NORTHWEST PASSAGE 2010

October 14th 2010

2010-10-14T17:26:00.000-07:00

Royal Nova Scotia Yacht Squadron, Halifax

44º 37.277’ N, 63º 34.835’ W

We arrived in Halifax yesterday afternoon after a pleasant 28-hour crossing from Cape Breton, and are now tied up alongside a wharf at the Royal Nova Scotia Yacht Squadron. After all the ice, fog, and winds, it is really great to be here, and the fact that we are going to stay put for at least a fortnight for a change, feels absolutely wonderful!

Our odyssey from Seward, Alaska, to Halifax, Nova Scotia, amounted to a total of 7,143 nautical miles (13.229 kilometres), and it took us exactly four months, eight days, eleven hours and fifteen minutes to complete it. But, I have to confess that the last 1,600 nautical miles with almost continuous headwinds and oncoming seas were a bit too much for us. It would have been so much nicer if, after crossing the Arctic Circle for the second time, the voyage had ended there and then. In order to make it a little easier for those who come after us, I therefore propose that the city of Halifax be moved closer to the Arctic Circle. I would think that all those who have already sailed the Northwest Passage from west to east and know what I am talking about, are more than willing to second this motion.

At the moment, we have rather mixed emotions about our voyage, especially the Northwest Passage as part of it. Even for us, it is difficult to comprehend the enormity of crossing the Passage, and although we are extremely happy that we made it and that it is now finally over, underneath, there persists a deep longing for the Arctic and its mysteries, of which we only saw a glimpse. And we sorely miss Alaska and Kodiak, their beautiful, empty anchorages, pristine nature and abundant wildlife. Hopefully, someday, we'll be back!

We wish to thank all those who helped us along the way either in person or through email: those who provided us with vital ice and weather information; with ice poles to force our way through a field of ice when necessary; with a dozen jerry cans to store extra fuel for our long journey; with a dry suit to go underwater and cut a rope off the propeller if need be; with goggles to see our way even in rough weather; with musk ox wool to keep our hands warm; with fish, crab and moose meat to nourish us; and those who invited us into their homes; who did our dirty laundry for us; who took us sightseeing; who entertained us in various ways; who encouraged us to continue even when the passage seemed impassable and, last but not least, our family who despite their worry and anxiety, allowed us to do what we wanted to. We thank you!

P.S. After a few weeks, we will leave Halifax and set sail for the Caribbean where we'll spend the winter months and restore our good boat Sarema to her pre-Arctic glory. Eventually, we'll go through the Panama Canal once again, and then... but, that's already another story.

October 13th 2010

2010-10-13T13:32:00.000-07:00

At Sea

44º 51.83’ N, 61º 57.00’ W

I should never give a precise date of departure as more often than not we have to change our plans because of the weather. This meaning that we didn't leave on the 9th after all but ended up staying in Campbells Cove for two more days. The reason was that the three separate lows that were originally forecast to move east to the Atlantic joined together forming a single major low that persisted over the area for several days. To be quite honest, we did leave Campbells Cove already on the 9th but, after proceeding only for about two miles, we made a cowardly U-turn and returned to our safe anchorage. When you are in a hurricane hole, it is sometimes difficult to know what is happening outside your little haven, and what we saw, we didn't like: winds gusting to 35 knots and waves speckled with white foam.
We dropped anchor in the very same spot as before and were determined not to leave the cove until the conditions outside had improved significantly. After all the headwinds and oncoming seas we have experienced during the past few months, we have clearly developed an allergy to rough weather, and want to avoid it when ever possible.

On the 11th, we weighed anchor for the last time and headed for St. Peter's Canal. Although it was still very windy, there were no more violent squalls and the sun was shining making our day passage through the lake area quite enjoyable. We arrived in St. Peter's late in the afternoon and spent the night tied up alongside the wharf leading to the canal. The next morning, we woke up to a beautiful day; the sun was shining through the clouds, and there was a veil of mist lingering on the lake. There was only a gentle breeze left of the gusty winds as we walked to the village centre to buy groceries for the hopefully final leg of our ongoing voyage. After returning to the boat, we called the Lock Master via VHF and asked him to open the swing bridge and the lock for us. About an hour later, we were finally on our way to Halifax.

October 8th 2010

2010-10-08T13:52:00.000-07:00

Finally in Nova Scotia

46º05.98´ N, 60º44.83´ W

The morning we left Port Saunders, the sun was already up and the seas were finally down, and we were so happy to be on the move again. After all that miserable weather, it was an unbelievably beautiful day with gorgeous sunshine and moderate winds, and we were soon sailing on smooth seas in the exact direction we wanted to go. You can only comprehend the true significance of this if you have ever sailed on the Labrador Sea in the autumn against the winds, the oncoming seas and the Labrador Current, for days on end. In the evening, when the sun descented and the darkness settled in, we continued our voyage in a wonder world; from behind the horizon, the crescent moon rose lighting a path for us to follow, with billion stars of the Milky Way shining around us. In the midst of such beauty, it was easy to forget all the downsides of sailing in these wretched waters.

In the morning of the 5th of October, after two sunny days and two starry nights at sea, we arrived at the entrance of the about twenty mile long, narrow passage of Great Bras d'Or leading to the Bras d'Or Lakes in Cape Breton. We arrived there either too early or too late, depending on how we look at things, and the tidal currents were strong and against us. But, as there was no wind to make matters worse, we decided to give it a try. At some point, our speed was no more than 1.8 knots as we were beating against the current but slowly and surely we managed to make progress, and eventually arrived in the beautiful town of Baddeck. Our arrival there marked the end of our circumnavigation around Central and North Americas. It had taken us five years, one month and seven days to complete the 25,572 mile long voyage, and after tying our good boat Sarema to the community wharf, we went to the BYC (Baddeck Yacht Club) to celebrate the occasion. There, we met Barbara and Clarke from Philadelphia who invited us for lunch the next day and entertained us until it was time for us to leave for Campbells Cove, a hurricane hole located only about six miles south-west off Baddeck.

We had been in Campbells Cove back in 2005 and knew that there were oysters in the area. So, as the light was gradually fading and 40 knot winds were forecast for the following day, after dropping anchor, we quickly took our dinghy down and went oyster picking. As always when something is happening, Latte was there jumping around and, in her own way, trying to be of assistance. As the keenest oyster spotter, Latte positioned herself at the bow hanging her head down in order to see better and, suddenly, she slipped overboard. Riitta managed to grab her just before she slid under the dinghy, and Pekka lifted the poor dog back out of the water. After she had shaken most of the water off her coat, there was one wet dog and two semi-wet people aboard but we didn't let this minor incident spoil our oyster hunting trip.

Speaking of Latte, we are not quite sure whether she is just an exceptionally slow learner or if there is a psychological or some other reason for her behaviour. She is now almost eight years old (we don't know the exact date of her birth because she is a street dog whom our daughters rescued when she was only about three or four months old), and it is still extremely difficult and, at times, absolutely impossible for her to remember what such simple words as Sit, Down, and Stay mean. If there are autistic dogs, our guess would be that Latte is one of them. But, her Latin temperament could also be the reason for her behaviour, after all, she is from Andalusia, Spain. This does not imply that because she is from Spain, she is a slow learner, on the contrary! Because she is Spanish, she is full of energy and has very little patience to listen to what we are saying, let alone to obey our orders. So, this may be a simple conflict between the South and the North, us being from Finland as you know. But, what ever the reason, we love Latte very, very much and couldn't imagine a life without her!

Our journey will continue tomorrow to St. Peter's and from there the following morning through St. Peter's Canal which is a man-made passage into and out of the Bras d'Or Lakes. Because of differences in the water level of up to 4' in the lakes, the Canal has a lock with double doors. We have to time our arrival correctly so that, at first, we can go through the swing bridge located before the Canal and then through the Canal itself. And once out of the Bras d'Or Lakes, we have only about 140 nautical miles to Halifax. So, it seems that this is not a never-ending voyage, after all!

October 2nd 2010

2010-10-03T12:44:00.001-07:00

Leaving Safe Haven

During our stay in Port Saunders, the weather has varied from bad to worse. For the past two days, it has definitely been worse; the wind has been 35 knots with gusts to 55, and in between a few sunny patches, it has been raining cats and dogs.
There is another sail boat here in the fishing harbour, from Nova Scotia. Her single hander skipper has already lost all hope of getting his boat back home before winter. Fortunately, Port Saunders is a good place to be in a situation like this as there are all the necessary facilities for lifting the boat on the hard and storing her for the winter. But as for us, we are more than determined to get to Halifax eventually, come rain or shine.

According to the latest weather forecast, the wind should drop by tomorrow morning for a period of about two days before it starts picking up again. We have decided to use this gap to continue our journey, and hopefully reach Cape Breton before the next low moves in. So, we'll cast off our lines, all fifteen of them, early tomorrow morning and head finally for Nova Scotia. Keep your fingers crossed that we'll make it!

September 29th 2010

2010-09-29T13:57:00.000-07:00

Port Saunders

50º38.74' N, 57º16.45' W

We left Red Bay in the evening of the 26th and started off for Port Saunders on tranquil, moonlit seas. As the night wore on, the wind started picking up and soon, we were once more beating against 35 knot headwinds, gusting to 50, and oncoming seas, eventually building up to three to five metres. We arrived at the Port Saunders fishing harbour the next day dripping wet and tired. Part of the small harbour is under construction but fortunately they managed to fit us in. We were given a place alongside a fishing vessel which is alongside another fishing vessel which is alongside a wharf. Again, taking Latte for a walk is a little problematic. The very first time Pekka and Latte went ashore, Latte miscalculated the distance between the second fishing vessel and the wharf and, as a result, she fell into the water. Pekka managed to lift her up quickly but, understandably, the poor thing was a little shaken afterwards. The good thing about this incident is that she is now more careful and has a little more patience when climbing over the railings.

Today is the 29th of September but, to be quite honest, neither the weather nor the venue is quite what we had hoped for. Although the gale-force winds have died down for the time being, the skies are overcast and it has been pouring for the past two days. But, if we look at the bright side, there are showers, a washing machine and a dryer in the harbour master's building next door, and three grocery stores, a library, a liquor store, a bank, a post office, and a hairdresser's, all within walking distance from the harbour. The last time we had all these luxuries close by was in Nome, about two months ago. So, all things considered, now it's time to do the laundry, install a new hydraulic pump, and go to the hairdresser's. But, as for the birthday party, that has been postponed until further notice.

September 26th 2010

2010-09-29T13:51:00.000-07:00

Our Friend The Beluga

51º42.82' N, 56º26.62' W

What should you do when a beluga wants to be friends with you? This was the problem we were faced with while anchored in Red Bay, Labrador. We arrived in the little bay late Saturday evening in total darkness and did not discover until the following morning that we shared it with a lone beluga. We felt a little apprehensive it being alone as we knew that belugas are sociable creatures who are usually in parties of five to ten individuals. The beluga had, on his back, well healed but distinctive marks made by a propeller which could be the reason why the pod had been forced to leave him behind. As far as we could judge, he was a young beluga but not a calf, and we thought he seemed healthy and active enough although we are no beluga experts. He kept diving close to Sarema for the better part of the morning feeding on something he found at the sea bottom.

