred Laurier much relieved. By the time we returned Idlewild had been sealed and with no one aboard her the Sir Wilfred Laurier began to maneuver into position to attempt to knock her off the flow. It may sound easy but that it was not. With extreme precision the captain maneuvered alongside her and using the wash from the twin screws and the bow thruster began the delicate task of moving the ice out from under Idlewild while at the same time doing no damage to her prop or rudder. It was quite an amazing sight to observe the skill of the captain maneuvering a 5025 ton, 83 meter long icebreaker with millimeter precision. As Idlewild was hidden from view from the bridge all maneuvers were radioed to the bridge from directions called through a two way radio from the 1st mate standing on the forepeak of the Laurier. For safety reasons there was no one on Idlewild. Throughout the whole week the captain made the safety of personal the first requirement of any undertaking. It took until 3.00 pm before Idlewild slipped back into the water, undamaged to the cheers of all and an obviously relieved Idlewild skipper and crew. After the rest of the crew had returned to Idlewild, two had returned already and helped the final release by using the engine once the propeller was back in the water, we left them in the pack and headed over to Fine Tolerance to bring the both vessels together.

By 4.00 pm we had reached Fine Tolerance and I and Ben, one of the Laurier's crew, boarded Fine Tolerance to maneuver her in behind the icebreaker. It was no easy task. As you can see from the photo below the ice was quite heavy and maneuvering was difficult to say the least. However, with ice poles and engine we finally tucked in behind the transom of the Sir Wilfred Laurier. Following an icebreaker breaking through ice can best be described as a nightmare. Blocks of ice bigger than Fine Tolerance are thrown back by the wash of the icebreakers props, the twin screws which are used to steer the icebreaker when maneuvering through ice would suddenly throw Fine Tolerance to one side or the other as if she were a twig. The only way to remotely keep up with the icebreaker was to run under full power hard up against her transom. This way the larger blocks were avoided to some extent but twice it wasn't possible to hold here and she was swept sideways by ice. First there was a shuddering from the prop and we knew that something wasn't quite right. Quite a few times the engine had stopped dead as ice jammed up the propeller and we felt that there was a good chance that one of the propellers blades were damaged but at 9.00 pm with another clunk suddenly there was no drive left. Either the shaft had broken, a key had sheared or the blades had been broken off. As it was now pitch black and the islands were still very close it was decided to try and tow Fine Tolerance clear. For an hour we made progress through the ice but at 10.30 pm the tow rope broke and Fine Tolerance swung away into the ice and stopped dead. There was little else we could do in safety so the icebreaker steamed about 100 meters away from her to sit in the ice and wait until morning. As long as the current didn't take her into the islands we would be ready to resume at first light. Liz and I were given a cabin and we turned in for the night.

Attempting to manoeuvre Fine Tolerance into position behind the icebreaker.

