 |
|
||||
|
|||||
|
 |
||
 |
||
 |
||
| Route Map | ||
| Weather Map | ||
| Daily Journal | ||
Q & A |
||
| Special Reports | ||
| Education Section | ||
| The Game | ||
Greenland Tourism's Project Leif 2000
Snorri's visitors bring everything
but wind
Log Date: August 28, 1998
Author: Doug Cabot
Location: Big Island, Saglek Bay
Click on the images below to view enlargements
From Doug:
Our visitors, David (video guy) and Russell (photo guy), brought a few things along
which we had almost learned to do without. They brought newspapers, fresh bread,
and apples. Russell produced a dozen New York bagels. We had gone 26 days without
seeing new faces, and they brought new faces. And before we all turned in last night,
while the most brilliant northern lights to date shimmered overhead, they uncorked
a bottle of rum and passed it around.
|
Hodding and crew examine photos of his new house, while David tapes and Russell looks on
|
David and Russell brought newspapers. Some news from home we have not been sorry to miss. |
We did not keep an anchor watch, as our harbor was well-protected and the threat
of bears has sunk to a level where the need for sleep seems more pressing. In the
morning, it did not take long to discover that every one of us had enjoyed (or endured)
vivid and well-remembered dreams. Whether it was the spirits or just the spirit of
the place, it's hard to say.
Homer, though, had gone one step beyond. Apparently dreaming that John Abbott, who
comes before him in the watch cycle, had rousted him, Homer got up and dressed himself.
He stood dutifully beneath the stars and the aurora for a full hour. Then he woke
up the next man, Hodding, who set Homer straight, expressed gratitude for his vigilance
on behalf of the rest of the crew, then rolled over and went back to sleep.
As of today at 4 PM, we have been underway for two months. It has also been eleven
days since we've been able to sail south. In that time we have rowed, drifted, and
occasionally beat into a headwind, a total of about fifty miles.
The only hope we take from recent weather forecasts is that Hurricane Bonnie will
fizzle out somewhere south of us. A strong and steady north wind could whisk us to
our destination in a week or less - but right now that seems about as likely as spotting
Elvis picking oranges. I think that all of us are looking forward to a safe and speedy
return to L'Anse aux Meadows and then home, but at this rate the anticipation will
have a long while to build. I have surrendered my hopes of making it to my brother's
wedding on the 12th. Once again, we wait.
When David came aboard last night, after a day-and-a-half of motoring north from
Labrador's northernmost settlement, he said, "You guys are out there. You are
as far from anywhere as I've ever been."
|
The chopper dropped in, but didn't stay |
Three visitors from the environmental cleanup crew at the radar station on the south side of the bay.
|
Funny, we were under the impression that we were almost back in the thick of things.
We'd seen a helicopter the day before, which came back and circled us again today.
We've seen two other boats, and now a third has come straight to us.
The other day, I spent the morning paddling the kayak to Ramah, the site of an abandoned
Moravian mission. The only things standing there, in a broad field of grass and sunken
foundations, were a mouse-gnawed rack of caribou antlers and the grave of one Ernestine
Schneider, dead since 1883. But there is proof that even Europeans once settled in
these parts, and the site still felt haunted by their presence.
The sudden appearance of people is not such a shock, therefore, but it is fun. As
if there weren't enough excitement already with Russell and David and the crew of
Cape Rouge One, a Zodiac raft appeared this afternoon and motored over with three
young Canadians on board, summer workers at the radar monitoring-and-relay station
nearby. They were all wearing their bulky orange survival suits, while we stood about
in long underwear and socks. They stayed for a while, giving us a chance to rehearse
our tall tales of Viking adventure, and told us of their own work cleaning up PCB
contamination from the site.
|
Rowing across Saglek Bay |
And there is always reason to think the sailing will get better, too. For example, we are just about out of the Torngat mountain range, and thus might soon be free of the baffling influence of its namesake god. Tomorrow we will be up at first light, and we'll row ourselves out of the bay just to see what happens. Who knows, we might spot Elvis picking oranges.