After a while, he seemed to acknowledge our presence and circled the boat every once and a while. But it was not until Pekka lowered our light grey dinghy from the davits that the beluga knew that he had found a true friend. After that, the beluga and we were inseparable. When we went ashore, the beluga came along swimming directly underneath the outboard propeller so that we eventually had to turn it off as we were afraid that he would hurt himself. Now, the only way to proceed was rowing but that too was difficult as the friendly beluga was constantly in the way of the oars. Finally, we had to resort to cunning. As the beluga was swimming around the dinghy, we kept our eye on him and when he was at a distance of about ten metres from us, Pekka quickly turned on the outboard motor, and off we went. We could see the beluga raise his head in astonishment and dash after us but we were too fast for him. He didn't reach us until we had to slow down near the shore due to possible rocks, and again we had to start rowing as he came so close to the outboard motor. When the water became too shallow for the beluga, he finally turned around and swam away.

When heading back to the boat, we carefully monitored the bay in order to spot the beluga, and when we saw where he was, we started off in the opposite direction in order to avoid him, and made a large circle to reach the boat. But, in about fifteen seconds, the beluga appeared by the side of the dinghy, and seemed to be more than happy to be reunited with us.

When it was time to continue our journey, the beluga came to help us weigh the anchor, after which he escorted us to the mouth of the bay. We were a little anxious about the possibility that he would follow us out to the sea but, after a while, we couldn't see him anymore. This was a relief although, at the same time, we felt bad about leaving this friendly and curious whale behind. He is undoubtedly a very exceptional beluga, and we feel honoured to have made his acquaintance.

September 24th 2010

2010-09-26T00:48:00.000-07:00

In the Wake of Igor

After Hurricane Igor, it has taken far longer than we would have thought for even the weather to get back to normal. In our protected Fox Harbour, twenty to forty knot winds have persisted for the best part of the week, and the seas outside are steep and breaking. In Newfoundland, numerous communities are still isolated as roads and bridges were washed out, and tens of thousands of households are without electricity and water. According to statistics, this was the worst natural disaster to hit Newfoundland in modern times.

For us personally, the only thing that Igor managed to ruin was our schedule. We had hoped to be in Halifax by the end of September, actually before the 29th so as to be able to celebrate Riitta's 60th birthday ashore in a manner appropriate for an elderly lady. But as things stand at the moment, we'll just have to make do with the second best alternative which is to find a spectacular (and safe) anchorage somewhere on the coast of Newfoundland, and to enjoy a festive meal of snow-crab, courtesy of a St. Lewis fisherman, accompanied by champagne, naturally. As the worst-case scenario was that we would still be somewhere in Baffin Bay amidst icebergs, that doesn't sound too bad, does it?

September 22nd 2010

2010-09-22T12:07:00.000-07:00

St. Lewis

As the day grew older, the wind continued rising and, later in the afternoon, it started to rain. The barometer reading dropped to 980 mbars, and the wind speed varied between 35 to 55 knots throughout the night. In our little bay, the waves soon developed a foam crown and began beating against Sarema's side. Eventually, the wind and the waves formed a united front constantly tilting the boat so that it was impossible to keep anything on the tables. Our night was restless with very little sleep as we listened to the sounds of the storm and were every now and again awoken by a violent movement of the boat.

As we woke up this morning, we saw that Igor had swept the sky absolutely clean leaving not a single cloud on its surface. It is a beautiful, sunny day, and although the wind is still blowing, it is clear that Igor has gone its way, and that the weather will soon be back to normal.
We will stay in St. Lewis for a few more days waiting for the seas to smooth down a bit before continuing to Newfoundland where we should make our first landfall in Cook's Harbour.

September 21st 2010

2010-09-22T00:48:00.000-07:00

Escaping Hurricane Igor

52º21,89' N, 55º40,85' W

There is a limit to what you can write in real time on a blog that your family members are also reading. With this we are, of course, referring to Hurricane Igor!
We were sailing near the coast of Labrador when we got the news about the approaching hurricane. We didn't have a lot of time, more or less 24 hours in fact, to seek refuge and get out of its way. Luckily, at the time, we were close enough to Fox Harbour alias St. Lewis, located at the south-east corner of Labrador, to find shelter in its fishing harbour.
We arrived here yesterday afternoon and had plenty of time to prepare Sarema for the possible hurricane force winds before nightfall. This was not the first time we had prepared our boat for a hurricane, so we were familiar with the procedure and knew exactly what to do. We tied Sarema properly to the wharf, wrapped up her sails, and removed all loose items from the deck. When everything was done, we went inside, enjoyed a scrumptious supper and went to sleep.
At the moment, we are having breakfast and listening to St. Johns' radio station describing how Hurricane Igor is devastating most of Newfoundland, just around the corner from us, with heavy rain and winds exceeding 160 km/h, causing flooding, destroying buildings, and washing out roads and bridges.

In a way, we have been exceptionally lucky with the weather. Although we have had more than our fair share of headwinds, so far, we have managed to avoid extreme weather conditions. The first time was in St. Paul, the Pribilof Islands, when almost a week-long gale started the same evening we arrived there; after that, in Nome, Alaska, a storm broke out on the Bering Sea a day after our arrival; and now, Hurricane Igor. So, you can imagine how extremely happy we are to be here, in the protected harbour of St. Lewis, all safe and sound.
But, apparently, this is not yet the end of the story as we can hear and feel the wind picking up. And, according to the latest news, Hurricane Igor is leaving the devastated island of Newfoundland behind it, and is heading for east Labrador!

September 19th 2010

2010-09-20T13:02:00.000-07:00

Labrador Sea

53º49' N, 55º47' W

We are happy to report that all is well aboard Sarema. Our progress has been slower than expected and hoped for, but it is something we have come to accept by now. The winds, swell, and the Labrador Current just seem to be incapable of co-operating with each other which is quite a nuisance but the circumstances could be far worse. We haven't had a single storm yet! and, the other day, we managed to escape a gale by coming closer to the Labrador coast. So, although our current life at sea is by no means a breeze, we have every reason to be content.
Manual steering has not presented a problem as we soon discovered that the best system for us is two-hour shifts at the helm night and day, as necessary. The time may sound a bit short but with her long keel and four and a half metre beam, Sarema is not the easiest of boats to steer, especially in these troubled waters. When at the helm, our daily routine is thus two hours of steering and two hours of sleeping plus eating, times six. Actually, it is exactly as monotonous and tiring as it sounds but the main thing is that it works. But, thank god, there are also days when the winds are steady and the sails are trimmed just right, and Sarema flies across the seas by herself without a helmsman!

Now that we have come further south, there are more and more seabirds entertaining us; black-legged kittywakes, storm-petrels, northern fulmars, skuas, auklets, puffins, etc. We have also seen whales almost on a daily basis. And, yesterday, it was Open House all day; first came the whales, then the porpoises and, later in the afternoon, the dolphins. It was absolutely wonderful! Of course, being stuck with the helm, you can't rush to the bow to see them play, and there is no way you can take photographs which is a real pity (the one above was taken in Baffin Bay). But, as always, you can't have it all!

September 16th 2010

2010-09-16T10:24:00.000-07:00

At the Helm

58º 46' N, 55º 43' W

It appears that s/y Sarema is the very first Finnish vessel to navigate the Northwest Passage and consequently, our odyssey has got some media coverage back in Finland. There was a minor mistake in the piece of news published by STT (Finnish News Agency) that we would very much like to be true. It said that it had taken us about four months to sail the 11,000 kilometres from Alaska to Canada (Halifax) which, in fact, gives the impression that we are already in Halifax. Oh, if only we were!
Instead, we are still at sea beating against winds, swell, and oncoming seas. We hove to again the other day as the about three-meter seas and the more than 30 knot headwinds seemed to be a bit too much for our little hydraulic pump that controls the steering. The next morning when the seas had smoothed down a bit, we continued our journey in the only direction the winds allowed us to proceed without difficulty, i.e. towards Ireland which undoubtedly is an attractive destination but....

After about 24 hours, however, we were able to lay a somewhat better course to Belle Strait after which we eventually hope to find a little less troubled seas. Since the heaving to, we have had no problems caused by the hydraulic pump but, what we are left with are the problems caused by not having a hydraulic pump at all, which again has resulted in that we don't have a functioning autopilot anymore, either. So, here we are, two tired sailors in the middle of the Labrador Sea with more or less 1,000 miles to go, and the only means to get out of here seems to be manual steering. We are sure we'll have a good laugh about all this someday, maybe around the year 2050!

September 16th 2010

2010-09-15T11:14:00.000-07:00

Making Waves
(Excerpts from two articles in the Nunavut News/North)

Marine Wildlife and Inuit Culture Versus Exploration of Oil and Gas
Resources in the High Arctic

Despite the outcry over the granting of a licence for seismic testing to map potential oil and gas resources in Lancaster Sound, Jones Sound and northern Baffin Bay, few believed anything could be done to stop it. It was even speculated that the only way to stop the testing – a type of testing Inuit said had disrupted whale calving and migration routes in the past – would be to go out in a boat and engage in some sort of Greenpeace guerrilla-style protest.
The ship with the seismic testing equipment on board had already reached the High Arctic and with the following Monday morning being the start day, the case was brought in front of Justice Sue Cooper, Nunavut Court of Justice, by the Qikiqtani Inuit Association on Thursday and Friday.
Sue Cooper handed down her decision Sunday afternoon. Despite the conclusion of the project's environmental impact statement that the seismic testing would have little or no effect on marine mammals, the report itself contained protocols on how to minimize the effects on wildlife. The fact that such protocols exist, Sue Cooper dryly pointed out, imply seismic tests do indeed have effects on marine mammals.
Hunting whales, seal and other marine mammals is part of Inuit livelihood, and an integral part of their culture which Cooper recognized and stated that should the seismic testing disrupt the animals' habits, Inuit would lose a source of food and part of their culture and thus suffer irreparable harm. On the other hand, she concluded the loss suffered by the seismic testing project's proponents... would only be financial.
With Justice Sue Cooper's small 13-page document as a slingshot, Inuit have taken down the Goliath of the Government (Natural Resources Canada).
This means that the Eastern Canadian Arctic Seismic Experiment scheduled to start in the High Arctic is now on hold indefinitely.

We thank you for your wise decision, Sue Cooper!

P.S. The ship RV Polarstern is doing seismic testing now in Greenlandic waters.

September 13th 2010

2010-09-14T00:41:00.000-07:00

Endless Days

The pump is finally working!!! The malfunction had something to do with carbon brushes, but it has now been fixed. Although the pump is repaired only temporarily, Pekka is so confident that it will take us all the way to Halifax (I do hope he's right!) that he has given up wearing the headlight, thank god!

In order to make the overall distance to Halifax seem shorter, about a week ago, I started practising a special kind of self-deception by dividing the remaining 1,600 nautical miles into parts: Only 190 miles to Nuuk!, No more than 250 miles to Iqaluit!, Just over 600 miles left to Saint Anthony!, etc. Even though we have no intention of visiting any of these places, the mere knowledge that they are within easy reach (relatively speaking, of course) has helped me cope with the seemingly endless days of this last leg. But, actually, it is a real pity that I feel this way as I know from past experience that after only a few days amidst the hustle and bustle of a city, I'll again long for the simplicity and solitude of our life at sea.