Day Two

We were woken early, 3.00 am, the next morning by the sounds of the main engines working the icebreaker through the ice. It still being pitch black at that time of the morning it could only mean that the current had started to take the icebreaker into danger and she had had to abandon Fine Tolerance again and work her way out of danger. It should be pointed out that all this rescue work was done in uncharted waters which added even an extra hazard to the whole operation. We fitfully slept for the next few hours until I could stand it no longer and got up. Looking aft down the corridor I could see crew members on the aft deck and went to investigate. It was a wild looking scene. There under spotlights was Idlewild doing as we had done the previous night. Under full power they were sliding over, around and across house size blocks of ice, ramming into the back of the icebreakers transom. With two of the crew on the foredeck shouting instructions back to another crewman just outside the helmsman's window they were making a much better job of it than we had done the night before. They did have the advantage of not having a deep keel as we have and more power but there is no training for this sort of work and they were doing a magnificent job. Apparently, in the early hours of the morning, they had called up the icebreaker and said that they were being swept back in towards the Islands and the icebreaker had gone in to assist. Talking with the captain later he said it was the only time he thought that he would have to give up as they were so close to an island and the water was getting shallower and shallower. Idlewild's bow rail had been all bent and buckled from repeated hitting into the transom of the Laurier as Fine Tolerances had been the night before. The captain of the icebreaker had been at the helm since 3.00 am after also being there up until 11.00 pm the previous evening. It took until 10 am to work Idlewild out into a large patch of open water. The ice had opened up considerably since the previous day and had patch open parts as far as the eye could see so with instructions to the Idlewild crew for them to keep working northwards towards the other two boats attention was once again turned to Fine Tolerance. Once again she had disappeared during the night but then was finally spotted by one of the crew at around 9.00 pm through a small gap between two of the islands. She had drifted back through the islands again and was now once again to the south of them. The helicopter was again dispatched to find the easiest way through the ice to her. She had drifted 11 nm and was on the edge of an open patch of water although there was quite a bit of multi-year ice between her and the icebreaker. Cautiously the Laurier steamed towards her over the uncharted ground, reaching her in the early afternoon. By the time we had reached her the crew had already rigged and swaged a heavy wire towing strop to fit the forward bollard. When we built Fine Tolerance we put in very strong towing bollards. The forward towing bollard is a heavy walled 125 mm pipe that is one solid piece welded at the deck and extending down to the stem bar with extra reinforcing along the way. Now it was about to be put to the ultimate test. When we reached Fine Tolerance the work boat was deployed and I, with five of the Laurier's crew, went aboard to ready her for the tow. As soon as I touched the steering wheel it was obvious something was wrong. A quick investigation reveled that sometime during the tow of the previous night a block of ice had forced the rudder past her stops (these prevent the rudder from turning more than 35 degrees either side of the centerline) and had jumped the chain off of the cog at the wheel. The chain was quickly replaced onto the cog but for some reason we now had 60 degrees turn one way and only 10 degrees the other. At this point of time, as we were going to be towed, we just needed to lash the wheel with the rudder in the centerline position and then we could work out what had happened later. The helicopter and icemaster had advised us of the best route to take to get north of the islands once again. The first 10 miles would be through thick ice then the ice would be thinner with open patches. Through the thick ice Fine Tolerance was thrown from side to side with house size blocks of ice being thrown at her from the icebreakers wash. On occasions, as she was dragged over the ice by the thick wire cable she would lurch over so that her keel would show. Luckily she did not go far enough over for her mast to be ripped out. We did take some DVD footage of this but it was too grim a site to stay there and film. The scenarios were either tearing open a seam, as the Titanic had done, or be dragged under a large piece of ice. Even now, when looking at this footage, it's difficult to understand just how any vessel could stand up to the punishment that we dished out to her that day. After the 10 nm the ice did open up some and we worked our way northwards to where Joton Arctic and Cloud Nine had anchored in a small unnamed cove. We reached their position after dark and that night we remained in tow behind the Sir Wilfred Laurier as she slowly steamed in circles in a large open patch of water just off their anchored position. Idlewild had worked her way 5 nm further north before being blocked by impenetrable ice again. The plan was for next morning to have Joton Arctic and Cloud Nine come out and join us and for all of us to continue northwards, picking up Idlewild as we went, and make it through to the eastern end of Bellot Strait and ice free water.

Day Three

At first light there was a noticeable change in the weather, it was lightly snowing and the outside temperature was 1.5 C (37 F) degrees. The ice had also closed in along the shore trapping Joton Arctic and Cloud Nine. They had managed to get out of the small cove they had been in but couldn't get through the 200 meters of ice between them and us. Once more Fine Tolerance was cast adrift in the open patch of water that we had been in throughout the night and the Sir Wilfred Laurier began to nose her way in to free them. As we entered the ice there was a sudden crunch and bump. The icebreaker had hit the bottom. Immediately she was backed off and while a workboat was lowered the standard grounding procedures, such as checking each bilge compartment was undertaken. As many soundings as could be taken considering the ice coverage were taken by the workboat while all the checks were taking place and after some time once more the icebreaker was eased in towards the two vessels with crew on the forepeak with a lead line calling back continuously depths immediately ahead. Finally the reef was skirted and the two yachts reached and backing out on the exact route that we had entered on with the two yachts following under the bow they were extradited to open water. This was the first view we had had of Joton Arctic. We had been in contact with them throughout the year as they had failed the previous year to make to through on a east to west crossing as we had failed in or west to east. Last year we had only got to within 120 nm of each other. This year we had made it to within 30 nm. They were well set up with a sled on the dinghy davits and three huskies on board. Cloud Nine was a standard fiberglass Bowman 57, a beautiful yacht but not a yacht one would like to risk being caught in the ice in an Arctic winter in.

