Getting to Upernavik was our final goal in Greenland and one where we could begin to relax while we waited for the weather and ice to melt allowing for a passage across Baffin Bay. We didn’t really expect much from this small island town with an airport strip built up on top of it’s highest point. Fuel and laundry were the main priorities as well as a few more fresh vegetables. Thankfully we rafted to our friends metal hull who were attached to the bulky steel wall; the harbour open to swell from the northwest. 

Sentijn awoke early to find a laundry source but to no avail. The briefly mentioned hospital, hotel and small sports centre denied our thoughts of a machine we could possibly use. Josiah was up next and had no luck on the machine front either. The potential for hand washing in a bucket had long passed with a good three weeks having gone by. It wasn’t until we went to the all-in-one grocery, hardware and clothing store that we conjured some leads, or more aptly, they found us. As I was returning Ben’s two bags of gummy bears worth fifty dollars (!!), a lady began chatting to us knowing we were visitors. Before I knew it we were walking to her small unoccupied guest house so she could show me where I could come back and use her laundry machine. Perfect. Meanwhile back at the grocery store, Josiah had a lead from a local who was loading his car with crates of beer and wanted to hang out. As it went, he got to hang out on top of the hill drinking beer with his new friend while the wife wasn’t shy of showing her disapproval of her husband’s hospitality, nor her chore of two loads of laundry.

Back on the boat, a gorgeous day with limitless light, we hung our clothes on the permanent washing lines of our lifelines. Soon local children got word of the newcomers with the bonus of a friendly blonde headed kid to play with, and soon our boats had children running amuck while the mums were on the peer 15ft above. New laundry offers also began to emerge left, right and centre. The following day at high tide we top up with fuel and head an hour around the corner. Fog, fog, iceberg, fog and then it lifted as we began to approach the mountains to the north of Upernavik. Sentijn led the way and made for a lovely subject against the mountain cliff sides. The small uncharted fjord rounded to the east with high-water limiting the snow’s kiss of the water’s edge. The benefits of sailing with another are soon apparent as we are compelled by the beauty and awe of our surroundings and decided to hoist the spinnaker as an icing on the cake of sorts, which logistically and somewhat naively, we could ignore the uncharted depths beneath us. 

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The explorations by the crew of Sentijn had fortunately fell upon what seemed to be sightings of scallops in shallow waters. John, Dean and I soon went to confirm their discovery while Ben and Josiah scrambled up the mountainside to relinquish what Alaskan backcountry skills they had. In the dingy it was decided while spirits and stokedness were high – which was duly required to even think of immersing ourselves in the glacial waters – that we should return to the motherships, don our underwater clothing and forage for the floral shaped molluscs that we knew to be so delicious before the sun sheltered behind the mountain. Before long, Dean and Kara found themselves as a surprisingly busy surface crew, holding out nets and bags for the sporadic and unorganised grabbing of scallops at John and I’s feet in 3-4 ft of water. A simple task you may think, however, in a thick wetsuit and an unpurged drysuit with no weights we looked like awkward flailing ducks as we dove down to pick up what we could while our butts enjoyed being at the surface’s edge. All while our hoods and gloves began to fill with the freezing water and knowing we would only last minutes while the scallops simply lay at our feet, somewhat mockingly, as more and more clumps were discovered the longer we spent. Soon a system was established with net bags sat on the seabed and duck dives soon became more efficient, less energetic and certainly less vocal. Soon we had more than enough for a feed and ventured to shore to get the last sun’s rays while warming up doing snow angels on the snowbanks. 

An hour or so later, on shore, dry and in warm clothes we light the beach fire. Cast iron cookware, a rising dough and a pound of butter in hand we set the makeshift table and plonk the pile of scallops soon to be processed and devoured in the best sandwich one could ask for. Ben and Josiah sight us from above with our feast and scramble down the mountainside in a flurry to join in on the gatherings. An evening to remember follows with wine, fresh scallops, mussels (thanks to young Dean) and fresh bread with the best of company and surroundings. So inspired from our night we do it all again the next. Josiah is keen to get more scallops and I join in again on the harvest. Thankfully he had brought a couple of drysuits with him for this reason. 