September 12th 2010

2010-09-13T01:32:00.000-07:00

Hammering Ahead

63º03' N, 58º28' W

At the moment, Sarema is limping towards Nova Scotia due to the combination of 25 knot winds, approximately two meter swell and the Labrador Current, all coming from different directions. It is as if we were in a bowl of soup which somebody is constantly stirring. And the fact that our hydraulic pump is now in a continuous on-off mode does not help the situation any!
As I told you before, we have had major problems with the hydraulic pump that controls our autopilot. Our main pump broke before Cambridge Bay and we had to install a spare pump that is not working properly either. Pekka has tried to fix it but so far with little success. The best method to revive the pump we have come up with is, believe it or not, to hit it with a hammer! Every time the pump stops, which is almost every half an hour or so, Pekka dives into the aft cabin, opens the hatch and hits the pump with a hammer. He has to be extremely quick about it because Sarema starts to turn in the wrong direction immediately when there is no steering. In order to see the pump in the dark, Pekka is nowadays wearing a headlight night and day, and the hammer is also nearby at all times. Poor Pekka, besides looking absolutely ridiculous with the headlight on, in the present state of affairs, his good looks are also beginning to suffer from lack of sleep!

Except for the continuous pump revival episodes, the past several days have been rather dull. But, fortunately, the nights have not! We are sailing so far out at sea that during the day, the only things we see are the sky, the sea and an occasional seabird. But as the light of the day fades and night begins to fall, it is as if we entered another world altogether with billion stars twinkling above us, and Aurora Borealis glowing in the northern sky. It just takes your breath away!
Despite the magic of the star-lit nights, we are anxiously waiting for our arrival in Halifax. The other day when we were talking about it, we realized that we are actually returning to Halifax as we visited the city already in 2005. This again means that we have sailed around the Americas, i.e. North and Central Americas. The circumnavigation has taken a total of five years due to the three unforgettable summers spent in Alaska. So it has been quite a long tour but we have been in no hurry, until now!

September 11th 2010

2010-09-12T00:56:00.000-07:00

Davis Strait

Now that we have done it, I have to tell you how impressed I am with the way Pekka had prepared Sarema and her crew to meet the various challenges presented by the Northwest Passage. Sarema sailed through the Passage with flying colours, her crew were warm and comfortable most of the time, had plenty of good food, and all the necessary materials and spare parts required along the way.

The only thing that has caused us major problems (in addition to ice, fog, and wind, of course!) is the hydraulic pump controlling the autopilot. We began the voyage with two pumps; the one that we had already been using for the last couple of years and was still supposed to be in excellent working condition, and an older, smaller pump as a spare. The bigger pump broke in the middle of the Passage, and we have ended up struggling with the spare pump that took us all the way to Baffin Bay but, thenceforth, has functioned with great difficulty. Maybe this is just bad luck but, you never know, maybe it too suffers from post-passage syndrome!

September 10th 2010

2010-09-10T11:06:00.000-07:00

We Made It!

66º 30.00’ N, 60º 16.48’ W

Today, S/Y Sarema crossed the Arctic Circle for the second time during her voyage from Seward to Halifax. This means that we have finally put the fabled Northwest Passage behind us. The distance between the two crossings amounted to 3,547.9 nautical miles, and it took us a total of 44.5 sometimes endless days to navigate it. Although we still have about 1,600 nautical miles to go before we arrive in Halifax, this calls for a celebration. Pekka, the Master of Ceremonies, is about to open the bottle of champagne now so...

Cheers, everybody!

September 9th 2010

2010-09-10T00:04:00.000-07:00

Davis Strait

68º11' N, 61º53' W

We spent the night safely tucked aboard Sarema while the wind was howling around us and the sharp waves kept banging against the boat. Since we were drifting, we were a little concerned about the possibility of hitting an iceberg and, therefore, one of us was on watch all through the night. By early morning, the wind had dropped enough so that, even though the seas were still high, we could continue our interrupted journey.

At the moment, we are making good progress and will reach the latitude of 66 degrees 30 minutes north, i.e. the Arctic Circle, sometime tomorrow. This will mark the end of the Northwest Passage for us. Pekka, who is in charge of the festivities, has already put a bottle of champagne to cool!

September 8th 2010

2010-09-08T23:26:00.000-07:00

It's Blowing!

68º 44' N, 62º 40' W

The day started with 15 knot winds from the west. Soon, the wind began to shift more to the north as predicted and gradually, also gain more speed. By noon, it blew exactly from the direction forecast, namely from the north-west. But, this time, it was the speed that was wrong!
We enjoyed sailing and made excellent progress with 20 - 25 knot winds, started reducing sails with 30 knot winds, reduced even more with 40 knot winds, but when the anemometer showed 51.4 knots, we didn't think it was fun any more. We have now been heaving to for the past seven hours, and it is still blowing 35 knots outside. It seems that we'll spend the night here and continue tomorrow, hopefully under better circumstances.

September 8th 2010

2010-09-08T23:23:00.000-07:00

Post-passage Syndrome

69º59' N, 64º56' W

After analysing our present state of mind, we have come to the conclusion that we suffer from post-passage syndrome! Post-passage in the sense that, although, technically speaking, we are still in the Northwest Passage, in reality, the Passage with all its challenges begins or ends, depending which way your are going, at Lancaster Sound.
After all the excitement, anxiety, stress, and frustration we have experienced, since Lancaster Sound, it has been, I wouldn't like to use the word but here it is, BORING!

It may be that this state of boredom is about to end soon as the weather forecast for today is 35 knots from the north-west. This would give us a real boost south provided, of course, that the direction of the wind is forecast correctly. It has frequently happened that the wind speed is correct but its direction is not. But we are mentally prepared also for the worst-case scenario, which is 35 knots on the nose. After all, we are sailing aboard the Sarema alias Headwind!

September 7th 2010

2010-09-08T23:22:00.000-07:00

C´e nebbia e il vento ha cambiato direzione.

As you can see, we have taken up Italian! The reason for this is that we needed something to take our minds off the approximately 1,800 nautical miles we still have ahead of us, and every sailor's favourite subject, the weather.
We have spent the last few days hoping for the fog to lift and the wind to blow from the right direction but, alas, both in vain. For the third consecutive day, dense fog keeps hanging over the coast of Baffin Island, and we have now lost all hope of seeing another polar bear. But the more important aspect of the weather is, of course, the wind.
Instead of coming from the north as forecast, it is presently blowing from the south-east, making our lives miserable. At the moment, it feels that we are making such slow progress that we'll probably be speaking fluent Italian by the time we reach Halifax. Ciao!

September 5th 2010

2010-09-06T22:39:00.000-07:00

Baffin Bay

72º024.89´ N, 73º34.62´ W

Since the refuelling on the day of our arrival did not leave much time for anything else, we ended up staying in Pond Inlet for two days and two nights. On our second day, Pekka changed the engine oil and filters, and Riitta walked up to the Inns North Hotel and spent several hours uploading photos. At these latitudes, the signal strength is normally so weak that it takes ages to upload a single photo. And, for some unknown reason, there are always photos that simply refuse to be uploaded.
In the afternoon, we walked around the hamlet which didn't take very long. By far the most interesting place in Pond Inlet was the Rebecca P. Idlout Library. In addition to the library itself, it houses a permanent exhibition of Inuit history, artefacts, clothing, etc. As in so many libraries before, we made great discoveries also here in their Books for Sale Section (1 dollar each); five novels plus Doonesbury Deluxe and Madame Benoit's World of Food that includes some interesting Finnish dishes. Although, one of her recipes begins with “Like so many of the Finnish dishes this one may sound odd but,... “, we decided to forgive Madame Benoit and, someday, try at least the extremely exotic sounding Finnish Jellied Beef Tongue. However, the jewel of our findings was, without a doubt, a photo book titled Florence; History, Art, Folklore, with the city map tucked between its pages, and that too only for one dollar!

The librarian told us that the natives in Pond Inlet speak Inuktitut but a different dialect from Inuktitut spoken, for example, in Gjoa Haven or Cambridge Bay. Which reminded us of your homework! The blue sign, photographed in Gjoa Haven, is indeed in Inuktitut, and it says 'Nunavut Ladies' Group'. To give you a few more words, this time in Iñupiaq, that may come in handy on your future travels in the Arctic, to those who got it right, we say “Aarigaa!”, which expresses our satisfaction, and to the rest of you, “Arii!”, which means the exact opposite.
We weighed anchor early Sunday morning and headed for Baffin Bay. Due to the fog that seemed to have engulfed the whole Baffin Island, combined with the at least two dozen icebergs and numerous growlers that lined its shores, we decided to go further off the coast and stay at a distance of about five miles from it. We also decided to reduce our speed during the darkest hours of the night so as to diminish the impact of a possible collision with ice. Naturally, this slows down our progress a little but, as always, safety comes first.
If the fog has lifted by tomorrow morning, we'll sail closer to the
shore and continue our favourite pastime, namely Polar Bear Spotting!

September 3rd 2010

2010-09-04T10:21:00.000-07:00

Pond Inlet

72º41.77' N, 77º59.29' W

We left Port Leopold in the evening motoring in a dense fog that persisted till early morning. When the curtain of fog finally lifted, it revealed the majestic cliffs of the Borden Peninsula, the different geological layers exposed by erosion. Between the cliffs were deep valleys as brown as the rest of the landscape, with only occasional, sad remains of the once existed glaciers.

We continued motor-sailing for the next one and a half days. It was a thoroughly enjoyable leg with gorgeous views and icebergs, the sun shining and the much disliked fog keeping its distance. We could see it lurking behind Sarema but, this time, it never caught us. We also had fair winds and following seas, which we had not had since … we couldn't even remember when.

As we turned from Lancaster Sound into Navy Board Inlet, we passed Tay Bay where Alvah Simon, his wife Diana and their cat Halifax wintered ice-locked aboard their 36-foot yacht Roger Henry. Alvah tells the story in his book North to the Night, which we think is a book worth reading.

The following afternoon, we dropped anchor in front of the tiny hamlet of Pond Inlet. Our only reason for coming here was to get fuel, and that was what we did. Since Pond Inlet does not have a jetty, we had to order a fuel truck to the beach. There, we filled our jerry cans, seven at a time, dinghied the cans to the boat, emptied them into the fuel tank, then dinghied back to the beach with the empty jerry cans and so on. It took us four rounds to get a total of 607,1 litres of diesel, and we are now ready to leave tomorrow for perhaps the final leg of our ongoing voyage.

September 1st 2010

2010-09-02T00:05:00.000-07:00

Port Leopold

73º51.994' N, 90º18.303' W

As you can see from the previous blog entry, we were absolutely exhausted and extremely frustrated after several days of tacking through foggy Peel Sound and negotiating the ice in Barrow Strait. But, after a good night's sleep in Port Leopold, things are now back to normal. So much so that, one day, we may even sail to the Antarctic!

Instead of going to Erebus Bay as originally planned, we came to Port Leopold, on the north-eastern corner of Somerset Island, because of the ice in Barrow Strait. Here, Riitta (the weaker negotiator!) had a unique opportunity to admire the view from the mast top as she went up to fetch down the top lift with a broken shackle. Our next, compulsory stop will be Pond Inlet where we will get fuel and hopefully fresh vegetables before continuing our voyage towards Baffin Bay.

