Chpt 7: Bahamas to Greenland

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Trip start
April 30, 2026
Chpt 7: Bahamas to Greenland Traveler
Solo Nassau to Cape Canaveral
Apr 2–5 on the Bahamas ⋅ 🌬 24 °C
Miriam is leaving on April 30th and I head out for Cape Canaveral the same evening. Patrick shall arrive at the Cape on May 3rd and I don’t want to have him wait on me. This shall become the longest solo passage I have ever done: 3 nights.

The first night takes me to Grand Bahama, West End Harbor, where I formally clear out of the Bahamas. It is a busy night, with traffic around me and currents doing their best to keep things interesting. There is not much sleep, but I arrive at West End during office hours and manage to check out successfully.

I immediately continue and head out on a Gulfstream intersect course. Sure enough, the trusty conveyer belt picks us up and we fly north towards the Cape. The night is satisfyingly uneventful, and I manage to sleep in 20-minute intervals. During the third night I exit the Gulfstream and sail all the way to the entrance of Cape Port.

I prepare the boat meticulously for the upcoming marina maneuver: redundant fenders, extra lines, everything laid out and ready. The wind in the marina is unusually cooperative and makes for ideal docking conditions. After the marina fails to answer my radio calls, I decide to simply go ahead. The maneuver goes exactly like something out of a textbook — unfortunately without any witnesses.

Now, immigration!Read more
TravelerCongratulations ! Solo sailing is far more demanding 👏
5/26/26Reply
TravelerThank you Anne and Hugues! We are stuck at the northern tip of Nova Scotia. The weather looks bad…. not sure our plan for St. John’s on 5th will work out…
5/28/26Reply
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Chpt 7: Bahamas to Greenland Traveler
Port Canaveral
May 5 in the United States ⋅ ☀️ 26 °C
Somewhere along the passage to the Cape, it dawned on me that the immigration office would be closed on Saturday and Sunday — and there was no way I could make it there during office hours on Friday. That effectively confined me to the boat, flying the yellow quarantine flag. I allow myself brief trips to the harbor office, but otherwise follow the rules. Actually this isn’t much of a problem: catching up on sleep, cleaning the boat, doing the laundry, and getting some maintenance done fills the weekend easily. And Patrick arrives on Sunday evening.

Monday 9am I am at the immigration office of Port Canaveral and check in without problems. The customs authorities waive their boat visit, we are free to sail the USA. First mission: re-provision. The last full provisioning was in France and that’s a few months ago by now, the boat is pretty empty. We take an Uber to the recommended Publix Supermarket, which, as it turned, out is not ideal for purchasing large quantities but definitely more than good enough.

Patrick is super eager to get busy, so we break out a big project: paint repair it is! Aluminium is notoriously difficult to paint and add sun and salt water to the mix to get a never ending story. The tiniest of penetrations of water makes the paint blister and the blister growth won’t stop before you add ample oxygen such that a stable oxide layer can form. Typically corners, edges and holes are places where the blistering begins. Once we open the blister, the true extend of the problem becomes visible. Usually the paint is detached for a much larger extend already. Sand, etch clean and strip oxide with acid, wash, paint with 2-component primer. Done for now.

The forth coming weather doesn’t look perfect but certainly good enough to go for a first leap. A departure around noon on Tuesday should be good.Read more
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Chpt 7: Bahamas to Greenland Traveler
Cape Canaveral to New York
May 11 in the United States ⋅ ⛅ 20 °C
We leave the Cape as planned. After taking on diesel, we motor out through the canal, passing a Falcon 9 standing on a barge before heading toward the Gulfstream. The forecast looks favorable for about two days, after which a brief intermezzo of contrary winds is expected.

When wind opposes the Gulfstream, the stream becomes a treacherous place. Ocean swell entering the current gets compressed into steep, breaking seas that have already broken the backs of many boats. Looking at the charts around Cape Hatteras, one immediately notices how littered the area is with shipwrecks. The cape is notorious because the Gulfstream passes unusually close to shore, while the coastline itself offers no shelter.

Just south of Cape Hatteras we pull into an anchorage to weather the period. It takes us about 8 hours of motoring upwind to leave the Gulfstream and find shelter. We find good sleep and a calm morning and the next afternoon, we leave again to jump back on the stream to continue to New York. And this time, we hammer: the wind is just right, we are well position and fly north. A new midnight-to-midnight record is set: 267 NM!

