The voyages of the Bluster and Guesswork continue apace. After setting out from Greenland in sail boat sim Sailaway [official site] two weeks ago I am now sailing the Northwest Passage in earnest, following in the cold, wet footsteps of Franklin himself. I had originally thought it’d take months and months to get anywhere but the respectable auto-pilot has been roaring through the sea foam tirelessly day and night. Together, we’ve travelled almost a thousand miles already. Here’s how things are going, according to my captain’s log.
Absolutely no wind. The water is completely flat, like a very large blue carpet. We are just drifting here aimlessly in the… Greenland sea? Let me just check that with Google Maps. Okay, so it’s called Baffin Bay. I’m stuck in the middle of Baffin Bay, going at less than a single knot with still 3600 miles to go. I try jiggling with the sails but it’s no use. The gods simply do not favour us. We bob along on the current, like a discarded nappy floating in a British town lake.
Wind has been coming and going, and we are now making steady progress across the bay. I had thought this would take several months but it will probably only take two – if that. I hadn’t considered how useful it is that the ship goes on with my companion Mr Tooltips at the helm 24/7. If only Franklin had had such marvellous technology. But I suppose not requiring food on board helps us more than anything. I also do not have a ship full of dudes suffering from lead poisoning, which gives me a slight advantage.
I have to adjust course to head further out into the bay, away from the coast, where the wind is pushing in a more amenable direction, and with greater force. Water splashes all over my screen, which feels strangely refreshing. One of the other sailors, somewhere across the world on his own sail boat, pipes up on the in-game chat. (Think of this as some kind of satellite radio that connects all boats worldwide). The sailor says they see me. They are aware of the Bluster and Guesswork and her heroic mission, and thanks to the world map, which shows all the other boats online at certain time, you can follow what others are doing.
One of the other sailors tells me about windy.com, and I spend the next 15 minutes staring with amazement at tiny arrows and swirling vortexes around the world. I can only hope that one of these storms never strikes me. But at the same time, think of the waves dude.
Oh no. I log on to check on the Bluster only to find that Mr Tooltips has almost steered her straight into the coast of *consults Google* Devon Island! This is because the wind is coming straight at us now through this small channel and the only way to sail into the wind is to snake your way from one side to the other, like a slaloming skier except, you know, uphill. This has brought us far off the yellow-plotted course and almost into the land. I have arrived just in time. Stand aside, Tooltips, you auto-piloting fool! I briskly turn the ship around and trim the sails to get her going in the other direction.
Crisis averted, but we still have 3143 miles to go. The waves are a little higher than usual. There is a wet fog everywhere.
I have neglected my captaining duties for some time. I log on expecting to find Mr Tooltips dead at the wheel having run aground. But he has somehow navigated around the island of... *shouts to Mr Google* Cornwallis Island, with magnificent precision. Good work, Tippers. I knew we could rely on you. And he has made excellent speed too. We are now just 2769 miles from the end of our historic voyage. The only worry is that we will soon reach the point at which Franklin and his sickly men succumbed to the ice.
But, as luck would have it, ice is another thing that doesn’t exist in Sailaway. Hurrah! Eat my wake, Franklin. I’ll soon be overtaking the old geezer and hitting the halfway mark of our journey. Keep your eyes on the horizon for future dispatches from the Northwest Territories. Mr Google, plot us a course! Mr Tippers, full sail ahead!