August 31st 2010

2010-09-02T00:03:00.000-07:00

Barrow Strait

74º03' N, 91º00' W

As we turned around the corner of Somerset Island and arrived in Barrow Strait, there was more and more ice floating around us. For some reason, we had thought that we had seen the last of it coming through Peel Sound. You can therefore imagine how dismayed we were to see ahead of us, a narrow but continuous belt of ice that seemed to stretch from the shore straight across the Strait. It was a nightmarish feeling as if the ice that we thought we had left behind, had come to haunt us.
At first, we just could not see a way through it. We then carefully motored closer to the shore and finally found an opening through the ice belt. Henceforth, the sea was practically ice-free until we saw a second ice belt rising from behind the horizon! There were three ice barriers like this one after another after which the ice seemed to vanish. So, if it is true as it now seems that the pack ice is behind us, the floe ice is behind us, and most of the bergy bits are behind us, all we can say is, “GOOD RIDDANCE!!”

We now know that, despite its unquestionable beauty, ice is a truly frightening element and, unlike the polar regions, it is something we can definitely do without. So, for future reference, if we ever again come up with one of those great ideas like “Hey, why don't we sail to the Antarctic!”, we hereby authorise our children to lock us up!

August 31st 2010

2010-08-31T09:32:00.000-07:00

The Summer Wear of An Arctic Sailor

When it is my turn to be on watch, I put on my underwear, thermal underwear, Bermuda length woollen pants, full length woollen pants, wind-stopper trousers, offshore overalls, woollen sweater, thicker woollen sweater, fleece vest with wind-stopper lining, offshore jacket, thick down vest, two pairs of woollen socks, Alaska boots, gore-tex mittens, fur hat, and, in rough weather, the goggles.
And, voilà, I am all dressed up for the Arctic Summer!

August 30th 2010

2010-08-31T09:30:00.000-07:00

Barrow Strait

74º14' N, 94º08' W

For the rest of the day and the following night, we continued tacking towards Barrow Strait. In the early hours of the morning, we were engulfed in fog, you know, the 'when you stretch your arm, you can't see your fingers' kind of fog. And the fog kept us in its grip for the next 36 hours. So, it was grey, damp and headwind all over again!
As we reached the end of Peel Sound, the skies cleared, the wind died, and the sea was smooth as silk. We motored near the rugged coastline of Somerset Island for the sole purpose of spotting a polar bear. Mathieu had told us that often when he took Tico ashore, sooner or later a polar bear would appear. So, if we didn't see a polar bear, we had contemplated taking Latte ashore as decoy. For your information, that won't be necessary as we soon saw a lone bear on the shore. Unfortunately, the bear was too far away for any decent photos but through the binoculars, we could see him descend the slope and as he came to a snowy patch, we watched him roll and slide on its icy surface.

We are now heading for Erebus Bay to the other side of Barrow Strait. The reason for this is that during one of the continuous tacking manoeuvres, our jib came tumbling down. We are now negotiating who is the lucky one that will be lifted to the top of the mast.

August 29th 2010

2010-08-31T09:27:00.000-07:00

Rendezvous with A Rower

70º59' N, 96º44' W

Yesterday, we had the pleasure of meeting Mathieu Bonnier, a French veterinarian who explores the Arctic in the company of his dog Tico, by rowing (http://www.expeditiontico.com). We heard from Peter that Mathieu was somewhere near Tasmania Island coming south and, therefore, we kept a sharp lookout. Before we spotted him, however, Mathieu who was also aware of our presence in the area, contacted us via VHF. We arranged a rendezvous and invited Mathieu on board. We spent the next couple of hours exchanging information about the Passage and listening to his fascinating stories about rowing, skiing and dog-sled racing. All the while, we were towing his rowing boat and dog, and about ten miles further south, we dropped him off in a bay where he took Tico for his daily walk, before continuing his laborious journey towards Cambridge Bay.

August 28th 2010

2010-08-29T01:57:00.000-07:00

Bergy Bits!

Oh yes, we have seen quite a few bergy bits during the past 24 hours. They did not come as a surprise as Peter had warned us about these blocks of ice that are like miniature icebergs, made of thick, old ice. And, mind you, they are small only in relation to the proper icebergs! The bits were exactly where they were supposed to be, starting from Larsen Sound and continuing to Franklin Strait.

We had headwind (surprisingly!) and when tacking off the coast of Boothia Peninsula, we soon saw a lot of ice ahead of us, both bergy bits and smaller floe ice. We immediately changed our course and headed back towards the coast. Henceforth, we continued hugging the shoreline until dawn. The two good things about bergy bits are that they like to float alone without the company of other bergy bits, and that because of their size, they can be easily spotted except at night, of course. You may already have guessed when we were in the worst bergy bit area: in the middle of the night, during its darkest hours, naturally! This meant that we were both awake all night trying to see the bits that showed on the radar and the possible other bits that did not. Again, many of the bits became visible only after we had passed them but here the reason was obvious. As we were heading north, the bits in front of us were backlit and, hence, disappeared in the dark seas.

For this particular leg, we have adopted a daily routine that is quite different from what we normally have: because of the ice, both crew members stay awake from dusk till dawn. At the crack of dawn when the visibility has improved sufficiently, the more tired crew member goes to sleep, after which we have breakfast together. Then, the other crew member goes to sleep, after which we have lunch. Thereafter, we take turns in resting but the main thing is that one of us is always on watch. This continues till dinner time which is around nine, after which both of us must stay awake and keep a sharp lookout for ice. We have learned from bitter experience that when there is nobody on watch, the ice will find us. For this reason, we are determined to stick to the above routine until we are absolutely clear of these ice-infested waters!

Today, we had also another good reason for keeping a sharp lookout, but we'll tell you more about that tomorrow.

August 27th 2010

2010-08-27T20:57:00.000-07:00

Leaving Gjoa Haven

69º37.72' N, 95º26.09' W

All good is worth waiting for! At the moment, the ice situation looks good, the weather looks good, and the lunch looks good! We are presently motoring the ice-free waters of James Ross Strait in warm sunshine, enjoying delicious pizza in the cockpit, and listening to a young tenor singing Italian music (Thank you, Kathy!). In other words, everything is absolutely fabulous!

Just as I was writing that, our little autopilot suddenly decided to change our course turning Sarema back towards Gjoa Haven, and refused to be switched off. It now seems that we cannot use the Navigation mode at all, but fortunately the Heading mode is still functioning. We cannot think of any reason for this malfunction, maybe there was just too much asparagus on top of the pizza!
We left Gjoa Haven yesterday evening and, during our first night at sea, we had 15 knots headwind, almost a full moon, and beautiful starlit skies. We couldn't remember when we had last seen the stars. Until now, even at night, there has been a glow of light coming from behind the horizon that has faded the light from the stars and made them invisible to us. But with the approach of autumn, the days are becoming shorter and the nights longer and darker.
Dark autumn nights are wonderful if you want to admire the Milky Way, but when you need to negotiate a field of floe ice, they lose some of their charm. However, yesterday's ice chart looked promising; the area marked in blue (<1/10 % ice) stretched several miles off the coast of Boothia Peninsula, and there was not much ice at the western entrance of Bellot Strait. Because the east end of the Strait and Prince Regent Inlet behind it are still blocked by ice, our only option is to continue through Peel Sound and go around Somerset Island. That shouldn't present a problem as there is denser ice mainly in Larsen Sound, whereas Peel Sound should only have 1/10 ice coverage. But as we know from experience, in reality, things can be very different from what is seen on an ice chart!

August 25th 2010

2010-08-25T11:10:00.000-07:00

Patience is the Word!

Yesterday's ice chart looked so GOOD! The ice had moved once more further west, and the waters between the denser ice and Boothia Peninsula were marked blue, i.e. merely 1/10 ice coverage. But after listening to the weather report; 25 knots north wind for the next two to three days, we decided to prolong our visit in Gjoa Haven. It is the combination of ice and wind that dictates what we'll do, whether we go or stay. We now know that ice can move with astonishing speed, and we definitely want to stay well out of its way. As we read on the blog of Ocean Watch, a vessel sailing around the Americas, “More than one would-be explorer of days gone by, who watched their boat be crushed by the ice, discovered it the hard way: Ice is serious stuff!”

To prevent this becoming too serious, and as we seem to have ample time, let's continue our language studies. Inuinnaqtun and Inuktitut are the official native languages in Nunavut. In the Northwest Territories, the official native languages are Cree, Chipewyan, Inuvialuktun, Inuktitut, Inuinnaqtun, Dogrib, North Slavey, South Slavey, and Gwich'in. Your homework is to find out what language the above sign is in and translate it into English. Just take your time!

August 24th 2010

2010-08-24T11:03:00.000-07:00

In Gjoa Haven

68º37.68´ N, 95º52.88´ W

We dropped anchor in the protected harbour of Gjoa Haven on Sunday evening at ten to eight. Young Larry, the British sail boat that we knew from Peter's radio net was already there, but there was no sign of RX2. The following morning, we received an email from the Norwegian sailors explaining that they had continued past Gjoa Haven as the waters ahead were practically ice-free. They are in a hurry because they want to get across the North Atlantic before the autumn storms, on their way back to Norway. It was a pity as there was a memorial to be held in honour of Roald Amundsen later that day, and there were no Norwegian boats present.

At four o'clock in the afternoon, all the locals plus the crews of Young Larry and Sarema were gathered on the hill facing the hamlet. Speeches were given by both the Mayor of Gjoa Haven and the Norwegian Ambassador, the flags of both countries were raised on brand-new flagpoles, and a thousand photos were taken. As it was all about Roald Amundsen and Norway, and since we had promised RX2 to represent them during the festivities, we tried to look as Norwegian as possible. We think we did pretty well!

Later the same evening, on receiving the daily ice chart, we came face to face with the sombre reality. For some unforeseeable reason, the ice further north had shifted and blocked Franklin Strait. And in Larsen Sound, it had also moved eastward and was now less than fifteen miles off the shore. This will keep us in Gjoa Haven for a little longer but hopefully not for too long!

August 22nd 2010

2010-08-22T14:45:00.000-07:00

Ice Ahead!?

It is icy cold and foggy as we negotiate the narrows leading to Gjoa Haven, a place named after Roald Amundsen's ship Gjöa, the first vessel ever to navigate the Northwest Passage. For Amundsen, the voyage took a total of three years (1903-1906). We hope that our crossing will be considerably shorter!
From Gjoa Haven, we will begin probably the most crucial leg of our voyage and, henceforth, it is going to be all about ice! The ice will dictate all our movements; when we can go, which way we should go and how far we are able to go. This means that we have to continuously follow the movements of the ice that can sometimes be unbelievably rapid and unpredictable. We have two sources that provide us with information, our support person back in Finland, Esko Pettay, who sends us ice charts by email and Peter Semotiuk in Cambridge Bay who reads us the daily weather report on the radio and emails ice charts as necessary. On the charts (by Canadian Ice Service), the ice concentration is marked in different colours; white means open or ice-free water (our favourite!), blue means less that 1/10 ice, i.e. 10 % ice coverage, green areas have 1/10 – 3/10 ice, yellow areas are covered by 4/10 – 6/10 ice, orange areas by 7/10 – 8/10, and red areas by 9/10 – 10/10, i.e. solid ice. Besides the ice concentration, also the size, type and thickness of the ice are of significance when planning our ongoing voyage. In reality, all coloured areas except blue and perhaps green are impassable for Sarema. And we will do everything in our power to avoid going into areas coloured yellow, orange or red!

