By Martin von Mirbach and Vicki Sahanatien, members of the Last Ice Area voyage
For the past few days we’ve been exploring Lancaster Sound, the eastern entrance to the Northwest Passage.  Our first sheltered harbor was in a protected bay on the southeastern corner of Devon Island.  A short shore walk took us to within close range of four muskox, but our arrival was noted with some displeasure before the biggest male of the group “walked us off” his property in no uncertain manner.
Wildlife were not the only occupants of this perfect harbor. In the 1940s this was the site of the Dundas Harbour RCMP post. The post buildings still stand and remain remarkably sturdy. Stone walkways link the buildings and lead the way to the nearby cemetery where two RCMP officers were laid to rest. Inside the main post building is a written commemoration to the young officers who manned the post.

People have used Dundas Harbour for many centuries. Prior to the RCMP, Inuit camped and hunted here. 20^th century and recent tent rings dot the shoreline and raised beaches, as well as evidence of ancient human use – the Thule. We found three Thule sod houses, intact with the bowhead whale bones that were used to construct the houses. We marveled at this evidence that many centuries ago the Thule hunted 70 tonne bowhead whales using kayaks and harpoons. Seeing these sites demonstrates that this region, like much of the Canadian Arctic is not and never was uninhabited wilderness.
Taking advantage of the continuing stable weather, we set sail that evening along the southern coast of Devon Island, The waters are almost entirely ice-free, except for the occasional iceberg, some of which are large and magnificent.

We sailed the Arctic Tern I overnight from Cobourg Island to Queen Aba Harbour on eastern tip of Devon Island. The wind was light but sufficient to sail until sometime after midnight – the wind dropped off and we had to make use of engine power. Jones Sound was free of sea ice but there were many icebergs to be aware of as we sailed. Icebergs are not sea ice, but the progeny of glaciers that reach into the sea. The icebergs we sailed by may have been locally generated, as there are many glaciers that dip their toes into the ocean

on southern Ellesmere Island and Devon Island, or they may have originated in  northwestern Greenland.
When sailing overnight we take 2 hour shifts on watch with the Captain or one of the mates. We assist by watching for ice, checking the navigation equipment, and steering the sailboat.  As we work, each of us takes in the extraordinary beauty of the sea and adjacent islands. The sunset last night but just dipped a bit below the horizon, which meant we did not experience darkness,  just a lower level of light. 24 hour daylight! Its presence permits us to continue exploring the most easterly part of the Last Ice Area around the clock.

Sea birds keep us company as we sail: thick-billed murres, black guillemots, glaucous gulls, and the most plentiful, northern fulmar. The fulmars appear to enjoy our company too, as they fly close by the sailboat: coming alongside, zooming past the bow and stern. We keep an eye out for the rare Ivory Gull as we travel. Our marine mammal observations have been sparse, with a single walrus checking us out at lunch while we were anchored in Queen Aba Harbour, and ringed seals popping up as we sail. We just began our 2^nd overnight sail, heading to Lancaster Sound. Our route will follow the southern shore of Devon Island on our way to Arctic Bay. The upcoming waters are known for their rich biodiversity and we anticipate observing whales, walrus, seals, polar bears, and many more seabirds.

Our captain, Grant Redvers, is nothing if not safety-conscience.  And that suits me just fine, especially here in Arctic waters, where rescue capacity is severely limited.  So when Grant “suggests” the best time to make an open water crossing, we are eager to accept his recommendation.  The sail from Cobourg Island in the mouth of Jones Sound to the southeastern corner of Devon Island, at the mouth of Lancaster sound, is one of those open water crossings.  And, after checking and re-checking the wind forecasts, Grant reasoned that the best time to start the crossing would be in the later afternoon, sailing through the night.
Whenever we’re underway there are always at least two people “on-duty;” including one of the core crew members and one WWF-appointed participant.  My “duty roster” was from midnight to 2am, so I took a wee rest after dinner, both in order to relax but also because the first part of the crossing was pretty rough, and lying prone in your bunk is one of the better ways to avoid seasickness.
As I was resting in my bunk, however, I noted the slow but steady change in the quality of light.  So I decided to go up on deck a bit early, to see if the sun would set.  On the one hand, we’re almost ten degrees north of the Arctic Circle, in a realm of continual daylight during the summer.  On the other hand, we’re exactly  two thirds of the way from the summer solstice (June 21) to the autumn equinox (September 21).  On the equinoxes the axis of the Earth is aligned with its orbit around the Sun, and everybody on earth gets twelve hours of sun.  The only exception to this is at the North and South poles, where the sun rises and/or sets at the spring and autumn equinoxes.
So, the question I wanted answered is – does the sun set on August 21^st, at 76 degrees north, or does it stay above the horizon?  There are, of course charts and programs that can give me this information, but I wanted to see for myself, so I bundled up against the cold and ventured on deck shortly after 11pm.  Sure enough, the sun was almost grazing the horizon, and by 11:30pm had set entirely, after a long an lovely sunset.

