Route Map   Weather Map   Daily Journal         Q & A   Special Reports   Education Section           The Game		Uncharted depths pose an anchoring problem Click on the pictures below to view enlargements North of Nuuk, civilization vanishes     Log Date: June 29, 1998 Author: Terry Moore Lat/Lon: 64.30 N 52.07 W Location: At anchor north of Nuuk Course: At anchor Speed: At anchor Weather: Sunny and warm. 62° Sightings: Jagged snowy peaks to the south Hard to believe that it is nearly time to go to bed once more. For not actually going anywhere today, I feel very satisfied and pleasantly tired. We are anchored on the edge of the Norde Lob, tucked into the only spot I could find that is shallow enough for our anchor to hit anything once we tossed it over. Which is pretty much the norm around here. The charts of Greenland - and Baffin Island and Labrador for that matter - have next to no depths marked on them. Only the routes frequently used by commercial traffic have soundings marked, and we spend much of our time in places where there is no commercial traffic. When looking for a suitable place to anchor, we poke in carefully, sounding with our lead line the whole way, although the water is usually very clear so we can see the bottom long before we need to worry about hitting it. That is, if there is any bottom to worry about hitting. The rocky shoreline is so bold we often can't find a bottom even if we are within spitting distance of the shore. Which is a bit of a drag. Most anchors are designed to grab when pulled on horizontally, not vertically, so we need to let out much more anchor line than the water is deep, which is hard to do if the water is deeper than you have line. Rats. The other night we were rowing into a bit of a head wind amongst some islands, when I spelled out our anchorage options to the gang. Option number one was "nearby but uninspiring," and option number two was "a bit farther but potentially spectacular." Now when someone describes something as "a bit farther" while you are rowing a 25-ton boat, you should immediately become suspicious, but being the Viking wanna-bes that we are, and feeling our oats at the beginning of this journey, we of course opted for the "potentially spectacular" anchorage. Imagine my chagrin as the bottom began to show itself long before we got to the head of this bombproof little hole. I was right, it was spectacular, but it was also too shallow. Once the tide left us, we would have been planted firmly in the mud. Certainly a new experience for Greenland. But tonight, like last night, we are back to business as usual. Had our first anchor watch last night even. We are pretty exposed to the south, with a slightly tenuous hold on this rock bottom, so we all take turns throughout the night keeping an eye on our position, the weather.... Anchor watch is something no one in their right mind would volunteer for, although I would grudgingly admit that I enjoy the time that the boat is my own. But last night, I felt like a very lucky man in the silence of the night after the wind died, looking out over the snow-covered rock spires in the sub-arctic twilight. Silence is a relative term, I suppose, as my thoughts turn to bed again. Seems the only true prerequisite to participation in this adventure is the ability to snore like a banshee. Everybody on the boat claims that I would snore, too, if I could ever get to sleep. Right now John Gardner is sounding like a kazoo on both the inhale and the exhale. Unbelievable. Top of page