Processing the scallops at the water’s edge I note Ben’s removal of the gonads and tease that he wouldn’t be able to get away with that in New Zealand. Keeping the gonad almost doubles the catch and is not an inkling less delicious. I double down on perfecting my fire cooked bread; the evening before’s loaf a little crisp and black on the exterior with too much heat surrounding the dutch oven. Less coals proved a softer exterior and plumb dough – either way marveled by all who ate it and I don’t think we could have asked for better. Without the sun going down, only hiding behind the mountain and then renewing itself on the other side past midnight, time is soon forgotten and we begin to live in the second half of the day. Rowing back to shore at 0230 hrs, Pelagic makes an entry into the harbour and ties ashore to the barren rock wall – a benefit to having a metal, shoal draft vessel. Although, Pelagic is an expedition, purpose built vessel and one of a kind.

The easy livin’ and bonus days in nature are relished as we wait for the ice to melt and are soon caught up by a few other vessels heading in the same direction. Thinda, Seabelle, Ugly Betty and Hermoine arrive. Seabelle – a kiwi flagged boat – which, unfortunately, I could not locate my large New Zealand flag as they approached the anchorage, and Hermoine, an expedition rowing boat on delivery to Pond Inlet to become the first to row the northwest passage. Having left from the U.K. in June, they had met the rugged aluminum vessel Ugly Betty in Iceland whom kindly offered to tow the rowers to Pond Inlet, Canada, some 2,000nm away as they were headed in the same direction. This meant instead of motoring by small outboard on a rowing boat with a bucket for a toilet across a couple of oceans, they were living in luxury on the 78′ expedition yacht with paid crew. The generosity is palpable and one of the great attributes of the cruising community. A mighty lot of crew spanning multiple countries. Soon Tuppence is making the rounds by small rowboat to take dinner orders for the planned beach fire evening thanks to their surplus sponsored fancy freeze-dried meals. And soon I’m having a cuppa tea on the kiwi boat while Ben hails me on the radio to return and help him finish cutting his hair. Unfortunately, I’m not one to oblige too well and again he finds himself waiting for me mid haircut – which admittedly occurs quite often!

A bunch of Norwegians, Americans and scattered Europeans enjoy an evening getting to know one another, all on an adventure, and also, all seemingly with a tale from New Zealand. Seabelle, the kiwi boat owned by a lovely Romanian and French couple who met and lived in New Zealand for a number of years; Tuppence, the young lass from Scotland bearing a South Waikato beanie who just came from a veterinarian job on the paddocks of Tokoroa; John and Kara on Sentijn who sailed and lived there for a year many years ago; John and Nicky, Americans from Ugly Betty, also lived and wanted to settle in NZ, then there’s myself and Ben, now a resident, and lastly the Aucklander who was working the decks of the expedition yacht. The rowing crew included a jovial artist from the Faroe Islands and an Orcadian (Orkney Islander) who knew well of the Clouston name – my maiden name – which I knew to derive from the Scottish northeast islands. He spoke of the spread of his land’s people back in the day due to the sailing ships that would come through from Europe, being the last stop heading west, and whom became the majority of the ship’s crew. 

Soon the anchorage quiet in the morning hours, each boat seemingly on the same schedule with movement beginning towards midday. Hermoine and crew offer to take anyone wanting to have a row on the expedition rowboat which is the same length as Caprivi with a small interior space at each end. They’ll have eight people rotating every two hours while four rest and four row. After 20 minutes of rowing, my butt and hands begin to feel the burden of rowing at 3 knots and soon Caprivi looked a world of comfort in this vast and remote landscape with all the pleasures in the world. 