So, that answered my question, but also illustrated another interesting characteristic of light in the polar regions.  In the tropics, the sun sets at a sharp angle, so that it quickly becomes pitch dark after sunset.  In the polar regions, on the other hand, the sun sets at a shallow angle, so that even long after sunset it’s still just below the horizon, and so continues to illuminate the sky long past sunset.  This  is what filmmakers call “the magic hour,” but in the Arctic it lasts much longer than an hour, making for some lovely conditions to photograph icebergs in unusual light.
All in all, it made for a pleasant evening at the helm, and was a great opportunity for me and Pascale Otis, our awesome First Mate) to talk about all kinds of things while keeping each other awake and alert, and the boat on a steady course.

My final question of the night was this: when will the sun rise?  Will it rise again before the end of my shift?  Pascale checked the computer and provided the informed opinion that the sun would rise at 3:23am.  As for me, I didn’t get to see the sunrise, since when my shift ended at 2am I was all too happy to dive into my sleeping bag and slowly warm my toes.  Nonetheless, the experience vividly illustrated some of the fundamental characteristics that make the Arctic a special place.  Anthropogenic greenhouse gas emissions may be warming the Arctic twice as quickly as the global average, but the patterns of dawn, daytime and twilight remain utterly unchanged by the collective presence of seven billion of us.
 

We arrive at Blanc Sablon on the night of July 2.

Each crew member has a 3 hour shift every 6 hours. Cooking is done in turns, small jobs here and there too. We also become familiar with everyone’s little habits: hot water at the beginning of each shift for Pascale (and candy on the bridge), two teaspoons (and no more!) of powdered milk in Grant’s tea, A half-ball of jasmine tea (and no more either!) in mine. At the end of each shift, we fill the logbook, describing the situation at each specific time (course, compass heading, wind conditions, sail or motor, remaining distance, etc.), everything is compiled.
Madame Velcro continues her rampage. The cereal box is her latest victim. This week, we have the appearance of “Mr. Spiderman ‘(Grant). At any time of day or night, he emerges from his berth at the slightest suspicious noise.
Returning to the land means the return of on board lists of things to buy, do, find, repair, consolidate, rebuild, improve… The boat is full of sticky notes.
Our departure from Blanc Sablon depends on the weather for the crossing. We look forward to hitting the open ocean (and getting out of the fog!) Then, to reach Greenland and welcome on board the WWF team and scientists.

The bad weather passes, and Arctic Tern I takes to sea again Thursday June 26 at 4am. Not much wind, but enough to finally put up some sails — feels good! We’re keeping an eye out for whales because we will visit the research station of the Mingan Islands, an organization that studies all species of large whales found in the St. Lawrence.
It’s also our last mail drop point for any needed items (spare parts , etc.). Our package arrives directly on board upon arrival! Thank you to the team. It’s fun to visit small local ports, far from major marinas.
One more quick visit and we’re at sea again, heading for the Belle Isle Strait for one last stop before crossing to Greenland. We were warned that the Strait of Belle Isle has a well-earned reputation: fog, fog and more fog, a little sunshine at times. Indeed, a few hours of sun yesterday benefited the crew greatly.

