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"Like sharing across the reaches of time..."
Author: John Abbott
Lat/Lon: N/A
Location: Davis Strait
Course: Heading toward Breevort Islands
Speed: N/A
Weather: N/A
Sightings: N/A
Log date: August 08, 1998
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The sun is shining here on the Davis Strait and the "port" watch crew (Hodding, Rob, Dean and myself) are scattered about on deck enjoying bright sun, dry time and the reprieve from the biting winds and itinerant rains. We've had to change course a number of times due to fluky winds, and hopefully will take land on the Breevort Islands off the Hall Peninsula tomorrow sometime.
The crossing for me has been an extraordinary, eye-opening experience and represents both a sharing of the wonder of discovery the Vikings must have enjoyed and the hardships they bore. The challenge of navigating the Strait has really put the meaning of our experience and learning into perspective. While in fact we do have tons of modern safety and navigational aids onboard Snorri (telefax, single sideband, computer, GPS, etc. ad nauseam...) none of this knowledge of support erodes the fact that at this point, we like the Vikings, have little control over our destiny. We constantly work in amazement at the weather changes wondering when we'll see land (or if, in their case) and what the distant shores will look like when we arrive.
Last night we awoke for our watch at midnight, huddled bleary-eyed in our underway hovel. The sounds of the boat flexing and creaking, the swells slapping the hull then falling away, the wind whistling through shrouds, the chafing leather on the mast squeaking in unison with the rocking of the boat become oh, too distant comforts of sleep.
The musty smell of the damp sleeping bags we've bravely decided to share with the opposite watch, escapes as we unzip the tent and allow the fresh air in (it's been more than a week since we've had the chance to take the glacial bath). While it is darker now and we need light to steer and perform boatwork, we slide into the routine of donning the same (stinkingly familiar) clothes and the Mustang suits that have become our weatherproof homes while on deck.
This sanctuary creates an ethereal background for the ever-changing realities of wind and weather. We joked before nodding off again this morning that it seems wholly possible that we could emerge for our next shift and step onto a tropical, white sand beach in Tahiti - or even into my backyard in the lush green valley of Huntington, Vermont.
The space/time continuum has been twisted since our departure from Greenland, adding a further dreamlike dimension to the amazing 'scapes we've sailed in and out of. Rob enjoyed his first meal in almost three days, just now shaking off the demon seasickness with a heaping bowl of Rice Krispies. We're all happy for him and hope the settled seas remain for him.
The Vikings must've had some folk remedy for seasickness. Anyone have any knowledge of these? I continually remind myself that the spectre of awe I'm discovering moment-to-moment, Leif Eriksson must've experienced on his first tour of Helluland, Markland and Vinland: the green columns of the northern lights dancing in the darkness of the western skies, the full moon rising on the horizon offering a glimmering beam over dark waters as if to show the way, and behemoth icebergs appearing as islands in the distance, reflecting the purple hues of the setting sun.
We are all sharing the rarity of these sights across the reaches of time. I no longer feel that being a modern person in modern times with modern technology at our fingertips erodes what we've undertaken or the magic we're extracting from our time here together. Whenever the commitment to venture into an environment where the outcomes are unknown and success lies in the process of learning and growth demanded by the journey, you are outward bound and you are an explorer. Nothing ever happens the same way twice!
The rudder is working well, we are all in good health and are finding bliss on a daily basis. Sailing blue water presents great metaphorical opportunities to understand the simple truths governing the human experience...there are crests and there are troughs (some scary, some welcoming) the wind cranks one minute, then you are becalmed. One day you are sitting in front of a computer, teaching students or sharing stories with friends, the next you are doing all of this on a Viking ship in the Davis Strait.
It's 2 PM now on Day 5 of our crossing; Erik and Terry are breaking out the sextant to do a navigational reduction, Homer is scuttling away his gear and Johnny G is at the helm, driving. The starboard watch is on and that means a few stolen winks in the time machine. A swig of Gatorade, a brush of the teeth and back to the greasy fart sack (my friend Joc's pet name for his sleeping bag.)
Looking forward to waking to the sight of Baffin Island coming into focus on the western horizon.
Peace out....
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