ARCTIC SEA ICE –Sea-ice Madoki–)(Updated)

“Madoki”, as I understand it, means “the same but different” in Japanese, and is used to describe an El Nino that is displaced away from Peru into the central Pacific. I thought I might as well use the same word to describe arctic temperatures this autumn. They are “the same” as 2016 because they are consistently above normal, with spikes. They are “different” because they are consistently cooler than last year. (2016 left; 2017 right.)

 

My own take on the winter mildness at the Pole (if you can call temperatures far below zero “mild”), is that it is indicative of warmer seas. There is always a lag between when sea-surface temperatures start to be cooled and when they actually drop and effect the temperature of the air above. In fact, though we are a decade into a “Quiet Sun”, we likely are still seeing the effects of an extremely “Noisy Sun” during the last century. In the shorter term, we likely are still seeing the lagged effects of the 2015 “super” El Nino and last summer’s “failed” El Nino. That much is the “same”. What is “different” is that the difference between the warm tropics and cold Pole is fading.

Last year, when the difference was greatest, the flow north seemed to me to be like when it is coldest outside and you have a fire. The “draw” of the chimney is especially good, and the fire doesn’t smoke in the house even when you haven’t bothered have the chimney swept. (It is when it gets warmer outside that the stove starts to smoke, and you have to get out your chimney-sweeper brush.) In fact the “draw” of the Pole was so great last year that it made for fascinating surges of mild air north, and the anomalous low-pressure I dubbed “Ralph” appeared at the Pole. This year is more boring; though there are spikes in the above graph they are nothing likes the amazing spikes in 2016.

The rushes of milder, moist air up from the North Atlantic were so great that sea-ice was pushed north from Svalbard in Barents Sea, and slow to form in Kara Sea, and Alarmists got excited when the extent actually dropped briefly, during its yearly rise. This year we have seen no such excitement. (2016 light blue; 2017 black and red.)

DMI5 1127 osisaf_nh_iceextent_daily_5years_en

When we compare the sea-ice thickness maps, we see that same-but-different in terms of temperature can lead to huge differences in terms of how the ice is reforming. (It tends to always reform over the entirety of the Arctic Sea by March, with the yearly variations only out on the edges, but where it reforms, and whether it reforms early or late, can mean a lot in terms of where the jet-stream is most comfortable setting up, and where arctic outbreaks will afflict people, to the south.) Here are the (new style) NRL maps. (2016 left; 2017 right).

 

 

The only place for Alarmist to look, in hope of seeing increased sea-ice melt, is on the Pacific side. Ice has been slower to form in the Sea of Okhotsk (north of Japan) and north of Bering Strait. But this likely is either caused by (or causing) (it is a chicken-or-the-egg situation) a loopy jet stream that can make (at its most extreme) Alaska warmer than Florida. Last year we saw the same sort of extreme when the Atlantic surges made Finland warmer than Turkey. But this year, though there are still Atlantic surges, it is the same-but-different. Last year the North Atlantic lows sometimes traveled straight north to merge with Ralph at the Pole, and the entire north Atlantic had southwest winds that continued on to curve to the Pole itself. This year North Atlantic lows are more well-behaved, and head east to northern Scandinavia, and though much of Europe can be in the southwest winds, the waters north of Europe get northeast winds, which is quite the opposite of last year, resulting in a very different reformation of sea-ice in that area. (2106 left; 2017 right)

 

Note there is far more ice in the north of Kara Sea, Franz Joseph Land is ice-bound, Svalbard has far more ice to its north east, and sea-ice is surging and forming southwards in Fram Strait. Fram Strait is particularly interesting because a “wrong-way” flow during the summer had less-than-normal ice there. Now Denmark Strait is nearly filled, (which has me holding my breath, for, though it is very rare, sometimes the ice jams up and it is possible to walk from Greenland to Iceland), (though I wouldn’t advise it, because a single North Atlantic storm could wipe out such a bridge in a matter of hours. One December (2014?) a bridge had nearly formed, and then a gale blew up in mere hours, and all the ice crunched against the coast of Greenland in a day. Sea-ice collapses like an accordion, when winds reach hurricane force.)

With jet-stream winds looping north in the Pacific they swoop back south over Hudson Bay, bringing cold air south, and its yearly flash-freeze is ahead of last year’s. (2016 left; 2017 right.)