Our first stop along the St. Lawrence arrived earlier than expected: a gale was forecasted, but a little later than reality. So, off Baie Comeau, we had to return to port rather than continue our journey. Easier said than done when you have 30/35 knots of wind on the nose, given the currents and waves.
Hour after hour and mile after mile, we finally reach the Baie Comeau marina at 3 am, after nearly 12 hours. Tired, wet but happy to be docked, the crew finally takes the time to eat dinner and put everything out to dry. We take this opportunity to do some odd jobs (refill propane, insulate the boat even further, check the new engine filters, etc.). We also take a quick visit to Garden of the Glaciers. This organization observes glaciers around the world to help understand climate change — Grant and Pascale are two of their ambassadors. They have a beautiful exhibition of the glaciers of Chamonix. Given our busy schedule, we can’t stay long.

Finally leaving Gananoque on June 17 after several weeks of preparation: is a boat ever really ready? There is always something to finalize, improve or perfect … But everything is in order now and we can cast off! The journey from Gananoque to Montreal takes three days, navigating by day. Our days (filled by all the organizing to do on board) are punctuated by the passage of several locks: we get close, we look for the waiting dock, Grant disembarks and uses the dock  phone to find that the wait will be about 30 or 45 minutes, maybe more. A gigantic container ship leaves the lock, then it’s our turn,dropping nearly 40 feet and exiting on the other side. We feel very humbled by all those monsters … In all, we drop about 160 feet! The first lock is new for all on board, but we quickly become experts, look how many there are!
On to Montreal for a meeting with the media, and the WWF and Students on Ice teams: We get some last-minute advice and a lot of “to the north!” and “bon voyage!”. It’s hot – around 35 C, the inside of the boat is an oven. We look forward to the northern countries! A red buoy and then a green buoy, and we finally arrive in Quebec City, where we decide to stop two days to enjoy the stores one last time (not for shopping but to refuel) with the help of Pascale’s parents. And finally a little necessary work: raising the mast for Grant, last minute shopping for Pascale, work on deck for Valentine – the crew kept busy!

About the crew… Grant is the captain, Pascale is “Madame Velcro” and I am “Mrs. Ty-rap” this week. The three of us leave nothing to chance. Grant tests and checks everything, pampers the engine and listens to it closely, while Pascale and I arrange, repair and re-arrange and re-repair…! Pascale hangs anything that can be hung with Velcro (even her toothbrush) and if that doesn’t work, I’m never far away with Ty-rap (cable ties). We are worried about this Velcro addiction… We even hang our cups 90 degrees from normal! We’ll let you know how it works out.
We’re stocked with water and gasoline, and the boat and crew are ready. Leaving Quebec on Sunday morning (June 24, St. Jean Baptiste Day), and heading towards Greenland after a few stops along the St. Lawrence!
Follow the voyage here.

The Arctic Tern has officially launched in Montreal! The Arctic, and the Last Ice Area is still weeks away — but in the meantime, the crew will be be sending us regular updates. You can follow the ship’s progress here.
Check out this timelapse video of the ship navigating the St. Lambert lock in Canal de la Rive Sud, Montreal.
Although the ship is still many hundreds of kilometres from the Arctic, it may encounter evidence of Quebec’s icy past in the St. Lawrence River.
The world’s southernmost population of beluga whales lives year round in the St. Lawrence estuary and gulf. Belugas are usually found in the Arctic and sub-Arctic, but the St. Lawrence belugas are thought to be a remnant of the last ice age.

• St. Lawrence belugas (Parks Canada)
• Arctic belugas (WWF)

In just a few weeks, WWF staff and researchers will set off on an expedition to the heart of the Arctic, where summer sea ice is projected to last the longest. You’ll be able to follow along at lasticearea.org! But first, the ship will need to get to Greenland, where it will be joined by WWF staff and researchers. The Arctic Tern I, an ice-strengthened sailboat owned by Students on Ice, left its dock in Ivy Lea, Ontario this week.
The expedition will travel to the Last Ice Area — the northwest coast of Greenland, then probe up into the high Arctic Ocean before crossing to Canada’s High Arctic Islands. Along the way, we’ll talk to local communities, and fill in the knowledge gaps about this remote area.
Geoff Green, founder and Executive director of Students on Ice, celebrates the launch and talks about the partnership with WWF: