by Richard & Christine Olsenius
Text by Christine Olsenius
Photography / Óli Lindenskov & Hjaltur Poulsen
Nathaniel Wilson & Richard Olsenius
“We felt we were seven dead guys,” Geoff Pope
Geoff Pope and Sheila Yeates, Apostle Islands, Lake Superior
“GEOFF POPE WANTED TO SAIL TO PLACES FEW PEOPLE WANTED TO GO”
Geoff Pope. photo ©2015 Richard Olsenius
“A deep fear set in among the captain and crew. Pope thought to himself. “We are seven dead guys.””
Geoff Pope was a man who wanted to sail to places few people go. He was drawn to the remote high latitudes of the Labrador Sea, Greenland, Iceland, the Drake Passage and Cape Horn, places not traveled by the average sailor. He wanted to experience first hand, the landscapes and seascapes that look much the same today as they did when Eric the Red started the first Norse settlement in Greenland over a thousand years ago. Geoff wanted to sense what other explorers experienced; men like Sir Martin Frobisher, Sir Earnest Shackleton or Sir John Franklin, who sailed their ships towards Arctic and Antarctic waters in search of fame and fortune. For hundreds of years, adventurers tried to find and then transit the elusive Northwest Passage, the waterway linking the Atlantic to the Pacific Ocean.
Many failed in the process of dodging icebergs, land-fast ice edging coastlines and sea ice moving with wind and ocean currents. The tragic ending of the 1845 Franklin Expedition, with the loss of captain and all 128 crewmembers, confirmed the danger of being icebound in a wooden boat in high latitudes.
Several Franklin Expedition crew buried on Beechey Island along the Northwest Passage.©2015 Richard Olsenius
Geoff wanted to sense what other explorers experienced; men like Sir Martin Frobisher, Sir Earnest Shackleton or Sir John Franklin, who sailed their ships towards Arctic and Antarctic waters in search of fame and fortune. For hundreds of years, adventurers tried to find and then transit the elusive Northwest Passage, the waterway linking the Atlantic to the Pacific Ocean.
Many failed in the process of dodging icebergs, land-fast ice edging coastlines and sea ice moving with wind and ocean currents. The tragic ending of the 1845 Franklin Expedition, with the loss of captain and all 128 crewmembers, confirmed the danger of being icebound in a wooden boat in high latitudes.
So it was on July 12, 1989 that under cover of darkness, the ice pack building off the southern coast of Greenland slowly encircled the Sheila Yeates, grinding against the wooden hull of the 50-foot topsail ketch. Captain Geoff Pope and his crew had been sailing along the outer edge of the sea ice in relatively clear weather when the wind and current conspired to move the ice pack and its adjoining fog bank around them. By early morning of the next day the ship was completely engulfed. They were 50 miles south of Cape Farewell, Greenland. Geoff and the six crewmembers spent the entire day trying to maneuver the ship out of the sea ice to open water, but they were trapped.
Pope sent a request for assistance to Greenland Command but the poor visibility and the ship’s position at the edge of their helicopter range made rescue impossible. The ice continued to compress against the wooden hull. Now a captive of the ice floe, the Sheila Yeates would soon be drifting out of radio range. The waters between the Labrador Sea and the North Atlantic are wild, desolate and unforgiving. A deep fear set in among the captain and crew. Pope thought to himself. “We are seven dead guys.“
HOME THE DREAM PASSAGE ICE BOUND DELIVERANCE LOSS REFLECTION
Geoff Pope on the Shiela Yeates on the remote North Shore of Lake Superior. Video & photo © 2023 Richard Olsenius
I first saw the Sheila Yeates in the Apostle Islands of Lake Superior one warm August day in late 1978 while cruising on our 30-foot sailboat – Summerwind. It’s easy to spot a 50-foot topsail ketch because her 19th century “tall ship” design stood out amid the fiberglass production yachts on the lake. Sailing down Chequamegon Bay, with her imposing main, jib, mizzen and topsails furled, she held your gaze and made you think of distant ports of call from a bygone era. You didn’t have to be a sailor to see that the Sheila Yeates was something special. There had to be an intriguing story behind her and one year later, my husband and I would discover it.
