Wednesday, September 30, 2009 11:45 AM CDT
Local travelers travel by sea to Canada, Greenland, Iceland, Scotland and Holland
By Scott A.G.M. Crawford
This traveler’s latest excursion was spent on a ship in the North Atlantic.
Penny’s attention was caught by the Holland America’s sales pitch of The Voyage of the Vikings and, as she continues to remark, neither of us have ever met anyone who has been to Greenland or, for that matter, knows anyone else who has been there, either!
The itinerary of this sailing was unusual and took us away from the heat and humidity of summer in the Midwest to fog, dark skies, squalls of rain and, on occasion, churning gray seas.
Embarkation point was Boston. First port of call was Cap Aux Meules, Quebec, Canada. From the mouth of the St. Lawrence Seaway the Maasdam went to Bonne (pronounced Bonnie) Bay, Labrador, Canada; Nanortalik, Greenland; four Icelandic ports: Isafjordur, Akureyri, Husavik and Seydisfordur; Invergordon and South Queensferry, Scotland; and, finally, Rotterdam, Holland.
Bonne Bay’s population of 7,000 gets their livelihood from tourism and commercial fishing, and sometimes the two juxtapose. The pace of life seemed relaxed, although, as with many of our ports of call, living in exposed locations, and buffeted by the elements and locked into long winters and short summers, the existence calls for robust and resolute temperaments.
It struck us as magical that nearly 10 centuries earlier, around 1,000 A.D., Viking explorers had landed in Newfoundland and set up short-lived communities.
With Red Bay, Labrador tourism is the region’s major money earner. That being said, in the 17th century it was the world’s largest whaling center, with the local residents welcoming hundreds of whalers from the Basque regions of Spain and France. The Red Bay National Historic Site shows off a chalupa (an original whaling boat) and has a Whalers Cemetery.
Greenland’s population is only 56,648, yet, as a land mass, it is bigger than Australia. As for it being green, there is a legend that the Viking explorer Erik the Red, on discovering the vast land mass, called it Greenland as a lure to attract future settlers.
Our Greenland stop was Nanortalik, with a population of 2,500, the majority being native Inuit. When we visited, a delightful group of Inuit boys and girls played leapfrog at, and around, the tender lifeboats that took the Maasdam passengers from ship to shore and vice-versa.
Nanortalik means “Place of the Polar Bear,” and hunting and fishing allows the Inuit to make a living, albeit a meager one, set against a treeless, bleak and barren landscape and seascape often cut off by winter ice.
Greenland is still a part of Denmark and it would make for an interesting study to check out the level of social welfare needed to support such marginal existences literally carved out of the edge of the world.
Our second Greenland excursion was exploring the Prins Christian Sund. The views were extraordinary: towering terrain, incredible rock formations, a twisting fjord setting and icebergs of every shape and size.
The nature and extent of the iceberg was such that the ship’s captain Andre Van Schoonhoven had a French Canadian ice pilot, “iceberg navigator,” on the bridge with him as the 55,451-ton vessel seemed to meander, but was expertly steered, through a maze of floating ice.
The four stopping places in Iceland were similar in size and scale. They were mostly smaller towns tied into the fishing industry, and now hoping to grow in terms of tourism, and the creation of local crafts — Icelandic woolens, pottery, jewelry.
The Icelandic banking sector crashed and burned in 2007-08 and by October 2008, the financing domain produced debts equal to eight times the nation’s gross domestic product.
At one Icelandic port it was a national holiday so the shops were, mostly, shut and the rain puttered down. But, every cloud has a silver lining and Penny bought a snug pair of locally made mittens.
The highpoint of our voyage, however, took place at Husavik, Iceland. We were saddled up with Icelandic horses — they are really sturdy ponies — called Vilji and Hugi. Icelandic ponies are famous for their willing dispositions and a smooth, quick gate that gives one the illusion of skimming over the ground.
We rode for more than two hours on trails that crossed a salmon stream, went ‘round a whale bay (the residents must have been taking a siesta when we zoomed by!), crossed black lava sand with the texture of talcum powder, and threaded our way through heather like shrubbery.
Iceland, apart from its recent economic turmoil, seems to be a place of sensible balances and happy integrations of man and environment. The country has an astonishing low crime rate. There are only 150 prisoners in Icelandic jails and the nation’s 700 police officers are unarmed.
Fishing continues to be a major feature of life, but quotas and restrictions on fish caught has stopped the excessive depletion of the fishing grounds. Wildlife is husbanded effectively so puffins, despite being adorable looking, are caught (in long slings akin to a butterfly net) and eaten, but not in excessive numbers.
Invergordon just may be one of Scotland’s best-kept secrets. It is only minutes away from Inverness, the capital of the Scottish Highlands, where, it is said, the most perfect English is spoken.
The Maasdam masses scurried off to search for monsters at Loch Ness, to sample a dram of single malt at the Glenmorangie distillery, and to walk the gloomy heath of Culloden Muir, where, on April 27, 1746, “Bonnie” Prince Charlie, aka Prince Charles Edward Stuart, was defeated by the Duke of Cumberland.
Today, Invergordon’s fortune is tied into the North Sea oil industry, as the port services, and maintains, massive floating oil rigs.
Our penultimate stopping place was South Queensferry. The vacationing human tsunami sped off, this time headed to Edinburgh, to enjoy the historical splendors of Edinburgh Castle, Princess Street, the Royal Mile, and the Sir Walter Scott Monument.
Penny and I honeymooned in Edinburgh, just a wee while back, so we decided to explore, instead, South Queensferry. It is a dear little village snuggling under the impressive spans of the two Firth of Forth transport bridges. We found a Scottish pub, stretched out in two accommodating arm chairs, and sampled some English cider and Scottish ale.
As we made a dawn entry into the port of Rotterdam, and the conclusion of our Viking trek, the contrast with the towns and villages of our earlier travel could not have been more marked.
Here was a massive city with a population of 584,046 compared with, for example, Iceland’s nation size of 320,000. Rotterdam is Europe’s biggest shipping center, and from 1962 to 2004 it was the world’s busiest port.
The Maasdam, with 10 decks, 560 crew and 1,258 passengers, is a floating bee hive. There is a lot to do, and to continue with the analogy, the craft is abuzz with activity.
Meals were delicious, and we had the good fortune to share our evening dinners with a well-traveled couple from Tucson, Catherine Dana and Ed Johnson.
Ship-board entertainment all too frequently can be termed as “good effort but just not memorable.” Several of our acts were indeed at that level.
But a young Chinaman called Pingxin Xu put on a show that was both mercurial and brilliant. He started performing at the age of 6, and the sounds he produced from a hammer dulcimer were poetic and breathtaking.
Our Voyage of the Vikings did take us through, and over, travel routes followed by intrepid, courageous and hardened voyagers. These Nordic travelers were part seaman and warrior and their famed longships gave little protection from the elements.
For Penny and me, our sailing was protected, pampered and vacationing at leisure. Nevertheless, on gray days at sea, with white caps on the water and sea birds flying solitary aerial patterns, we looked out from our verandah and the space, isolation and vast ocean was chilling, and thrilling.
Scott A.G.M. Crawford is a free lance journalist who lives in Charleston.
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Mama says wrote on Oct 4, 2009 5:03 AM:
Fascinating to me. I always wanted go on a ship but I don't swim so of course apprehensive. I went salmon fishing on a 32 footer and was sick the whole trip. But each time barfed caught a huge salmon. Had enough fishermen we all got the limit,,,,,thanks to me. lol.
Keep writing of adventures, so we can live it with you. "