SAC: The colour of water

Before the Olympics takes over another quick post about the sail to the Arctic Circle.

I've been asked about whether the water changed colour at all, and the answer was dramatically yes it did, as can be seen in the figures above.

The left hand side shows typical dark stone gray of the North Atlantic, which is what we saw most of the time.

However when we sailed round the NW tip of Iceland the water changed colour into a creamy light blue, as can be seen on the right hand side above.

This we assumed was the East Greenland Current, which comes from the north and is fed by melting glaciers. Therefore its salinity is much lower than normal.

The encourages micro organisms to flourish and that's the colour we see (or at least that's how I understand it - if wrong please add your comments).

Sometimes you could clearly see the line in the water, like two rivers joining.

The air felt colder too, making it a more physical experience than actually crossing the Arctic Circle itself.

SAC: Sea ice animation

One of the good things about the route chosen was most of the way we didn't have to worry much about ice, which keeps within the East Greenland current and doesn't venture much west.

The only tricky spot was coming round the north west corner of Iceland, and even then most years its relatively free. But looking back on the web site there were some reports of the odd berg so I kept a regular watch on the Icelandic Met Office's web site.

Then as we approached that coast I used the Iridium phone to call some of the experts over in Greenland to get the very latest.

There was half an idea that if conditions were good we could have headed in towards Greenland but the books were right - its not until late July that you get a chance.

Anyhow I had a bit of fun stringing some of those sea ice charts together to make the animation above. There is of course a big gap in the middle when we were off sailing so I was unable to capture any of the updates.

It loops and the start is when its mostly red i.e. very close drift 9/10 to 10/10 ice.

Book Review: Vinland

Where Ackroyd disappointed there was one book both of us really enjoyed and could relate to while sailing those northern waters.

Its author, George Mackay Brown, was not someone either of us had heard of but Tristan picked it up in the small bookshop in Kirkwall, Orkney.

I'm guessing he's deeply unfashionable with those that value the latest linguistic innovations, convention breaking style or paradigm changing literature, nor those that like twists and cliff-hangers.

It has a plain, straight-forward approach to story telling, where plot points are well sign-posted and language is used simply and cleanly, as in the opening two sentences:

There was a boy who lived in a hamlet in Orkney called Mannavoe. The boy's name was Ranald.

The book tells the story of Ranald from childhood to grave. Mostly he lived on Orkney but he travelled as a boy across the wide sea to Iceland, Greenland, Vinland and Norway, and in later years to the south.

It is set in the time when the Vikings were settling down, converting from their pagan gods to Christianity, when there was conflict as to who should control Orkney between three of the ruling Earl's sons, and between their allegiance to Scotland or Norway.

While there is politics and battle this is ultimately something else, the author's spiritual vision coming through, though not overpowering or distracting.

It felt right to be reading it while sailing those waters north of Orkney that the long ships roamed across a thousand years ago, written quietly yet capturing the spirit and tone of those sagas.

A gem.


Picture from: Amazon.

Book Review: Peter Ackroyd's London

I took this book with me on sail to the Arctic Circle: boy was that a mistake, wrong on pretty much every level.

Firstly the topic was the great, sprawling, historic city packed with millions of people and their noise, pollution, views, dramas, money and so much much more, while of course I was living isolated surrounded by nature and with just one other person for company.

Then it was home, just when I should be ignoring those memories and concentrating on the present and the near future.

Finally of course there was Ackroyd's style, which regular readers of this blog will know I compare to a bucket of the richest vintage port.

This book is called the "concise" biography but still its over 650 pages long, packed full with the juiciest stories his team of researchers could come up with.

That's one problem of having read several of his books, you begin to see how its been put together, what the skeletons are underneath - which is a very appropriate analogy for Ackroyd, who loves writing about death, the macabre & grotesque, damnation, bodies, salvation and the spiritual.

Its not really a book to read, cover to cover that is, more dip into. It has 52 chapters, one for each week of the year, and it would be a good choice to be left in a bathroom to be examined as you do your motions.

With that appropriately Ackroydian image there is no more I can add so I'll leave it there.


Picture from: Amazon.

SAC: The island of Videy

We had a day spare before our flights back to the UK and felt like stretching our legs so took the short ferry from Reykjavik to the island of Videy.