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We began to look at the weather more seriously. It was known that the season was late for the ice to melt in Baffin Bay and in Greenland but normal to early in the Canadian Arctic. From here we wanted to hop across Baffin Bay to Mittimatalik, Pond Inlet – a small hamlet, the most northern community on Baffin Island, Nunavut and which marks the beginning of the Northwest Passage. As I type this it may be obvious of our intentions to attempt to sail this passage west to Alaska but we haven’t really advertised it to more than our close ones. The idea itself of sailing in the Arctic, across the top of Canada from the Atlantic to the Pacific Ocean is actually hard to explain, and likely we didn’t want to explain it cause we didn’t know how. It’s wildly ambitious, mentally unobtainable, vastly remote and stated by one veteran of the passage – a stupid idea – but to which he tells us he’s going to do it again! There’s often a low success rate getting through the ice and it entails an all encompassing multi-month long acquisition to even get to the start. But an adventure nonetheless. 

The Arctic Ocean and inland passage in winter is blocked by sea ice from about Nuuk, Greenland to Barrow, Alaska, roughly 3,000nm, which is still crazy to think about. One must be in certain positions at certain times to be ready when the ice melts to allow for a passage through. Some areas only opening for a few weeks each year and that’s if it melts at all. Roald Amundsen, a Norwegian adventurer, was the first person to sail through the passage in 1906 after three winters waiting for the ice to melt. It’s only becoming more of a reality now as the earth warms. The fact that we made it up here into the Arctic on time and without issues by crew or vessel is a marvel in and of itself. To have a boat even in Greenland is an unusual prospect and one must be self-sufficient in all aspects: heating, provisions, fuel, communications, fixing any problems that arise and in general endure the hardships of cold weather sailing.

It initially began as an idea a few years back even before Caprivi. Ben having lived in cold climates and enjoying the remoteness and challenge of such a notion was sparked by the rawness. Thanks to climate change, it has become possible season to season depending on the ice melting in certain areas to allow for a passage through. As for myself, the idea of the challenge, remoteness and having the beautiful Greenland on the way, really pulled a cord. For better or for worse – however you want to view it – our previous adventure of motorcycling through Africa and Europe really shaped us and since our life choices have been tethered to what we experienced and learnt, as well as how one can spend their time on earth. The fact that Ben’s home – Alaska – was at the end of the road really solidified it as well as being in the Pacific Ocean and closer to New Zealand. 

At the beginning of last winter in the Caribbean we began fermenting the reality of such a trip to embark on the following summer. We read all we could and gained knowledge of what it meant and what was needed to go north. Although Ben had pretty much been designing and upgrading Caprivi and her systems over the last few years with high latitude sailing in mind. To be honest, a lot of our five months in the Caribbean involved figuring out our trip the next summer! An irony but one that justified our lazy evenings in the warm waters off of the French islands. It was decided around Christmas time that we would go for it, we just needed to get Ben’s one friend – Josiah – on board to join. Curiously, it didn’t prove difficult and we locked it in. Josiah soon came back a few months later to confirm that the island of Newfoundland, was indeed the correct island he would fly into in one month’s time, as we sat still lounging about on the island of Antigua in the warm waters of the Caribbean. In hindsight, we recognize the possible uncertainty but didn’t have any doubt that we wouldn’t be there 2000nm away, kitchen sink and all. 

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Sitting in the gorgeous anchorage near Upernavik, we looked at the weather and ice conditions with Sentijn who have become a confidant to Caprivi in decision making matters. A source to bounce and confirm ideas; decisions that were more important here than anywhere else we’d sailed. Soon we decided to leave that night, the crew in sync and more energized in the evenings than the mornings. I admit a little insecurity crept in as we said our goodbyes and exchanged contacts with the all metal boats that remained still waiting for better ice conditions. The plastic boat will lead the way – goodness! But we had a plan and felt good with our decision. We grabbed the large rubbish bags of trash that Josiah had collected on the beach, unfortunately having been swept in from the town that has the dump located at the water’s edge, and placed them on the bow to take back to town where we would top up one more time with fuel. All said and done, we were ready by 0130 hrs and departed for Baffin Island, Canada. 

If one does want to follow our track and daily updates (when moving) you can do that here. You’ll see that we are a bit behind on the blog, I hope to be caught up soon.

Slideshow (more pictures):