With its ruggedly beautiful terrain, cold water and reputation for unpredictable weather, Lake Superior attracts a special breed of sailor and adventurer and that is where our lives converged with Geoff Pope’s dream and the story of the Sheila Yeates. My husband, a professional photographer, received a National Geographic Magazine assignment to cover the western Great Lakes in the summer of 1985. He was researching places and people to cover and knew immediately that this would be a great opportunity to photograph that classic ship on Lake Superior. It only took a few inquiries around the Bayfield and Port Superior, Wisconsin marinas and we had the captain’s name and contact information.
We tracked down Geoff Pope and introduced ourselves, explaining how attracted we were to the vessel and describing the nature of Richard’s magazine story. Lucky for Richard, the Sheila Yeates had space on a two-day charter, which would provide a perfect opportunity to go aboard. He signed on immediately. It was the start of a life-long friendship.
Geoff Pope
Geoff Pope turned out to be a charismatic, photogenic, engaging old man-in-the-sea whose dexterity climbing the ratlines 35-feet above the deck belied his 72 years of age. He had a magnetism that drew you into his orbit. His wry humor and endless stories could engage you for hours. He was a natural salesman too, having successfully sold wholesale women’s clothing all his life. He could sell you on ideas, charters, Lake Superior, or an ocean voyage. He was a pied piper with a following of both seasoned old salts and sailing novices. Over the years, the Sheila Yeates became a conduit for hundreds of people to explore sailing, and for a smaller group of regulars to experience blue-water cruising.
The Sheila Yeates was the culmination of a life-long dream. “You know, you go to bed at night, every night and think about this ship – the ultimate distillation of your experience and of all your dreams,” Geoff once told Minneapolis Tribune reporter, John Oslund. “The dreams go on so long and you‘re constantly trying to put them in three dimensions with money and materials.” While in his late 60’s it had taken Geoff years to assemble a small group of like-minded sailors who would help finance a labor of love – construction of a 50-foot Civil War-era topsail ketch. With his three sons in tow, Geoff searched for boat builders in Spain, Holland and Canada. He eventually found Murray Stevens, a boat builder in Lunenburg,
He eventually found Murray Stevens, a boat builder in Lunenburg, Nova Scotia who would take the sketches from Geoff’s friend and tall ship enthusiast, Bob Jackson, and transform them into a finished work of art. The keel was laid in 1971. But the original estimates for building the Sheila Yeates went by the wayside as the ship was under construction, and continued shortfalls in funds lengthened her building schedule to five years. The number of partners also grew as the cost of the ship increased nearly six times her original estimate, from $25,000 to $150,000. But when they were finished, she was a beauty.
““It’s kind of your baby and you are watching it being born and you have something to say about it,” said Geoff, remembering the early years of construction.”
“It’s kind of your baby and you are watching it being born and you have something to say about it,” said Geoff, remembering the early years of construction. The ship was 50-feet long on deck and 64-feet from bowsprit to boomkin. According to long time friend and boat builder Bob Crockett, “Sheila Yeates seized my imagination the moment I walked into the boat shed in Lunenburg. Her tall bow, round as an apple, loomed over my head, smooth, pale as cream and looking as soft as a power puff. That was the rare Port Orford cedar planking, bound at the top with a thicker strake of dark mahogany… Her tailboards, curving from the cutwater at the top of her stem were carved from Kauri wood from the Antipodes. Her taffrail, wrapping gracefully across her stern to the break in her sheer ended in delicate scrolls.” From the very beginning, she was designed for ocean cruising to remote places, for excitement and adventure. Named for Geoff’s only daughter, the Sheila Yeates was launched in 1976 just in time to participate in the Op Sail’76 Bicentennial Celebration in New York Harbor.
She was a beautiful 19th century tall ship skippered by a larger-than-life 20th century captain. “Geoff introduced me to this world,” said Crockett. “I would have never served on other (tall) ships like the Niagara, Gazella and Picton Castle if I hadn’t first experienced Sheila Yeates. Yet my life was only one of countless others that he touched in this way, and many of those wonderful people became good friends.” “My memories of Geoff Pope and the Sheila Yeates are unlike any other memories I have.
““My memories of Geoff Pope and the Sheila Yeates are unlike any other memories I have. That guy knew how to bring people together,” ”
That guy knew how to bring people together,” reminisced Mike Metzmaker, friend and fellow blue water sailor. “I would drive up from Minneapolis and sail the Sheila Yeates out of Bayfield with others. We all had a great time. Geoff was addictive. He had a magical touch.” Close friend, fellow sailor and business partner, Bob Bruce had another remembrance. “Geoff always told me not to wait to make your dreams come true. Your work is never done. So you have to make time for things you want to do. I think of that often. Geoff called me in late June of 1986 and told me to come out to the Sheila Yeates for the re-dedication of the Statue of Liberty in New York Harbor on July 4. I had no idea how I could get away from work and other commitments. Geoff said, ‘Just be here.’ So I went. Of all the July 4 holidays that I have experienced that is the one I still remember most.”
