NWP 7. ‘ooray up she rises

21-Aug-24 – Nome, Alaska

What. A. Day.

There’s only one 3.30 in my day. And this isn’t it when my alarm goes off in the middle of the sodding night.

Old friend (as in longevity), we’ll call her Miss Nottingham, texts to say, ‘wakey, wakey’. It being 1130hrs in the UK. Still the middle of the night in Vancouver. She’s right (as always) that I am the sort of person to get up just before I’m due to depart. I’m a pillow to pedal in four minutes sort of chap. That record still stands when I woke up late for number two niece’s christening one Sunday morning. A long time ago.

Board the bus along with other knackered old travellers and drive through Vancouver downtown’s dark and deserted streets to the airport.

Having been given our breakfast bags last night, now told that we can’t take foodstuffs through customs as they’ll be banned from entering the USA. Many start scoffing whilst queueing for check in. I’m a ‘rules are for fools’ sort of chap and take the chance my dodgy cheese croissant (less the even dodgier looking wafer thin strips of turkey which have been removed) and now at least 12hrs old, slice of fruit cake and flapjack will not be banished from my bag.

Queue for check in for chartered flight. Bags put on a metal plate to weigh them. But there’s no conveyor to despatch them through the maze that is baggage handling. No. Once you’ve queued to get your boarding pass you have to take your checked in bag to another queue to deposit it on a conveyor to enter baggage handling. Exceedingly reluctant to let go of my bag I’m fortunately directed to a check in desk which doesn’t have a weigh scale for some reason. And it passes as hand luggage. The last thing I need is to be without clothes that fit for four weeks!

Third queue is for security. The usual routine of practically stripping naked to go through scanners. As anticipated…food makes it through without question.

Fourth queue is for US Immigration. Normal people are through in a matter of minutes. Ten minutes it takes. Not because I’m being interrogated. Turns out this Immigration Officer is fascinated by travel. Wants to know what North Korea was like (the reason I have a Tourist Visa rather than an ESTA). Wants to know all about the North West Passage trip. At the back of my passport are stamps I’ve put in at various tourist hotspots I’ve been to. You know the sort of things. ‘I woz ere’ type stamps. Not official border formality stamps. No. Port Lockroy 31-Dec-18. Dalton Highway Jun-19. I crossed the Arctic Circle May-19. Joshua Tree National Park 23-Oct-23. Grossglockner Glacier. Everglades National Park stamp (a crocodile). Etc. Etc. We have a run through of them too. I’m waiting to be asked if I’ll do a round up for his kids. It’s that sort of friendly chat.

Convinced I’m going through the ‘man-opause’ as start having a hot flush. Is that actually a thing? Burning up. Wearing my arctic gear in a warm terminal building might not have helped.

Eventually depart Vancouver half an hour late. Two Germans sit adjacent. I love Germany. I love Germans (as Miss Braunschweig knows only too well). But. This pair are a pain in the arsch. Have the air of East Germans about them. Dodgy hair styles. Dodgy fashion. She has a voice that grates. Like two excitable schoolchildren on the school bus they kneel on seats to look over to talk very loudly to those behind. Who are also German. Ihr neues beste freunds.

Informed the flight time is 2hrs 59mins. Not 3hrs you understand. Mid flight snack served. OK. So this is a come down from First Class. Not used to a dry scone. Bit of cheese. Thimble of porridge. No. Used to better things. But it passes the time and arrive Anchorage. For a technical stop. Change of crew. Only a quick 20 minutes. They say. Over an hour later we depart for Nome.

Further hour and a half. Nearly a total of six hours in Economy. That’s not very me. Land Nome. Only accessible by ship and aircraft.

Cold. Wet. Grey. Storm force winds. Next one up the Beaufort scale is Hurricane.

Yep. This is going to fun.

Now BST +9hrs. Alaska time. An hour ahead of Vancouver.

So. The plan was. Land Nome 1130hrs. Board ship 1315hrs. Have lunch. Mosey on down to Nome for sightseeing until 1700hrs. Depart 2200hrs.

Er no.