Its a good place for a walk, about 2.8 km long and only 0.6 km wide, mostly covered with long wild grass but no one lives here - now.

At one end of the island there is an abandoned village, though one thing we noticed that pretty much every house had been actively destroyed. Again and again on the information boards for each the key word of the last sentence was "demolished" but no reason was ever given.

Just in front of the landing there's a lovely little church and the mansion created by the founder of Reykjavik, Skuli Magnusson (now a nice little cafe).

Somewhere there's the Yoko Ono Imagine Peace Tower but we weren't that interested enough to find it instead admired Richard Serra's installation basalt pillars standing like a Stonehenge split into isolated pairs.

All in all a very good way to clear some cobwebs and get those walking boots muddy.

SAC: Reykjavik

We really liked Reykjavik, though we didn't see much of it.

I'd been before and Tristan wanted to return with his family later, so we didn't do the normal sights.

However we did visit the dramatic lava inspired but made of concrete church Hallgrimskirkja (above), just as at the start Tristan visited the St Magnus Cathedral at Kirkwall.

That statue standing outside is the famous Viking Leif Ericson, discoverer of America.

Its inside is elegantly minimalist:

There was also an organ with 5,285 pipes: wowsa, that's a lot.

Its definitely worth visiting, in particular as there are great views from the top of the spire (though be warned the bells can ring out while you're up there).

Spinlock Deckvest 275 Review

We got brand new lifejackets on the better safe than sorry principle and chose the Spinlock Deckvest 275.

We didn't like them.

Some of the problems we had included:

• the zips for the pockets that contained the actual lifejacket kept coming undone
• it kept getting a twist so the front buckles wouldn't line up
• getting that plastic tab into the buckle was a right pain for cold fingers
• the thigh straps kept getting entangled with things
• the line cutter kept popping out and getting in the way

Ok it actually felt relatively comfortable when on and lots of feature that would be useful like that spray hood etc, but we didn't warm to them.

SAC: Paper charts vs Raymarine chartplotter vs iNavX on iPad / iPhone

Its a good idea not to rely on a single source of navigational information.

To sail to the Arctic Circle we had charts in paper form, plus chartplotter plus iNavX on iPad. On the last day before leaving in a moment of you-can't-be-too-careful I also bought the charts for iNavX on my iPhone as well.

So how did they compare?

Paper Charts

It's a good idea to have these just in case of a catastrophic failure of the electrical system and we did get them out from storage as we progressed along our route. However we didn't actually use them much, apart from when planning approaches to land, and then mostly by Tristan as I'd just pull out my always to hand iPhone.

A backup then, not the primary tool for navigation.

Raymarine Chartplotter

This was in practice the main navigation tool, located as it was on the chart table handy for the log book. It was also integrated into the other electronics, such as the VHF's DSC, the radar and the AIS (which stands for Automatic Identification System). The AIS meant that if the radar spotted something you usually could put the cursor over the target and get the ship name, heading etc and if necessary could call them over the VHF by name.

The data it used was Navionics, so actually the same charts as used by the iPhone and iPad.

Generally it worked well though there were some weird things. As previously blogged at times the change in latitude and COG were not consistent and that was worrying, particularly, such as when trying to make Reykjavik without tacking, it mattered.

The AIS sometimes seemed to think the empty seas not worth waking up for and fail to work, plus the radar could interfere with the GPS lock, but it did its job (unless you really, really needed a COG that you could trust).

iNavX on iPad

I was pretty pleased with this. It had the same Navionics chart as the chartplotter and could do similar calculations of COG, manage waypoints, routes etc. While it didn't connect to the radar and AIS it has the ability to do so (wirelessly I guess) plus it had the ability to download weather data in GRIB form.

It could also be used safely on deck due to the waterproof case which for pilotage, for example through the Faroe Islands (above), was pretty useful. It created the track which could then be exchanged via Transverse with the iPhone (and vice versa) or emailed in KML format.

This was all great but using the iPad with GPS on all through the Faroes drained the battery and then when plugged into the 12 volt socket it went all "I'm too magical for this dirty power supply" and refused to re-charge, which meant it was useless until Iceland.

Yes I did test it out on Goldeneye, but alas while attached to shore power.

