We’ve never had a welcome like this before. On the jetty in the small community of Iona on Bras d’Or Lake in Nova Scotia, a young ‘piper’ in a kilt is waiting to greet us, playing a variety of melodies with great skill on his bagpipes. The Celtic–Scottish heritage is held in high regard in Iona. We are thrilled. For the people of this community of 250 souls, our arrival seems to be the maritime highlight of the year. Posters announcing the visit of the Dagmar Aaen are displayed everywhere. On board, guests are practically coming and going in a constant stream. First to arrive is Professor Douglas Wallace from Dalhousie University in Halifax. He arranged our visit. Doug, as everyone here calls him, is an oceanographer and supports community activities wherever he can. In 2011, the sprawling Bras d’Or Lake was designated a UNESCO Biosphere Reserve, and since then a group of dedicated residents has taken the future of the village into their own hands. With support from the authorities, the tourism agency and Doug’s help, the ‘Aros na Mara’ – the House of the Sea – was established. It is a simple building housing a small, child-friendly exhibition on the sea. The volunteer run the ‘Aros na Mara’ with the aim of bringing together the region’s culture, education and science, fostering a sense of community in the village and raising Iona’s profile as a holiday destination.

From a scientific perspective, the lake landscape is particularly interesting because fresh and salt water mix there, and in some particularly deep spots the water is so cold (–1 to +1 degrees) that prehistoric organisms were able to survive there.
Whilst Arved is engaged in one conversation after another (for example, with Tom, who, as a representative of the Mi’kmaq tribe, coordinates activities in the biosphere reserve on behalf of UNESCO), our hosts anticipate the crew’s every wish. Whether it’s a lift to the shops, a taxi to the showers at a nearby campsite or a sightseeing tour, there’s always someone on hand to offer their help. Long queues form for the open ship event on the Dagmar Aaen.
We guide more than 200 visitors around the ship in small groups. Among them are many German pensioners who have bought a plot of land in the area and spend the summer in Canada.
We spend an afternoon at the Iona Heights Inn, the village pub, where locals gather with violins, guitars, a piano and a banjo to make music together. Mika and Eberhard from our crew are also allowed to join in.
To round off our visit, Bruce Hatcher, a biologist and diving expert, invites Marie and Lukas for a dive in the lake. When the two of them return, they can’t seem to wipe the smiles off their faces.

As we say our goodbyes, lots of people are standing on the jetty, waving non-stop. Our next destination is Bridgewater on the La Have River, south-west of Halifax. That’s where the Dagmar Aaen is due to spend the winter.

Matze

Position: 45.66122, -60.87254

On the Dagmar Aaen, all crew members sail for free. The principle is known as ‘hand for a berth’. In return for working on board (hand), you are provided with a bed (berth) and meals. Everyone spends their free time on board. As very few people can leave their workplace for the duration of the entire voyage, the trip is planned to include occasional stops in ports so that new crew members can join and others can leave the ship accordingly.

One such crew change was planned for Nain. However, as Baffin Bay, north of Labrador, was blocked by ice, the detour there was cancelled and we reached Nain earlier than originally planned and had to continue south. Thomas had actually intended to leave the Dagmar Aaen in Nain and for Eberhard to come on board there. As if! Cartwright was agreed as the new handover point. Everything went smoothly for Eberhard as far as Goose Bay, but once he arrived there, it turned out that his luggage wasn’t on the flight. This marked the start of a three-day ordeal for Eberhard, involving research, countless phone calls and constant coordination with Arved.

On the day of Thomas’s departure from Cartwright, Mel – the incredibly friendly owner of a small motel with an adjoining pub – lent us her car so that we could take Thomas to the airstrip. Once there, we met an airfield employee who was in the process of filling potholes on the runway with a wheel loader. He had no information about current flight movements, but knew the flight dispatcher in Goose Bay and managed to reach her by phone – whilst she was changing her baby’s nappy… what followed was pure helpfulness. The dispatcher says the flight is uncertain due to an approaching thunderstorm, but jots down Thomas’s phone number and promises to keep him updated. And sure enough, at some point the dispatcher gets in touch with the welcome news that the plane is now approaching Cartwright to pick up Thomas – the sole passenger. A huge relief.

As we’re back at sea on the Dagmar Aaen, heading south, we receive the photo of the day: Thomas alongside Eberhard. The two met up in Goose Bay. Eberhard’s luggage also finally arrived there last night. Eberhard was immediately able to book his onward flight and accommodation. Maurice, his landlord, enlisted the help of his neighbour Mike, who completely selflessly drove Eberhard by car to Red Bay – our new meeting point. Without the help of the locals, Eberhard would still be on the road today – without buses or trains, you’re simply stranded on the coast of Labrador. We can now finally carry on. Our next destination is the north-west coast of Newfoundland.

Matze

Just over 1,200 people live in Nunajnguk – which is the Inuit name for Nain. Founded in 1771 as a mission station, Labrador’s northernmost settlement offers everything that makes up modern life: an airfield, two supermarkets, a hospital and the new administrative centre.