So, understandably, we are studying the ice charts with ever increasing interest. At the moment, the east end of Bellot Strait is still blocked by ice, and if the situation does not improve by the time we have to proceed through preferably ice-free Peel Sound, the only option left is to continue north and sail around Somerset Island. This would mean one extra day's sailing. Since the ice is melting at an increasing rate, the blockage could disappear within the next few days or with luck, the winds will sweep the ice south down the Gulf of Boothia and clear the passage for us. For now, there is nothing else for us to do but wait and hope for the best!
While waiting for the ice to melt, we decided to give you a crash course in two native languages. But first, a few words about the natives themselves. In Alaska, Eskimo is a commonly used word that refers collectively to both the Yupik and the Inupiat tribes, whereas in Canada, and in Nunavut in particular, you should never use the word Eskimo as it is considered to be pejorative by the natives. They call themselves Inuit, and so should we. Now, back to the languages. There are several native languages and dialects, some on the verge of extinction, some still in everyday use especially amongst the old. Here, we have chosen two of the most widely spoken languages, namely Iñupiaq used by the Alaskan Eskimo and Inuinnaqtun spokenby the Inuit.

English - Iñupiaq - Inuinnaqtun

cold, to get cold - alappaa - alappaa
hurry - qilamik - qilamik
caribou - tuttu - tuktu
knife (woman's) - ulu - ulu
grandmother - aana - anaanaga
grandfather - taata - ataataga
good morning - uvlaalluataq - ublaami
thank you - taikuu - quana

As you can see, many of the words are the same in both languages and then again, some words are completely different. From personal experience, we can say that if you ever contemplate visiting the Polar Region, the word to memorize is ALAPPAA!

August 20th 2010

2010-08-22T01:43:00.000-07:00

Cambridge Bay

69º06.83´ N, 105º03.62´ W

Due to favourable currents and lack of headwinds, we arrived in Cambridge Bay already on Wednesday, almost half a day earlier than predicted. We had enjoyed the most glorious weather for the past two days, and it felt as if this too had speeded up our journey, although we are not quite sure if sunshine has ever actually helped increase a boat's speed though it definitely raises the crew's spirits. Our plan was to stay in Cambridge Bay only for two nights, in other words, long enough to get fuel, buy some vegetables, and upload a few pictures on the blogs.

Among sailors, the remote hamlet of Cambridge Bay is known for three things. Firstly, it is the final resting place of Roald Amundsen's vessel the Maud which was launched in 1917 and became an ice-locked research vessel drifting in the polar pack ice. The ship served Amundsen on two voyages crossing both the Northeast Passage and most of the Northwest Passage. In 1926, the ship was purchased by the Hudson Bay Company and used as a supply vessel and finally, a floating warehouse and a wireless station until she sank here in 1930. Secondly, it is the summer home port of Peter Semotiuk who is the guardian angel of most of the crews that try to navigate the Northwest Passage, providing them with up-to-date weather and ice information and taking care of their needs in numerous ways. Thirdly, it is the only place where children are known to throw stones on visiting boats.
Nobody knows the reason for this odd behaviour which has continued for years. We were aware of the nuisance since most of the boats that had visited Cambridge Bay had complained about it on their blogs. Therefore, we were very surprised when nothing happened the night after our arrival. We even naively thought that this nasty tradition no longer existed. We could not have been more wrong. The next morning, the crew of RX2, the Norwegian boat that we had already seen in Nome, told us that their deck was full of stones every morning, and the reason why nothing had happened the night before was that the big tugboat that was moored next to us, had placed a guard on the jetty for the night. Both the tugboat and RX2 left the next day leaving us the only remaining target for the stones. So, in order to guard our precious sleep, Riitta stopped the first mounted policeman she saw on the street and requested Police Protection! The policeman who was very sympathetic, told that they were aware of the problem, but there was very little they could do about it. However, he promised to see to it that their patrol car would stop by the jetty a few times during the night.
We will never know whether it was the police patrol or the miserable weather with a heavy drizzle that kept the children away but, for the second night running, not one stone landed on our deck! As we didn't want to push our luck, we decided to stick to our original plan and leave for Gjoa Haven in the morning.

August 17th 2010

2010-08-18T01:21:00.000-07:00

Coronation Gulf

68º27.90´ N, 110º32.30´ W

During our third day at sea, the fog lifted, the skies cleared and finally, we had sunshine! It is amazing how much the quality of life improves when you can see where you are going!
In the evenings, we watch in awe as the sun disappears behind the horizon and its rays paint the sky and the sea with the most astonishing colours. Although the sun stays behind the horizon a little longer every night, we still have nearly 24 hours daylight which is of great help when negotiating the narrow channels of the Passage.

We are presently motoring along Coronation Gulf between Victoria Island and the mainland. Since we left Tuktoyaktuk about four days ago, besides Sarema's crew, we have not seen another living creature in this godforsaken place, not in the sea, on its shores or on the radar. On both sides of the Passage, the land stretches away brown, rocky and desolate; it looks like a moonscape without the craters. There is not a tree or shrub to be seen. To describe the landscape, deserted, except that we doubt if anyone ever lived here, and barren are further adjectives that come to mind. It is difficult to imagine a place more lonely and empty than the Arctic.
Speaking of empty, the Arctic wildlife or actually the lack of it has been a huge disappointment, especially to Riitta who has been in constant readiness with her camera, and being an optimist, continues to be so. Our sightings so far, all seen from a distance, comprise birds; mainly seagulls and a few flocks of eiders, maybe two dozen seals; harbour and ringed seals, a total of two caribou, and a lone whale that we were unable to identify because we only saw its blow. All that put together amounts to less than what we often sighted in one single day while sailing in southwest Alaska. The truth is that here in the Polar Region, where there is ice, there is life, as strange as that may sound. Ice is a crucial element for the Arctic wildlife and every year, there seems to be less and less of that precious commodity!

August 14th 2010

2010-08-15T01:50:00.000-07:00

Amundsen Gulf

70º38.92´ N, 127º30.82´ W

I hate to repeat myself but it really has been awfully grey up here on the Arctic Ocean. On Thursday evening, which was our last in Tuktoyaktuk, the sun came out for a few hours and everything looked Oh, so bright and beautiful. We even talked about wearing T-shirts the next day and getting suntanned. Understandably, our hopes were high when we woke up the following morning and what did we see, nothing but GREY! We were completely enveloped by fog as thick as pea soup, except not green but grey. The fog had rolled in during the night and did not lift until late Saturday afternoon when we were well on our way to Cambridge Bay. There were a few clearer patches every now and then, but most of the time we were engulfed in thick, damp fog with no visibility to speak of.

Until now, the radar has been our only means to detect anything there is to detect which has been absolutely nothing so far. It is as if we were the only vessel in Amundsen Gulf which, of course, could well be the truth. We know that there are boats coming from the east but they are all still on the other side of Peel Sound waiting for the ice to retreat.
So, we continue our lonely transit towards Cambridge Bay where we should be sometime next Thursday, weather permitting. There are a few anchorages along the way but we have decided to use them only in case of emergency. Our goal is to get to Cambridge Bay as soon as possible, take fuel, hopefully find internet connection and then continue straight to Gjoa Haven, which is the place to be when Peel Sound opens up. At the moment, we take one day at a time, and try not to worry too much about the future.

August 12th 2010

2010-08-13T01:16:00.000-07:00

The Hamlet of Tuktoyaktuk

69º25.96' N, 132º58.22´ W

While in Demarcation Bay waiting for the weather to improve, we had finally time to check our email. Amongst the messages were two from Kathleen who works for the NOAA. The first message contained information on both the weather and the ice but the second one, although brief, was even more informative:

“Pekka,

I wanted to let you know the ice is moving much closer to the Alaska north coast between Cape Halkett and Camden Bay. There will be an on shore component to the winds for at least the next 10 days. Much of the ice near the coast is multi-year ice, thick and dense!”

Even though this message reached us too late, it was still good to know the reason why the ice had been so much more south than we had anticipated.

We ended up staying in Demarcation Bay for three nights due to the fog, the rain and the headwind. We left the Bay on Sunday morning and a few hours later crossed the US – Canada border at 2.06 p.m. and arrived in Canada at 4.06 p.m., skipping one time zone altogether. The skies had now cleared but the headwind had remained and as a result, we were forced to tack, and mind you, Sarema is no good at tacking, for a total of two and a half days and about 80 extra miles till we arrived in the hamlet of Tuktoyaktuk late Tuesday evening.

In the long, winding and shallow channel leading to the harbour, we experienced a few uneasy moments when our new NavPak-Pro showed us sailing on the wrong side of the buoys and over reefs and islands. There is obviously a chart datum error in the program that has to be corrected. Thank God, we never rely on one single navigation aid, and use our common sense and seamanship at all times!

Thanks to the two-day tacking, we woke up next “morning” at around 2 p.m. and after hurried breakfast, dinghied ashore to check us in Canada. The pleasant office staff of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police took care of all the formalities for us, and after about an hour, we were officially in Canada.

We were also advised how to arrange a visit to the only place that we really wanted to see in Tuktoyaktuk, i.e. the community Ice House. It is a small building the size of a kiosk and inside, there is a hole in the middle of the floor with a cover on it. The cover pulled aside, we climbed down a ladder and found a natural freezer dug in the permafrost about eight metres below ground. It is an ingenious invention used for thousands of years by the Inuit but as summers become warmer and longer-lasting, the time of ice houses is coming to an end, as everything related to permafrost which is melting at an alarming rate.

Due to the climate change, it seems evident that Tuktoyaktuk will also lose its second most popular tourist attraction, namely the pingos. A pingo looks like an ordinary hill but is, in fact, a hill of solid ice covered with a layer of soil thick enough to provide a rooting ground for plants. There are hundreds of pingos on the Tuktoyaktuk Peninsula, all slowly but surely melting away.
We are now anchored in front of Northern Store, our tanks full and ready to leave tomorrow morning for Cambridge Bay. For the next five or six days, we will be at sea again but, this time, the waters should be completely ice-free!

August 6th 2010

2010-08-08T02:09:00.000-07:00

All That Ice!

69º40.284' N, 141º14.560' W

This is not to point the finger at anyone in particular but the truth is that the member of the crew who was supposed to be on Ice Watch fell asleep. The gale on roller coaster seas with very little sleep had clearly taken its toll. Anyway, at around midnight after passing Point Barrow, we woke to a hellish bang and hideous scratching sound that came from the sides of the boat. We had run into ICE! We were up on deck in a fraction of a second, and Pekka managed to turn the boat just as she was about to crash against a pack of ice. We had thought that the ice was much, much further north but obviously we were wrong.

Later the same day, the other crew member who was supposed to be on Ice Watch was playing with the computer when there was a horrible bang at the bow and Sarema came to a halt. This time it was less dramatic, though, only one not-so-big ice block that was split in two as a result of the collision. The strange thing about this incident was that we had the radar on but the ice block did not show on the screen. It was only after we had hit the ice that we could see it on the radar. We have now learned our lesson(s) and will never ever again underestimate the importance of ice watch!
After the close encounter at night, we had decided to sail closer to the shore in order to avoid the pack ice. However, there was still plenty of floe ice floating around the boat and keeping us busy at the helm but as there was ample space to manoeuvre, we actually enjoyed the zigzagging.

It was a lovely and somewhat peculiar day in many respects. The skies were blue and the sun was shining which was just wonderful after so many grey days. We cherished the light and the warmth which also gave us additional pleasure in the form of mirages. We had read about the Novaya Zemlya Effect but had no idea how magnificent and fascinating this phenomenon could be; on the horizon, we could see a white wall of ice reaching the skies, objects that were actually behind the horizon were floating in the sky above us, ice blocks growing into gigantic proportions with their mirror image hanging above them. The Arctic is a truly magical place and since that day, we have had the privilege of enjoying this magic almost on a daily basis.

