The crew at work aboard the Polar Sun
We left Tuktoyaktuk on Saturday, Sept. 10, and didn’t drop the anchor for the next five days.
Polar Sun pushed west into the Beaufort Sea, an expanse of ocean off the northern coast of western Canada and Alaska.
The Beaufort Sea is named for Sir Francis Beaufort, a 19th-century British Navy rear admiral, and official Admiralty hydrographer during the years of British Arctic exploration. A visionary giant in his time and author of the marine “Beaufort Scale”, there is no obvious connection between the man and this sea. Like many places in the far north, the Beaufort Sea commemorates a man long-dead who, worthy in his own world, never laid eyes on Alaska.
From Tuktoyaktuk, we had a tailwind, and for the first two days, the wind was a moderate 15 knots. We had the big jib on the pole and rarely touched the sheet or course. On Beaufort’s scale, this was a “moderate breeze” which according to Beaufort was enough to “raise dust and loose paper” on shore.
The Beafort Sea
It also raised a steady 3-4 swell – enough to land me seasick for the first time. Seasickness is not the upset stomach, I expected. It’s an all-body ague, an ill combination of gut, brain and body. I announced I was feeling “maggoty” and blamed it on canned Hormel chili we had for lunch. My three companions looked at me thoughtfully with amused grins. The chili? Really? But they knew the chili was not my problem. As my nausea deepened, my only thought was – “I can’t get off this boat. Not for days”. I kept my watch then fell into a deep sleep. When my alarm went off at 4 for the morning watch, the seasickness gone.
Mark later regaled us with stories of Mr. Dirt – crew from Maine to Greenland – so seasick he was confined to his bunk with a 5-gallon bucket, so ill he didn’t know what day it was. Poor Dirt! Ha! Ha! Ha!
It’s a rule aboard the Polar Sun that everything is hilarious. Diarrhea from dinner? The filthy head after 5 days of storm sailing? Coffee spilled all over the cockpit? Holes in my socks? Ben Wah’s homemade coat? Mark’s cashmere hooded sweater? Typhoon forming in the Bering Sea? Hilarious. All of it. Nothing was sacred.
Dirt. I’m sorry. I feel you, buddy.
At night across the Beaufort Sea
On the third day the wind rose to a steady 25 knots and swells began to build. Beaufort calls this a “strong breeze” with the curiously irrelevant observation that in such conditions “umbrellas (are) used with difficulty.” On the Polar Sun, our energizing sail was turning violent.
Monday night the pole came loose and began hammering the mast like an anvil. We were out of our bunks, boots on. Mark was standing in the companion way demanding to know in his matter-of-fact way over the roar: “WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON???” He stomped on deck. Pole secured, the boat returned to it normal roll and plunge.
By Tuesday morning, the wind was pushing 30 knots (a “near gale” according to Beaufort) and the swells were over 10 feet. Bunks in the stern were out for sleeping with each pitch throwing the sleeper through 10 feet of vertical followed by a jarring fall.
We were now in our fourth day tearing west just offshore of Alaska’s North Slope. The Slope produces more than 500,000 barrels of oil a day. It has its own airport, power plants, hotels, cells towers, drilling rigs, and monumental industrial processing facilities. With low cloud, scud, and periodic fog we never caught a glimpse of the oil fields.
Skipper Mark Synnott
On deck, the sailing was never dangerous. But a watch at the wheel required focus, attention, and a constant eye on course, wind, and swell. Even with the coast nearby, these Arctic runs are basically ocean crossings, Dave observed. If something goes wrong, you’re just as screwed.
We rounded Point Barrow at 71.25 North latitude Tuesday afternoon – the northernmost point in the United States- the wind shifted to our quarter and the seas dropped.
I found a can of Spam in a remote locker below under a survival suit and made spam sandwiches with mayonnaise, lettuce and fried eggs to celebrate.
As we rounded the point and altered course Ben-Wah said “this is the first time in 100 days we’ve headed south.”
Spam celebration at Point Barrow – the Northernmost point in the United States
SAILING SPECIAL: This is the second of a 4-part series written and photographed by Ben Spiess of Anchorage.