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Author Archives: Patrick
Chic and chicanery
Readers of the blog will have come to associate two in the blue with the dizzying heights of fashion and style. With reckless abandon we have delivered a new season’s fashion featuring daring new combinations such as the “oil sleeve” coupled with torn trousers. Traditional forms of fashion have been tossed aside with reckless abandon as we delve into our new range exploring “forms of filth” and the “un”-range of style (un-cut, un-shaved and un-washed ….). The future is as yet unknown, however as we head to the tropics we are already plotting our summer range which will doubtlessly revolve around the “style of sweat”.
Yet despite our strong flair for fashion even two and the blue have been a little dazzled by the events of the past week. Upon tumbling out of the wilderness into the town Dun Laoghaire in Ireland we have been exposed to the professional world of Haute Couture.
Perhaps I should take my tongue out of my cheek for a little … To be honest we were surprised and very grateful for a message from the Vontobel bank who wish to feature Leonie in an article to be released in early 2013. Equally we were impressed with the friendly and innovative crew who came to take photos and interview us about our journey and our future plans.
I guess the shock from our side has been the sudden immersion into the 21st Century. After drifting around aimlessly on the oceans with a time-table set by the sun and the stars we have suddenly been thrust into a world of deadlines and meetings! Case in point: the mobile phone. We do own a mobile but due to our erratic path it is rarely in range and even less often turned on. But lately we have had to reaccustom ourselves with the constant threat of … A phone call! It is strange how daunting the idea of actually expecting a call can become! While we regularly make calls to other people these days we don’t often receive calls … and having had to be on call this past week has actually been an odd experience. Strange as it may seem … we are simply not used to being “contactable”. When the
phone does ring it makes us jump about two feet in the air – by the time we’ve found the phone (normally buried under discarded sailing equipment) it is, alas, often too late.
Nether-the-less, we have really enjoyed the past couple of days. Having seen Leonie emerge from the attentions of an award winning makeup artist to be placed barely a meter from a plunging cliff did cause me moment of concern (equal parts of “what did you do with my fiancée” and “should I save this beautiful stranger from a 200 meter fall or go off and find Leonie”). But soon we got into the spirit of things and had a great day topped off with a pint of Guinness and some fish and ships. Even Sparrow got into the act and ensured that she featured in a few of the shots. A very pleasing diversion from exploration towards elegance … check out “Blue” magazine in early 2013!
Posted in Ireland
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An old man’s guide to civilisation
The dawn of my thirty-second year on this planet falls upon me as I sit upon the deck in the port or Torshavn in the Faroe Islands. Around me are clusters of turf-roofed buildings clinging in a rambling sprawl upon the hill. Between the wooden building stained with the dark brown of age are tiny winding passages that occasionally deliver a rambling pedestrian into a small grove of gnarled trees, sometimes offer a convenient short-cut, but more often end up leading the wanderer around in circles before depositing him somewhere rather behind where he started. Yet when an amble through town leads you to high ground, this tumbling warren of humanity is finally revealed as a rather small town set amidst a scenery of green hills dotted with the occasional white or black sheep. After spending the summer in the wilderness there is a peacefulness and order to this, the smallest capitol of the world that makes me feel as if we have finally come home out of the wilds.
That’s not to say that our journey is over! In a few days we will be heading further south towards the Isle of Lewis and Scotland. However, for now we are both enjoying the trappings of civilisation that have been rather scarce of late. Simple things like a hot shower in the morning and a washing machine to clean our clothes take on a new significance to us these days, and the fact that we are moored a mere ten meters away from a fancy café serving croissants and lattes makes us feel rather spoilt …. Well it is my birthday after all!
Posted in Faroe Islands
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White whales and welding
Just a handful of days ago we were walking amidst he remains of the blubber ovens of Smeerenburg – the remnants of the industrial effort to harvest the whales of the Arctic that began in the 16th century. We were lucky enough to see whales feeding in the fjords of the north, however the reality is that the first efforts to harvest whales in these waters resulted in the virtual decimation of the whale stocks of the region. The bow-head whales that originally brought the whalers are almost absent from these waters and the large baleen whales like the blue whales we saw in Woodfjorden soon followed the plight of their cousins when industrialisation proved faster and better equipped whale chasing vessels.
From a modern explorers perspective we have encountered very few whales, and those we did stumble across were restricted to the far north. The well-travelled west coast of Svalbard presented itself as barren of cetaceans, and when we pulled into Longyearbyen a few days ago we were resigned to the fact that our time with whales in these waters was at an end. As a result the sight that greeted us yesterday lifted our spirits immensely.
Walking down the rocky shoreline of Adventfjorden our eyes were suddenly drawn to a bright white flash standing out against the turbid water. Soon the single flash was joined by several others until the sea was filled with white backs arching gracefully from the depths. The pod of passing beluga whales must have exceeded 50 individuals in their number and comprised not only the white adults but also the mottled grey backs of juveniles shadowing the movements of their mothers.
Thus with beluga porpoising all around we returned to Widdershins with hope in our hearts regarding the wildlife of the this rocky outpost of the Arctic. A pleasant thought to buoy our spirits as we get to work on preparing Widdershins for the coming crossing of the north Atlantic on our way to Greenland. As it turns out we have a lot of work ahead of us! That small incident of a rope wrapped around a propeller we mentioned earlier has metastasized into rather a serious issue – it seems the stress on the motor fractured the support struts of our engine! Thus I will be spending the next couple of days grinding and welding new struts out of spare pieces of steel that I have managed to scavenge from the various piles of discarded industrial equipment that line the streets of Svalbard. Hopefully it is nothing that will slow us down for too long but as always there is plenty to keep us busy!