It was plain sailing till we arrived at Prudehoe Bay and saw, in front of us, a wall of pack ice that looked absolutely impenetrable. The captain of a tugboat that was motoring close by called us on the radio and told that he had been trying to get through the ice for the last eight hours, that he would give it one more try and if he didn't get through, he would continue trying the following morning. He recommended that we should try the shallow passage between the shore and a chain of small islands that was ice-free. We watched as he tried in vain to penetrate into the mass of ice. After a while, he gave up and returned to the open water. It was clear that we should follow his advice, and for the next twelve hours or so we motored along the inside passage to its last entrance (Mary Sachs) that was deep enough for Sarema to exit.
On our port side, the wall of pack ice as high as a skyscraper (Novaya Zemlya Effect) continued haunting us all the way to the entrance and beyond. Near the entrance, we saw a helicopter hovering above an oil drilling platform. Pekka contacted its pilot via VHF because the view from the helicopter was far better than from where we were. The pilot told that there was a few miles wide stretch between the ice pack and the shore and, though it was filled with floe ice, she thought it could be navigable and that after Barter Island, the waters were practically ice-free.

We managed to get through the maybe a little too shallow Mary Sachs Entrance without major difficulties (only one grounding). After leaving the protected passage, we used all our time and energy trying to avoid hitting the ice blocks floating around the boat. For hours and hours, we navigated through floe and pack ice which required quick reactions and concentration. This was quite tiring and gradually, we began to feel a bit oppressed amidst all that ice that stretched away as far as the eye could see. We spent a total of 46 exhausting hours navigating through the field of ice but fortunately what the helicopter pilot had said was true and, as we approached Barter Island, there was no more pack ice in front of us, and we were finally free!
Because the weather forecast was 25 knots east i.e. headwind and since we really had a lot of catching up to do sleep-wise, we headed for Demarcation Bay, about five miles off the Canadian border. This was the first time we anchored since Nome, and we are going to stay here for the next two days doing some necessary maintenance work on the boat, relaxing and also celebrating the excellent progress we have made so far in the Northwest Passage!

August 3rd 2010

2010-08-08T02:07:00.000-07:00

The Gale

The gale started late in the afternoon with the predicted 35 to 40 knot winds. Soon, the waves started to increase in height and eventually, it was as if we were riding on a roller coaster with steep ups and downs due to the sharpness of the waves. We had set the radar to sound an alarm in case floe ice drifted into our vicinity. However, the breaking waves caused the radar to give a false alarm every five minutes or so, and we had to switch it off. We remained hove to for the next 34 hours and during that time, we drifted, aided by a strong current, approximately 30 nautical miles back towards Barrow.
We assumed that the strong south-westerlies had now shifted the ice after Barrow further north and that there would be a lead between the ice pack and the shore. So, when the winds decreased to some 30 knots, we set sail again and continued our disrupted travel towards Tuktoyaktuk.

August 1st 2010

2010-08-08T02:04:00.000-07:00

Heaving To

71º19.49' N, 158º24.74´ W

As of today, an addition has been made to the already existing range of colours that surround us. The palette now consists of Grey, Grey, Grey, and Turquoise, the colours referring to the sky, the sea, the land, and the ice, respectively. Yes, this morning we saw ice for the very first time; there were huge blocks of floe ice all around us as we negotiated our way towards Barrow. They were not gigantic (although, I think the Americans still call them icebergs) but big enough to be of concern. Consequently, a 24-hour Ice Watch has now come into effect on board Sarema.

The weather forecast was another thing giving cause for concern as we neared Barrow. There was a low pressure area approaching us from south-west with 35 to 40 knot winds. Now, the direction of the wind was good because it would probably sweep the ice off the coast but, of course, its strength was something to worry about.
The Chukchi Sea is very shallow with less than 20 meter depths around Point Barrow. After Barrow, there was a large area of fast ice which, as far as we knew, was still attached to the shore blocking our way to Tuktoyaktuk. Since Barrow does not have a harbour, and the lagoon in front of the town has an average depth of about two meters, we were left with very few alternatives. After carefully considering our predicament, we decided to make a U-turn and head for the open sea. At a distance of about 30 miles from the shore, we hove to hopefully far enough from the pack ice lying north of us to allow Sarema drift with the predicted winds. At the moment, we are staying put and waiting for the approaching gale!

July 31st 2010

2010-08-08T02:00:00.000-07:00

The Importance of Comfortable Sailing

After leaving Nome, Sarema's head (= toilet) became a major issue amongst her crew. It is the only space that does not have any kind of heating with the result that, at some point during our voyage up north, it had become to resemble a refrigerator. When you opened the head door, you could feel the cold air rush towards you. And when you thought of the ice-cold ring awaiting you therein, you were more than tempted to quickly close the door in front of you.
At first, neither of us was willing to admit that she/he detested the cold (we were on our way to the Northwest Passage, for crying out loud!) but, of course, the situation could not continue like this forever. So finally, after having discussed this delicate matter between us, we came up with the simplest of solutions: we tied the head door to the handle of the fore cabin door so that it would stay open permanently. After only a few hours, the head was just as warm and comfortable as the rest of the boat. Of course, we now lack most of the privacy we used to have but, after all, how important is privacy compared to a warm toilet seat!

July 29th 2010

2010-08-01T03:28:00.000-07:00

Chukchi Sea

68º15.95' N, 167º12.75' W

We left Nome Tuesday afternoon after having first filled our water tank and said goodbye to Deb, Rolland, and Tibo who had come to see us off. We had done some reprovisioning the day before but had not found any eggs at the grocery store. Deb too had tried to find them for us but without success. We were just about to untie the boat when she asked whether we had got the eggs as a fresh lot had arrived at the store that very afternoon. When she heard that we hadn't, off they drove with Rolland to get two dozen eggs for us. So, every time we have eggs aboard, we are sure to remember the good people of the Precipice. Outside the breakwater, the Bering Sea was surprisingly choppy but as soon as we had got the sails up and settled on the right course, sailing was pretty enjoyable. This lasted for about twelve hours after which the wind dropped and, consequently, we have now been motor-sailing for the past two days.

Sarema crossed the Arctic Circle Thursday night at 00.27. This marked the unofficially official beginning of the Northwest Passage for us. To celebrate the occasion, we had the last two of Kathy's brownies and toasted our future success (!!) with a glass of wine.
While sailing in the Bering Strait, we came close to the International Date Line. The idea of crossing the Line and sailing into the future was very tempting but as rational people, we dismissed it. Obviously, the fact that crossing the Line would have meant violating the Russian Customs and Immigration Laws also influenced our decision-making.
At the moment, it seems that the further north we go, the less we see of the sun. We had thought it would be the other way around. So far, the weather has been cold, damp and foggy. Actually, we shouldn't be complaining since we are in Alaska and this is typical Alaskan weather. Wherever you look, whether it is the sky, the sea or a piece of land that every now and again rises above the eastern horizon, it is all grey, only in different tones.
According to the Arctic Sea Ice News and Analysis, published by the National Snow and Ice Data Center, high pressure has started to build in the Beaufort Sea. Whether this will continue, remains to be seen. We sincerely hope that the Arctic High with clear skies and blue seas is somewhere up there waiting for us!

July 26th 2010

2010-07-26T18:02:00.000-07:00

Nome

The time has come to leave Nome. We have had a great time here with people that we will always remember; Tibo who after returning from a reindeer round-up, came to our boat with two salmon and a bunch of interesting photographs, one of which is below,

Alex who after coming back from his fruitless gold exploration, was in the habit of entertaining us aboard the Sarema almost daily with his new job hunting plans (if anyone is interested, Alex is presently crabbing somewhere on the Bering Sea), Susanne who was our knowledgeable guide to anything related to Nome and its surroundings, Hugh who gave Riitta a crash course in how to use Photoshop as a darkroom, and last but not least Deb, Rolland, Jannelle and Bianca, the crew of the Precipice who had sailed the Northwest Passage from east to west the year before. They donated their time to us, shared their invaluable, first-hand experiences of the Northwest Passage with us and, as if that wasn't enough, they also gave us all their paper charts of the Passage.
We should now be as well prepared for the Passage as we'll ever be. We even have musk ox wool for our mittens to keep our hands warm (from Susanne and Hugh), and goggles so that we would see where we are going even in the roughest weather (from Deb and Rolland). So, it is time to say Goodbye Nome, Welcome the Northwest Passage!

July 22nd 2010

2010-07-23T11:46:00.000-07:00

Nome

Didn't I say the other day that anything could happen? And, it did!
Heikki, a Finnish reindeer specialist who works for the University of Alaska came to see us Monday evening together with a colleague of his, a young Frenchman by the name of Tibo. Heikki had to fly to Fairbanks the next day but Tibo promised to take us musk ox viewing. Although the weather was miserable as it has been every day since our arrival, we managed to see two herds of musk oxen; one out in the bushes and the other one just outside Nome when coming back from an old gold digging dredge.
The original musk oxen of the Seward Peninsula were hunted to extinction in the 1800's, but the 70 animals that were introduced here about 30 years ago have grown to a population of more than 2,000! Residents are allowed to hunt the musk ox seasonally but for this, they require a special licence. And to secure the future of the animal, hunting is strictly controlled.
We also heard a strange but true story about the caribou and the reindeer. There used to be twenty something reindeer herders in the area but today, only five are left. The main reason for this is that the caribou are stealing the reindeer! Being closely related genetically, the reindeer easily integrate into caribou herds. And when the caribou migrate, the reindeer go with them.

Later the same day, a local couple, Susanne and Hugh, came to our boat. They had seen our message on the community website, placed there by an employee of the Nome Visitors' Centre, saying that there were two Finnish sailors at the boat harbour without a rental car, and they were willing to take us sightseeing. Since we had already been in the countryside that day, we agreed to meet Susanne the next morning.
Nome's road system consists of three main roads, each extending about 75 miles into the countryside. At the end of each road is a community; Teller, Kougarok, and Council. We took the road that follows the coast of the Bering Sea northeast and then turns inland towards the community of Council. We drove all the way to the Niukluk River that crosses the entrance to Council. It was a lovely ride although, except for the odd rabbit and ground squirrel, local wildlife had clearly taken the day off. The scenery was spectacular alternating between flatlands, tundra, hills and mountains with patches of spruce trees, and winding rivers with crystal clear water and spawning salmon. Along the way, we saw Eskimos' summer camps, remnants of the gold rush, dilapidated dredges, and also the amazing Last Train to Nowhere, abandoned in the tundra back in 1907.

The northerly winds continue, and our stay in Nome is prolonged, accordingly. On the basis of the latest weather forecast, the direction of the wind should change and become more favourable for us. If that happens, we should be on our way to the Northwest Passage by the beginning of next week.

July 19th 2010

2010-07-19T16:26:00.000-07:00

Nome

In Nome, we met Alex from Barcelona. We did not know anything about Alex until he started emailing us. At the time, we were in Dutch Harbor and he himself was in Seward where he had heard of us from a French sailor who had heard of our plans from a friend of ours. Anyway, Alex is a committed vagabond and he was determined to sail the Northwest Passage with us. We had declined his kind offer of becoming a member of our small crew already several times by email but, when you have a dream, it is hard to give it up. So, Alex had decided to fly to Nome to meet us! Naturally, we had no knowledge of his plans. Imagine our surprise when a few days ago we heard somebody calling us out at the dock and there he was, a young man with a broad smile on his face, greeting us with the words “Hi, family!” He had spent most of his money on the plane ticket to Nome and had to find a job before he could fly back to Seward. As far as we know, Alex is now digging gold somewhere outside Nome and hopefully making his fortune!

