 |
|
||||
|
|||||
|
 |
||
 |
||
 |
||
| Route Map | ||
| Weather Map | ||
| Daily Journal | ||
Q & A |
||
| Special Reports | ||
| Education Section | ||
| The Game | ||
Greenland Tourism's Project Leif 2000
Steaming caribou, then sweatin' it
out in "Barbeque Bay"
Lat/Lon:
Location: N. Carey Island, Bar-b-que Bay
Course:
Speed: At anchor
Weather: Sunny and 50. Wind SE 5k
Sightings: Naked crew (scary), big moon
Date: Thursday, Sept. 3, 1998
Author: John Abbott
Click on the pictures below to view enlargements.
 |
I'm sitting now in the wake of a bright gibbous moonbeam that fought its way out of the cloud cover a few moments ago (full moon only 2 days away we think...). Onshore I can see the vague shapes of Doug, Homer and Rob, faces lit by the waning flickers of light from the fire that heated our rocks and provided the life for hours of sweat lodge glory tonight. Like many before us who used the sweat lodge as a means to free the spirit, gain insights or converse with their gods (no peyote buttons here aboard Snorri, just good clean fun...and a tiny bit of single malt), we feasted together heartily, drew out the dirt and odors of our ripe bodies and purged our minds of the frustrations that unfavorable forecasts for wind brought us earlier today. It was the best of times amid the most trying of times, as our finish line in L'Anse aux Meadows is so close we can taste it. Still we struggle with the reality of all the miles that remain in front of us and the mounting psychic weight of expectation for our arrival. Reconnection with loved ones and responsibilities of our "otherworldly" existences are beginning to loom larger.
My wonderful and energetic friends in the Dept. of Student Life at UVM and the students that comprise the Outing Club and Mt. Lions posses (howdy there fine people and hopes for an auspicious start to the new year...), are wondering when to expect me back in Vermont. The only truthful answer is that no one really knows. While we understand we have no power over this aspect of our collective destiny, Doug's hopes of making it to his younger brother's wedding, Hodding's want for reuniting with Lisa and his 3 girls, Rob's wonder over building project projects for winter, Dean's desire to return to Barclay and his remodeled house (and the list goes on for each of us) grow and become weightier as the days go by.
Most recent weather calls for wind in our snouts through the weekend at least. Hodding announced earlier today that by his calculations, we've rowed our 24-ton friend and behemoth "Snorri" as much as we've sailed her since arriving in Labrador. Over 100 miles in a month. While we could both brag or complain about this feat, we decided again today to make lemonade of sour lemons...we threw ourselves a Viking barbeque and beach party.
It began with the ritual gathering of driftwood on N. Carey Island and the setting of two mammoth blazes; one for the sweat lodge rocks - the other for the grilling pit. Hodding and Eric went foraging for kelp and Labrador tea for spicing our caribou leg (a gift from Levi, a crew member aboard Cape Rouge #1 - from Nain), the latter for wrapping to keep in her succulent juices while roasting on the bed of red hot beach stones. Later we covered it with a patchwork of peat to hold in the heat for the next two hours until finished.
|
|
In the meantime, I busily gathered tarps onboard for the lodge, oils, spices and
potatoes to complement our meat feast. John G. and Doug undertook construction of
the lodge while Homer kept the flames.
What a feast it was! Succulent fresh and tender meat is what came out of this hot
earth-covered mound! The evening was warm as the caramelized potatoes were prepared
as the side dish. Eventually we figured we had all the major food groups covered:
meat, potatoes, sugar and beer (a gift from visitors last week).
 |
Hodding photographing our caribou roasting pit as the juices smolder to the
heavens
|
Feasting soon gave way to a team-building sweat, all of us huddled naked in our crudely
constructed lodge, inviting the arrival of the glowing stones. While you would think
it a smelly hell confined and steamed in our juices (not unlike our dinner) the purity
(or imperviousness) was consuming. Ecstatic exhalations as the hot steam rising from
the pile entered our lungs and the tidal flow of sweat consumed us. As quickly as
our pores rushed open and released accumulated mung, our run and dive into the cold
water of Barbeque Bay (our new name) closed them down in exhilarating fashion! It
was a ritual that I've often shared with friends at home, a ceremonial bond that
cleanses...and temporarily has washed away the feeling of captivity passed down from
Torngat, the native God of weather on the coast of Labrador. Until he strikes again....
Top of page