Moral of story: test electronics when disconnected from shore power.

iNavX on iPhone

The iPhone was a bit more tolerant of the low amps and varying voltages of the yacht's power supply and charged just fine. The software was similar but not exactly identical to that on the iPad - sometimes in a better way (for example its easier to say "Goto waypoint" on the iPhone than iPad). Again the charts were from Navionics.

Of course the screen's a lot smaller but when the magical iPad gave up we had to rely on it for downloading and viewing GRIBS. So that last minute urge to have the iPhone as a backup to the iPad turned out to be a good one.

However the next / back on-screen buttons for the GRIBs were way too small.

There was one strange omission on iNavX on both iPad and iPhone which was the lack of tidal data (or at least I couldn't find it). But if you downloaded the Navionics application (chart) you could click on the map and see tidal flow and direction.

Conclusion

Paper charts seem expensive when you consider how they're not often used, but then they're like EPIRBs, you need then to be there just in case.

But Navionics did rather well out of us as we bought the same data four times (chartplotter, iNavX iPad, iNavX iPhone, Navionics app iPhone) which all added up.

There was no ideal do it all solution, and maybe its not right to rely on just the one. The iPad was pretty good, but would be better iNavX also had tidal flows and the magical device could be recharged.

The reality was that the Raymarine chartplotter was what we used the most, integrated as it was with the rest of the yacht's systems.

However think of this: as we approached Reykjavik the only device onboard that could reliably give us our COG and determine whether we should tack or not was a phone.

SAC: Keeping warm

It was rather cold at times so an important part of preparation was making sure we'd be able to keep warm, particularly as this particular Contessa 32 had no heating.

Three things helped:

1. Layer up. I think I had 8 layers (t-shirt, long sleeved shirt, base layer, jumper, mid layer, fleece, salopettes, oilskins) or maybe 9 (another long sleeved shirt) plus of course the lifejacket etc. It was heavy but worked

2. Bivi bag. The bivi bag lent by my friends A. & D. (who I sailed with from Lisbon to Gibraltar) was fantastic. Get inside the sleeping bag (fully dressed) and then inside the bivi bag and it would be warm and snug

3. Thermal mug. This was my treat: at the start of the watch I'd fill my LifeVenture mug with hot tea and it would keep warm until the end of the watch whether three or four hours.

SAC: Food and drink

As Napoleon would have put it, a double handed expedition sails on its stomach, but on what, exactly?

It was difficult when surrounded by Tesco's heaving shelves to guess what we'd like when the seas were heaving.

I like coffee - no I love coffee - so stocked up with two big jars of instant, and then didn't open either. The thing is that soon into the voyage we discovered the secret to a happy on-watch was to sleep when off-watch, which meant no coffee, just lots and lots of tea.

Then to go with the mythical coffee what would be better for breakfast than brioche?

Excuse me a moment, but ..... ha ha ha ha!

Sorry, that got to be an in-joke as we soon got sick of the sight of those brioches and were lucky to find another boat to offload donate them too, complete with their hydrogenated fat.

Instead breakfast (and a couple of other meals) was that old reliable, cereals. Lunch was rolls grabbed when we got a chance, preferably with those part baked ones.

The real meal of the day was dinner which was when both of us would be awake and hungry. We'd take it in turns to prepare something sustaining which needed no more than two pans, such as pasta, rice or noodles with sauce.

Top sauce for pasta was those bottles from Lloyd Grossman, though the green pesto was made more zappy by adding pine kernels and slices of chorizo with their kick of paprika.

Indeed anything spicy was good, and our tops favourite was a tinned curry from Tescos (above).

There was of course a cupboard full of treats to keep us going through those tough early morning watches and this was the one we never tired of, namely dried mango:

In fact these are too good just to be eaten at sea and (full disclosure) I'm nibbling some right now.

Yum!

SAC: Arriving at Reykjavik

Finally we saw Reykjavik.

On the horizon were mountains and these too were streaked in ice, but between them and the water were a spread of buildings together with a church spire.

The Imray pilot said the approach was straight-forward but gave no details. While we had to hunt for a bit to spot the safe water buoy and north cardinal just beyond, eventually both were identified and the final pilotage went smoothly.

Lines were prepared, fenders attached and with an easy leap I was ashore making fast.

