What is the Sound of One Chain Dragging?

It’s the day of the summer solstice (1816 local time), and as you can probably guess from the time, I’m on the 4-5am anchor watch. We’re in a lovely little anchorage off the south shore of an island called Lillemolla. There are half a dozen smaller islets that form a ring of natural shelter at the foot of thousand-foot cliffs. Sea eagles work the area, casually gliding in the breezes beneath the cliff wall. And off to the west, the city of Svolvaer (Lofoten’s capital) is visible several miles distant.

We anchored last night just before midnight in a fresh easterly wind beneath a light drizzle. In the past four hours, the rain has departed, the cloud cover has risen and the wind has swung 180 degrees to the west. As a result, Polar Bear is in the process of swinging too, so anchor watch consists of monitoring the depth meter and two different GPS units, along with a couple of visual points on the island, to make sure we keep enough water under the keel.

The peace and (sort of) quiet at this hour is delightful. It’s not as quiet as one might think: the snoring from every single quarter of the boat is staggering in its volume. How anyone gets any sleep with another human being near them is beyond me. And given the brisk breeze, I’m sitting in the cabin as I type, so the aural assault is relentless.

But the sound that’s interesting right now is that of the chain dragging as Polar Bear slowly swings to a new position downwind. You’ll hear a gust in the rigging, hear the water pressure increase on the steel hull, and then the sound of the links tumbling across the seafloor. It’s a slow process, slow enough that we’ll likely be safe over the remaining hour-plus before we raise the anchor at 6am and head to Trollfjord…

Travel, Uncategorized, , , , ,

Dateline: Nusfjord, Norway

The village of Reine in the Lofoten Islands

19 June
2045
We motored the few miles from Å this morning. Got an 8am start while the Scots slept; we would have sailed — the wind was great — but on that angle of sail Polar Bear would have heeled over at a nice, sharp 45 degrees or so…and all of the Scots on the port side of the boat would have rolled right out of their bunks.

Our arrival was observed by everyone in this picture-postcard village. They all turned out to watch Boogie maneuver the 72-foot beast of a boat into an insanely narrow harbor. I’d have never tried it, not with the narrow waterway, fishing/tour boats already tied up on one side and a shallow spot right in front of where we wanted to tie up. But credit where credit is due: the boy pulled it off.

The fishing village-turned-living museum of Nusfjord

Upon arrival, everyone took off to explore the village. It’s actually an ex-fishing village that has been preserved as a tourist destination and historical spot, complete with refurbished fisherman’s cabins you can rent, tours you can take and videos of the area’s history you can watch. All for a price, of course; and in Norway, the price is quite steep. According to the young guys working in the bar, there are 35 residents — up from 16 a year ago.

While the now-awake Scots dispersed for an afternoon of kayaking or fishing, I threw on a pair of swim trunks that looked like a painting by the bastard child of Jackson Pollock and Gauguin (but they’re the lightest shorts I have) and my Keen hiking sneakers and took off up the one road into Nusfjord for a run. I went about five miles (turned around at the 3-plus kilometer mark) in 41 minutes and felt surprisingly good…not bad for having not run since February in San Diego and for the weather being as hot as it was. And bonus! My knee only ached during and after the run.

I got back to the boat and wandered over the grass-covered rock outcropping to which we were tied (visible on the left in the video I hope to post) and, after much waffling, dove my hot, tired, sweaty ass into that icy fjord. To be honest, it wasn’t THAT cold — bearable but not mindlessly comfortable, cold but not frigid — and about what I expected. Made my legs and feet feel better, that’s for sure, and cleaned the muck of the run right off.

Then I took ‘er easy in the afternoon, sippin’ a beer in the sun on the restaurant’s deck while I got caught up on the world via my laptop. And while I pondered a bunch there, getting sunburned here at the top of the world, I believe I’ll keep this post to a travelogue. There will be time for philosophizing later on.

PS: Tried to upload a video I took from the bow as we entered the harbor at Nusfjord but Blogger won’t have any of it. I’ll try it on my Facebook page.

Travel, Uncategorized, , , , , , ,

Comes A Time

19 June
1020
For the first time on this trip — so, just over a month in — melancholy has set in. I’m really missing Alaska this morning.

The feeling was undoubtedly set off by our morning motorsail northeast from Å. There, the mountains along the coastline rise steeply from the sea, with a narrow strip of land at the base that provides just enough room for a road and several small villages scattered along that road. The mountains themselves taper from the white of snow at the peaks to the slate and gray of rock forming the upper third, and finally the emerald of lush vegetation covering the lower flanks. Streams and waterways have cut fjords and valleys that provide glimpses back into the heart of the island.

It all recalled Alaska so much that I started thinking about what and whom I’ve left behind, and what I gave up to come chase this dream. So much so that I even started thinking along the specific lines of, “Well, when I get back to Alaska…” and “I shouldn’t have done that” or “I should have done this.” It’s true: I was second-guessing some of my recent choices to the point where it seemed that I was about to test my theory that I’d rather regret doing something than not doing something.

Not that I have regrets. Yet. I’m still very much into this voyage and I’m happy about the direction my life is taking right now; I remain optimistic that the boldness of my actions is creating opportunities and situations that are where I need to be going at this point in my life. And I’m very happy here in the Lofoten Islands, which are truly spectacular (think: outer coast of the Kenai Peninsula or the northern coast of Prince William Sound…only there are fantastically picturesque little villages, a la Halibut Cove, scattered here and there).

It’s just that I miss Alaska and all that my life there entailed. The visual cues of this faraway place put my mind and heart back in my homeland.

Travel, Uncategorized, , , , ,