As soon as we moor, it takes only a few minutes before we’re clearly the talk of the town. Children come to visit us on board and one pick-up after another rolls up onto the jetty. The locals marvel at the Dagmar Aaen and want to know exactly where we’re from. A fisherman gives us two really large char as a welcome gift. The friendliness of the people is overwhelming.

We’re given a short tour of the church in Nain. The verger takes time out for us – and mentions in passing that he has German roots. A small connection across the Atlantic that fits in surprisingly well with the history of this place.
For the history of the Moravians is still very much present in Nain today. More than 250 years after the mission was founded, the church still plays an important role in the life of the community. Services are held in Inuktitut, the language of the Inuit. Here, the past and the present lie very close together.

We want to explore the area around Nain. But anyone leaving Nain to set off on foot into the surrounding countryside should not do so without a guide who knows the area well. At first, we only encounter the reason for this in the form of traces.
On some trees, we spot clear scratch marks made by bears. After that, we look a little more carefully amongst the bushes. But we don’t spot any bears.
Not yet, anyway.
In the evening, one suddenly appears in the village. Rangers eventually shoot the animal. The warnings, which may previously have seemed somewhat abstract to us, suddenly take on a very concrete meaning.

Later, it grows quiet in the harbour. Because of the tidal range, we often have to go out at night to check the mooring lines. It’s actually a perfectly normal part of daily life on board.
But a glance upwards makes us pause.
Above us, the Northern Lights stretch across the dark sky. Pale green veils emerge from nowhere and slowly change shape. And what makes it special is that they’re reflected in the calm sea.
The lines have long since been secured again. Nevertheless, we stay on deck, craning our necks, and continue to look up. A few minutes turn into more. Eventually, time ceases to matter.

Some things clearly lose none of their fascination, even when you’re not seeing them for the first time.
Matze & Thomas

Position: 56.543718, -61.687803

An important part of the Ocean Change expeditions is interacting with the local people. We have so far visited Inuit in their homeland on the coast of Labrador five times. Fish always plays a special role in these visits. Whether at the subpolar northern tip of Labrador or at its southern tip (which, incidentally, is at the same latitude as Hamburg): it’s
it all starts with fish. As soon as we’re moored, people come onto the jetty, marvel at the ship and welcome us.
And then, without fail, the same question: ‘Do you want some fish?’ Of course we do!
Sometimes it’s a fisherman who’s just filleting cod. ‘Take as much as you like,’ he’ll say. When we tentatively mention that there are nine of us, the reply is: ‘Then you’d better take 10 fillets.’ Sometimes someone comes to us with smoked, vacuum-packed Arctic char fillets; other times it’s a young fisherman who supplies us with salmon fillets. Hospitality in the form of fish. We enjoy the delicious meals that Miriam conjures up from these gifts.

Alongside these delights, work on the Dagmar Aaen takes centre stage whilst we’re in port.
A ship needs protection – especially wooden ships. This becomes even more important when a wooden ship is sailing in Arctic waters. The components are subjected to much greater stress here. Incidentally, a sailor doesn’t ‘strike’ his ship – he ‘paints’ it.

But many other components also receive care and attention. First and foremost, the radar. Off the coast of Labrador, it stopped working – the display lighting had failed. The expedition office in Bad Bramstedt was contacted via satellite phone and asked to procure a replacement bulb and send it to Labrador. It’s actually a simple component. Unfortunately, however, neither the display nor the radar unit are still in production; spare parts are no longer available, and alternatives from China would only be deliverable after many weeks.
Navigating at night and through the ice without radar is dangerous. So we have to improvise. Marie and Lukas carefully opened up the radar unit and examined it. An alternative could be fitted into the opening where the faulty bulb used to be. But what? They finally find what they’re looking for in the galley. There are LED light strips attached to the ceiling that might fit. No sooner said than done. We still have a spare LED strip on board. It can be cut to size and fits perfectly into the opening. The power supply is also improvised and everything is screwed together. Then comes the big moment. What happens when we switch on the radar? It works!! There’s huge joy on board; the radar is operational again.

Improvisation is a regular part of life on board an expedition ship.

Meanwhile, in the galley, Miri has switched off the stove. Our Dikson diesel stove is an absolutely reliable and frugal companion, running 24 hours a day, day and night. It’s not just a hob and oven, but also heats the midship.
Once it has cooled down, the cast-iron hob – which measures almost a square metre – is carefully cleaned and oiled. Ash residue is removed from the flue, and now we can cook and heat the ship again.

Meanwhile, Matze – our ship’s carpenter – has cut to size, sanded, fitted and painted a bracket for a fish chopping board. This means that when filleting fish (and there’s certainly plenty of that on this voyage), the smell stays on deck.

Up in the rig, Mika and Marie have replaced a leather lining so that the jib halyard block doesn’t chafe against the fairlead. Or, in non-sailor’s terms: a strip of leather to protect against chafing. There’s always something to do…
Thomas & Matze

Position: 55.607497, -60.320435