Land seemed to heave beneath our feet but Tristan and I exchanged grins and high-fived. We had done it:
- sail through the Faroes.......  tick
- sail up to the Arctic Circle..... tick
- sail into uncharted waters......tick

Many thanks to Tristan for suggesting it in the first place and then making it happen: it had been an amazing sail, great fun as well as a great adventure.

SAC: Sunset behind the Snaefellsjokull volcano

There was a gorgeous sunset behind the impressive cone of Snaefellsjokull, the extinct (or at least dormant since 200 AD) volcano that was the setting for Jules Verne's A Journey to the Centre of the Earth.

Unfortunately that was followed by a rather bumpy night with 25 - 30 knots of wind, gusting a bit higher. However it wasn't dark that long and the sun soon re-appeared

Reykjavik seemed very close, though as Tristan pointed out it was still as far as a channel crossing from the Solent to Cherbourg.

We kept on sailing, as tight to windward as we could trim the sails.


Updated: Oops, originally mistook the photo to be sunrise when actually sunset - an easy mistake at that latitude, but now corrected.

SAC: More fog and another good watch

After returning into charted waters and an on-watch/off-watch cycle, we left the Jokulfirdir fjord and headed south on the final leg towards Reykjavik.

Progress was slow and we were engulfed in another cloud of fog. It seemed to hug the coastline and by heading offshore it was possible to see a hazy sun (above).

Later weather conditions improved and I had another of those great watches when everything seemed to go right. Sparkling sunshine, lovely F3/F4 and I sat on the foredeck watching the coastline of Iceland pass by.

The trouble was the wind kept increasing in strength: it was going to be a bumpy night.

SAC: Into uncharted waters

When I got the paper charts for Iceland I had a lot of fun imagining what it would like to sail in those waters.

But there was one feature that caught my eye, a white blankness. It wasn't a glacier but that rare beast, areas that had never been surveyed - literally uncharted waters.

In our world where Google Earth can spin you close up to a mountain in the middle of Antarctica, where an Iridium satellite phone will work from pole to pole and Wikipedia can answer questions you never thought to ask, the unknown has a strange power.

Here be dragons, mermaids, sea monsters or possibly Donald Rumsfeld (shiver).

Some of the uncharted waters were in the Jokulfirdir fjord, just passed the Drangajökull glacier, and we proceeded cautiously towards them, Tristan at the helm (above).

I went to the bow to watch for rocks in the rich green waters below us: while fjords are typically deep there are moraines, which is where the glacier dumped its rocks. These shallows can represent a bar preventing ships from travelling further up, and indeed we spotted the depth of water under the keel drop to 4.5m for a while before returning to a more typical 20m.

Maybe we should have spent the afternoon there, criss-crossing, taking bearings and depths - which is no doubt what a Captain Cook would have done - but instead we documented our explorations the modern way.

Using the iNavX software running on the iPhone and iPad I recorded our track for posterity:

Then Tristan handed the tiller to me and I helmed us out, back into the well mapped modern world, and a debate as to whose watch it was next.

SAC: The Drangajokull Glacier

The first time I saw the Drangajokull glacier I thought it was a cloud, it was that white.

Couple of double-takes later it flicked into recognition. It is the 5th largest in Iceland, covering 160 - 200 square km.

Alas its not one of those that dramatically drop chunks of ice into the sea, but was still pretty impressive anyhow.

SAC: The Jokulfirdir fjord and the good watch

There are good watches and there are bad ones.

In the good ones things just work out. Wind starts blowing from just the right direction, a nice F3 or F4, with a warming sun out. Re-fuelling goes smoothly and there is a nice chunk of chocolate or dried mango ready as a reward.

Bad ones are less fun. Typically its early morning, the wind cold and bitter, either too strong or weak and from the wrong direction so that both port & starboard tacks or gybes are bad. Minutes are counted down and the thermos of tea is empty with an hour still to go.

Sleep, or lack of it, plays a big part in separating the good watch from the bad. The watch we entered the Arctic Circle wasn't the best for that reason, to be honest.

But the entry into the Jokulfirdir fjord was definitely a good one.

The sun was out and we now felt like true Arctic sailors, heading south to Iceland. The fjord was remote and walled by high mountains capped by ice. I was alone on deck, steering, geared up so snug and warm after a good off-watch sleep.