Yesterday, we went to do the laundry. Finding the place was a bit difficult as there was no proper sign on the building. It said Mark's Soap N Suds Bar and Grill on the outside wall, and it took a while before we understood that it also referred to the laundry. Inside the building, there was a small take-out restaurant and at the back, a smoke-filled bar with a pool table in the centre and a few tables around it. Along the back wall, there were washing machines and gas-operated!! dryers. Although one of our socks got stuck on the dryer's inside wall and melted in the flames, for once we actually enjoyed doing the laundry. The place was open from 6 pm to 3 am, so both the time of the day and the venue itself gave us a good excuse for having a G&T and a game of pool while waiting for our clothes to dry.
One thing that we have not managed to sort out so far is the musk ox viewing, i.e. we are still without a car. In Nome, the problem is that there are either too many tourists or too few rental cars. People fly here as that is the only way to reach Nome, except by boat of course. And they all have reserved a car well in advance which means that there is not a single car left for us. However, we still have a few days left before we leave for Barrow, and anything can happen before that.

July 16th 2010

2010-07-17T17:17:00.000-07:00

There is no place like Nome

64º03.871' N, 165º36.826' W

The leg from the Pribilof Islands to Nome was extremely uneventful; few birds, no fish, not a single computer problem. The only thing worth mentioning is that between Wednesday and Thursday, we lost the night. And not just one night but all the nights between now and August something. It is going to be 24 hours daylight from now on, and the further north we go, the lighter it gets.

On our arrival Thursday afternoon, which was yesterday, the Nome Harbour Master congratulated us on good timing as there was going to be a storm the following day. This was the second time running we had just managed to escape bad weather, which is very lucky indeed since bad weather on the extremely shallow Bering Sea can be really bad! At the moment, there is a High Surf Warning in force. All those who have been watching the Deadliest Catch know what that means.
Because our boat was too big for the floats in the small boat harbour, we got a place alongside a high cargo dock. This was fine except that the only way to get ashore is climbing a ladder. Once again, taking Latte for a walk presented a problem but, fortunately, not an insurmountable one. Thanks to the Skipper's muscle tone, Latte is able to enjoy her three long daily walks on the beach nearby. Thank God, she is not very heavy!

The harbour fee for our boat was 100 dollars for four days or 75 dollars for a week. Naturally, we paid for the whole week although we'll probably leave early next week, weather permitting of course. During the next couple of days, we will familiarize ourselves with the ice conditions around Point Barrow, get to know the town, try to find a grocery store for reprovisioning, and, last but not least, go musk ox viewing. Let's hope we have more luck with the musk oxen than we had with the reindeer!

July 10th 2010

2010-07-15T21:31:00.000-07:00

St. Paul

We were told that there was a herd of about 400 reindeer roaming the tundra and, on our last day on the island, we decided to go reindeer watching. For some unknown reason, however, our rental car was never delivered. But, maybe it was just as well that we couldn't go as we have plenty of reindeer back home, Finland being Father Christmas' home country as we all know. So, instead, we spent the misty morning hours walking along the beach on the outskirts of the town watching and listening to young male seals grunting, roaring or merely dozing on the volcanic rocks. On our way back to the boat, we tried to make friends with a very urban Arctic fox that appeared be living under the storage shack near the town radio station.

An estimated 2.7 million seabirds migrate to the Pribilof Islands each summer. The majority of the birds use St George because it has eight times more cliff area than St. Paul. Nonetheless, St. Paul also has a diversity of seabirds some of which we wanted to see. So, later in the afternoon, when the sky was clear once again, we went bird watching. We hiked to the bird cliffs near the fur seal rookery that provide an excellent place for thousands of seabirds to hatch and raise their young, and offer a superb viewing point for nature enthusiasts like us. We spent a good while watching and photographing red-faced cormorants, northern fulmars, black-legged kittiwakes, parakeet auklets, crested auklets, tufted puffins, etc.

St. Paul's wildlife was fascinating and its people were friendly and helpful: Alicia at the Town Hall, Barbara at St. Paul Museum, and Laura whom we met at the post office and who, a few hours later, brought us a delicious loaf of banana bread, a slice of which I am enjoying as I write this, and coffee mugs as souvenirs of the island. We would have stayed a bit longer had it not been so dusty and noisy at the harbour, and so utterly uninspiring for poor Latte. She was not allowed to leave the boat at all during our stay in order to prevent disease transmission to seals and foxes. Little did the authorities know that she is by far the healthiest member of our crew with all the compulsory vaccinations plus two health passports, one from Spain and the other from Martinique. But we totally agreed with this rule, and as we did not want to take the risk of her running ashore unattended, she had to stay inside the boat most of the time.

We left St. Paul on Sunday July 11th while the morning mist was still hovering over the harbour. There was now hardly a breeze left of the 30 knot winds that had prevailed throughout our stay, and we commenced our journey towards Nome motorsailing, as usual.

July 7th 2010

2010-07-15T19:45:00.000-07:00

St. Paul, Pribilof Islands

57º07.516' N, 170º17.064' W

After motoring all the way from Dutch Harbor, the wind picked up as soon as we arrived at St. Paul late Wednesday afternoon, and it has been blowing since at the speed of 30 - 35 knots. Inside the fishing harbour, we found ourselves amidst tugboats and barges as the harbour is undergoing major construction. After somewhat confusing instructions as to where we should tie our boat, we were given a place alongside the Trident (Fish Processing Plant) dock. This is usually a good location since the laundry is normally close by, as was the case also here!

The next day we took a tour of the town. There are around 500 inhabitants on the island, most of whom live in the town of St. Paul. The community is predominantly Aleut (Unangan), with a small minority of Eskimos and Caucasians. One of the very first local residents we met was, however, an Arctic or Pribilof fox (alopex lagopus pribilofensis) who, being an opportunist, resided next to the fishing harbour.

Once again, one of our major concerns was how to update our blogs. At the Town Hall, we were told that there was no public internet access since both the hotel and the library were closed. But, we were free to use the computer at the Town Hall itself!
In the afternoon, after the thick fog that had settled on the island during the night had momentarily lifted, we walked to the northern fur seal (callorhinus ursinus) rookery outside the town. Despite the 30 knot winds, going there was easy as we went along with the wind. But, coming back was a totally different matter. It was like being in a sand storm, you couldn't keep your eyes open and talking was out of the question unless you were prepared to get your mouth full of volcanic sand. We made it, however, and came back with loads of photos of the fur seals.

At the rookery, we were a little apprehensive about the huge bulls that were lying alongside the path leading to the blind within which you have to remain while watching the seals. This is to protect the seals from any human disturbance. We knew that fur seals are aggressive animals and can run faster than people on most terrain, and that bulls, in particular, appear to regard the upright posture of humans as a threat. So, we proceeded with caution and stopped immediately when one of the bulls close by lifted himself up from the ground and started roaring. After a while, the bull seemed to relax, and we continued to the blind. The view from there was absolutely breathtaking! The whole beach was covered with fur seals; bulls, cows, newly born and older pups lying side by side or on top of each other in closely packed groups, some sound asleep, some arguing fiercely with their neighbours.

Seeing the thousands and thousands of fur seals, one could easily forget that the number of seals is actually declining. At the end of the 18th century, the Pribilof Islands' seal herd comprised 3 to 5 million animals. By 1911, the population had declined to about 200,000 seals due to hunting. The North Pacific Fur Seal Treaty, which was the very first international treaty for wildlife conservation, signed between the United States, Canada, Japan, and Russia, ended pelagic sealing and together with an Act of Congress approved in 1912 that prohibited the killing of fur seals anywhere within Alaska for five years, allowed the severely depleted fur seal populations to recover.

Over 50 % of the world's population of northern fur seals breed on the shores of the Pribilof Islands. A study carried out in 2004, estimated the total number of fur seals on the Islands to be 625,000. However, the number of pups born on St. Paul that year was 15.7 % less than in 2002 and 22.6 % less than in 2000. The reason for this is not known.
For us, this was probably once in a lifetime opportunity to watch northern fur seals at such close range, and so we stayed until our hands were so cold we could not take another picture!

July 6th 2010

2010-07-09T11:43:00.000-07:00

Bering Sea

For us, leaving Dutch Harbor marked the actual beginning of our voyage. Up to Unalaska, we had followed our old, once or twice beaten tracks and, although enjoying ourselves, we could not help feeling that it was time for us to move on.
The seas were calm as we motored towards St. Paul of the Pribilof Islands, which was fine by Latte and Riitta as the time spent in Dutch Harbor had made their sea legs a little wobbly. And, anyway, it is always better to have a smooth start weather-wise, even though this normally means motoring. Mind you, the Skipper who is a keen sailor, does not necessarily agree with the aforementioned. On the whole, the passage was uneventful except for the entertainment provided by the numerous sea birds circling our boat, and the crashing of our computer system. Fortunately, in about an hour, after closing all the programs, the computer itself, and then figuring out by trial and error what had gone wrong and why, we were back in business!

We had now ample time to familiarise ourselves with by far the most important data relating to the Northwest Passage, namely ice prediction charts, their symbols and terminology.
According to the outlook prepared by the North American Ice Service, of concern for the region for this summer is the amount of old ice in southern M’Clintock Channel which could easily drift into Larsen Sound. Similarly, the unusual old ice concentrations in the eastern portion of Viscount-Melville Sound and Western Barrow Strait will most certainly affect the clearing of Peel Sound this summer. Moreover, the lack of old ice in the northern portions of M’Clure Strait and Viscount Melville Sound coupled with the thinner than normal first-year ice measured in the Western Arctic will allow for the thicker multi-year ice to leave the Archipelago area and move southward into the Northwest Passage.
The summer temperature outlook for June through August continues to promote above normal temperatures over the entire region. Seasonal air temperatures in the last half of July are forecast to be above normal over the southern half of the Western and Central Arctic. By the end of the period, the southern extent of the pack ice will be near normal in the Beaufort Sea, although concentrations within the main pack may be less than normal. Consolidated ice conditions in the Central Arctic will resemble conditions normally found in mid-August and ice concentrations in M'Clure Strait will continue to be less than normal.
According to the outlook, the possible flow of old ice and thicker multi-year ice into the Passage could cause a problem. We have to remember, however, that this is only a prediction. Whatever the case, the outlook is far better for us sailors than it is for the Environment!

July 4th 2010

2010-07-04T18:52:00.000-07:00

Dutch Harbor

It seems that more often than not we have to change our plans due to the weather. Now, the forecast is 15 to 25 knots from north-west. The wind speed is fine but the direction is not (headwind, once again!) and, as a result, we are still in Dutch Harbor. But the time has not gone to waste. The other day, Riitta bumped into Father Andrew and his lovely wife whom we had met already two years ago in Sand Point. The next day, they drove to the spit, and Father Andrew blessed Sarema and her crew. Father Andrew told us that we would also be included in their weekly prayers. Even though we are not religious, it is somehow very comforting to know that there are people praying for our safety.

