Welcome to the Global Race to the Ice Edge Challenge

Of the 3,200-ish nautical miles we’ve sailed since Sitka and all the anchorages we’ve been in…somehow Jenny Lind Bay is the busiest anchorage we’ve had so far. Our friends Pinnochio and Mōli were waiting for us and a new friend, Que Sera, a 52 ft aluminum sailboat, who also are veterans to the Northwest Passage (this year is their second transit). After being alone on the water for so long, it feels great to be among the fleet with the same objective. It feels like we’ve finally caught up! It’s especially reassuring that the boats we’re surrounded by are helmed by people who are far more experienced in this region. As Graeme described it, “We are definitely the D’Artagnan of the fleet.” We all had a good laugh at that.

The water color has shifted to a beautiful glacial blue. If it weren’t for the 45 degree water temp, you would think you were in the Bahamas. The water is clear and beautiful. The landscape is barren with lots of rocks, but somehow the vegetation is still surviving. Based on the number of bird carcasses we found along the beach…the birds have a little less luck.

No bear prints this time, but we did find some possible muskox and fox prints.

The we beached the dinghy near an airport landing strip and explored. It felt like a desolate and compound that once was. Kind of like landing on the moon. Dried up mud on one side…rocky pebbles on the other.

When we woke yesterday morning, we found that the rest of the fleet had already started to make their move towards Larsen Sound. We decided that it would be best to stay with the fleet as we navigate the next part of our journey. The latest report from Victor came in and the entrance into Bellot Strait was looking clear. With expected westerly winds to come and shift things around, we decided we should at least start making the 245nm journey north and see how the ice charts look as we get up there before we decide to take Bellot Strait or go up through Barrow Strait. Two more boats were coming down south, and soon it would be a whole convention of boats in the Arctic!

We stayed behind for the first first hours, but eventually Dogbark did what Dogbark does best…go fast. We pushed on motorsailing at 7 knots, and caught up with our friends Mōli!

Overhearing the French radio chatter of Que Sera and Pinocchio, from what we could gather they were taking pictures of each other just ahead of us. So decided to catch up with them and take some pictures of them too! The lighting was perfect. Stormy blues and greys and the sails lit up with the afternoon sun. We had Pinocchio to port and Que Sera to starboard.

We joked that it was an international race to the edge of the ice. Figures when you get a bunch of racers together, everything becomes a race. There’s something a bit twisted about that idea. Racing towards dangerous conditions, enjoying it all at the same time, and knowing we’d have to get serious real soon. But we never said we were normal – who wants to be normal anyway? Keep life interesting!

Soon, we were ahead of the fleet. It had been an iceless sail so far, but we knew the edge of the ice was coming. We were quick to spot it on the horizon just to port of us. And just like that, the rain just on the fringe of sleet, the water temperature dropping to 38 degrees F, we were back in serious sailing mode.

This ice is much cleaner than the previous chunks we saw that had broken off of land soiled with dirt. It also looked older and harder.

The tricky part with looking out for ice like this is that many of the pieces are more horizontal than they are tall. And when the sun is going down, you’re sailing at 8knots with 5ft swells, it becomes very difficult to spot the smaller pieces of ice that are almost clear instead of white until they are about one or two boat lengths in front of you.

Brian and Graeme’s watch went through the worst of it. Brian had to go to the bow to direct Graeme through the ice, missing some pieces by just a foot on either side of the boat.

Luckily, we were ice free through most of the night. Al, Shauna and I saw the last band of ice just around sunset. It did not make the watch any easier though…with the whitecaps and swells, every other wave looked like it could be ice. Standing on my toes to see above the dodger, wind so cold it bites any part of your face that is exposed, alternating handwarmers in my gloves, we were all on high alert.

And yet, even with all of that, Al and I couldn’t help but enjoy how beautiful it all was. It had finally stopped sleeting/snowing and after the sun set but the colors still filled the sky on our port side, we could see the moon rising on starboard. We continued our game of “ice interpretation”…guessing what animals the ice chunks looked like as we sailed by. We all could breathe in some gratitude for the scenery, this crew, and our amazing vessel Dogbark for keeping us all safe through it all.

We’re just southwest of Dixon Island now…the current plan is to make it across to the entrance of Bellot Strait before we make a final call to go through. We’ve had our first chats with new vessels who have shared great information with us. Libertaire, a french boat with a family of 5 who have been sailing around the world including Antarctica and Lumi, a finish boat conducting arctic research who has been leading the eastbound voyage this season. His content is absolutely fantastic, and I highly recommend donating and following his journey for more amazing content. It was exciting to exchange live information with him over the VHF as he was flying his drone looking for a clear path.

And now it’s time for my watch so hopefully we’ll have some good news to share when I check in next!