 

As I pointed out in my last post, Dr. Susan Crockford stated that residents of Churchill, on the west coast of Hudson Bay, said the reformation of ice there was one of the earliest since 1979, and polar bears were already starting to head out to sea to start their autumn hunt. (For it to be colder-than-normal south of the Pole, when it is warmer-than-normal at the Pole, seems a normal response to loopy jet streams.)

This brings up an interesting sidetrack, involving the fact more sea-ice may be bad for polar bears. Why? Polar bears eat seals, and seals require air holes to breath through, and must pup on top of the ice. If the sea-ice gets too thick, with too few areas of open water, seals (and walruses, not to mention whales and porpoises), must move south or starve, if not suffocate. Dr. Crawford has documented declines in in seal and polar bear populations associated with excessive sea-ice, which tends to shoot Al Gore’s weepy prediction of drowning bears in “An Inconvenient Truth” all full of holes. Since Gore produced that movie plenty of evidence has surfaced showing that less sea-ice actually increases the numbers of seals, and consequently polar bears. (Likely conservationists preventing over-hunting has also helped increase populations, but people who live in the north should be allowed to hunt in a sensible manner, and not prevented from earning a living in a very harsh landscape by sentimental fools to their south insisting non-endangered species “endangered”.) Dr. Crawford is fairly scornful of the unscientific side of Alarmist publicity, calling it “polar bear porn”, and has produced this excellent exposè.

A final area that interests me is the Canadian Archipelago. (2016 left; 2017 right.)

 

Usually the “Beaufort Gyre” has sea-ice moving as the current high pressure is moving it, clockwise on the Pacific side of the Arctic Basin.

Drift 20171127 Attachment-1

What “Ralph” did over last winter, spring and summer was to slow this flow, and even reverse it to a counterclockwise flow. Apparently this change altered the flow of sea-ice north of the Archipelago, and rather piling up along the coast, it jammed directly into the coast and went squeezing between the larger islands. During the summer it was fascinating to watch thick sea-ice, like toothpaste in a tube, come oozing down the east side of Melville Island, across Parry Channel, and south down McClintock Channel east of Victoria Island. I am wondering if this thicker ice may continue down to Victoria Strait towards the Canadian Mainland, and become a block to people attempting the Northwest Channel next summer.

I had never seen sea-ice move south through the Archipelago like this before, and it was a sort of revelation to me. There are odd events in what arctic explorers describe (or don’t describe, as in the case of the ill-fated Franklin expedition), that may be explained by massive north-to-south flows of sea-ice through the Archipelago.

At the very least this southward movement of sea-ice through the Archipelago should awaken people to how mobile even the thickest sea-ice is. Originally I myself had the preconception sea-ice was fixed and motionless, or at least as slow to move as a glacier. It was only through observation I became aware it moves about with far more speed than some Alarmists give it credit for. In fact, if the Pole were to become largely ice-free, it would be more likely to be due to a massive discharge of sea-ice into the North Atlantic (as apparently happened 1816-1817) than be due to slight variations in temperature and summer melting caused by CO2.

Hopefully I’ll find time to go through the daily maps later. The huge high pressure over the Pole faded, but now is being replaced by another high pressure. “Ralph” is not the character he was, last year.

In case I don’t have time to go through the maps I should quickly pop in this current map of the USA which seems to counter many of my assumptions:

20171128 satsfc

With less ice north of Being Strait I’ve been buying extra firewood, expecting Alaska to be warm like it was in the winter of 1976-77, which was the coldest I recall in New England, and saw sea-ice grow right down the east coast of the USA (sea-ice which, by the way, never gets added to the “extent” graphs). However the above map shows a mild surge right up the center of the USA, making a sort of mockery of my analog.

What seems to be happening is that the loopy jet still hasn’t “locked in”, and still is in a state of flux. I’m going to stand my ground, thinking it will “lock in” later. (In 1976-77 it had already locked in, and it seemed the wind was bitter cold and from the north nearly every day from November until February.) I’ve noticed that the computer models are flipping around like a net full of fish. I think every time an upper air trough rambles across the continent they recalculate, first having cold “lock in” on the west coast and then on the east.

One reason I’m not flipping around myself is because the Weatherbell Site isn’t flipping around. Where I just use one analog they utilize over ten, and Joseph D’Aleo has created what he calls his “Pioneer Model” that combines the analogs. It has been showing cold in the northeast of the USA since summer, without all the flip-flopping about the super-computer models do.

