Route Map   Weather Map   Daily Journal         Q & A   Special Reports   Education Section           The Game Click here to send the Viking adventurers your questions Greenland Tourism's Project Leif 2000		"To Nain. To Nain," the mutineers cried! "No, come back!" Captain Terry replied Author: Hodding Lat/Lon: 56 44.5 N/61 10.9 W Location: North Carey Island Course: Anchored Speed: Weather: Foggy, cold Sightings: Date: 9/5/98 Log Date: September 5, 1998 Click on the pictures below to view enlargements. A burning log sent toward Snorri by the dastardly mutineers       It began innocently enough. Dean called a boarding house in Nain to see if they could get a message to someone with a boat to bring us kerosene, flour and cooking oil. We've been out of flour for quite a while now, and the look on Homer's face when he mentioned four or five times that it sure would be wonderful to make bannock again, convinced me to ask for the supplies to be brought out to Snorri. So, yesterday afternoon, one of the Webb brothers came out with the aforementioned supplies. At first, all was as it should be. The guys set out some fenders and held onto Mr. Webb's boat. He, another of his brothers and a friend hopped on board to take a look at a Viking ship. We chatted about our living conditions and our scarcity of modern equipment. They then returned to their boat. For about ten minutes, I had had this strange sense that all was not right. I merely attributed it to an unsettled stomach caused by John Abbott's cooking and did my best to ignore the tingling at the back of my neck. If only I had been more trusting of my Viking intuition. Mr. Webb started his engine. I lifted my hand to wave farewell. Suddenly, my whole world was flipped upside down. John Gardner suddenly yelled out, "All right, boys, now or never!" Dean chimed in, "Let's do it!" A flurry of activity ensued. All of the Vikings, except Captain Terry, Doug and me, grabbed their dry bags and heaved themselves aboard the powerful motorboat. It was a full scale MUTINY! Homer, the cunning crier for flour, swung my shining ax hard across Snorri's gunwale and snapped the sole line that had kept our fates united. "Get back here you scoundrels!" I screamed. "I'll hunt down every last one of you, if it's the last thing I do!" All turned their backs, except Erik, who tossed me a look of such defiance that if I were a more vicious Viking (not to mention one who is able to swim in extremely cold water) I would have...well, suffice it to say that I would have taken care of the scowling knave. "Hey, guys, come back. Hodding's not that bad. We'll just gag him for the rest of the trip and seal his stinky Viking body in a trash bag," Doug pleaded. I tried to cut him down with my steely glare but some dust blowing off my dirty tunic made me blink ineffectively. At least Terry remained loyal to Snorri. I looked over toward him and his slackened jaw said it all. I knew he was damning them for all eternity. But, then he spoke - too late, though, for the mutineers to hear as they were already 100 yards away. "What about me? I've brought you safely 1000 miles and now you're leaving without me? How could you? Come back and retrieve me at once or I'll have you all hanged before the Naval Court!" he screamed.   Terry, still screaming for them to return for him sixteen hours later     As the lawless boat slipped into the thickening fog, we occasionally made out a snippet of high-pitched laughter - somewhat reminiscent of a hyena I once strangled on the lonesome Serengeti - but all too soon we were left with only the echo of beating hearts within our burning ears. Yes, we were left to fend for ourselves. Hoist the anchor, man the oars, raise the yard. We will have to do it all - just the three of us, fighting on to the very end. We will sail bravely southward - for ourselves, for history and that glimmer of Viking spirit in every person's heart. Doug, waiting contentedly for the return of his vanished crewmates   Author's Note: The author feels that he should probably admit that the men have all gone to Nain by powerboat with his and the captain's blessing. The above may be how the author perceives things but is quite removed from reality. He has obviously been away from his wife and children for far too long. The "deserters" will be returning this evening after a 24-hour leave in Nain. Terry, Doug and the author stayed on board, well, because someone had to. Top of page