As
we rolled into the next day and the sun was illuminating the fog around
us, Dominique saw an extremely large target that wasn’t moving,
especially out of our way. The persistent, heavy fog that had settled in
around 2 a.m. gave an ethereal feel to a light not quite twilight or
dawn. Yet what was now showing up on the radar four miles to the north
was so large neither fog nor low light could hide it; our first official
sighting of an ice- berg was an amazingly impressive one in that this
berg had to have been at least a thousand feet long and more than 100
feet high. The fog was playing tricks in that first this “thing” was
there, then it wasn’t. When I could see it, my immediate impression of
the massive hulk in the fog was that of an aircraft carrier. It had to
be, nothing was that big and tall and actually moved.
As
there wasn’t sufficient light to photograph it, Dominique and I went
through every possibility we could so that we could define it for the
others as they revolved into the watch schedule; there were no
rectangular, steep-sided islands charted for the area and it was too
irregular to be any sort of cargo ship. Looking at it through the
glasses, we could see the jagged and rough outline it presented against
the northern sky. There was no doubting that it was truly a mountain of
ice. And, as the minutes ticked by, our sighting was confirmed by the
presence of several others—albeit not half as large— mini-islands of
ice. By now all were up and crammed into the pilothouse, all with
cameras in hand and soft exclamations about the size and power of these
giants. The first sighting of ice is one that I will never forget. It’s
no exaggeration when I realized that the icebergs held power, strength,
drive, and a presence that could truly not care less about who you are
or where it is you
want
to go. They travel along silently. Seas break against their frozen and
rock-hard surfaces, exploding with furious impotence as this massive
structure of blue-brown-white ice keeps its determined course. Yet, as
we were to learn, their presence wasn’t always known. A few hours later,
I’d rotated out of watch and was below cleaning up when I heard
Dominique say from the pilothouse, “Jesus, that one didn’t even show up
on radar.”
It
was hard to ignore such a comment so I went up to join her and
immediately saw that we were now in the company of many more of these
floating, silent icy sentinels and, sure enough, a particularly large
one about three miles off our bows failed to register even as much as a
blip on the radars. Yet some smaller ones, perhaps the size of
Volkswagen Beetles, stood out bright and conspicuous on the green
electronic screens.
All
through that foggy morning, as many sets of eyes that were available
were glued to either one of the two radars as ice targets and bearings
were called out to the helmsman of the hour.
No
exaggeration to say there were five sets of nerves on a knife edge. As
the hours ticked by and the heat of the morning sun started to cook off
some of the fog, we became more accustomed to the ice and a bit
emboldened. I asked Clinton to take us closer to a particularly large
iceberg that had amazing shapes, ledges, tiny waterfalls, and brilliant
deep, ice-blue colors glowing from within. Very capably and with great
precision, Clinton all but driftedBagan up to this massive berg.
On
the grand scale of things, it was far from massive but when you’re in a
boat one-tenth its size, it fit the definition of “massive.”
A sailor and his family’s harrowing and inspiring story of their attempt to sail the treacherous Northwest Passage.
Sprague
Theobald, an award-winning documentary filmmaker and expert sailor with
over 40,000 offshore miles under his belt, always considered the
Northwest Passage–the sea route connecting the Atlantic to the
Pacific–the ultimate uncharted territory. Since Roald Amundsen completed
the first successful crossing of the fabled Northwest Passage in 1906,
only twenty-four pleasure craft have followed in his wake. Many more
people have gone into space than have traversed the Passage, and a
staggering number have died trying. From his home port of Newport, Rhode
Island, through the Passage and around Alaska to Seattle, it would be
an 8,500-mile trek filled with constant danger from ice, polar bears, and severe weather.
What Theobald couldn’t have known was just how life-changing his journey through the Passage would be. Reuniting his children and stepchildren after a bad divorce more than fifteen years earlier, the family embarks with unanswered questions, untold hurts, and unspoken mistrusts hanging over their heads. Unrelenting cold, hungry polar bears, and a haunting landscape littered with sobering artifacts from the tragic Franklin Expedition of 1845, as well as personality clashes that threaten to tear the crew apart, make The Other Side of the Ice a harrowing story of survival, adventure, and, ultimately, redemption.
What Theobald couldn’t have known was just how life-changing his journey through the Passage would be. Reuniting his children and stepchildren after a bad divorce more than fifteen years earlier, the family embarks with unanswered questions, untold hurts, and unspoken mistrusts hanging over their heads. Unrelenting cold, hungry polar bears, and a haunting landscape littered with sobering artifacts from the tragic Franklin Expedition of 1845, as well as personality clashes that threaten to tear the crew apart, make The Other Side of the Ice a harrowing story of survival, adventure, and, ultimately, redemption.
( TO WATCH THE OFFICIAL HD TEASER FOR “The Other Side of The Ice” [book and documentary] PLEASE GO TO: VIMEO.COM/45526226)
Buy Now @ Amazon
Genre – Memoir, adventure, family, climate
Rating – PG
More details about the author
Website www.spraguetheobald.com
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