There was even some rugged stubble on my chin.

It felt good.

SAC: Entering Icelandic waters

The Imray Pilot book had instructions on how to approach Iceland from the east, south east, south, west etc but strangely enough not from the north.

However that was the direction we were approaching this country, heading out of the Arctic Circle.

Sailing was good as we approached the north west corner, the wilds of Hornstrandir at the northern end of Iceland's Westfjords (above).

Its 580 square km of fjords, tundra, glacier and wild, wild landscapes etc was too interesting to sail past, so we turned left and headed up Jokulfirdir fjord.....

SAC: Variation, deviation and weirdness

It is important, when sailing to the Arctic Circle, to know where north is.

Traditionally the way to locate north (unless you have natural navigation skills) is the magnetic compass, though as those RYA courses tell you, you must check for variation and deviation.

Variation is a way of taking account of the fact that the magnetic north pole is not located at the Earth's physical pole. Up where we were it was around 20 degrees difference (as can be seen by the pic above from Wikipedia), though in addition the charts often had warnings of local magnetic anomalies.

Deviation is not what your grandma would call what you do on a Saturday night but rather how the ship's compass is being perturbed by ferrous materials and electronics on-board, and was probably similar to the variation.

Given the difference between actual north and compass north we relied a lot on the Raymarine chart plotter's COG (course over ground), which was great until it went into does-not-compute territory.

The problem was that over all the logs in one watch I noticed the COG was around 260 degrees i.e. something like WSW but at the same time the latitude was increasing.

This led to a lot of head scratching, as I'd imagine that COG was calculated using two (lat, long) points and a little spherical geometry, which is pretty straight forward.

So what was going on? Had we entered the mysterious "Iceland Triangle" or something?

To be honest I don't know. Another boat we met reported something similar with their Garmin GPS but the iThings seemed fine. Also sometimes we spotted the chart plotter jump between two GPS locations as if the other electronics was causing interference and that could cause problems.

All very weird.

SAC: Arctic wildlife

We kept a good look out for the wildlife of the Arctic Circle.

There were lots of fulmars and puffins (above in the dead calm) and also a number of different terns (including Arctic terns), a northern gannet, a range of gulls including black backed gulls, guillemots, more fulmars, kittiwakes, long tailed skuas, even more fulmars....

We did indeed see lots of fulmars, though near the coast of Iceland we saw more puffins, shuttling to and from land flying together in train-like formations.

Also we spotted seals, dolphins and whales. The north coast of Iceland is quite a whale watching heaven and often we'd see spouts of water and cry out "there she blows!"

There was this amazing dolphin that was leaping high above the water, maybe its body length above the waves while another whale went directly under the boat.

So where are the photos? you are probably wondering. Alas it turns out that whale and dolphin reflexes are faster than ours, particularly when the on-watch person is meant to be sailing the boat and the cameras were usually kept below out of wave splash.

Anyhow here is the best that I did though there should be some better ones Tristan took on his camera:

We had to hand the book "Wildlife of the Northern Atlantic" which proved brilliant, even coping with curve balls like jelly fish.

Alas no photo of that either, so here's another puffin pic:

We also saw this:

It was a patch of water where many things below the surface swirled, their fins twisting round and round, but we couldn't work out what they are. There were some fulmars nearby (obviously) and they ignored what ever it was.

Any suggestions welcome!

SAC: The Arctic Circle and the Midnight Sun

Finally the numbers on the GPS ticked over until we could say for sure: "we are in the Arctic Circle".

We had done it.

We turned west to sail along the north coast of Iceland, getting up to 67N.

It was around then that I took the picture above: it's either sunset or sunrise but I'm finding it hard to work out which without checking the photo's time stamp and log book very carefully.

For this picture was taken around local midnight, up at the Arctic Circle, when sunrise and sunset lose their meaning.



(For those wanting a navigation exercise can you calculate our longitude from the fact that the camera was set to BST?)

SAC: Tested by the weather

Over the next day or so the F5 from the NE that started just before the Faroes gradually faded away, but not before giving us a bumpy ride.

The swell had a long fetch from over in Norway and it goes without saying that when you're above 60N and the wind has a northerly component to it, then its going to be cold.

