The beautiful is often so close to the inhospitable. During the day, the imposing appearance of an iceberg evokes feelings of awe. At night, the sight makes the night watch freeze in fear of a collision. This contrast has a magic of its own, one that also fascinates Jonathan Spaeth, 33.
In 2014/15, he sailed to Greenland for the first time on an Albin Ballad. Now he was once again drawn to a place where icebergs, whales and untamed nature characterise the landscape. And once again the journey was arduous. But the icy spectacle of nature rewarded some of the hardships of the crossing.
Because it is the most beautiful country in the world.
No, I don't think so. Sure, it's not always pleasant. But it's also great fun 90 per cent of the time. For the last ten years, I've been telling my wife that I want to go back to Greenland. There's something enchanting about it. Proving yourself and braving the elements. That's something you don't find in normal office life.
We first sailed to Helgoland and from there on towards northern Scotland. The conditions were super mild at first. Half the time we were travelling with a gennaker or code zero. And we used the engine quite a lot, simply to maintain our five-knot speed under six knots of wind. Otherwise it would have been difficult with our schedule.
After four days, we arrived on the Orkney Islands. We skipped Scotland completely and thus saved a little time. Then we topped up our supplies, made small repairs and set off again after two days at night. It was fantastic: the full moon shone over us and the whole sea was bright.
Yes, north of Scotland it starts to not get completely dark at night.
It then took us a day and a half to get to the Faroe Islands. There, the procedure was repeated: bunker, repair, prepare - and continue towards Iceland. However, this was the first time that the low-pressure areas threw a spanner in the works.
Instead of sailing south as planned, we travelled along the north coast. Although this route was longer, it offered us significantly more harbours. So we landed in Húsavík, and then to Dalvík and Akureyri, where we had our first crew change.
The north coast is a great cruising area. There are many small fishing harbours and the people are super friendly. Sometimes you're the only sailor in the harbours; a lot is not yet developed for tourism.
We travelled along the coast as far as Skagaströnd. Then we travelled around the Western Cape and the last foothills of a depression pushed us quickly towards Greenland. It took us five days to make the crossing. The weather was changeable and it felt like we had to change sails every three hours. It was calm until the last night.
We were approaching the Greenland coast. It was pitch dark and foggy, pure disaster. We navigated through the whole night, wrapped up in seven layers, lots of merino, lots of fleece - and with the hope of not hitting any ice. According to the report, our route should be clear. Nevertheless, we were alarmed.
Well, we were worried about hitting a block of ice. If it's only one square metre in size, it doesn't look 20 centimetres out of the water, but it weighs a tonne. And we were travelling at up to nine knots.
We entered Prince Christian Sound at around three o'clock in the morning. There they lay, the icebergs, to our right and left along the shore.
We stayed there for three days before leaving the sound to the west and travelling north along the coast. Nuuk was the destination we had to reach on 20 August. On that day, the crew was to change again and the flights went via the airport in the Greenlandic capital. However, it became clear on the way that the schedule was too tight.
We had to contend with headwinds throughout. Although we were able to avoid the waves on the open sea through the fjords, the wind whipped up to 45 knots between the mountains. In the end, we arrived a day or two too late and the flights had to be rebooked.
Yes, exactly. The route from Greenland to Iceland was the longest crossing overall.
Everything went well at first. According to the weather forecast, a low-pressure system was not due to hit us until the fifth day of the crossing. Until then, the conditions were very pleasant. We made good progress and after 70 nautical miles off the coast we no longer had to worry about ice. On the fourth day, the wind slowly picked up. That's when we started to distrust the weather forecast.
The weather no longer matched the forecasts, although we compared several models with each other. On the fifth day we were hit by gusts of 50 knots, although only 30 were forecast. Instead of three hours, the storm was still in full swing after nine hours. At the same time, the night began; waves and wind were getting stronger and stronger. The problem was that the boat kept accelerating as it travelled into the wave trough. We couldn't get it to slow down. We eventually radioed the coastguard and they also told us that the weather would stay like this. Then we knew: We had to get through this.