Bear Island behind, bears beside
After a long passage from Bjørnøya in stormy seas we approached the grey coastline of Sørkapp in Southern Svalbard accompanied by a pod of white-beaked dolphins. These beautiful beasts kept pace with us for a while before leaping out of the water and disappearing and leaving us with the majesty of the rocky shore on the horizon. Ahead of us was a bank of grey cloud pierced by the occasional jagged peak and a sloping plateau of rock and ice merging with the mist to the east. As we slowly drew near the grey pall dissolved revealing a stark landscape of ice and rock – glaciers clung to the valleys and the black rock seemed crushed and crumbling beneath the weight of ice and weather.
Sørkapp however, is a long way from the nearest safe anchorage. Thus these weary sailors gritted their teeth and sailed on looking forward to a respite from the constant round of four hour watches which is the lot of short-handed sailors on ocean passages. Eventually we dropped the anchor in Isbjørnbukta on the north of Hornsund and prepared to drop ourselves into bed for some slumber … except for the special problems of anchoring in the Arctic. A glacier tumbled to the sea just around the corner, and in the process of that tumble, various bergy bits and ice were released into the fjord and were attempting to make an escape to the open ocean. The only thing standing in the way: Widdershins, our yacht. Thus our planned nights repose was somewhat broken by hourly anchor watches and the occasional jaunt up to the deck to poke at the jagged ice to push it from our hull.
When we finally raised our weary heads from the bed we prepared to follow our plans of getting straight to Lonyearbyen (a 26 hour sail away) to get all the bureaucratic necessities out of the way. Except, that as we were preparing to set sail a crackle came across the radio and amidst the static we heard a few snippets about a polar bear and Hornsund. Following a couple of radio calls from our end to get further details we scrapped the plans for Svalbard’s version of civilisation and headed into the heart of the fjord to seek the bears.
Within a few hours of starting our first day in Svalbard we were sitting aboard our trusty tender Brad and powering off towards a small drift of fast-ice which apparently harbored the apex of the local food-chain, that apex being rather above the occasional grubby adventurer. Teetering upon our little inflatable boat we rounded the corner of a small bay to find ourselves face to face with not one, but two polar bears.
The bears were sitting on either end of the last patch of ice in the fjord and were hungrily watching the bearded seals and ringed seals lounging on the ice … I have an inkling that the seals are rather hard to catch and it did occur to me that a couple of soft white explorers might be an easy catch – especially since we currently had no rifle, this being the major reason for our planned first stop in Lonyearbyen. Thus we were a little nervous as we looked into the eyes of these powerful predators. However, it seemed that several days at sea had left a rather unappealing odor around us and the bears seemed content to watch us with an occasional yawn and perhaps a slight wrinkling of the nose. Jokes aside, this was the first polar bear either of us had ever seen in the wild and there is something awe inspiring, slightly scary and magic about sitting amidst the wilderness of the ice and watching these bears.
Exploring Bjørnøya
Wow! What a day! We awoke in the remote anchorage of Sørhamna on the south western corner of the tiny island of Bjørnøya, in the middle of the Barents Sea. Well, actually we awoke rather late. We were exhausted after a long crossing with constant four hour watch rotations, and also suffered a fitful night’s sleep. The island is in fact known to possess no all-weather safe anchorages. The weather wasn’t exactly bad, but constant gusts of wind coming down the cliff and a rather sharp rolling swell are not conducive to a goodnights sleep, no matter how exhausted you are, especially when you feel compelled to brave the arctic winds several times just to make absolutely certain that the anchor is holding and we are not being blown to Russia.
Then again waking up at ten o’clock in a spectacular anchorage and scoffing a healthy serving of bacon and eggs is not so bad at all! And first order of the day was definitely to go exploring. So out comes our trusty inflatable boat “Brad” and off we zoom to explore the jagged coast of our bay; complete with caves, arches, and waterfalls plunging off the one hundred meter high cliffs only to be dashed away by the winds before ever reaching the sea. And let’s not forget the birds! Every flat(ish) space on the cliffs around us was occupied by nesting birds: fulmars (our constant companions of the crossing), guillemots (several species), kittiwakes and several other bird species all peered at us from their eyries and flocked around us as we buzzed around the bay.
Next stop was Kvalrossbukta just to the north were we are now sitting out a gale blowing down off the rocky mountains were we strolled this evening. The bay here was once the site of a fairly serious whaling operation, but the winds howling through the rigging now have done their work over the hundred odd years since occupation, and little now remains of this fleeting human presence. Much more impressive was the life all around that struggled on despite the seemingly inhospitable conditions. Flowers of several hues cling to the rocky slopes, scurvy grass adds a dash of green and the sheltered slopes spring beneath your feet as you bounce across the dry moss beds.
A fantastic day in a very remote, barren but beautiful rock that is teeming with birdlife.
The roar of the bear
The seas have been kind with only moderate swell. Unfortunately however, the Arctic island of Bjørnøya (Bear Island) is roaring out a welcome to us as we approach. Understandably the welcoming roar smells a little like cod and the bird cliffs of the island which certainly gets us excited, unfortunately the roar also includes quite a lot of wind that is now coming directly from our destination. As a result we are now proceeding towards the island crabwise – in small legs at a 45 degree angle to the wind, each leg
bringing us closer to the tantalising target that represent some well needed rest for these sailors and a chance to explore the most diverse bird cliffs in the Northern Hemisphere.
Posted in Bjørnøya, Norway
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