Route Map   Weather Map   Daily Journal         Q & A   Special Reports   Education Section           The Game Click here to send the Viking adventurers your questions		Immersed in the rhythm of Viking times Log Date: July 29, 1998 Author: John Abbott Lat/Lon: 66 deg. 50 min. N, 53 deg. 27 min. W Location: at anchor in Sarfanguaqland Weather: sunny w/variable clouds Sightings: wild mushrooms, tidal rips Click on the pictures below to view enlargements. Today we arrived at a more protected anchorage, a 3-mile row from our wonderful explorations on Ummanarssuk. The sun is tracking low on the northern horizon of Sarfanguaqland, to the south the still snow-covered couloirs, and high bowls beckon. While we are in good spirits after a day of on-land explorations (washing our clothes and bodies in the warmed glacial tarns was a highlight) and a dinner of wild mushroom soup. All of the mushrooms found in Greenland are edible. While foraging with Erik today we found these fleshy and tasteful wonders known in Danish as the "Birke-Rorhat." We had a great soup for dinner.   The mood is decidedly somber. It seems unlikely that we will be able to attempt our crossing to Baffin until the end of the week, as a gale is tracking toward us from Hudson Staits to the SW. "Herb," the single sideband weather forecaster from Toronto has become a strange player in all of this - and a crucial one. At 20:00 hrs. for the past few days, we have sat next to the radio, like kids in the old days waiting to hear Amos and Andy. (Isn't that who you told me about, Dad?) Waiting to hear when we can set sail for Canada, our final frontier. Unfortunately, I've given myself permission to contract a cold - inherited from a kiddo in Sissimuit who was on the boat constantly, and had green boogers crusted about his nose. A sinus infection "souvenir" that I've been battling with vitamin C, honey, and garlic. And with as much hiking as possible. While waiting idle is a challenge for all of us, being "becalmed" is, in some ways, a metaphor for the spiritual sense that has settled onto all of us. Fiercely embracing the old ways The culture of our boat (home now for a month) is incredibly creative and industrious. When we have time, and are not under sail, the group shares knowledge, skills and raw materials. If you had been here yesterday, you would have seen us temporarily convert an old fishing wharf warehouse into a workshop. The building has been abandoned since the 60's, and overlooks a clear green inlet with a moss and sedge meadow that hangs on the bouldered bluffs of the island above us. The coast near our anchorage   Here's what the scene was like: Erik carved a new mug out of an old wooden fishing buoy, while Homer was focused on stitching the grommets onto the canvas sailing tool bag he's creating. Doug worked on carving a wooden figurine that he's already deemed the "Universal Man," as Terry used the drawknife on a piece of cedar driftwood he is shaping into a traditional Greenlandic-style kayak paddle. All the while, Rob Stevens and John Gardner continued collaborating on making rope by hand for their ditty bags using hemp twine. And Hodding worked diligently in the back room on a gift for his wife, (and our dear friend) Lisa. Hey there, Lisa and girls! Earlier in the morning, I put the finishing touches on a sheath for my knife, stitched of leather and adorned practically with a caribou antler closure that's fashioned from the shaft and tines. I am constantly amazed at the drive we've discovered to scavenge materials (leather scraps, antlers, driftwood) and old fish netting. Meanwhile, Rob has also constructed a hammock onboard as recompense for my fatally wounded air mattress - though he's enjoyed it so much himself that it has yet to hold my form. Inspiration aboard Not to go Robert Bly on you folks, (as I'm more a fan of Robert Blake. Yeah, c'mon...you remember "Baretta.") but it's an amazing thing to watch what happens when you have uninterrupted time on your hands, limited natural resources, a whole load of tools and the creativity and experience of 8 other people to bounce ideas off and get help from. Homer at work on his ditty bag. Sewing, carving caribou antler, and working metal and wood have all been popular pastimes this week...as have eating (always the favorite) and playing Kapaka. Below is a picture of the sheath I sewed this week for my Nepali "Gurkha" knife. Fortunately, I haven't had to use it on anyone....yet! These are rich times for all of us, as they must have been for those who walked these lands over the ages, drawing on its - and their - creative energies to provide food and shelter. Antlers, steel, (not used until the 18th century and the arrival of Hans Egede) and leather are now in short supply aboard Snorri - as they are now for the Inuit, who for so long lived off the fat of these lands. Philosophy, mirth, and 3 Hob Nobs a day... I've had to face the reality that arriving back to my job at UVM coordinating the wilderness orientation programs for incoming students in August, may be beyond my reach, timewise. While struggling with the questions of where - and to whom - my responsibilities lie, it is important that while here, I stay present and focus on being in the moment as it unfolds. And trust that the dances I've partnered in back home will continue and thrive as I do what I must do. Two anecdotes I'd like to relate: 1) While exploring today, Erik Larsen whistled a little ditty that captures the essence of keeping a Viking healthy. He recommends: 3 hours of rowing (our favorite workout) and 3 hours of hiking. And usually the addition of 3 hours of cards and 3 Hob Nobs - two of our favorite indulgences. 2) Discussing the virtues of our individual and distinctive body odors, (we're heading on 8 days since last showers in Sissimuit) Rob Stevens recalled the words of Daniel Webster, the fiery and silver-tongued orator from New Hampshire, of whom I happen to be a distant descendant. (When I brought this factoid to Rob's attention, he enjoyed the following telling even more.) Rob recounted the tale of Webster's having been on a stagecoach when the man sitting next to him said "Sir, I'm sorry, but you plainly smell." Daniel looked over to him directly and replied in amusement, "No sir, I'm afraid it's you that smells, I, quite frankly, stink!" What a proud heritage...though it is also believed that had Mr. Webster been able to resist the pleasures of drink he would have become a U.S. senator. Here's to you Daniel old boy (as I quaff my mug of hot chocolate spirits)! And so it goes here aboard Snorri. Historians, hold your fire. I really mean it this time. The next time I write, we'll definitely be on Baffin Island? Top of page