In any case, though I may be wrong where the loops “lock in”, I’m thinking the jet will have those loops, allowing influxes of milder air up to the Pole, until exactly February 13, and then the pattern will go zonal and the Pole will get cold. I figure that, if a blind squirrel intends to get a nut, he’d best go way out on a limb.

Stay tuned.

*******

I don’t have free time, but do have insomnia.

My last post ended with an impressive high pressure forming an anti-Ralph at the Pole.

 

 

 

This huge high drifted towards Kara Sea, as an Aleutian Low snuck north and brought warm north through Bering Strait.  The flow in the North Atlantic was opposite last year’s. A low over Hudson Bay began bringing milder air up Baffin’s Bay, to the west of Greenland.

 

 

 

 

The anti-Ralph was prevented from entering Kara Sea by an Atlantic gale that stalled north of Norway, but kicked ahead a “kicker” low that strengthened south of Kara Sea. In the Pacific Side a new Aleautian low came north.  Mild air began to leak north either side of Greenland, as the anti-Ralph weakened.

 

 

 

 

 

 

As the anti-Ralph collapsed to a ridge, this is the closest I see to a “Ralph” forming, on the Pacific side of the Pole.

 

 

 

Rather than this “Ralph” moving to the Pole, it was displaced towards Siberia as a new high pressure was pumped towards Canada. The Atlantic and Hudson Bay lows weakened as a new Aleutian low crossed East Siberia.

 

 

The first Aleutian low retrograded in east Siberia as a new Aleutian low pounded Alaska south of Bering Strait, and mild air came north through the Strait. Things were quieter on the Atlantic and Hudson Bay side, but milder air that came north from the Atlantic earlier formed an interesting swirl on the Pacific side of the Pole, in the temperature map. This swirl was opposite last year’s swirls, clockwise rather than counter-clockwise, but it showed our planet is still sending heat north to be lost to the arctic dark.

 

The final maps show the next Aleutian low failing to get north of Bering Strait, a new Hudson Bay low, low pressure malingering over Europe, and the new anti-Ralph failing to get as strong as the last one and failing to cross to Asia, but rather falling back as a ridge towards Canada. Most striking is that the isobars suggest a flow from the Pole straight down towards Europe.

 

 

 

This Pole-to-Europe flow ought make things interesting across the Pond.

What is striking is that the Pole-to-Europe flow is so opposite last year’s.  The next north Atlantic gale will not come north with Azores juice, but will likely be that Hudson Bay low on the wrong side of Greenland, undergoing what I call “morphistication” as it transits Greenland’s 10,000 foot icecap.  The Baltic low will crawl east, perhaps producing an interesting secondary on its cold front, as the front reaches the Mediterranean. It looks like low pressures will swirl around Europe, hopefully giving folk a white Christmas and not rain, and high pressure will remain king-of-the-mountain at the Pole. Definitely very different from what produced “Ralph” last winter.

Stay tuned.

18 thoughts on “ARCTIC SEA ICE –Sea-ice Madoki–)(Updated)

  1. Very interesting. Ole has updated through October: http://www.climate4you.com/SeaTemperatures.htm#North%20Atlantic%2059%20degrees%20north%20transect%20to%201900%20m%20depth
    which seems warmer but not very in comparison at 59N, which is making me wonder as the AMOC slowly switches (maybe). Then you come up with this lot, and I had wondered at the fast ice in Franklin waters: http://www.aari.ru/odata/_d0015.php?lang=1&mod=1 courtesy of Russia.
    Brave Caleb, to predict for Feb 13. Wadham had a millioin named after him……..
    Meanwhile back in the big south, we have thunder and crop-wrecking hail over the areas which had snow and earlier this month. Just too LIA for comfort. The blocking High has moved west 10 degrees, and I am pondering the mechanism. Maybe a job for Erl and Ren.

    • Thanks, Brett. Good links.

      This could be the last hurrah for the warm AMO. The warm surge that pushed ice north last year and dumped so much snow on Greenland is now being countered by a surge down the east coast of Greenland that may lead to less snow but more cooling, especially if the sea-ice moves into warmer waters. The cold water takes a dive in Denmark Strait over the “world’s largest underwater waterfall”, but the ice at the surface cannot take such a dive. If ice surges south then it, along with cold winds, will chill the surface waters. Also the hurricanes this past autumn sucked a lot of heat from surface waters further south, and that water will head north and have a delayed effect. Lastly, the Argo graph shows less of a “recovery” at deeper depths.