It took until 1.00 pm to ease them out into the open water and then it was off once again to get Fine Tolerance, who had this time drifted about four miles southward, with the other boats following. Now all boats were together as by this time Idlewild had worked her way back south and join us. There was a gale due for the next day and with Bellot Strait still plugged with a three mile long pack of ice three quarters of the way through it and with no safe shelter to the north of us it was felt that the safest place to weather the storm was in Wrottesley Inlet, a large bay with a fiord leading in from the north eastern corner where the smaller boats could take shelter. This inlet was only a few miles north of the Tasmanian Islands and as we made our way southwards we were joined by the Louis St Laurent that had steamed up from the south. She now lead the way, followed by the Sir Wilfred Laurier with Fine Tolerance in tow, followed by Cloud Nine, Joton Arctic and Idlewild. It was pitch black when we reached Wrottesley Inlet and as Fine Tolerance was kept in tow behind the Laurier, the Louis St Laurent steamed 5 nm out into Peel Sound to spend the night lying in ice while the other vessels proceeded up into the fiord. With conditions worsening the Sir Wilfred Laurier was set into a holding pattern for the night in the largely ice free bay.

Day Four

By morning the wind was blowing close to 40 kts and at the entrance to the inlet, where there had been little ice the previous night. there was now full ice cover. All this day it blew at around 40 kts with the Sir Wilfred Laurier slowly drifting with the wind until it got near the ice and then motoring back to where it started from. All day, as well as all throughout the evening before, a crew man was stationed at the stern to keep an eye on Fine Tolerance. We offered to take over this position as besides blowing hard it was also snowing heavily at times and the mercury had dropped to -12 C (10 F) but we were refused. This was because at every turn the winch holding the tow cable had to be let out and then hauled in again when the haul was completed. Once this was not done correctly and Fine Tolerance suffered a few more dents in her railing and a few small tears in the solarguard material covering the furler as she ran under the transom of the icebreaker and the forestay hit part of the superstructure. This was with trained crew operating the machinery and we can only guess what damage we could have done to Fine Tolerance if we were in charge of the winch. We did go out periodically to keep the watchperson company. Being alone on the back deck of an icebreaker in these conditions is not that much fun. The conditions lasted all day and as the wind kept blowing the ice kept slowly filling up Wrottesley Inlet, leaving the icebreaker less and less space to maneuver in.

The two icebreakers rafted together on the edge of the ice pack. The green container in the picture was slung across as were many other items.(photo curtsey of Sir Wilfred Laurier)

Day Five

Still the wind blew but not with quite the force. By midday it had started to lighten up considerable and the sea conditions had improved enough for Fine Tolerance to be bought up along side where Alvin, the icebreakers small video taking robot, could be put into the water to check the prop on Fine Tolerance and also the state of the stem where the icebreaker had nudged the reef. The stem of the icebreaker had a small dent in it and freshly scrapped off paint. When the robot was motored over to Fine Tolerance it was immediately obvious why she had no forward motion. Both blades of the prop had sheared off. At least we now knew for sure it was not the shaft or a key and we could make plans. Later that afternoon the Louis St Laurent came back into the inlet and came alongside the Sir Wilfred Laurier and unloaded a container of scientific equipment, along with a scientist, who had been gathering data in the area. The Canadian icebreakers are one of the sole means by which data can be gathered in this part of the world and it really is great to see the co-operation that the Canadian Coast Guard give to the various scientific organizations. In all our time in the Arctic we've heard only praise for the Canadian Coast Guard and rightly so. Our gratitude to them for the help they gave us is impossible to express fully in words. It's not only what they do but the willingness of the personal to undertake anything with such a great spirit. That night with conditions calmer still the Sir Wilfred Laurier hosted a party onboard for all the boats. Idlewild, Joton Arctic and Cloud Nine motored out of the fiord and rafted up alongside. It was the first time that many of us had met personally and everyone had a jolly evening. Afterwards they all decided to return to the fiord to anchor for the night.

All four small vessels rafted up alongside the Sir Wilfred Laurier. From the bottom; Cloud Nine...USA, Joton Arctic...Norway, Idlewild...Canada, a workboat from the Sir Wilfred Laurier, and Fine Tolerance...Australia.

