It began as a way to get to a french parlaying-land without crossing the big pond… destination: St. Pierre and Miquelon, two French islands right here on my own continent, Allons-y! Then, in mid-conjugation of aller in the passé composé, I exclaimed, “Zut Alors! There are icebergs nearby!” And thus the quest commenced: Can I see an iceberg from the deck of my boat? I wonder. Oops, too late, the dusty old cogs have been set in motion, and my brain is up and running. I’ve learned to just let that rusty hunk of junk upstairs go once it gets started… it’s a delicate process and I don’t want to derail it before the coal car is empty.
Icebergs and French: Summer 2011.
Lots to do to prepare for a trip up north. Only 6 months till I cast off my lines for some of the coldest, foggiest waters on the planet. But most of those months will be spent snow covered in sub-freezing temperatures, shivering aboard Elizabeth, drinking tea, fussing with my kerosene heater, while dying a slow death from mild CO poisoning. Gosh, hope I make it.
It’s a fairly long trip up to Iceberg Alley, and we need to be there as early as possible. May is the peak month for icebergs. Don’t let May flowers fool you, it’s damn cold in May out on the water… no flowers out there, that’s for sure. In Newfoundland, the ryme goes: April snow-showers bring May growlers.
So, while today I think about winter covers, and the weight of wet snow on my frame… ce soir I’ll dream about dodging growlers at night, in the fog. And tomorrow, I’ll try to get started on a plan, cuz im ‘Berg Bound’!