      The ice moving south through the Canadian Archipelago is something I’ve been meaning to write about for a long time. It is amazing, and explains how open waters in those channels can become ice-choked faster than seems logical.

      Sorry to hear about the hail down in your springtime neighborhood. Hail is the ruin of even the most sensible farming. It can ruin things on the hottest and most beneficent summer. Hope it quits. Keep me informed, if you have time.

  2. Another warm surge down south a few days ago. Though zeroC not threatened. Most of Antarctica was under three Lows I think, with a sliver of High pressure well inland. All very curious. As the displaced frigid air moves north, it is causing ructions up eastern Oz. The High still holdding on over NZ will be fighting this from now on, as the west wind drift tries to get it across the Tasman Sea. 5day forecast is looking very complex asw summer meets winter here in NZ…..l

  3. According to nullschool, things just get stranger here, too. A low pressure funnell from the tropical seas north of Oz runs down over Tasmania to Antarctica. Between two large highs. East Oz flooding expected today. Just part, I think, of what is going on.
    So we are bewildered at both ends of the world, what”s new?

    • Thanks for pointing out the warm air pouring down the east side of Australia. Looks like a “loopy” jet stream to me. It will be interesting to watch to see what sort of low develops over Tasmania. Our GFS model has it becoming a decent low east of Tasmania for a few days, but flattening out before getting to New Zealand.

      It is always a test for my psyche to have the high pressures moving counterclockwise and the lows clockwise, in your maps.

      Some sort of tropical mischief looks like it is brewing northwest of Australia. Do those things ever curve back to the east in your hemisphere and give your western deserts rain?

      • The summer ‘Wet’ is monsoonal and starts fitfully soon, to peak around February IIRC. When I was over there, I didn’t get north to the western deserts so maybe an Aussie can tell us. All I can say is that most places get some rain, but some get very little.except rarely a lot…… Those would be between the tropic and temperate zones.
        The North is famous for its immense annual floods.

        NZ is in a ‘boxed High’ situation now. I guess the two lows north in the subtropics might be feeding the high. The long trough is picked to try and bend around our High, but only wet the Tasman Sea, which is already quite wet enough thankyou.
        But the building polar cyclones below us may decide to mix it with that wimpy temperate/subtropical rubbish. That would be interesting, and a time not to be at sea.
        Maybe Ralph has come south, spoiling for a fight. Oh well, you will have enough to cope with. -60C in Yakutsk. Unimaginable. New England will compete of course.

      • I don’t think our GFS computer model does well with your weather. Today’s forecast maps look very different from yesterday’s . But I can really see what you are talking about, when you speak of the long trough bending around the high pressure over New Zealand. We don’t see that same sort of bending on this side of the equator, I think because we have nothing close to the winds you have roaring around Antarctica.

        Did you ever read a book called, “Once is enough?” It is about a couple who try to sail around Cape Horn but their boat is pitchpoled by a huge wave. They barely made it back to Chile, fixed their boat, tried again, and were again pitchpoled. Both times their craft was demasted , and both times they only made it back to Chile due to amazing ingenuity ads a lot of jury rigging of broken spars and torn canvas. The lesson I learned was, “Don’t sail down near Antarctica.” I also learned we northerners have no idea of the winds howling around Antarctica. It is outside our ken. Forecasting down where you are is a completely different ballgame.

      • -60c in Yakutsk? Yikes! That is “upstream” of New England, if the pattern I expect develops.

        Typical,. I get so engrossed in your weather I forget to look in my own backyard.

        I am humbled. A fellow from New Zealand alerts me to my own hemisphere.

  4. I hope this link helps understand how the climate bands can shift right around the world. The Desert sub-tropical highs ring the 35-45deg latitudes sort of, out of place. Thus drought may set in while it lasts, because the west wind drift moves the highs around, ring a rosy, with no intervening lows to bring rain. Southern lows are pushing up I see, trying at least, like to our west – some rain in Fiordland c.46S.
    I seek mechanisms, and can only think of hemispheric pressure balances so far. At least we can visualise the bigger picture these days. Hats off to the folk such as Hadley who pieced things together from ship and station readings.