Day Six

Early the next day the Louis St Laurent came back into the inlet from where she had spent the night again out in Peel Sound. This time she lay along the other side of the Laurier and transferred more equipment that was due to be taken back to the Pacific side of Canada. The ice had started to fill in, in the corner where the fiord led out and after unloading the Louis St Laurent steamed over to see if the other boats needed help to get out and join us while Fine Tolerance was once again placed in tow behind the Laurier. They all managed to get out without much difficulty and with the Louis St Laurent leading, the Sir Wilfred Laurier behind followed by the four smaller boats we once again all headed north towards Bellot Strait. We had already observed on the satellite images received by the icebreaker that the large plug of ice wedged in Bellot Strait had been blown out as had nearly all of the ice in Peel Sound. Where two days ago had been thick ice there was now nothing and with no ice to worry about the sail up Peel Sound went without incident. It was dusk when we entered Bellot Strait, an 18 nm narrow, current ridden stretch of water that runs between Peel Sound and Prince Regent Inlet. By the time we reached the other end it was again black. Idlewild elected to continue on into the night while Cloud Nine and Joton Arctic elected to anchor off Fort Ross, an abandoned Hudson Bay outpost.

Day Six

Removing the bottom bearing. Note the clothing, one of the reasons that everything takes twice as long to do in the Arctic than in more temperate climates

Removing the rudder. Note all that remains of the propeller which is still attached at this stage to the propeller shaft.

By now it was early afternoon and the wind had begun to strengthen. Fine Tolerance rode the small wavelets well in her perched position as the shaft was taken to the machinery room. By a stroke of good fortune one of the engineers was also a master machinist. By the time the shaft had been machined to accept the new propeller it was too late with the rougher conditions to put it back into Fine Tolerance. Also the press aboard the Sir Winfred Laurier did not have the power to straighten the rudder shaft so heat had to been applied. This had to be left to cool naturally to retain its strength so it was decided to leave it until the morning to put Fine Tolerance back together again. The two holes for the rudder shaft and propeller shaft were sealed with wooden plugs in case she slipped out of the slings or had to be let down over night.

That night the Royal Arctic Yacht Club had it's annual Soirée. During the six week shift that the crew does in the arctic some of the crew and officers build model boats which are judged on this one night. The models are then required to race each other for 30 meters in an open patch of water. The winner receives a trophy which this year had been made by one of the engineers. the rules were only that the vessel had to be made from cardboard. A pleasant night was had by all. Unfortunately we did not see how they sailed as everyone was kept too busy fixing Fine Tolerance and the race was postponed until time could be afforded but the models were very impressive and we are sure there would have been some close racing in the two classes, sail and power.

Two off the models on display, made of cardboard during the crewmembers off watch period.

Day Eight

The day dawned with sunshine and little wind and in a matter of just a few hours Fine Tolerance had her propeller and shaft back in and the rudder bolted in place. A reciprocating saw was used to cut away the mangled pulpit and the stainless tube top rail was bent down and lashed to the toe rail. When the quadrant was attached to the top of the rudder shaft the reason the rudder had 60 degrees turn one way and 10 the other became obvious. Not only had the shaft been bent it had also been twisted 25 degree over a length of approx 300 mm (12 inches). It was too late to fix this now, the ice breaker needed to get going and so with a quick replacement of one of the cables with a longer one and by shortening the other we had a rudder capable of turning 30 degrees either way. We just had to be careful not to turn the wheel more than one turn otherwise the chain would come off the cog again. As soon as we had finished jury rigging the steering we cast off and with a blast of the horn in salute to the Sir Wilfred Laurier we headed out into Prince Regent Inlet. Joton Arctic, who had remained anchored at Fort Ross the previous day, had set sail approximately one hour earlier but was already out of sight. While we would have liked to anchor and explore Fort Ross we felt that we had just had an extremely lucky escape and to hang around could be an invitation to disaster. A hasty exit was more important. We motored for the first two hours, clearing the decks, stowing things away in preparation for open water and swell as a small blow had been predicted later on in the day. At four o'clock Joton Arctic called and said they were going to stop at a small inlet called Port Bowen on the western side of Baffin Island and continue on in the morning so we decided to do the same. Port Bowen offered good shelter and just as dusk was falling we anchored in 12 meters behind a small island, 200 meters away from Joton Arctic. We hadn't seen any ice since we had left Fort Ross, seven hours ago and although we were anchored at over 73 degrees north latitude we felt the grip of the arctic on Fine Tolerance had finally weakened.

The beautiful desolation of Port Bowen. Population 0.

The next morning we sailed out of Port Bowen and headed for the last time northward. Later that day we hit our furthest point north; 73 degrees, 48 minutes, turned the wheel and started to head southwards. We traveled through the night, turned down into Navy Board Inlet passing where Simon Alvah had wintered in Tay Bay in his steel boat, writing the story "North into the Night" and fetching up at Pond Inlet, an Inuit settlement of about 1000 between Baffin and Bylot Islands.With another blow due within hours we anchored as well as we could in the open roadstead just off the hamlet of Pond Inlet and going immediately ashore made hasty arrangements for fuel.. While there is a small boat harbour of sorts there it was only suitable for small runabouts as it is only a few feet deep. By the time the fuel truck had come down to the beach the wind had picked up and Fine Tolerance and Joton Arctic were bucking about in a three to four foot chop. Transporting the jerry cans of fuel out to the boats was not going to be an easy task but luckily a supply barge that had delivered good to the area was on the beach and offered their much larger and more powerful inflatable with two strong crew and so the fuel cans were safely landed on the decks. We then bunkered down to wait out the blow which at this stage was not expected to last 24 hours. While it was not the most comfortable of anchorages we were surrounded by spectacular scenery. This was to be our last stop in Arctic Canada. From here we planed to cross over to Disco Bay on the west coast of Greenland.

Anchored off Pond Inlet.

There is much more we could say about the help that the Canadian Coast Guard gave us and the above story is just mainly the nuts and bolts. The Canadian Coast Guard were not in the area to help out adventurers that get into difficulties. We were very fortunate that they very near the area we were in and we believe even more fortunate that the captain has such a great heart and elected to not only get us out of the Arctic but also our boat. Without him we would now most definitely be boat less as would, in every probability, also be Idlewild. Joton Arctic and Cloud Nine could quite possibly have been able to retreat under their own resources after the storm went through and cleared a way out behind them but this would have been in no way a certainty. Many of the officers and crew had boats of there own and understood our plights but as far as we are concerned their help was far above the call of duty and we will ever be in their debt. Their kindness and concern towards all the boats was beyond reproach. The Arctic is really no place for boats our size to be, but then, neither is the top of Everest any place for humans to be.

Greenland

The sail from Pond Inlet on Baffin Island, Canada, to Godhavn on Disko Island in Greenland passed without incident. We waited for two days at anchor of Pond Inlet before we could run the 30 miles through the Pond Inlet itself to the open waters of the Davis Strait. For the first two days we motored over glassy waters, always within sight of Joton Arctic who were also headed to Godhavn, a place they knew well, as they had wintered over in the harbour there two years ago after their first attempt at the North West Passage. The weather hovered around zero C degrees (32 F) but with bright sunny days and no wind it was quite pleasant. With a slight current behind us we were half way there before we knew it. The wind filled in gradually from the aft quarter but only to between 4 and 8 kts which while insufficient wind to sail with the engine on idle we were able to keep to between 4 and 5 knots on smooth waters for the next 48 hours. Finally with Disco Island in sight (Disco Island is mountainous and on clear days is able to be seen from well over 60 nm out) the wind increased to 25 knots. As night was approaching and as we were only 50 nm from our destination we decided to heave to for the night and continue on in the morning. With the following wind we drifted at 1 knot through the night towards our goal but with the early morning the wind died before coming up again, this time right on the nose. We paid the price for slacking off the previous night and it took until just after dusk to sail the 40 nm before reaching the entrance that lead into Godhavn. We were now in iceberg waters, this time Titanic size icebergs, and we were glad to be able to drop anchor, with just a light snow falling in a calm corner of the small harbour. An hour later Joton Arctic came in and tied up to a fishing vessel which was tied to a jetty about 100 meters away from where we were anchored.

An iceberg drifting past the Greenlandic town of Godhavn.