Taken to Nome community hall as a holding area. So the ship can be prepared for new arrivals. The recently departed are going back on our flight. Activities have been laid on by the locals. Gold panning. Dog mushing. Museum visit. Except. Weather constrains these and dog mushing and gold panning are in the community hall. Everyone is knackered. Everyone wants to embark ship. Have lunch. Afternoon nap. A number of Germans are getting tetchy that this is not ze plan.

Not a dog lover (and don’t get me started on cats) but the four Alaskan Huskies on show are excellent and very calm. They race in the annual Iditarod competition. 1,000mile race from Anchorage to Nome. Often in wind chill temperatures of minus 70C! The trail generally started in the 1898 Nome Gold Rush to create a communications route between Anchorage and Nome. Each year they run about 4,000 miles in races and training. A hardcore sport.

Regular shuttle between the community hall and the museum for expedition guests. Having waited for some minutes, a local lady offers to drive me there. She’s Robin. But I’m not Batman. A teacher until retirement she now works in real estate. And been here a good few decades. Warned to watch the car door doesn’t fly off in the wind we say our goodbyes. A fleeting conversation. A Brief Encounter. A connection. Nice to meet you!

The small museum is excellent and worth visiting. Charts the development of Nome from the late 1890s gold rush (when three visiting Swedes started picking up chunks of gold on the beach whilst having a walk…I kid you not) along with a few Inuit artefacts. You forget how close to Russia we are now.

Jumping in another shuttle bus I ask if it’s worth going to the visitor centre. No is the common consensus amongst the local driver and fellow passengers.

So. Off we go to embark ship at last.

Wow.

It’s in a sheltered port but is moving about all over the place. By the strength of the wind and waves crashing into the tiny port partly protected by a breakwater. Wind direction means waves are crashing directly into port.

Ship rises. Ship falls. Ship heaves forward. Ship heaves backward. It’s the ship version of the cakewalk.

Such is the strength of the swell, five mooring lines have snapped.

A boarding ramp protrudes from ship.

Currently about two feet above the dock so as not to snag on the dock. Waves crash between ship and dockside. Spilling over and rushing up to where we are waiting.

Boarding ramp eventually lowered. Case of jump on and run up ramp to deck. Without getting wet feet.

Seems like my group are one of the last to board as they then shut down the ramp for about six hours. No one can disembark. No one can embark.

A crew change means many need to catch a scheduled flight to Anchorage or Seattle. But this may be missed. Which has consequences for onward connections. Back to the Phillipines.

80 passengers remain in Nome. And are put up in a hotel. Only 12 rooms free in Nome tonight. They enjoy pizza from the local restaurant.

Settle into my cabin. Self guided tour of ship. But that exploration can wait until tomorrow’s day of leisure blog.

Thinking I’ll have dinner at 1830hrs. Actually 1930hrs body clock time. Then an early night. Having been up since 3.30am with not much sleep beforehand.

But there’s an emergency drill required before we can set sail. Rumour has it this will be in the morning as departure has been delayed due to weather. Oh. And because 80 passengers are still in Nome unable to board.

Dare I go to bed. Not wanting to be suddenly woken by 7 short blasts and 1 long blast. Decide to stay up until an announcement. Which depends on whether they can get the Nome 80 on board.

It’s at 2030hrs an attempt is made. Team meeting has been held. They can do this. Boarding ramp is lowered on to dock. Crew line the ramp ready to manhandle passengers on to and up the ramp. Actually quite a dangerous situation. The edge of the ramp could easily chop someone’s foot off it catches you.

It’s become quite a spectator sport as those on board watch proceedings. Cheering people on.

And soon all are on board. Safe and sound. Crew did well in treacherous conditions.

Emergency drill can take place. In English and German. The two languages on board. Mandatory marine legal requirement before setting sail. At 2100hrs…rather than 0400hrs. How to put on a survival suit and life jacket. In case we sink. In freezing cold remote Arctic waters.

Following that another orientation talk. It’s now 2230hrs by the time all this is done. A few are nodding off. It being 2330hrs body clock time.

And so to bed. In my cinnarizine sea sickness tablets induced state.

I.

Am.

Knackered.

What. A. Day.

Now scheduled to depart 8hrs later than planned at 0600hrs.

Early in the morning.