    Yes, I was on an Oilfield Tugboat in the Tasman Sea, Bass Strait in the late ’60’s. 35ft swells were not uncommon, and 65ft came every 2nd winter on average. I only was in 35 footers, and I just watched them respectfully, saying nothing in case they noticed me….. But that was nothing to the line squall that sunk our inter-island ferry, Wahine, in Wellington harbour, NZ.. A large Ocean-going British ship, she was just seized and blown sideways onto Barrets Reef. Things just get colder and worse in the 50s and 60s of course, unless you are an Albatross….

    • Just read up about the Wahine. If the winds really did reach 160 mph I don’t think the captain had much of a chance, especially after he lost his radar. I’ll bet he swore a bit when he backed onto the reef and lost his propellers. Still, he was very smart, it seems to me, about choosing the right moment to abandon ship.

      That is a very good line about huge swells, “…saying nothing in case they noticed me.”

      My one bragging-rights experience was of going through a storm with swells around 20-25 feet, in a 28 foot yacht that was not designed for open sea sailing. The engine quit as the gas-line was plugged with rust. Then both the main and jib halyards snapped. We clipped up a silly-looking storm jib and that alone kept us heading in the right direction. The fellow I sailed with knew how to splice rope, and I remember his fingers bleeding as he spliced the steel fibers of the slender halyards. I simply sat in the stern and held the tiller for hours on end, going down, down, down and then up, up, up, as the endless waves marched by. Both of us were sicker than dogs, and had very little idea of how to sail. (I had hero-worshiped the 23-year-old “captain”, but began to entertain doubts during this storm.)

      We started south from Newport, Rhode Island on a Monday Morning, and the storm picked up after we passed Block Island heading south that night. Then we spent two days wallowing our way west, eventually landing down near Cape May, New Jersey, on the afternoon of our fourth day. It was a sort of coming-of-age experience for me, though I might be hard-pressed to explain how I changed. It had something to do with feeling it was all right to be utterly helpless and just doing my best, even though I felt like a flea on the heaving hide of an elephant.

      One odd experience sticks in my mind. Before the third morning the winds were not so bad, and the “captain” had simply lashed the helm and collapsed in the berth on the port side as I lay on the starboard side, and I was worried and kept crawling up to re-lash the tiller, because the boat kept coming about on its own and heading northwest rather than southwest. We were both drenched, and hadn’t eaten in a couple days, and I suppose I could be called delirious. Just as it was getting light I was glad to hear the “captain’s” footsteps on the deck above me, but when I opened my eyes he was still in the port berth. So I crawled up on deck, and of course there was nobody there. It gave me a spooky feeling, and though I scientifically chalked it up to stress-induced hallucination, my romantic side considered the possibility of a siren or angel being a third crew-mate, who helped us through that night. Years later I read of other sailors who had similar odd experiences, far from the safety and sanity of land.

      My body was so altered by the experience that I never got seasick for a long time afterwards, but on land the ground seemed to pitch and heave. When we first got to shore I remember walking down a street and the “captain” hanging onto a lamppost, as he asked for directions.

      Ah, the blissful ignorance of youth! I was eighteen, and have no idea how I ever lived to be nineteen!

  5. The human condition – forgetting how small we are. I am back sailing my 14ft Buffalo Cat onthe Kaipara harbour now we have warmer weather. Great stuff! The harbour is 50mi long, with a lot of fetch, so I use a boardsail as a main. Being out there helps me keep feeling small…. By the way, the NZ’s Cup foilers look interesting if ungainly. Those non-displacement (planing) monohulls are rocketships even without foils……
    The flow of air, upper and lower, remains from the south, though it has lost its chill for now thankfully. As of last evening, the AAO was still positive as the polar highs keep pushing air north on average, it seems to me anyway. This forerunner to a maybe La Nina maybe sending high level air south to ‘katabise’ back north here below, but I do not know really. But I bet a white Xmas is coming for you folk.

  6. Kaipara Harbour looks pretty interesting. Like San Francisco, but with nasty sandbars rather than a Golden Gate. I suppose to sail there you need to know your sandbars, and shallow draft vessels are desired. (I wonder how the ships got in and out when the Kauri Gum trade was booming.)

    (I spent a while sidetracked this evening, learning about the “diggers” who mined for that gum in your area, more than a century ago. I have some ancient linoleum falling apart on the floor of the former kitchen of my house, and wonder if it may be in part made from gum from the shores of Kaipara Harbour). (Before tonight I didn’t realize linoleum dated back to the 1860’s.)