There was more than the odd "for heaven's sake" when a wave threw something across the cabin, often me. It was if the weather was testing us, to see if we were worthy of the Arctic.

Then we were swallowed by fog:

Visibility got pretty bad, which wasn't much fun when the AIS and radar were behaving rather oddly - all part of the test maybe.

Finally wind and wave left us motionless alone in the nothing beadily watched by a couple of Fulmars:

There was a surreal, expectant feeling, as if waiting for something to happen, which in a way we were.

Then directly above us we could see sky and we were the centre of a cylinder of visibility, surrounded by clouds hugging the water.

Finally like the curtain raising on the next act the fog blew away: we felt we had broken through, and now the Arctic Circle was within our grasp.

SAC: The cliffs of the Faroes

The northern entrance to the Kalso fjord is guarded by two great peaks. To the east there is Kunorjarnakkur (above), which drops from 820m somewhere lost in the clouds pretty much straight into the sea.

To the west there is Nestindar (below), similarly wrapped in mist:

It was a pretty amazing sight, one that felt as if it deserved some sort of pounding soundtrack, and my choice was this one.

After a certain amount of wowing it was time to raise the sails and turn as far north as the wind would allow:

Ahead of us was the Arctic Circle.

SAC: Navigating the Faroes

Short version of plan: head for Syoradalur (above) and turn right.

Longer version: see iNavX screenshot below which shows the waypoints put in together with the actual track (its a bit faint so I added an arrow to highlight it):

There are a lot of option to go through the Faroes but the path along the Kalsoe Fjord seemed central, straight-forward, bridge free and with terrain promising impressive vistas.

Wind was either non-existent or very gusty so we motored our way though. We expected our SOG (speed over ground) to accelerate as tide swung in our favour but in the end the currents seemed negligible as if we were in slack water most of the way through, which was a bit surprising.

The scenery was dramatic:

Yes, those white blobs at the bottom of those cliffs are indeed houses (the village of Kunoe) and those at the top snow or ice.

But the best was yet to come....

SAC: The Faroes decision

Having the Faroes pretty much directly on the route to the Arctic Circle raised the question of whether we'd go round or through them. It would of course be a lot more dramatic to go through the archipelago but it was agreed that the decision would depend upon conditions.

First to consider were the tides, as going up a fjord with the tide against us would be impossible, which implied there would be time windows which we'd have to calculate.

We checked the Admiralty pilot, the Imray pilot, the cryptic Faroes Almanac (in Faroese, which baffled even Google Translate) and a useful PDF from Danish Maritime Safety Administration. Despite being linked to times of high water at three different ports each gave roughly the same advice: start 3-4 am or 4-5 pm on the day in question.

Then there was the wind direction and strength in case of wind against tide plus various races. The Admiralty pilot (which tended to the doom and gloom side) mentioned that one of the western of the Faroe islands in extreme race conditions saw 13m waves (!!), which clearly were to be avoided.

In practice what it meant was that winds from anywhere W to N would be against us in the fjord and as we'd have the tide behind us that could be a bad combination.

Another issue was visibility with fog a frequent occurrence which might not be much fun given that with the wind initially from the SE we'd have a lee shore.

However as we approached the islands the wind strengthened and backed, going to a NE F5, and then increased to F6. The question was whether this was a prelude to something stronger or a gust. There was a certain amount of discussion onboard at this point but when the wind slackened it was enough.

We were going through....

SAC: The Dawn Treader and the Faroes

We had an annoying night being requested over VHF to change course and then drop sails by the seismic survey vessel MV Ranform Viking which needed lots of room as it was towing 7.5km long cables.

The next day was pleasant sailing with F3s from the SE and it was towards evening in a gap between scurrying clouds that I saw a dark smudge on the horizon: we had reached the Faroes.

It felt a bit like the Narnia book The Voyage of the Dawn Treader in that we were encountering mysterious islands as we sailed in one direction - though of course for us it was as we headed ever north rather than east.

They grew slowly closer as the sun set:

The question was: would we be able to sail through them?

SAC: Sailing from Orkney to the Faroes

For the first day or so the weather gods smiled on us. Winds were gentle and the sun shone in a pleasantly warm way while the nights were dark, if briefly.

It helped the transition from orderly life with bathrooms that stay still and regular uninterrupted night's sleep to lurching heads and the broken sleep of the watch system (3 hours on/off then 4 hours on/off, repeat).

