We are due to leave at 0900 for the weather station at the eastern end of the Sund, where we will make our final go/no go decision for our departure to the UK.
The view from the anchorage
Ex Hurricane Erin who has predicted maximum winds of 40 knots still has plenty of life left in her and is currently 500 miles to the east south east of our position, tracking eastwards across the North Atlantic towards the UK. An encounter with her is one we are very keen to avoid but the options of delaying our departure by 24 hours or a few days are not particularly attractive either.
Waiting a day risks getting trapped on the wrong (western) side of a developing trough of low pressure to our south where would face calms and then strong contrary winds, which in the inevitably messy sea would be both very uncomfortable and very slow going. Waiting a few days means greater uncertainty. The weather forecasts predict new lows developing to the east of Greenland with the likelihood of strong contrary winds and so we could find ourselves storm bound for more than a week if we take that option.
Anyway, the final decision awaits. Now, on the assumption we do go today, is my last chance to get the drone up and to take some video and photos from it. The drone is actually my son's, Stephen's. As both he and his brother Vincent will confirm, my drone flying skills have not yet reached rudimentary and so it was an act of great optimism by Stephen to lend it too me. Vincent, I know does not expect to see it again. I took it ashore to practice for the first time when we anchored at the ancient Viking settlement of Herjolfsnes a few days ago. I had previously charged all three drone batteries up, but had not charged the controller. Actually I had concluded that it was powered by my phone owing to the absence of a recognisable USB port. I was wrong of course and the upshot was I could not fly it then.
Next I took it ashore at Aapilattoq only to find out I didn't know how to turn it on! Further discussions with Stephen revealed the correct sequence of button presses needed, but by then we were on our way up the Sund.
So this morning before we leave is my last chance to fly it from a relatively stationary platform. First I lit the cabin heater and have a wash with tepid water. It was hot last night but I was too tired to be bothered. Then a cup of instant coffee before I go into the cockpit with the drone.
Success - well I get it to take off from the solar panel at the stern of the boat and manage to get it to fly around (although it doesn't seem to want to go very far) and I hope I got some video and photographs! I even manage to fly it back to the boat. By this time however its battery is very low - the warning lights are flashing, a very annoying female voice is repeating the instruction to return to base for the same reason and I'm terrified that it's going to drop into the sea at any second. Even more miraculously I succeed in grabbing it by one of its landing legs. It clearly doesn't like the experience because it makes a loud high pitched scream as it tries to regain flight. I'm looking at it wondering how long it will be before it chops off a finger or two when George pokes his head out and tells me to turn it upside down which I do and thankfully it stops shrieking!
Next we get the dinghy up on deck, deflate it, lash it down on deck and stow its various component parts below. This is always a very lengthy and tedious performance. Eventually the job is done and we get the anchor up and head out of the anchorage.
As we leave we glance over at the glacier which flows into the inlet through a violent gash in the landscape that it's younger self no doubt carved thousands of years ago. "Shall we go take a closer look?"
I say to George. So we slowly motor over towards it. As we approach the lumps of ice scattered in the water around become denser and I have to be careful not to hit anything big. Bonny's pretty tough but she's not built for ice breaking! I stop the boat at about 500 metres off the mouth of the glacier. The water is now thick with lumps of ice that have carved off and I don't want to be too close in case a really big bit does. This after all is an ice berg making machine and we don't want to get caught up in its workings.
We marvel at the awesome sight in front of us and listen to the popping and cracking noises coming from it. It's difficult to believe that in a few years time it may no longer reach the water and become neutered like so many of its Greenlandic cousins.
I decide to try the drone again and hopefully get some good views of the glacier and Bonny. My driving skills are still awful and this time I cannot get the drone to return to the boat. It seems happy to go in every other direction but not towards Bonny! I'm reluctant to use the return to home function just in case it lands itself in the sea! Eventually at George's suggestion he drives the boat towards the drone. As we get close to it I'm able to get it to descend and I pluck it out of the air like before and this time immediately turn it upside down to stop it.
Feeling very chuffed with ourselves and like proper explorers, George heads Bonny down the Sund and I go below to make Bacon and Egg butties and coffee for breakfast. It's about 1000 and we're running behind schedule.
It's a gorgeous sunny day but still pretty cold so we leave the cabin heater on to provide a bit of luxury during our potentially last day in the land of ice and mountains. We soak up the incredible scenery around us as Bonny slips down the Sund and we munch our bacon and egg butties and sip coffee in the cockpit.
We pass more glaciers on our way to the exit and the Atlantic Ocean. Bang on schedule we are off the weather station at 1500 and have our 'should we, shall we, what if pow wow' and catch up messages from the other OCC boats we have met over the last few days with their thoughts and plans. Eventually for the reasons stated earlier, we decide to go and follow the strategy I described above.
We motor out of the Sund, set the mainsail still with three reefs since we last used it and head east for a few miles to clear a number of off-shore obstructions and then turn slowly south.
There are 1386 nautical miles to Lands End!
Based on the forecast we expect to have to motor southwards for a few hours before we pick up a decent breeze from the north or north west.
By 1930 the breeze arrives (albeit quite light) from the north west and we shake out one reef and continue just east of south under sail making about 4 knots.
I cook dinner of sausages with fried onion and red cabbage (the last of it) and boiled potatoes and green cabbage. We wash it down with the last dregs of the penultimate bottle of red wine. The rest of it was drunk the previous evening with dinner at our glacial anchorage in The Sund.
By 2100 the wind has freshened considerably to around 20 knots and we are romping along at 6-7 knots in a rather uncomfortable manner due to the confused sea state. The wind increases further over the next few hours to what feels like in the high 20ks - F6/7.
By midnight we have covered 50 miles mostly in a southerly direction. There are 1371 mnautival miles to Lands End. We are 15 miles nearer than we were at 1500! 🤣
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