Cape Farewell Greenland Voyage 2007

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Address climate change now or face horrors like this every day of your life.

(Photos:Carol Cotterill)

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To an oceanographer the past eight days has just been – well – work. High seas, cold and wet, but lots of good science – and another step towards beginning to understand the vast marine environment. But to the many assembled artists and film makers the nirvana of our voyage was the increasingly mythical land of Greenland. It became clear why Greenland – which must be the size of Britain, France, Spain and probably a few smaller EU countries for god measure – has a population of 50,000 people; they were the only ones who could get to it. Finding a gap in the fields of sea ice and errant ice bergs was more frustrating than finding a parking space the Saturday before Christmas. This was a close analogy as for some bizarre reason Monday lunchtime felt like Christmas Day – I’m not sure if it was the snow billowing around the deck outside, the strangely promising grey light that always seems to accompany the festivities, or the warm smell of cooking – promising and comforting. If some uncle or group of nieces were to walk through the door laden with presents, expectant of sweet sherry or gifts in return, we’d have raised a glass rather than suprise. White Christmas played in the background (really!) and only the Queen’s Speech was missing.

However this was the first of October and while stores around the world will soon be preparing for their Christmas sales, even my mother won’t have put the sprouts on yet – not at least for another 3 weeks. The Christmas idiom was soon shattered – the winds picked up and the reality that Greenland – 20 miles to our west – may as well have been that free parking space in front of Harrods. By late afternoon the St. Nicholas euphoria transformed to a battle against Neptune. Any attempt to control the Noorderlicht was hindered by ropes and pulleys now embedded in blocks of ice, nice in that Christmas Gin, not good in the Greenland Sea. Within 2 hours the ship was heeling at 30 degrees (no sails up) as force 8 winds blew her sideways. At least the sea water breaking over the booms thawed the ropes – but I could think of better ways. As darkness fell the waters became more sinister and the ice around us ever more menacing.

In spite of all this spirits rose, whether through a combined battle on our environment or just admission that Greenland really was mythical and we might soon be heading to Iceland instead is hard to tell. Liam quite literally broke the ice by appearing like some Austin Power’s character – resplendent in his olive green thermals and ski goggles (nothing else) – ready to take on Neptune. I guess as Neptune was picking himself up from rolling around the floor of the sea bed Liam could have pulled off a David and Goliath task . or maybe not. We worked our way through every children’s tune and musical known, with Vicky providing the tune (angelic voice) and Marcus the words (encyclopaedic memory!). At 0200 I went on watch and by this stage Gert was getting marginally p***ed off with the ice sheets (his words). We had been hove too for 8 hours holding against the wind and ice. With a flick of the throttle and a furrowing of his brows he turned the ship and headed – coastward. The small sheets of ice we’d carefully avoided for the past 3 days became like bowling pins – falling before us as we ploughed our path – with those on watch hoping it was only the paint of Noorderlicht that was suffering. As I finally crawled to my bunk at 0500 I went in the knowledge that when I woke we would either have found Greenland, or discovered that the earth was indeed flat and we had slipped off it.
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It was officially the watch from hell this morning…..4 – 6am was possibly the coldest I have ever been. Standing at the helm bouncing up and down as I sang jungle book songs to myself meant my feet stayed just warmer than frozen solid, but did earn a few glances from Barbara, who must have been wondering if I’d finally flipped over the proverbial edge into insanity. We caustiously broke through an ice floe, to be met by another and then a third! Trying to spot the low lying lurking ice was hard, when all you could think of was the nice warm bunk you’d left at 3.40am.

But then 10 minutes after the end of my watch there was a shout that land had been spotted. We’d all been wondering if A) Greenland really existed and B) if we’d ever be allowed to see it by the ever omnipresent ice. It was early early dawn with just a faint blush on the horizon delineating sea from sky, and the land looked like mystical clouds and cliffs floating over the cold grey sea surface. There was no hint then that the constant grey clouds that had acompanied us across the now legendary sea journey would ever lift.

But when I stumbled out of my bunk at about 8am there was a glorious sunrise brewing, casting warm shades of pinks and oranges over the most spectacular scenery I think I have ever seen. We were moored in a fjord, with two huge icebergs floating regally close by. I have never seen such an accumulation of photographers, cameras and film makers along the port side of any boat……I wonder what such a group would be called……maybe a floe would be appropriate.
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The last 24 hours now seem like a distant memory. Yesterday lunch time we were listening to Christmas carols as the snow fell outside. Last night we were heeling over in the middle of a force 9 under only bare poles, taking it in turns to hang on for dear life whilst watching out for icebergs. Between 2 and 4 the sky began to clear, and we even had a glimpse of a northern light as we weaved our way through endless bands of ice.

This morning, I have spent a good few hours totally mesmerised by our setting. Since first light when the moon and Venus were stunningly bright, we have watched the sun rise from the mouth of an idyllic fjord, not a breath of wind or a cloud in the sky. We then did a couple of circumnavigations of a breathtakingly sculpted iceberg, which, in my scientific wisdom, I think looks just like a Mr Whippy!

On that note, I can’t stay inside any longer, having rested and emptied my camera, and topped up my coffee levels, I’m off to take in some more of this awesome scenery.

It’s great to get your messages, I wouldn’t have wished the last eight days upon anybody, but now I really do wish you could see this!

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The first sight of Greenland, a moonlit cloud bank over the distant shadow of land.

Time has this odd circulate quality; I think it was 48 hours ago that expectations of land were high, on a course of west-southwest from Spitsbergen. We had received an ice report that maybe, just maybe, it would be clear of ice to enter Scorsby. A direct course was set and the wind; force five, from the north increasing to force 7 later, snow and poor visibility. We had been warned.

60 miles out and ice flows were sighted on the starboard bow, expected and no threat – we continued our course. 40 miles from Scorsby we are force by the ice flows to change course to south, the ice flow appears to be 2000 meters across, the wind is now force 7 and sleet/snow blows horizontal through the rigging. We are on a number three jig and speed is 7-8 knots. The air temperature is -2 degrees C. By 2 pm we again change course to south east followed shortly by east south east, the ice has now become an alarming lee shore in a force 7 driving wind, still on number 3 jib, holding course and 5 knots – searching for a brake in the ice.
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Yesterday was an interesting day…we attempted to tie a nautical knot on the chart with our ship track. Having got within about 60 miles of Scoresby Sund, we came across the sea ice. The aim was to keep the ice to our starboard side and follow it until we reached its southern most extent, then track west into the Sund.

On the 4-6am watch on the 30th, I was confronted with sailing into a headwind, accompanied by freezing sleet and snow. Iceberg watch was vitally important as we were still doing 8 knots under only the jib straight through the ice field. It was bitterly cold as face, toes and fingers slowly froze. At the end of shift it was decided to take the jib down and hold station until it got light and we could spot the bergs early enough. I staggered up front with Barbara, Kathy and Gert – unfortunately the ropes had frozen and we had to battle to untie them..the jib then came down of its own accord under the weight of ice, showering us with ice and hail. Trying to furl a frozen sheet whilst balancing on a heeling ship in the dark with 2 inches of snow and ice underfoot is…um…entertaining! It really felt like the arctic wanted us out of here – what on earth possessed us to think this was a good idea! And to be honest by the end of the night watches mostof us wanted to get out!

The ice had other ideas! Weaving our way through the floating bergs during daylight, we tracked the ice front..east away from Greenland..north-east back towards Svalbard..finally north-west! Only needed a small westwards track to complete our 80 mile circle! The ice had formed a curved arm that appeared intent on ensnaring us in its grasp!
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