Soon we pull out of the Gulfstream once more and sail to New York. Timing is perfect. Early afternoon we pass the Statute of Liberty and the tide is right to continue up the East River to the Long Island Sound. Early evening we tie to a mooring ball in Port Washington, a place that we have enjoyed the previous year already.

From Port Washington we make a day trip to Manhattan using the train. For the first time I visit the 9/11 memorial and I have to say the architecture really works. The lively water that flows into the black, bottomless abyss.Read more
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Chpt 7: Bahamas to Greenland Traveler
New York to Lunenburg, Canada
May 19 in Canada ⋅ ☁️ 18 °C
We leave Port Washington at 0630 with good, building winds predicted for the day. Soon we are beam reaching and making 10 knots flying up the Long Island Sound. At 1900 we are closing in on Block Island, our anchorage where we expect to spend 2 days waiting for weather. Turns out the entrance to Block Island is quite tricky with a narrow channel and wind blowing from the side. At 1930 we anchor in the well protected Great Salt Pond and settle for the night. Perfect timing, really.

The next day we brake out the 2 bicycles and loop the island. A very beautiful, chill place. Plenty of infrastructure but still things run on island time. We stumble over the Southeast Light and tour the place, the museum is closed unfortunately. An exposed lighthouse that was moved (!) in 1990 by 91 meters when the cliff eroded to get dangerously close - the Islanders must really love their icon! The cost and effort to move the lighthouse was enormous.

We leave Block Island 0630 on May 16th and head out west. I draft a course south around Nantucket without zooming in much. I believe I left plenty of space to shore with ~2 miles. The surprise dawns as we near the island: the depth alarm goes off as we cross one of the sand shoals south of Nantucket. Maybe we should have given it more space! We take down the sails and motor out through the maze of sand shoals back into the official canal. Once there we hoist the Oxley in anticipation of a lasting tail-wind situation. All good.

2 nights pass sailing and it becomes obvious that we can’t make Halifax in daylight. We decide to divert to Lunenburg, which also qualifies as an official port of entry. With the last bit of sunlight we drop the anchor in the harbor of Lunenburg at 2100 and hoist yellow quarantine flag. The next morning I sort out immigration, which is done in a phone call and organize berthage at the Zwicker dock for 2 nights. We tie up just behind Coro Coro, a 22 meter, 51 ton aluminium mono hull that is preparing for the Northwest Passage. We immediately click with Coro Coro’s crew and are looking forward to a shared adventure!

It turns out Lunenburg is a fantastic place for prepping the boat. Much better than Halifax! Everything is within walking distance, no car required. The people go out of their way to help us. We get 2 broken screws from the aluminium tube of the genoa drilled and extracted, we purchase two beefy fender boards that protect us from the truck tires of the commercial harbors of the north, we do an oil change, we replace some ropes and improve the bilge system.

Turns out we like it so much, that we extend our stay and the locals help us organize a pickup for my mother at the Halifax airport. Halifax is a major crew change place: Patrick will leave and my mother, brother and 2 of his kids will join for the next leg to St. John’s.

Thank you Patrick for the ride!Read more
TravelerThanks Sadik, for this awesome and unforgettable adventure!!
5/30/26Reply
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Chpt 7: Bahamas to Greenland Traveler
The solo challenge begins: Baddeck to Nuuk
June 28 in Canada ⋅ ☁️ 15 °C
Three days ago I returned to Nova Scotia from Switzerland. In a rush I visited Darrin and family, drove back to Baddeck, provisioned for a 2-week solo sail to Greenland, non-perishables until Alaska and reactivated the boat. Today on Sunday I have taken the first mini leg north: 21 miles from Baddeck to Kelly’s Cove, where I anchor for the night, still sheltered but ready to jump off into the big blue. Exciting!

By coincidence, Karin and Seth of Toroa from the Netherlands, whom we met about a month prior in North Sydney, anchor in Kelly’s Cove on their way into the lake. I join them for the evening on their boat together with Astrid and Arnaud from Whalie Bird, Belgium and we are having a good time.

Going solo adds a new dimension to everything - and I am curious to figure out how I can do it without sacrificing neither health nor safety - where health largely equates to sleep. It forces me to do more planning and better preparation. I increase the margin in everything. This exercise gets me out of my comfort zone and I expect it will permit me to progress as a sailor.

As for safety, I wear the personal flotation device (PFD) most of the time. Water is about 12°C here. Should I go overboard I won’t be able to swim for long. In the PFD, I have a man-overboard beacon (MOB) that automatically broadcasts an emergency on VHF alerting ships around me. Additionally, I have a small satellite-based personal rescue beacon (PLB) in the pocket of my pants. This one I can activate manually and alert the coast guard - world-wide. Of course, number one rule remains: don’t fall overboard! Don’t do anything stupid.