The next morning we moved over and rafted off of Joton Arctic. There are next to no roads in Greenland. The country is too rugged. All travel between communities is done by boat, plane or helicopter. Greenland is a colony of Denmark and as such, while Greenlandic is the prominent language, Danish is the second language. There is a high level of education and many people do speak English which for us was very handy as our knowledge of Greenlandic or Danish was nil. All supermarket items were ladled in Danish and Greenlandic but nearly all the storekeepers did speak either fluent or some English. What we had planned to be a brief stay stretched out to nine days as we explored the differences between the Greenlandic culture and the culture where we had spent the last twelve months. Cambridge Bay, buried deep inside the Canadian arctic archipelago was, despite being next to water, land based. Sealing and whaling was not a major occupation and other than the catching of arctic char, a salmon like fish, the ocean waters were left alone. Animals hunted were mainly land based (caribou, musk ox, fox, etc) and what economy generated locally was land based. Here nearly everything was based on the sea. Traditional arts were also flourishing and clothing made from seal skins was everywhere in evidence. There was also a lot of small private enterprise activity and alcohol was freely available. We even went to the Friday night disco at the Hotel Disko. With an arm of the Gulf Stream running along the Greenland coast it experiences a much milder climate than the Canadian side of Davis Strait and thus roads were paved and the houses had much larger windows. It was even warm enough to be able to have water piped to house rather than have it delivered by truck and stored inside as we had been used to for the previous twelve months. Dog teams were still used extensively in the winter with the dog population of the town being roughly equivalent to the human population.

The scenery was also different, Gone were the flat, lake filled expanses of the Canadian Arctic to be replaced by the mountainous shores of Greenland which hold the vast Greenland ice cap in place. It is estimated if the Greenland ice cap melts the world's oceans will rise by 19 ft. Think on that. It's an amazing statistic. As it is the Kangia Glacier at the head of Disko Bay pores around twenty million tons if ice into the sea every single day of the year. We found in quite fascinating but winter was not waiting for us to make new discoveries every day but was creeping it's long tentacles ever nearer and we had to force ourselves to move on. Forty miles across the bay was Aasiaat, situated on the mainland on the southern shores of Disko Bay. It was a pleasant crossing with the sighting of many large icebergs drifting serenely by and out into the Davis Strait. They can only be described as awesomely magnificent; words do not do them justice.

A portion of Aasiaat harbour with Fine Tolerance being near the centre. Snow lightly falling.

Aasiaat means the living place of the whales, the seals; the birds and we were greeted by all three as we entered the protected waters behind the off-lying islands. Aasiaat has 3500 inhabitants and for the first time we came across groups of large, multi-story apartment buildings. These had been built in the fifties as cost effective housing and, while in excellent repair, seem incongruous with the vast open spaces all around. One is reminded of Singapore and crowded cities by them but they appear to have worked out fine and seem fully occupied. Here, as in all other parts of the world, the economic realities of putting people into towns to utilize schools, hospitals, municipal utilities, etc have over ridden the ascetic value. We were to pass many small villages that had been deserted as over the last half century the people have moved to take advantage of the advantages of living in larger communities.

From Aasiaat down to the southern tip of Greenland there is an "inside passage" of semi protected waters. Taking advantage of rocky offshore reefs and islands and only extending out into Davis Strait when necessary this route is used by the locals to travel 100's of miles in their small open boats. Our disadvantage was our draft of seven feet and the fact that most of it is not all charted. There is a publication in Danish describing this inside passage but we could not find anything in English, if such a thing exists, which we very much doubted. However from Aasiaat to Agtu, 55 nm further south, it was charted and so after three days looking around we once again took off.

Warm enough to have the bimini down !!!