In the end it was 14 hours with up to 50 knots of wind. Seeking shelter was not an option. There was no nearby alternative harbour to Reykjavík. In addition, the wind was onshore, a classic lee shore situation. During the storm, it was the only time we had the feeling that the situation was out of control.
Looking back, I might have tried to deploy hawsers over the stern to slow the boat down. But at that moment I was focussed on survival, so I couldn't reel off my one-off.
Yes, on the sixth day. Nothing happened to us or the boat. We got water in and the electrics were damaged, but nothing major.
I am convinced that you have to work with what you have. Of course, if I could choose the ideal boat, it would probably be an aluminium blue water yacht. But the reality is that we usually sail for ten years on the Baltic Sea and only one year on a long voyage. But I also think it's much more important to just do it than to choose the right boat. In the end, you can sail anywhere with any boat. You just have to equip it appropriately for the area and prepare well for the project in question.
After the trip with the Albin Ballad I said: Not again with a Ballad. I would say the same thing to Luffe after this trip. But it's always possible. The conditions up there are changeable. With the Luffe you have to be careful when the wind is light. And when there's a storm, things can get dicey on any boat.
We first licked our wounds. It took two days to clean and tidy up the boat. And more importantly, we had to regenerate. We were completely exhausted.
Then we wanted to head for the Westman Islands and wait for the next weather window. We hadn't even covered 25 nautical miles when I pulled the ripcord. The electrics were still grumbling, plus it was blowing at 40 knots and I wasn't ready yet. So we went back.
Yes, definitely. Especially as we still had time pressure.
Well, there were different wind corridors south of Iceland - with very little or very much wind. At first we sailed for a long time in land cover. Then, as we turned towards the Faroe Islands, the wind picked up and caught us with 50 knots and strong waves. We thought: Now it's going to tear us apart again.
We were better prepared. At times we only sailed under a storm jib. We also reached the low wind belt after a few hours. However, the waves were still up to eight metres high. That was unpleasant - and lasted for another two days.
Yes, and we were all through. A crew member disembarked there, and my father and I were also at the end. We went through the various scenarios of what would happen next. In the end, we hired a professional skipper. He was on board within three days, took over the boat and we flew back to Germany.
It was the right decision under the circumstances. We didn't have to agonise, but were able to hand over. We had also reached the time limit. We would never have managed to sail home in the remaining seven days. It would have been too much of a strain.
In any case. We were rushing too much behind schedule. I think it would have been better if we could have said in East Greenland: We're staying here.
I had already resolved to do this last time - and I obviously still haven't implemented it consistently enough. But I have already improved.
Perhaps sailing across the Atlantic with the children? But I could also imagine an exotic destination like Patagonia or the Northwest Passage. All things I've been dreaming about for a long time. But I'm sure that's still ten years away.
Fast, sporty and a Danish classic
The Luffe 40 is an elegant and fast cruising yacht built in Kolding, Denmark. The boat is particularly fast in light winds, reaching a remarkable 38 degrees downwind. The yacht can quickly reach nine knots and more in rough winds, with a code zero or gennaker providing additional sailing fun and speed.
The Luffe 40 is competitive on regatta courses, especially for an experienced crew who can utilise various trimming options such as backstays. Handling is made easier by the fact that the outhaul and halyards are routed to the cockpit via the coachroof. According to the YACHT test in 1992, the Luffe 40 offers a lot of fun for both sporty sailors and families on cruises.
The hull and deck are built using sandwich construction and the hand lay-up method, glued and bolted together - as are the bulkheads. Below deck, the yacht offers sleeping space for six people: There is a large double berth under the cockpit, another in the foredeck and two single berths in the saloon. Due to the narrow hull, space is limited and it is advisable to sail with only four people.