Before I go to bed, I get the ship in shape for open water. I am on the 46th parallel, Nuuk is on the 64th… Exciting, indeed!Read more
TravelerSounds like a real challenge. Take care!
6/30/26Reply
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Chpt 7: Bahamas to Greenland Traveler
1
46° to 48°N: Nova Scotia to Newfoundland Crossing
June 29 in Canada ⋅ ☁️ 14 °C
The weather was predicted warm, sunny and largely without wind. I decided to go anyways, even if it means burning some diesel - a calm day on sea suits me right now. In fact I like the idea of motoring a bit to get some data for the Northwest passage (NWP). Usually when I motored in the past it has been a mixture of wanting to get there and filling in the time to new wind. Motoring to make distance is a bit different, more speed is demanded. I reckon 6 knots is kind of the minimum, maybe rather 7 knots for the NWP. Also a calm day at sea will permit me to get sorted, catch up on office work, get calls done.

I leave Kelly’s Cove at 0630 and motor out of the Bras D’Or Lake through the narrows with the strongest current. Speed over ground drops from 6 to 4 knots - piece of cake, one engine is enough to push through. Curiously, the currents here are so unpredictable that no ordinary current tables exist. The lake with all its sidearms and resonance chambers forms a complex system with chaotic behavior.

Once out of the lake and after a couple of hours into deep water and away from all lobster pods, life calms. The fog goes, the sun wins, the boat heats up to 24°C. We are slicing through smooth sea at 6 knots on one engine, 2.1 kRPM. So nice! I get my stuff done and also push the planning horizon ahead. I now know where to anchor next, I have a nice pattern of possible anchorages and harbors on the west coast of Newfoundland marked out on the chart. Thanks to Hugues of Vanuily, who sailed that section about 2 weeks ahead of me, for sharing all the tips on WhatsApp!

It turned out to become a long day got up at 6am got to bed at 1am. 21 hours at sea, all on one engine. I do the math, not sure I can trust the numbers - my consumption seems about twice as high as anticipated. I have to run more experiments here. Anchored out of Codroy I fall to bed.Read more
Traveler Amaizing!
7/2/26Reply
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Chpt 7: Bahamas to Greenland Traveler
48° to 49°: a slow day
June 30 in Canada ⋅ ☀️ 12 °C
I got up around 7:30 and discovered the place I anchored at. I arrived with full moon but the fog was dense. Now I see buoys, lobster pods and I am perfectly centered among it all. Looks like carefully chosen but it wasn’t! There is some wind, so I decided to skip disembarking and rather head out straight away. In retrospect not a smart move.

I weigh anchor at 0800, hoist the main, set the genoa and off we go. Unfortunately that didn’t last long but I used up my motoring nerves yesterday - I want to sail. Soon I motor sail, I take the main down, I hoist it again… Unstable weak winds are the worst. Despite of working a lot it seems impossible to get the boat moving for any stretch of time. By the time I finish one maneuver, the situation already demands for something else. At some point I am not even doing 3 knots over ground but the forecast promises light, steady following winds. I decide to break out the big tool, the Gennaker. A proper job for just one person. It takes about half an hour to get it set.

Now it is 18:00, winds have picked up, the Gennaker flying, I am doing 6 knots. Should I sail through the night or drop the hook for the night? Hmm. Starting from midnight the wind should build, I could sail through with just the Gennaker set. The good wind will persist for ~36 hours and I have 230 NM to go. Better take it while it’s there…

I decide to sail through the night. There is no traffic, sea is calm, no ice yet and weather looks steady. I should be able to get some good sleep in a safe way. After all I want to be in Nuuk by July 11th when Yann shall arrive.Read more
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Chpt 7: Bahamas to Greenland Traveler
49° to 51°: a slow, enjoyable day
July 1 in Canada ⋅ ☁️ 10 °C
The sea has been incredibly flat throughout the night and day. Winds have been quite stable between 8 and 16 knots, all on the stern - at least until about 18:00. I was able to sleep well. Only one passenger ship passed during the night in a few miles distance. Otherwise it seems I had the entire strait to myself. Also Marinetraffic confirms that there are hardly any ships up here. We are getting north - curiously that feeling sets in at 50°N already.

After I initiated day mode with a coffee and the sun was up, some maneuvers were on order. Over night the course has veered north as the winds shifted such that the Gennaker needs to be gybed. I decide to try and film that with a gopro. Not so easy, actually. Looking at the recording I see plenty of space for improvement. The critical phase of the maneuver ought to go much quicker. More practice required!

