Now that we are all safely and legally checked into Canada it's time to mention Michael. We didn't intend it and certainly he didn't intend it but somehow, when in Nuuk, we acquired another member of crew. He's Michael the Kiwi.
In recent years our crew have presented themselves on board with certain signature items of dress. There was Tim and his increasingly off-white overalls. Then there's Joe in his banana coloured onezee. Michael came fully prepped for the Arctic and beyond in an Hawaiian shirt!
A native of New Zealand, living in Ireland, Michael had hitched a ride on a yacht in Dingle bound for the North West Passage. I'm not entirely sure he knew where the North West Passage was but clearly he had a notion that, if all went well, he might end up in Hawaii. Hence the shirt.
But don't underestimate a Kiwi as they quickly adapt. He sailed on a sturdy ship west into a series of Atlantic storms forcing him to break out the Ugg Boots, the MUK Boots and he learned, as most Kiwis do, to wear his thermal sleeved shirt underneath his Hawaiian too. Somehow he survived his first ocean passage. Ten days, hard against the wind with a landfall at the entrance to Greenland's Prins Christian Sund would usually be a passage to work up to but our brave Kiwi took it all in his stride.
He learned to fend off icebergs and started to get a feel for what the North West Passage might entail. Three souls pitched against ice, ocean, huge distances and extreme cold. Commendably he soldiered on undeterred and quite certain that the Hawaiian shirt would come in handy at some stage and that palm trees were beckoning.
Once onto Greenland's West Coast his ship took a terrible pounding that could have done for a lesser vessel. Again he just shrugged it off and assumed that every sailing holiday was a voyage of survival with all comforts sacrificed to the team's unblinking objective.
Having accumulated a lifetime of nautical experiences in just a few weeks Michael's sturdy 4x4 of the sea slipped into Nuuk and rafted up against SHIMSHAL who felt a little squeezed between battle tank and pier. This arrival was his undoing as he came to know SHIMSHAL with her central heating, carpeted cabins and fine dining. He glimpsed a little too of her crew and their slovenly ways. Maybe, he thought, he could use the Hawaiian shirt more often if he was in the Arctic on a boat with heating?
Days came and went quickly in Nuuk as Shimshal's skipper searched and searched for non-existent weather windows and fretted about delays that might cause missed flights and lost jobs. "No worries" though is the Kiwi mantra and he must have wondered what all the fuss is about when there's seas to be sailed, ice to be nudged and storms to be confronted.
He had a nagging doubt though that made him wonder if the sturdy ship of three really was for him. It wasn't the impenetrable ice or the gnawing cold that was causing him to dither. It was more the perennial dynamic of three in a boat.
Most things get settled over a coffee. Maybe it's the caffeine that stimulates the imagination and sparks ideas but where there is dithering there is opportunity. When Team Shimshal came to know in the Seaman's Mission that all was not so well on the Ship of Three Shimshal's skipper, believing that every crew needs a Kiwi, didn't hesitate to offer a berth to the New World but by a more genteel route. A route that had plenty of challenge in it but that might lead sooner to palm trees and grass skirts. The skipper of Shimshal insists that his offer was not influenced at all by the thought of an Hawaiian shirt on board.
And so it was that Michael the Kiwi became Shimshal's Man from
Motueka. It was made clear that on board his new ship life would be very different. He would have to endure pancakes for breakfast with a little bacon and maple syrup most days. Watches would be restricted to no more than two hours. Storms would be avoided wherever possible and icebergs would be left to their own devices.
He seemed to accept the new rules with alacrity and proved that Kiwis
can adapt to the most extreme of environments. He seldom complained that Shimshal hadn't got enough sail up but he did get caught once on his watch wide eyed and racing along at 9 knots with Shimshal all powered up and trying to fly. The skipper soon put a stop to that and reduced sail and speed to a more sedate 6 knot pootle.
Tears? There have been none. Our team of four seem to happily rub along eating, sleeping, dreaming, planning and moaning about Brexit. We've still plenty of miles to go but the conversation never dries and the crew's not revolting.
Regrets? There's been no palm trees for but we have seen some trees at last. The temperature hit the twenties and the Hawaiian shirt came out without the thermals. But the MUK Boots and the Ugg Boots go unused and they must surely be pining for the far frozen north and the icy battles that could have been.