Comms in the Northwest Passage

Sam’s Log: August 12th, 2025

The Sarah-Sarah is anchored up in a small bay just to the southeast of the town of Upernavik. By many descriptions of other boats that have attempted trips through the Northwest Passage this is one of the final staging areas that most use while waiting for weather and ice to cooperate for the dash through the actual passage itself. For me this is the culmination of years of dreaming, contemplation, and the tackling of the dynamics of a trip like this.

Months of planning and weeks of running the Sarah-Sarah from Portland, Maine have happened to get us all to this point in time and space. Personally I find myself somewhat reflective while thinking about this place. It means so much to have gotten here and means so much more to move forward into the future and what that might mean to the Sarah-Sarah, my fellow crew members, and to my own life as we all
journey forward to new horizons. Part of this reflection is about the loved ones left behind. While I have my adventures, my wife Soitza, my two sons, Cooper and Mackenzie, and my business, have all come with me on this trip. Those relationships and obligations are just a phone call away on this modern, satellite connected vessel. Thousands of miles from home, but no less connected than if I were in my own office back home.

Just a couple of days ago I had to make a flurry of phone calls out to quickly find a plumber to fix our pressure tank for the house well and get water flowing again for my wife Soitza. With our modern
communications, this is now a far different equation from the adventurers of the past, long before cell phones and satellite technology. Those that had ventured forth without the advantage of Starlink and the instant connection with ‘back home’. In those days of the past the stereotype was of the loved ones that would be left behind making a brave face, cheering and allowing their husbands and lovers to venture forward into the unknown.

But I am well aware that the reality was probably far short of that with some supporting the adventure and others not so supportive. Once underway there was little or no news from home from those family members that stayed back. There were no updates on normal dramas back home, the ins and outs of daily life, and certainly those left behind had to carry on with their own fixes and cures for all those items and things that need adjustment or repair in life back home. Not forgetting the emotional side of relationships which could and sometimes do suffer in absence.

For those of us on boats venturing out, our lives very quickly become the interchange of communication with our other crew members and adapting to the new personalities that we will be surrounded by for months or years at a time. Keeping the boats running and fully operational, navigating and keeping the crew safe, fed, and watered become the new daily routine. A far simpler life in terms of punch list items than back on shore, but none the less important as all safety and success of the journeys fall on the sole
dynamic of keeping the boats floating and operational.

This reality, that the boat requires focus and attention, creates its own challenge to communications with those at home. There is a daily chasing of small bits of keeping her fed and watered. Just a few of our list have been adjusting and fixing water pumps, trying to get our navigation instruments running again after an update crashed the system, the other day was an adjustment to the autopilot that had decided to start not working properly, and finally our much discussed engine issues. These are needful things that require immediate attention. Being well-connected doesn’t automatically mean you are available.

The Sarah-Sarah is a really squared away boat with many miles on her gear, this is a far cry from the more normal yacht that ventures out on a trip with untested and unproven equipment. But even here it should be no surprise that we would have more than a few mechanical burps while on this trip. I am reminded of the daily chase of systems and gear that a boat requires and should not have been surprised, as I have
made my living for more than 40 years keeping boats afloat and operational. This trip just reinforces that it does indeed take continual observation, and care to maintain, a boat at sea.

So here we are, now well into the Northwest Passage itself, loved ones left behind, with half of the trip remaining. We’re venturing off into the unknown and hoping for the best. We plan to deal with whatever confronts us with fortitude, creativity, and hopefully a good dose of luck; with gratitude to those at home and their patience with the thin line of connection that a phone call can give.