Following the gybe, I raised the full main - and that configuration remained until about 18:00 when the wind stopped, as was forecast. Rain set in and I furl the Gennaker and motor through the dead stretch. As I write these lines , I am sailing upwind, with the new wind of after the front.

With the ride so incredibly smooth, I get on with a number of choirs. I clean the boat, prep the guest cabins, change batteries of the winch controllers and even, for the first time, I work on an engine while sailing. One of the fuel pre filters is clogged from gunk in the diesel tank. I change the cartridge. This already happened when we entered New York not too long ago. I now have 4 more spare filters on board. Not sure whether at that rate that’s enough for the NWP…Read more
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Chpt 7: Bahamas to Greenland Traveler
1
51° to 52°: tough one
July 2 in Canada ⋅ ☁️ 12 °C
The night wasn’t as smooth as I got used to: Plenty of rain with fog and changing winds all the time. Also the channel gets tighter. Not much space for sleep! On top of everything I have little mishap with the Gennaker. I furled it during a transition phase when the wind temporarily died. And without wind pressure and too little tension on the sheet, the sail furls loosely. The baggy Gennaker sail then has plenty of canvas bits sticking out waiting for the breeze to attack. I leave it hoisted furled as is - I know this is potentially asking for trouble but expect no significant wind and let it be. When the new wind sets in, it is an upwind situation with about 18 knots apparent. Main and Genoa are indicated. I unfurl the Genoa and immediately hear something is bad: the channeled wind has opened a bubble in the Gennaker which is now violently pounding and flapping. I have seen how similar situations quickly deteriorate. Adrenaline is rushing, better be smart now. A bit of slack in one of the Gennaker sheets so that I can take it down on a side of the Genoa, I let fly the halyard and wrestle down the Gennaker. No damage taken. Puhh, awake again. Close call.

At least the speed afterwards is good until 9am when I enter the Strait of Belle Isle, the narrows between Newfoundland and mainland Canada. Here the wind is funneled directly on the nose. Sails down, both engines on and push through against 20 knots of wind - and I can’t see a thing, it’s supposed to be beautiful here but visibility is ~50 meters. The radar is such a great tool!

Around noon I get really tired but so close to shore and with the fog no place to nap. Water temperature dropped from 11°C to 3°C over night. We are now in Labrador waters. The aluminum hull in the bilges is at 3°C, too. Heating the boat causes condensation at these cold spots. They will now stay wet until we reach warmer waters of the Pacific. Hmm, not sure I like that thought very much. I am taking the precautions that have worked well last year: vent critical places under the beds, mattresses and certain closets. Place chemical dehumidifiers in critical spots. I stay awake by keeping busy.

My plan is to motor to Chateau Bay, anchor and get a good night of sleep before we head out into iceberg territory. Got to manage the sleep battery when single handed!Read more
Traveler So schön !
7/3/26ReplyTranslate
TravelerCongratulations ! Not easy conditions.
7/3/26Reply
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Chpt 7: Bahamas to Greenland Traveler
52° to 53°: Accepting a slow passage ahead
July 3 in Canada ⋅ ☁️ 11 °C
The night was wonderful, 8 hours of sleep, uninterrupted :) .

With coffee in hand I study the new weather forecast. The situation in the Davis Strait between Canada and Greenland isn’t stable. There is no dominating system at all. The forecast is changing every day. I assume that 2 days ahead are kind of dependable, everything beyond that can change a lot. In any case, it is now obvious that I won’t have “fast” weather for the crossing. All very weak and unstable winds, predominantly from the wrong direction. As I sketch it out, I develop fuel anxiety. I already did burn some fuel to get here and it seems that I can’t get to Nuuk by July 11th without burning more: I need to take on some diesel. Mary’s Harbor seems adequate and it comes praised by Martin of Skjoldmoen, whom I met with Patrick on Block Island. It’s not a big detour, there is diesel from a hose (and not from a truck). That should do.

I motor out of Chateau Bay, my anchorage, which really is quite stunning. An abandoned fishing settlement, which according the grave yard was chiefly run by the family “Stone”. It is all motoring, no sailing to Mary’s Harbor.

Well, the diesel pick up did take more time than I hoped. I had to wait for about 2 hours for Barry the harbor master to show up. I bunker 400L for 828 CAD and also top up the water. With not totally useless weather forecast for the night, I decide to head out right away - even though part of me wants to stay right there on the wharf and have another good sleep. But the price would be head winds the next morning…. no thank you!

I motor out and hoist the main and unfurl the genoa in light winds of 8 knots. Fortunately the angle is good and I move at about 6 knots. Not long after the wind slows to 6 knots. Big difference. Speed is down to 3-4 knots, the sails start moving, the boom is making noises. Let’s see. I think in a few hours it will be motor time until maybe 3 am.Read more
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Chpt 7: Bahamas to Greenland Traveler
53° to 53.5°: seeking shelter
July 4 in Canada ⋅ 🌧 9 °C
The night was demanding again with a pattern of sailing and motoring. I couldn’t sleep much. Even thought the iceberg chart clearly says that there shouldn’t be any ice here, I can’t relax. I configure the radar to ring an alarm if any target appears in the ±45° looking 3 miles ahead. But it’s raining, which requires to turn up the anti-rain clutter. I am worried that this also reduces the sensitivity for small ice. Then at some point, I get a bunch of intermittent alarms quite close by. Like 130 meters, 70 meters. But I can’t see anything. I take the spotlight and go outside. Unbelievably, there are flocks of rather small birds in the dark, inhospitable environment. I can’t believe it. What do those birds do here???

As the day breaks I am reaching a northern cape of Labrador. From now on the shore will go west, which would take me away from Nuuk. To avoid the headwinds that have already set in, I want to seek an anchorage for the afternoon and the night. Visibility is low, it’s raining, the charts aren’t accurate up here, rocks everywhere. I feel at the wrong place. The anchorage search takes a couple of hours, all options seem poor and the first maneuver isn’t successful: no holding, I move on. The second try is better, not much shelter though. On top of everything, the trampoline rips while I operate the anchor and I fall through with one leg. The trampoline is disintegrating from UV exposure.

The weather, the poor holding, the unprotected anchorage and then the leg fall don’t make for good moral. To lighten things up I shove a chicken in the stove, set the alarm and go to bed for a nap. The alarm rings, I mute it and oversleep. Well the chicken is well done when I get up!

After dinner I study the forecast and I conclude that I should stay here for another day and night. Heading out tomorrow morning would give me the swell that the 25+ knot wind are now building - head on. In agitated seas it is difficult to see the small growlers and the radar can’t detect them either. No thank you.

When leaving, first thing is to punch through the iceberg alley towards east during the day. So any departure should be in the morning. The great-circle distance to Nuuk is 655 NM, almost perfectly due north. Under normal conditions that’d be a 3-day sail, wiht the poor weather and the “ice routing” it will be 5 days. The simulations don’t look great but acceptable.

I plan to split the day 50:50 for office work and for the boat, it could get rough. So, stow everything, add lateral lines to the dinghy, check the heating system, mend the ripped trampoline and prepare the main sail for the second reef. I hope the rain will stop as predicted around noon.Read more
TravelerTough waters to sail alone! I cross my fingers that the weather and winds turn in your favor and icebergs stay far away!
7/5/26Reply
TravelerGreat departure planning analysis !
7/5/26Reply
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Chpt 7: Bahamas to Greenland Traveler
53.5°: Preparation
July 5 in Canada ⋅ 🌬 8 °C
As forecast the morning was all foggy and rainy with winds gusting 30 knots. Very inhospitable. I got busy cleaning up a bit, had a nice hot shower and prepped 3 more windows with an isolation foil. The idea is that the foil will reduce condensation and also help keep the boat warm. Hugues of Vanuily tipped me off on this one. Hugues and Anne are one of the buddy boats heading up for the NWP. They should also leave tomorrow, albeit from Newfoundland.

Around 14:00 the sun finally began to break through. The solar system is putting some charge back in the batteries but it is still cold and windy outside. When the deck has dried, I go outside to mend the trampoline. It doesn’t look pretty but at least the mend should hold. I now notice how badly UV-degraded the material actually is. Pulling a chord through an eye cuts right into and through a line of the mesh. This entire thing has become a death trap.

The yard already confirmed that an aesthetically pleasing material was chosen over the most UV-resistant material. Definitely we can’t go through the NWP with these trampolines where we will be stepping on them with heavy boots while pushing ice…. Either Yann will bring new trampolines from the yard or we will have a great time in Nuuk fitting two of those tough green HDPE fishing nets to the boat.

