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"The strong north-west wind that presently got up enabled us next evening to
round Cape Digby at the north-east corner of Kerguelen Island. There, on the
lee side of the island, we had smooth water and ran fast all night down the
east coast. By daylight Kerguelen was out of sight. The cold now became
more appreciable, the sea temperature 39 degrees Fahrenheit and the air 43
degrees, for we had now crossed what is called the antarctic convergence
where there is an upwelling of cold water..." So adventurer Bill Tilman describes his sail south to Heard Island in the Austral
summer of 1964-65 aboard the steel schooner Patanela.
Though dry in humour, as in his prose, Tilman's autobiography of the second half of
his life (he spent much time climbing in the Himalayas before World War Two) is a
rich broth of factual information about the exotic lands through which he traveled.
A climber first, sailor second, Tilman had an eye for natural detail. He was an
explorer and adored documenting his daily discoveries. If he hadn't traveled to the
exciting places he did, his life story would be hard to swallow. But the places
where he went have made the man.
Tilman loved the high arctic, sailing as far north as 75 degrees en route to Bylot
Island off the northern tip of Baffin Island in 1963. Between 1955-'76, he sailed to
Greenland 13 times, Spitzbergen once and Jan Mayan once (where he lost his first
yacht, Mischief, to ice) . During this time he circumnavigated Africa, sailed to the
Crozets and Kerguelen, Heard Island and the South Shetlands, including Deception
Island.
His relationships with other people were strange indeed, and one does not get the
impression that he would have made an easy skipper with which to share a small
boat. But we read to hear about grand tales, not personal problems with his crew
(mind you, these intricacies make the read all the more interesting ... )
We learn much from his northern exploration:
"The west coast of Greenland from Cape Farewell to Cape York (which can
be regarded as almost beyond the northern most limit for a small boat) is 900
miles long, for the most part fronted with uninhabited islands, islets and
skerries, and indented with long, fascinating fjords generously blessed with
mountains and glaciers. On the opposite side of Davis Strait the east coast of
Baffin Island is not much shorter and has likewise its islands, fjords and
mountains, though these are rather too rounded and lacking in true Alpine
character to attract the mountaineer. But from the amateur explorer's point
of view this coast has the advantage over Greenland of having no ports or
towns, very few Eskimo settlements, and maps that are pleasingly vague.
Compared with the Greenland coast it is frighteningly barren and the climate
is cooler and cloudier. The cause of these conditions is the cold, south-going
Canadian, or Labrador current bringing bergs and pack ice down from Baffin
Bay and the great ice-filled sounds leading to it - Smith, Jones and Lancaster
Sounds. On this account too, except for a brief period in August and
September, the Canadian coast is heavily beset with ice. The west Greenland
coast, on the other hand, is washed by a north-going current bringing
comparatively warm water from the Atlantic, and although the immense
Greenland glaciers are the source of nearly all the icebergs met with on either
coast, this west coast is in summer more or less free from pack ice."
As a result of all this first hand experience with frozen ocean, Tilman became quite
adept at finding his way through a maze of hull-crushing pack ice.
One tip he tells us, is to look for 'water sky', which is the opposite of 'ice blink'.
Ice blink is the reflection of pack ice or ice bergs on a sullen overcast sky. This
term is used to describe a bright spot on the clouds directly above the ice.
Water sky, a term coined by Scandinavian whalers working the frozen northern
waters, are the darker shapes within otherwise bright low-level clouds. The dark
clouds are not reflecting anything , but rather absorbing dull light off open water.
Water sky, therefore, can show the alert helmsman where potential leads exist and
with them ways to escape the ice.
The reader also learns to judge the presence of pack ice by water temperature:
"Icebergs are sometimes seen 100 miles from Cape Farewell and the Pilot
recommends giving the cape a berth of 70 miles. We were surprised,
therefore, next morning when I reckoned we were only some 30 miles to the
south-west that no icebergs were sighted ... That afternoon turned out
gloriously fine. Our first iceberg came in sight, the growling of the pack ice
could be heard, and presently we made out the long line of ice stretching far
to the westward. By 7pm of a calm, sunny evening, the wind having fallen
light, we lay to about a mile off the edge of the ice. The sea temperature had
fallen to 33 degrees. Icebergs however big, do not seem to affect the sea
temperature in their vicinity, but in the proximity of a field of pack ice the
effect is very marked."
Tilman's descriptions of the high arctic seem very inviting, and the lack of wind and
presence of clear blue skies makes sense when we understand that a great high
pressure cell squats over the Greenland ice cap all summer (replaced by a low all
winter!). Interestingly, this same high, spinning clockwise, helps to dictate the east
Greenland current (which drives a constant train of bergs south through the
Denmark Strait and makes coastal navigation nearly impossible except for a brief
window during late summer). It also helps drive the 'warm' Atlantic water north into
Davis Strait, helping to keep the ports of Western Greenland open well into early
winter.
For anyone interested in exploration and geography, Tilman's The Eight
Sailing/Mountain-Exploration Books are worth a read. But be prepared to put this
heavy tome down more than a few times. It took this reader more than two years
to digest it fully!
© weather-wise.com 2000
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