    This just goes to show you how far afield my wandering mind can get, when I just feel free to follow my curiosity. If free-range chickens produce better eggs, perhaps free-range thinking produces better eggheads.

    We are currently on the warm, southerly side of an impressive storm up towards Hudson Bay. Temperatures have risen from 45 to 54 since sunset (7 to 12 Celsius) and a relatively mild rain is falling for December. But I think this is the beginning of the end for our mild autumn; the storm will pull down a lot of cold air, and I have the sense it may be like the start of an avalanche. You are likely correct about our white Christmas. I hope you have a merry and mild one!

    • Good delving. The channels allowed ocean-going sailing and steam vessels up to Dargaville, and to wharves around the several thousand miles of coastline, with the tides further up the estuaries. Smaller Steamers used to run 30 miles further up to Tangiteroriia on the tides, to within 30mi of the east coast at Whangarei. East is rising, and west coast sinking, about 2mm/yr. Seesaw with the tectonics.The harbour entrance bar is called the ‘Graveyard’, of about 67 ships. Plus another charter fishing launch, high speed but not fast enough, a few months ago. Several deaths adding to a long list. However, the harbour is a great place, full of seafood. Kaipara meaning ‘food aplenty’. It is an old home of my family, and in my dotage, here I am back on it . Damn good. Gum? Still plenty, but synthetics undercut it Was used to make fine varnish too, dissolved in methanol type solvents. Cheers.

      • I imagined there must be “food aplenty” in all that shallow water. Likely a good place to be a boy on a summer vacation, with a fishing line and perhaps a dip net.

        I was really intrigued by the history of the gum-diggers. It amazes me what people did for oil, before petroleum was discovered. Besides whalers and gum-diggers, all sorts of pine tar and turpentine was extracted from trees around here, and also our barns were painted red with a smelly concoction of fish-oil and red clay; the paint probably washed off fairly fast, but the oil did preserve the wood. (Inland barns were white, as soured milk was somehow employed, with the wood preserved, I suppose, by rancid butterfat.)

        Progress and the industrial revolution were bound to happen, even without petroleum. I’m thinking of putting together a post with a title something along the lines of, “Before Petroleum.”

  7. Yes, we used shark oil here, from the livers of School Sharks that run every February. Also very meaty for fish and chips, no bones, eg ‘shark and taties’. The local production involved sunning livers on sloping corrugated iron sheets, it being high summer, emphasis on the high. A very smelly process, as was drying the meat pre refrigeration days ie when I was young. Anyway, the oil would seep out and run down the iron to be collected by dums. Used for paint base, rustproofing (fisholene, excellent stuff). Simlilarly, peat oil, distilled by pyrolysis, used as engine fuel, by previous generations locally. Much peat available.

      • And by the way – getting in needed the lighthouse signal station to semaphore directions re the narrow shifting channel, bent to the north along the North Head shore, and the vast shifting banks over most of the entrance. Sand fed by volcanic deposits from the rivers further south, plus Mt Egmont. Sometimes, a wait of weeks could ensue. I stay away from there.

      • I an never surprised that the old sailing ships wrecked, and rather am amazed they didn’t wreck more often, and that sailing was profitable at all. Just imagine thinking it was worthwhile entering such a harbour, without an engine! The tidal currents are amazing, and when an enormous swell is coming in from the ocean the waves can break on the the out-rushing water much like waters break on a beach, even when the channel is deep. The only depth-finder those old boats had was a chunk of lead on the end of a long rope, heaved ahead and allowed to sink, over and over. In certain situations, where sailing headlong into a harbor seemed foolhardy, they would set sails a certain way and back into harbors, with sails carrying them forward at five knots as current sucked them backwards at six, and an extra sail ready to be raised if they needed to stop backing up, or an anchor ready to be thrown out if they needed to stop. They were gutsy on a daily basis.

        Shifting sands are bad enough, but at least they don’t smash holes in the bottom of a boat the way rocks do. One of the craziest harbours to enter in New England is Newburyport, which is like threading a needle (with tides ten feet at times), and you would assume no port could prosper there, yet it was one of the nation’s largest cities in colonial times. The skills of those old captains is mind-boggling. When engines fail in sailboats these days, panic sets in.

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