Tristan Jones by Ice!

Author:Ice! [V2.0] [Ice!]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2011-02-02T06:00:00+00:00

I'm a sailor lad in a fishin' boat,

Learnin' all about seafarin',

An' me education, scraps of navigation,

As we hunt the bonny shoals of herrin'.

Old fisherman's song about the Icelandic grounds. It originates in

Yarmouth, England.

15

Around Iceland Single-Handed

One evening while we were sitting in Alpi's living room eating liverwurst and jam sandwiches, Mrs. Alpi asked me, "What will you do now, Tristan?"

"Well, love, my eye's a lot better, but it's still a bit early to head up for the Scoresby Sund in Greenland. There'll be far too much pack ice and bergs yet to make the Sund safely. What I would like to do, while I'm waiting around, is have a go at sailing right around the island."

"What island?" she asked.

"Iceland," I replied.

Alpi perked up. "Alone?" he asked, over the sound of Grieg from the record player.

"I'll take Nelson, of course, he's very handy. Keeps a good watch when I heave to, and he's great in a fog."

"My God, but don't you know the distance involved? It's over one thousand miles straight sailing. If you get contrary winds, it will be more like two thousand."

"Yes, but the Maury wind charts indicate a pretty regular shift of wind around the end of June, and I can get to the North East Cape, off Thistilfiord, easily with this southwest breeze. Then I'd wait for a wind shift from southwest to the north, slide around the eastern shore, and be on a nice flat sea south of the island all the way back here."

I was trying my best to make it sound like a weekend cruise around Catalina Island.

"But supposing the wind doesn't shift to north; you might be waiting there for a month and miss the short Greenland summer, or at least one precious month of it, and it only lasts until the end of August." He unfolded a chart of the Iceland coast.

"Well," I said, pointing my finger at the island of Grimsey, sitting all alone in the Arctic Ocean about thirty miles off the north coast, "I will wait here. If the wind doesn't shift by the end of June, then I will head direct northwest for Scoresby Sund from Grimsey!"

Alpi frowned. "Hmm, and what about permits to visit Greenland? You know the Danish government is very particular about who visits their colony, and it sometimes takes weeks to get all the permits approved in Copenhagen."

"Bugger the Danish government!" I said, remembering Keanan the Postman. "Anyway, if I clear Reykjavik for Jan Mayen Island and the wind happens to take me into Scoresby Sund, what can they do about it? If they get snotty, I'll plead force majeure and then they can't refuse my entry, and in those latitudes they can't very well chuck me out of the port until the weather and I are ready for sailing, can they?"

"You bloddy crazy Valisaman. Don't tell anyone I heard that!"

"Handsome is as handsome does, Alpi."

"Well, have another sandwich, anyway." He passed the tray.

The next two days I spent preparing the boat for a fast sail around Iceland, as well as the estimated year in the Arctic.

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