I feel rested, both mentally and physically. I am ready to set sail tomorrow morning and tackle those 10.5° north.Read more
TravelerWhat a bad surprise your trampoline…luckily one of your crew member may bring a new trampoline 🤞Caution in the meantime !
7/5/26Reply
TravelerThx! The evening developed real beautiful. The weather is gone. If it wasn’t for the ice, I’d be leaving now. Just added some photos.
7/5/26Reply
TravelerHow often and happily I lay on the trampoline, enjoying nature and letting my thoughts wander. Hans
7/9/26Reply
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Chpt 7: Bahamas to Greenland Traveler
53.3° to 55°: Departure for the Crossing
July 6, Labrador Sea ⋅ 🌬 6 °C
No surprises today. Wind as expected, the sea state as ugly as anticipated, nothing broke.

Weighing the anchor in 25 knots single-handed is not as straight forward as one might think. As soon as the load of the boat is off the bridle, the triangular rope that attaches from both port and starbord bows to the chain, the boat becomes unstable and starts going left and right at angles so steep that the chain may collide with a hull and and wreak havoc. Also there is a lot of pressure on the chain and it is not a given that the anchor windlass can work against this. I try a few things with the engines and autopilot without success. So just the windlass. 40 meters of chain retrieved, anchor secured, all good.

The motor out of my little harbor bay is smooth, I raise the main into its 2nd reef and set the staysail while still protected by the islands. Immediately the boat accelerates to 8 knots. On the horizon I see the first enormous iceberg. A particularly big one. Must be standing 50 meters tall and probably already grounded even though it is far off shore.

The niceties end when we reach open water: 2-meter waves on the nose as advertised. The movement is wild and the previously clean boat now get salt sprayed all over. I cook up some oyakodon to set a foundation in my belly. The first couple of hours I have to hold it together. My body needs time to adapt to the movement. On a scale from 1 to 10, we are at a 6: can’t stand free and still but things largely stay put.Read more
let’s go capitaine!! [pierre]
7/8/26Reply
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Chpt 7: Bahamas to Greenland Traveler
1
55° to 57°
July 7 in Canada ⋅ ☀️ 28 °C
I can’t believe how well I slept last night. I kept the boat under-powered in first reef and staysail in winds of less than 20 knots. The waves were still pounding on the boat from various directions but I was certain that this setup would make it through the entire night. That gave me the calm to fall asleep deep. With nothing out to worry, no ice nor traffic, I sleep stretches of up to 1.5 hours. Worried that I might screw things up when drowsy, I pre-program a pattern of alarms at 9 pm, 12pm, 3am, 6am as a skeleton. Then every time I go back to sleep I set a timer according to the situation.

At 6:30am, I decide to switch into day mode, change the staysail for the genoa, have a coffee and finish my previous little blog. Now we’re moving at 6 knots, wind is down to 12-15 knots. Time to shake out the last reef of the main.

In the later morning the wind fades down to 10 knots. Fortunately the crazy sea state calmed over night and I feel confident about breaking out a light wind sail. The forecast predicts beam to pointing conditions for the next 24 hours - that’s worth the effort of setting the Code 0. I might regret this, let’s see.

The Code 0 is the least forgiving sail of all them all. It works a charm when it works but it’s a tricky one. It is a super-stiff kevlar laminate of 120 sqm and trimmed quite hard. When this thing doesn’t behave or the boat rolls more than it likes, the crashing is violent. Air is heavy: at 1.2kg per m3 there are hundreds of kilos crashing into the rig.

The day is wonderful, sun is shining through out, the heater is off. I wash down the aft cockpit with freshwater to get rid of the salt crust that has accumulated yesterday. I bake bread. And speed is sitting around 8 knots, only 20° off course. I hope this situation is going to persist all night.Read more
Traveler 👍💪🏻
7/7/26Reply
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Chpt 7: Bahamas to Greenland Traveler
$A large pod of pilot whales gathers around Hafiz—only a fraction captured on this photo.$ 1
57° to 60°: High-pressure sailing is best
July 8, Labrador Sea ⋅ ☁️ 9 °C
Again, I had a night with plenty of sleep. I feel well rested, my sleep tank is topped up, which is good in view of the expected ice starting from tonight.

This morning I saw the first icebergs on the horizon, then nothing for the rest of the day. A large pod of pilot whales was company for about 4 hours. When I want to launch the drone, I noticed that none of the batteries were charged - darn. Astonishingly the whales were still around by time the battery was charged and I managed to catch some nice shots.

Good news also from France: we have a set of replacement trampolines! Yann will bring them to Greenland. Got to hand it to Garcia: whenever I got stranded, they promptly delivered, often in creative, always in helpful ways. Only drawback is that we won’t have green fishing nets between the bows crossing the NWP - would’ve blended in style!