It was a still day and although the navigation required constant attention we had a great morning, watching the lightly snow covered hills slide by. Many small open boats zoomed past us, miles from any settlement, some with seals draped on there bow and many other small boats we saw were just drifting among the maze of islands fishing or pulling crab pots. Around three o'clock, just as a traditional wooden trawler style boat passed us it began to snow lightly. Within 30 minutes it was a complete white out. Glued to the radar, depth-sounder, computer screen and chart and with hearts in our mouths we continued on. We had the fishing boat up ahead on radar which gave us some sense of comfort for once when we lagged behind he slowed and switched on a powerful spotlight, obviously for us to follow. Even with him 50 meters ahead there were times when the light, the only thing visible in the white, could be seen. Suddenly he took the port route around an island, not the starboard side as I had planned. Instant decision time. Vessels like his usually drew less than 5 feet maximum. I had considered the side he was going earlier and had rejected it as there were too many areas that were uncharted but in such conditions the light leading us, and what we felt was obviously local knowledge, made us turn and follow him. It also was darkening as we had been in the blinding snow for over three hours and this was the shorter way to Agtu. We crept along at a slightly slower pace watching the depth sounder like hawks. The water deepened and finally the snow started to lighten and we could make out some lights in the distance. Agtu was 200 meters away but instead of turning into the small bay shown on the chart the fishing vessel went straight past and disappeared behind the headland of an island into narrow channel. Our chart and the depth sounder showed a large patch of 6 meter depth and we decided that to anchor would be the prudent thing. Three times we dropped the anchor and three times in dragged. The large area was obviously a smooth rock shelf similar to the one above the water that we could see 30 meters to our port. By now it was almost dark but the snow had almost stopped and with infinite care we crept around the headland and into the channel that the fishing vessel had disappeared down. There was a jetty at the end where it had tied up to and we slowly made our way down the channel in 3.5 meters of water and came up along side him. The fishermen took our lines and made us fast. Safe at last. It had been a nerve racking last 4 hours. Fine Tolerance was covered in up to 100 cm of snow with all her on deck lines frozen. It had been quite some snow storm. The captain of the fishing vessel knew some limited English and welcomed us to his village. We shared a cup of tea and conversation with much hand signs thrown in with he and his wife before stepping back onto Fine Tolerance and turning in for a well earned rest.

Early the next morning the fishing boat wanted to move out so we cast off our lines and continued southward. We felt this section too hazardous for us to try and follow the inside route and took the next fiord out into the open waters of Davis Strait. No sooner had we hit open water than the wind came up from the southeast at 20 knots and we found ourselves hard on the wind with a rising sea. That night we hove to as the sea was becoming increasingly awkward and being still above 67 degrees north the compass was too sluggish to steer to with the boat being thrown around so much. The next day was not much better and it took all day with an adverse current to reach the mouth of the fiord that lead up to Sisimiut, the second largest municipality in Greenland with 6,000 inhabitants. Once again it was pitch dark when we reached the crowded harbour where we rafted up on the outside of a large fishing vessel.

Liz in front of the old section of Sisimiut.

Sisimiut is the most southern town in Greenland where dog sled teams are allowed with the harbour being the most northern most, year round, ice free port in Greenland. The area has a very long history of occupation and on a walk we made around a nearby island we came across ruins from the Thule period of around 500 years ago although remains found in the area have been dated back to 4000 years. Modern history here began with the whalers and missionaries and the buildings in the photo that Liz is standing in front of date to the 17th century. It amazed us how well the buildings are preserved in the various communities along this harsh coast. As no trees grow in Greenland the early wooden building that still stands (and are in every day use even today) were erected in Europe, then dismantled and shipped out on sailing vessels to be erected in their new home. This was a busy harbour with larger fishing vessels coming and going all the time and we were forced to move a number of times. Two gales also hit us while we sheltered among the rafted vessels and although we enjoyed our four day stay and could easily have stayed longer at the first break in the weather we once again pushed on southward. Finally, on the 12th of October we completed our crossing of the North West Passage from the Arctic Circle on the Pacific side of America to the Arctic Circle on the Atlantic side. It had taken us 455 days and to our knowledge Fine Tolerance became the first Australian vessel to make the trip and the 105 vessel in modern recorded history (since Amundsun’s voyage 103 years ago) to have made the 4000 nm journey. We crossed under power on a glassy sea arriving in Nuuk, the capitol of Greenland in the early hours of the morning two days later.

Small boats tied up using the first come, first in method.

Off all the towns we visited in Greenland, Nuuk held the least attraction for us. Even with only population of 15,000 it already had a big town feel to it. It did have many attractions though and we spent seven days walking around the streets and riding the buses to the outer lying suburbs. We also had the good fortune to met 'Kisak' a large charter vessel who's home port was Nuuk and who gave us many navigational pointers for the inside route. Even though Nuuk was cosmopolitan city hunting was the underlying theme of weekly existence. Those that could took their boats out at anytime during the week while others that could not crowded the waterways throughout the weekend. Seals, fish and reindeer were the catches. We left on the Saturday, traveling down fiords and past islands for the first 25 nm before once again reaching the waters of Davis Strait. In some sections it was like being in World War Three as small boats filled with two or three hunters each, dashed after seals as they broke surface. Out in the open water peace reigned again with only the odd whale to disturb our thoughts. Fog closed in against the land but we had a clear run offshore and arrived in the town of Paamiut a few hours after dark on the second night out. All but one of our landfalls in Greenland had been at night, not our idea of the best time for entering these small harbours but it did force us to be extra vigilant. We found an open space against a sea wall, tied up and retired for the evening.