But it couldn't last: the natural navigator looked at the feathery clouds in the sky above Goldeneye and warned a change was on its way:

He was right: stronger winds and bumpy seas arrived just as we reached the Faroes.

SAC: Leaving Kirwall

After many trips to Tescos and local hardware stores the boat was crammed with victuals and the cockpit surrounded by a wall of Jerry cans full of diesel.

Tuesday lunchtime the tide was right for departure and with todo lists complete we slipped the lines in a light rain and headed out of Kirkwall into the Wide Firth.

On the pilotage out we passed close by the Skerry of Vasa and saw some seals having their afternoon snooze (above).

Eventually we were clear enough of land to hoist the sails and head NNW, watching Noup Head to gently sink into the south.

Next land we'd see would be the Faroes.

SAC: Skara Brae

There was just time before the tide was right for our departure north to see just one thing, and for me it had to be the prehistoric village of Skara Brae.

Between its visitor centre and the first house there was about a 5 minute walk. It was marked out in years so that it was if you were travelling back in time. Monuments like the Pantheon were passed and there was still a long way to go. Towards the end there are signs for Stonehenge and the pyramids of Giza, but Skara Brae is older than even them.

Dating back 5,000 years it is a complete village from Neolithic times, the best preserved in Europe.

They are built and decorated in stone. Slabs were made into beds, dressers, fireplaces, bait boxes, stores as if they'd been selecting from Ikea's stone range.

It was an lonely and remote spot in which the modern world seemed far away.

I tried to imagine what life would have been like to live there, people just like you and me but clothed in animal skins, wondering about puzzles such as what moved the sun across the sky.

For a moment I was alone on the site, listening to the wind disturb the grasses, looking out at the stone dark waters. It was a haunting moment, touched by the deep time of humanity's long undocumented past.

Then all to soon it was time to turn away and walk back up the path to the 21st century.

SAC: Kirkwall

I really liked Kirkwall on Orkney.

It had plenty of character, its non-chain little shops strung along the main street (below) from the marina to the St. Magnus cathedral (above).

St. Magnus is a magnificent building, dating in parts back 1137. Apparently there is a cathedral almost identical to this in Sicily due to the wide range of the Normans.

I didn't go inside as used by little spare time before the tide was right for departure to visit Skara Brae (next post) which was a shame.

We found a few good restaurants but our favourite was the Skippers Bar. I'm still drooling over their fantastic lemon lemon cake (yum):

SAC: Goldeneye

This is the yacht we sailed to the Arctic Circle.

It's a Contessa 32 called Goldeneye and it's ideal for short handed expedition style sailing.

It's very tough so I never had any doubts as to ability to handle the conditions we experienced, with a pedegry of sailing to the oceans wilder corners (including a circumnavigation of Iceland).

Equally importantly it is manageable single handed, so that all sails can be set, reefed, tacked, gybed or brought down by one person in the cockpit.

Steering was done via a tiller not wheel (one less thing to go wrong) plus a wind vane steering mechanism to take that task off our hands (except in very light winds).

Here is Goldeneye in Kirkwall, Orkney, as we were about to set off.

SAC: Sailing to the Arctic Circle

It's another world at high latitudes; cold, yes, but breathtaking beautiful too.

This summer it felt like time to sail outside the comfort zone and achieve a long held wish to sail in northern waters.

Over the last couple weeks I sailed a Contessa 32 double handed with the natural navigator Tristan Gooley:
- starting from Kirkwall in Orkney
- headed NNW to the Faroes
- transversed the Faroes along the Kalsoe Fjord
- headed north up to the Arctic Circle
- then sailed roughly west along the top of Iceland
- saw lots of wildlife including seals, dolphins and whales
- rounded Iceland's untouched Hornstrandir headland
- sailed up the Jokulfirdir fjord into uncharted waters (literally)
- admired the Drangajokull glacier
- headed south passed the volcanic cone of Snaefellsnes
- to finish in Reykjavik

That's a thousand NM to blog, with a memory card full of photos, a boatful of kit to review and dozens of stories.

It begins with the screen grab above, the iNavX route from the iPad, when we sailed up to 67N.

When we sailed to the Arctic Circle.