Somewhere between Iceland and Canada

Greenland felt like a place between things. Geographically, it's that big comma between Iceland and Canada, the thing you sail to, around, and eventually out of if you're in for the Viking route. But beyond geography, this trip was happening between one feeling and another. It started before we even got there. Crossing from Iceland, the engine died mid-ocean. As soon as I realised what happened (Anne had just woken me with “we have an issue”), I found myself between panic and surrender. Panic that this was new, this is bad, and that I need to do something. But soon, panic burned itself out and gave way to surrender, a kind of calming clarity. I surrendered to the now real possibility of having to throw all our plans overboard. In the end, we made it to our first Greenlandic anchorage, where soon we had to decide what to do next. We could relax there, temporarily safe but with the risk of an iceberg blocking the only exit for who knows how long, or we could raise the anchor and go,…