Reykjavik to Davis Strait July 29, 2011

Four days of calm preceded our July 24th departure from Reykjavik. We had traveled 3000 miles from Palma de Mallorca, Spain to Iceland and  were now prepared for the final leg that would take us to the starting point of our attempt to transit the Northwest Passage. Our schedule was tight and Asteria had withstood a prolonged thrashing in five meter seas between Scotland and Iceland, so there was little concern when the wind rose to twenty five knots prior to departure.

Tug Leynir

An hour before casting off it piped up another notch gusting to forty and pinning Asteria firmly to the dock. I called for assistance from the little tug, Leynir, to pull the bow out to an acceptable angle for getaway. She approached cautiously, and then abruptly backed off as one engine failed. After several unsuccessful attempts to re-start the second engine, a brief lull to twenty five knots and Asteria’s powerful bowthruster combined to allow our escape unassisted.



Harpa Concert Hall

The spectacular new performing arts center dominated the skyline to starboard as we exited the opposing breakwaters.

         We were underway for an estimated seven and a half day voyage to Pond Inlet, an Inuit village at the northeast corner of Baffin Island. This would be the embarcation point for the new owner and our “official” entry into the Northwest Passage, the chosen route for relocating Asteria to her new home bases in Southeast Asia.

Bow Plunge

For two days we plunged and yawed west south west in huge following seas. Within twelve hours the wind shifted to create a vicious head sea.

Stern Wash

Preparing for the worst

The reality of our high latitude appeared on day three in the form of a ship sized ice berg off Cape Farewell, the southern most point of Greenland. Rounding the cape we left the turbulent waters of the north Atlantic and steered a northwesterly course through Davis Strait to Baffin Bay.

Davis Strait Fog

Our fourth night out I turned in just after midnight in anticipation of the first good rest since leaving Iceland. At 0420 the unmistakable grinding of ice against the hull jarred me awake from a deep sleep. I peered out my cabin port hole to dense fog and an oily calm sea dotted with drift ice.