Going forward I am just a tad ice-anxious. In a way I wish I had some ice now, so that I could calibrate and verify the radar settings in daylight. As Jeri of Coro Coro says: there is not much ice, but only a single growler at the wrong location is too much already. Jeri advises to stay as far off Greenland’s shore as possible until higher than Paamiut. That’s another 200 NM - manageable.

Assuming I’m doing 6 knots and the bergy bits are stationary and I have a useful radar range of 3 NM that gives me 30 minutes of verified clear waters ahead. Add some safety and we are on 20 or 25-minutes sleeping intervals. If I slow down to 4 knots, the verified water stretches to 45 minutes and the sleeping interval to 30 or 40 minutes.

What struck me in the last night was that dawn persisted throughout the night. There are about 6 hours of sun under the horizon and the moon ist at 50%. Bergs glow, they are white and easy to see - once they’re close. The clear sky and residual sun light definitely help.

I crossed the half way mark some time last night with, thus far, no motoring at all. So that’s good. The Code 0 is now out for more than 24 hours. That’s a first. Sailing in high-pressure systems has its perks: sunshine and flat seas. Only wind isn’t guaranteed.Read more
Traveler 🤩
7/9/26Reply
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Chpt 7: Bahamas to Greenland Traveler
1
60° to 62°: Iceberg zone
July 9, Davis Strait ⋅ 🌬 5 °C
Yesterday evening and the last night weren’t as uneventful as I’ve gotten used to. As expected the winds died around 18:00 during the transition of 2 systems. 3 hours of slow motoring to fill the gap. As we glide through glassy waters with 5 knots I use the opportunity to do a bit more in-depth check of everything. I lay down on the foredeck and inspect the masthead using binoculars. The shackle of the Gennaker halyard attachment has come loose! A photo with the 300mm lens confirms it. The pin is half-way out! My options are to lower Code 0 and hope the halyard stays attached until we reach Nuuk. Or to climb up and fasten that shackle. Given the begnin sea state and that I feel fresh and rested, I decided to tackle the problem on the spot. This also a first in the sense that I never went up the mast by myself.

I use 2 alpine ascendeurs, one fixed to the harness and secured to the spinnaker halyard, the other also on the spinnaker halyard with a sling hanging off it for my foot to step in. Helmet with GoPro, proper shoes, fanny bag with tools and phone. One engine is in gear, the autopilot set on a course that aims at taking the swell on the aft. Left to herself, the boat naturally falls into a wave-parallel heading.

I clip on and inch up the halyard. On a not-moving platform this would be trivial, on the swinging mast it is an act of force. The operation concludes successful, the pin is back where it belongs. I am happy with my ascend technique but for the descend I need to find something that works better than descending with the ascendeurs. There are, as always, several alternative techniques that can be used. I have an abseilachter that I could use with a prusik for safety. But that involves a bit of a setup at the top of the swinging mast. Might have been the better choice. I’ll research a bit and see how others do it.

Back down on the deck, I catch my breath and sort things away. I did spend 40 minutes on the mast - didn’t expect that. As soon as I am sorted, the new wind sets in. Back up with the full main and out with the Code. We are slicing through flat waters at 7 knots in 9 knots of breeze. As a finale to the day, I sail through a pod of sleeping pilot whales, maybe 25 of them, lumped in groups of 2 to 5. Curious how they stick together within what seems touching distance. Wow.

The wind continuous to build and soon the SOG graph breaks the 10-knot line. She cuts through the water like a train, the sea is still flat, perfect sailing. But I am in the ice zone! Moving at 10 knots doesn’t give me any sensible time for sleeping. Slow down? I only have about 24 hours of this wind… rather not. The night turns out to be great in terms of progress but poor in terms of sleeping. Thanks to uninterrupted illumination, my eyes outperform the radar throughout the entire night. I can see the bergs at 12 NM distance, the radar picks them up at around 6-7NM. I am now logging the bergs for Vanuily who will be following my wake in 2-3 days.

The day is gray, no sun, no solar charge. Tomorrow around noon I shall drop the hook in Nuuk. During the day I should leave the “old-iceberg” zone and the ice frequency should drop until I head in for Nuuk. Where I am now, the icebergs spill around the southern tip of Greenland. They were born on the east coast of Greenland. Closer to shore , where I am going, the bergs will be west-Greenland bergs.