The pretty town of Paamiut in which can be seen, in the background, the many blocks of apartment buildings which we saw in many of the southern towns.

Paamiut was a attractive town of 2000 people whose main industry was fishing. The large population reflected also the fact that Greenland's maritime school was situated here. As in some of the other towns we had visited the museum and tourist bureau were closed as we were traveling to late for the summer tourist season and to early for the winter one and thus could fully appreciate all the Paamiut had to offer but we passed two pleasant days before once again heading south. It was nearly all inside passage traveling from here to Qaqortoq, 150 nm away and our jumping off point for the Atlantic Ocean. We had picked out two anchorages to avoid traveling at night and after nice days run interspersed with light snow showers we reached our first planned anchorage, after dark again. Luckily the northern lights were in a fine mood with the sky filled from horizon to horizon with constantly swirling green lights which lit up the shore. While the indent had looked good on the chart it proved to be far deeper and smaller than shown and we were forced to back out and move on, finding a ledge to drop our anchor on in a small bay 2 nm further on up the fiord.

We were up early next morning and hauled anchor, departing before sunrise in an attempt to find anchor for the night before dark this time. We had a great day passing fiords and behind islands before turning due east to run along a fiord to the south side of Greenland. This was an old route with stone cairns on prominent points still used as guides through the channels.

Running down one of the fiords in crisp, clean air.

Unfortunately we didn't quite make it to our selected anchorage before darkness. This was my fault as we found the tide with us and I moved the goalpost further along the canal. Still, it was a nice small bay we had selected and with a light snow falling. and thus no northern lights to light up our way, we managed to make a successful entry and anchored in 9 meters. The next mooring it was still snowing, heavier now and the wind had risen to 20 knots from the direction in which we wanted to travel so with the heater purring quietly alone we remained at anchor for the day. Qaqortoq was only 50 nm away and could wait another day.

With the next morning bright and sunny we weighed anchor and got underway for the final leg. It was a glorious day and as we past various fiords we would sometimes catch glimpses of glaciers at their ends and the flat top of the Greenland ice cap in the distance. We reached harbour just after dark but this time it was a major port, well light by navigational lights and the entrance was no problems. Turning into the harbour we spied a large well kept wharf with only one vessel tied to it so we sailed to the far end and tied up directly to some large ships bollards. We could sort out where to go in the morning.

Morning came and with it a harbour worker who informed us in understandable English that a big ship was due. Now that it was light we took a walk around the harbour and spied a spot nest to a old fishing boat that looked like it hadn't moved for years and coming back to Fine Tolerance started the engine and motored across.

We found Qaqortoq a delightful, friendly place and spent nine days exploring and preparing Fine Tolerance as best we could for the next leg of her journey. We had decided to head for Portugal as we felt that it would be here that haul out prices would be reasonable and parts, equipment and machining work would be available. Besides, we should have the westerlies at our back for most of the trip. On the seventh night that we were in the harbour a storm was predicted to pass through. All day small boats rafted off of us until they reached up and joined other small craft rafting up from a vessel 50 meters away. Ropes were tied everywhere and we tripled the ropes that held Fine Tolerance. Luckily the wind came from over the hill directly in front of us but I have never seen anything like it. The scene looked like a picture from Dante's Inferno. The bright lights from the main harbour wharf shone against the bright orange hull of the Danish Arctic Line's container vessel that was at dock giving the scene a bright red look. Gusts of air reached down and snatched armfuls of water, swirling them high into the air creating ever changing chaotic patterns of red sparkling light against the jet black sky which every now and then was lit up by extended flashes of lightening. Thank god were not out in that I thought.

Two days later, with everything calmed down, and after taking on fuel with the help of the local librarian and vet, we departed to latch onto the few remaining winds left behind by the fury of the storm that had passed through the few nights before. It was now the 6th of November, no time for a small boat to still be sailing in 60 degree north waters but we had no regrets. We had found Greenland to be a wonderful place, populated by wonderful people and if all went well we would be in warmer climes before the month was out.

Yours Phil and Liz