Now that we had time to spare, we went to the Aleutian World War II Visitor Center and learned more about the history of the islands and the tragic events that took place here during World War II.
“In the early dawn of June 7, 1942, Japanese soldiers invaded the remote Aleutian Islands of Attu and Kiska, taking all the inhabitants prisoner and claiming the islands for the Japanese Empire. The Aleut residents of the island of Attu were taken to Japan for the duration of the war. Of the 40 captives,16 died over the next three years from disease and starvation. On May 11, 1943, after a year-long bombing campaign, U.S. Troops boarded transport ships for Attu, to wait off shore for the signal to invade the island. Lasting 18 days, the Battle of Attu was one of the deadliest battles of World War II, but it remains one of least well-known.
When the surviving Attuans were released by Japan in 1945, they embarked on a long journey home. When they reached Seattle, they were told that they would not be allowed to return to Attu, as the U.S. Government had decided that the cost to rebuild their devastated village was prohibitive.”
The extracts above are from a leaflet we got from the Aleutian World War II Visitor Center.
Today, Attu is owned and managed by the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service as a part of the Alaska Maritime National Wildlife Refuge. We have no knowledge of what happened to the Attuans that survived the ordeal.
The remains of pillboxes and Quonset huts that were abandoned after the war can still be seen all around the islands.

Now, back to the present. Today is the 4th of July, i.e. the country's Independence Day, and we are looking forward to enjoying some spectacular fireworks later in the evening.
And tomorrow, it is time to go!

July 2nd 2010

2010-07-02T17:42:00.000-07:00

Dutch Harbor

Monday afternoon Harbor Master told us that we could move to the opposite side of the dock which has made life a lot easier for us as we no more have to climb over the tugboat's rusty railing in order to get on the dock. Now, the only remaining problem is the metal dock itself with its grill-like surface. Latte either seems to think she is going to fall through the holes or then the metal grill is not good for her paws. Whatever the reason, she absolutely refuses to walk on it. For the first couple of days, Pekka had to carry her ashore, approx. 100 metres. Now, we have managed to convince her that walking on the dock's narrow wooden rail is the way to do it. Poor Latte, she dislikes the dock, the perpetually cold weather and especially the clothes she has to wear to endure it. The life of a boat-dog is not all fun!
Riitta has now downsized Latter's Alaska-wear to make them a little more comfortable for her. It is great to have a sewing machine aboard, especially one like ours which is Super Automatic and Ideal Topstar as is written on it! The robust machine was made in Germany back in the 60's, it is of solid metal, and weighs about twenty kilos. Though it is heavy to handle, the advantage of the weight is that the machine can be used even in rough weather.

As everywhere in Alaska, the people in Dutch Harbor have been extremely friendly, always willing to assist and advise, offer a ride etc. During the past few days, we have met some of our old friends and made new ones. On Monday, a Swiss couple Silvia and Rolf from S/V Betonia came for a visit. They have been sailing since 1996, and it appeared that we had mutual friends. This is actually quite common amongst long-time sailors as you learn to know a lot of people at anchorages and marinas, you talk to people over VHF or SSB even if you don't actually meet them, you hear about their adventures from other sailors etc. etc. In this case, we all knew Sophie and Didier from French Polynesia who sail the Sauvage and whom we had hoped to meet somewhere in the Aleutian Islands. But, alas, we had passed them at sea on our way to Sand Point.

Wednesday evening Slavek from American Seafoods Co. gave us a pleasant surprise by taking us sightseeing. We drove to the beautiful Summer Bay where, according to Slavek, wild horses can often be seen on the beach. These are descendants of the horses that were brought to the island during the second world war. We didn't see the actual horses but, instead, a lot of droppings and hoof prints in the volcanic sand. On our way back, we saw whales in the bay and two cute fox puppies playing happily by the side of the road. So, it was a real wildlife tour! Yesterday, Karl came to see us. We had met him already two years ago when we were in Dutch Harbor for the first time. Karl is originally from Riga, Latvia, and works here as an underwater welder. He was interested to hear about our journey, and is himself planning to set sail in the foreseeable future.

We have been in Dutch Harbor almost a week now, and it is time to continue our voyage. We'll leave probably on Sunday and our next port of call will be St. Paul of the Pribilof Islands, weather permitting, of course.
Thanks to her extremely hard-working Skipper, our good boat Sarema should now be in top condition and ready for the Passage. Whether this is really the case, only time will tell.

June 27th 2010

2010-06-27T16:32:00.000-07:00

Dutch Harbor, Unalaska

53º54.379' N, 166º30.634' W

We left Sand Point late Wednesday evening and arrived in Unalaska Saturday afternoon rather exhausted after fighting hours and hours against 35 knot winds and changing currents both in and after Unimak Pass. Although we were motor-sailing as hard as our old Perkins would allow, at times we were drifting backwards and then again sideways without making any progress whatsoever. And it did not matter however much we altered our course, we had headwind all the same. This is one of those inexplicable phenomena that can only be experienced when sailing!

Although we would have preferred a slip in the small boat harbour near the centre, we were given one on the long spit on the outskirts of the harbour, which was a little disappointing. We are now alongside a rusty old tugboat which makes getting on and off Sarema a bit of a challenge. The only advantage of the location is that there is ample space to take Latte for a walk but that's about it. The downside, of course, is that most of the services are far away from us. Thank God we have our bicycles!

June 23rd 2010

2010-06-23T18:28:00.001-07:00

Sand Point

55º20.015' N, 160º29.870' W

It was time for socializing! In addition to Capella III, there was in the harbour another transient vessel, Samba, crewed by Josh, Natasha and boat-dog Laxie from Arizona. The very next day after our arrival, Kathy got a huge king salmon from a friendly fisherman. In the evening, we all gathered aboard the Samba to enjoy a delicious meal of poached salmon prepared by Natasha. On Tuesday, Kathy managed to rent a truck that fitted all six of us. Some went sightseeing, while others used the car to run various errands and, later, we all drove to a Chinese restaurant for a farewell dinner as both Capella III and Samba were leaving early next morning. We decided to leave later in the evening, which enabled us to continue our seemingly endless struggle for uploading our latest texts and photos on the blogs.

Sand Point's internet connections were both interesting and utterly frustrating. We tried most of the options available. First, we went to Harbor Cafe where one could be on the Internet for about ten minutes at a time after which the connection was turned off by the proprietor. The reason for this remains a mystery. The next alternative was to sit on the concrete floor at the basement of the Harbor Master's office building where one could use the signal coming through the wall from the carpenter's workshop next door. Since there was no electricity, you could only use your computer until the battery went flat. The third, and by far the best option, was Coffee House along the village road. Here, the only problem was that too many people were using the connection. So, in this case, it was not like “the more, the merrier” but rather “the more users, the weaker the signal”. After about three days of continuous and nerve-wrecking struggle for a proper Internet connection, we decided to leave Sand Point and head for Dutch Harbor!

June 20th 2010

2010-06-21T10:43:00.000-07:00

Amalik Bay

58º05.344' N, 154º29.229' W

We left Kodiak's St Paul's Harbor Tuesday morning at six and on Wednesday, nearly 24 hours later, we dropped anchor in Amalik Bay. The definite highlights of the journey were the numerous fin whales and sea otters we saw in Kupreanof Strait but, once again, Shelikof Strait proved to be a real pain weather-wise. Instead of being from the south as predicted, the wind kept blowing from the west, i.e. straight on the nose. While banging against the waves as Sarema is no good at tacking, we were listening to ABBA and singing out loud “The Winner Takes It All”. Pathetic, some might say but we actually found it quite liberating!

Later on the same day when we woke up after just a few hours of sleep and went up on deck, we spotted a total of 20 (Yes, twenty!!!) grizzlies digging razor clams on the beaches surrounding the bay. Amongst them were five sows with cubs, one with a litter of three. It was good to see that the Amalik bear population is doing fine, and evidently new cubs will be born again next winter!

We spent the following two and a half days bear-watching, rock-fishing, nature photographing, and waiting for the weather to improve. And, by Friday, the direction of the wind had altered so that we could continue our journey. Since we were ready and anxious to move on, we decided to sail straight to the Shumagin Islands. It was not until late Sunday evening that we arrived in Sand Point where, again, our good friends Kathy and Vic were waiting for us at the dock.

June 14th 2010

2010-06-14T18:24:00.000-07:00

We were supposed to leave Kodiak today but after listening to the weather report and the wind howling in the rigging, we decided to change our plans. Instead of sailing straight to Sand Point against the predicted 30 knot winds, we would leave early tomorrow morning, go through Whale Passage and across Shelikof Strait, and pass the time in Amalik Bay, hopefully in the company of grizzlies, until a more favourable weather window would eventually open up.

June 13th 2010

2010-06-13T13:36:00.000-07:00

We are still in Kodiak. Stormy weather has kept us here longer than we had anticipated. However, this extra period of time has not gone to waste. Pekka has continued carrying out repairs on the boat, and he has been hauled up the mast almost on a daily basis; first to install new mast steps, after which to remove our old, non-functioning wind sensor and to replace it with a new one, and then to remove the new, non-functioning wind sensor and to replace it with yet another wind sensor. Meanwhile, Riitta has been doing some serious provisioning assisted by Marion, and Latte the Boatdog has been guarding the Sarema fiercely against every moving fishing vessel and all other dogs she has detected in the vicinity of the boat. We think that some of our neighbours in the boat harbour will be more than glad to see us leave.

June 8th 2010

2010-06-13T13:30:00.001-07:00

Kodiak

57º47.212' N, 152º24.538' W

We are finally underway!
Pekka had been working very hard for the past month to get Sarema ready for the Passage. And now she was, ready enough for us to sail from Seward to Kodiak where the work on the boat was to be continued.
We left Seward three days ago and spent the first night in Thumb Cove in order to get our sea legs back. This applied to Latte the Boatdog, in particular, who had turned into a total landlubber after the almost three and a half years she had spent non-stop in Europe.
When leaving Thumb Cove we were escorted by Dall's porpoises which we like to think a good omen for the rest of our ongoing voyage.
We arrived in Kodiak early Monday evening and were warmly welcomed by our good friends Marion and Marty, Kodiak Harbor Master, and Kathy, Vic and Skipper from Capella III.
We have regarded Kodiak as our home port during the two summers, 2007 and 2008 , we have sailed the Alaskan waters. And it was good to be back, albeit for just a few short days after which we'll continue our journey to the Aleutian Islands.

2010-04-22T03:14:00.000-07:00

Why to the Northwest Passage?

The Northwest Passage entered our minds almost accidentally. Of course, we knew the Passage was there, just around the corner actually. In 2008, we had met Roger Swanson and his wife Gaynelle aboard their 57-foot vessel Cloud Nine, listened to their stories about the struggle they had had to get through the Passage and finally succeeding in it in 2007. While in Unalaska, we had met two crews preparing their boats for the Passage: Alex, the skipper of Berrimilla III from Australia, and Juan and his lovely family aboard Amodiño. But, when eventually leaving Alaska, our own plan was to sail south, all the way to the Antarctic. We had dreamt of this for a long time, made plans and even chosen the best route to get there well in time to enjoy the short Antarctic summer. It was not until in the summer of 2009, when applying for an official sailing permit from the Finnish Ministry of the Environment that we realized that this was a dream not to come true. After long and winding communications, we knew that we had to start making new plans for our future. However, we were not yet prepared to return to the sailing community but, instead, wanted to continue our travels off the beaten track. So, if we could not sail down south, for us the obvious conclusion was to sail up north, to the Northwest Passage!