I expect the wind will shut off tonight and that I will motor through the night. I don’t mind, relaxes the night a lot. 140 NM to go, tomorrow noonish we should be in Nuuk!Read more
Traveler Just watching that made my heart race! The selfie at the end was the perfect cherry on top. 😀
7/9/26Reply
TravelerSo many experiences in a few days ! Thanks for the iceberg’s tips :)
7/9/26Reply
TravelerReads great, thanks Sadik, keep going on, I cross fingers!
7/10/26Reply
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Chpt 7: Bahamas to Greenland Traveler
62° to 64°: Landfall in Nuuk
July 10 in Greenland ⋅ 🌧 9 °C
Yesterday evening didn’t pass without a final test Throughout the day I sailed by and through rain cells without any fuzz. It was grey, then it rained, then it was just grey again. But just when I started to cook some daal for dinner, the wind began a hike from a comfortable 15 knots to 20 knots. I have the Code 0 out, I fall off 20 degrees that takes the grunt out and brings the apparent wind speed (AWS) down to 15. But the wind continues its hike up. 24 knots… ok, that Code 0 has to go. Cooking stove off, I furl the Code in and the Genoa out. A 10-minute job until all is sorted and trimmed. I feel safe, like this we’re good to 28 knots of wind, no problem. Hadn’t had anything stronger in days and nothing is predicted either. But the hike continuous: 28, then 30 knots. Again too much cloth out there, first open the sails, then continue reefing. Downwind reefing the main is never enjoyable, neither for me nor for the sail. TWS reaches 32 knots and then comes down again to the tame 15 knots of before. 90 minutes for the entire cycle. I continue on full main and genoa in to the evening.

Around 20:00 the wind dies - as anticipated. Too bad, we were all set for a 200-mile day. What lays ahead now is an unstable wind increasingly head-on and of unstable strength. Still sailable though. But right now, I don’t feel like it. With the unstable wind direction and 45° apparent wind angle, I’d need to put the autopilot into wind mode. But then our course may alter a lot and I want to catch some sleep. Add to that that I am still carrying around the extra diesel that I picked up in Mary’s Harbor and the decision is clear: down with the sails, both engines at 2kRPM for the last 90 miles! So we stomp at 6 knots upwind. Fuel burn is a tad over 1L/NM in these conditions. Never mind.

The night is still far from comfortable. It is raining and foggy. The rain requires to turn up the rain clutter suppression on the radar but that also reduces the sensitivity for ice. I don’t like it. Sometimes the fog lifts and I can get a visual perimeter of a few miles. We have enough light all night long, that is not the problem. Generally I am sleeping chunks of 20 minutes. I am surprised how quickly and deeply I can fall asleep again following a check. The phone’s timers are beeping at full volume and yet they are struggling to get me back into this world each time.

The approach to Nuuk is impressive. The mountain peaks in its background are more than a thousand meters high. Would be fun to just spend 2 weeks here with a mix of preparation and hikes. I hope to get at least one hike in.

On one of the last turns a huge black sail appears just out of Nuuk. I am struck. Such a rig up here? Turns out it is “Seatilt”, a 21-meter Gunboat catamaran. A carbon weapon with daggerboards taller than person. No insulation on their boat, I suppose. Got to hand it to them they are tacking their way upwind out of the fjord, wow, I am impressed! I call them up on the radio. Their intention is to sail up to Disko Bay and then back to Europe. That’s like taking a Ferrari to Alaska.

Immigration is a piece of cake. A phone call, an email with my passport and we’re done. In spite of having a rifle on board. Gotta love those nordic countries. I anchor in a practical but ugly anchorage. It’s raining.

This marks then end of a chapter of my voyage. The passage from Nova Scotia to Greenland was my first single-handed passage worth mentioning. I am happy with how this challenge played out. Nothing broke, neither in me nor on the boat. I like the intensity.

Next up is the Northwest Passage. Tomorrow Yann should arrive from France and in 3 more days Joerg. Together we will convert Hafiz from a sail boat to a tanker by adding about 2 tons of fuel, water and provisions. She’s not going to like this.Read more
TravelerCongrats on making this passage single handed. I am impressed. And thanks for the detailed updates along the way.
7/10/26Reply
TravelerWow, thanks Sadik for these impressive first-hand accounts, congrats for sure for having done that.
7/10/26Reply
TravelerThank you for your comments. Also to, Flavio, Luiza, Juerg, Pierre, Hans. Appreciated! Had a very good night of sleep, weather is still lousy but shall go ashore today!
7/11/26Reply
TravelerCongrats for an intense single-handed passage! Happy to hear that it went well and nothing broke before the NWP.
7/12/26Reply
10 likes

Trip end
July 11, 2026