Mike Metzmaker
Vicky Costello had been a nurse at a Minneapolis hospital when she met Geoff and joined the Sheila Yeates crew for the 1985 trip to Greenland. Originally planning on staying for the first leg of the journey only, the amazing experience and Geoff ‘s hard sell convinced her to quit her job and stay on for the full four-month trip. “I began to realize there was so much more to see, so much more to do. And I was going to miss it,” she told a newspaper reporter writing a story about the trip. ”I didn’t want to go to my grave wondering what it would have been like.”
Geoff Pope rowing a group out to his boat on Lake Superior. ©2020 Richard Olsenius
Geoff had the capacity to change people’s lives. He believed that life was a gift and the greatest sin was not living it to the fullest. Sailing had been Geoff’s love from his early years when he would stand along the shore of Lake Calhoun in Minneapolis watching the sailboats “with hungry eyes” and hoping someone would invite him on board. No one ever did. “That memory is so emblazoned in my mind that I always try to get kids on board if I see them out at the end of the dock at Bayfield,” said Geoff. “There was a depression, and there was a war and then there was family so you didn’t have the opportunity to explore facets that you felt or aimed for,” explained Geoff, trying to analyze the delay in fulfilling his dream.
“My generation retired at 65. That was habit and at 65 you took your golf clubs and you went to Florida. You sold your house and you wondered why you were unhappy. And I think people are beginning to find out that you don’t have to be dead at 65. It’s hard to imagine wanting to mow the lawn and not go sailing.”
“A lot of men, as they notice age creeping up on them, embark on a last ditch effort to make up for a lackluster life,” said Bob Crockett. “Not so with Geoff. His entire life had been a pursuit of adventure.” In 1936 while still in his twenties, Geoff and his friend, Sheldon Taylor were working as bookkeepers in New York when they decided to quit their jobs and set out by canoe from Manhattan Island paddling and portaging 7,865 miles across North America to Nome, Alaska. The trip took 18 months and was listed in the Guinness Book of World Records as the longest canoe trip in history. The record held until 1977! While earning a living and raising a family absorbed his focus over the intervening years, Geoff’s wanderlust and need for adventure never ceased In 1987 my husband and I joined a week-long charter on the Sheila Yeates heading to the Canadian North Shore. We were transported to a bygone era on this classic ship sailing beyond the Apostle Islands to the open waters of Lake Superior. Geoff clapped and shouted as soon as the furled sails caught the wind.
The Sheila Yeates responded slowly but steadily, building speed and momentum, her graceful bowsprit raising and lowering as she plowed through the waves. I had never sailed such a large vessel, not only in length but also in sheer mass. The Sheila Yeates was 62,000 pounds of displaced varnished wood and lead keel but she was gracefully gliding through the water. “When the sails are filling right and the vessel is responding to the trim and the wind is not a survival-type wind and you are bowling along – it’s exhilarating,” said Geoff trying to describe the high that many sailors feel.
““When the sails are filling right and the vessel is responding to the trim and the wind is not a survival-type wind and you are bowling along – it’s exhilarating...” ”
“When it’s going right it’s spontaneous and you just kind of burst inside.” “For me from Thunder Bay through the northeast coast, this whole stretch is as fine a cruising ground as there is in the world,” said Geoff. “It’s remote enough that you always feel each hour, each moment, you’re seeing it for the first time and it’s yours…If a 2,000-year old native American came alive he would recognize the profile of everything that’s there.” “People don’t realize what a vast inland waterway it is. I had eleven people fly out from the East Coast for a week on Lake Superior that last weekend in October. Well, they couldn’t believe anything like this existed. You get out there, you know, and you’ve got a 360-degree horizon. Lakes to them are like Lake Placid or something.” While many people through the years saw the Sheila Yeates as a valuable Great Lakes resource, Geoff continued to dream up ocean cruises. In 1985, the Sheila Yeates left the Great Lakes with a full crew and sailed out the St. Lawrence Seaway across the Labrador Sea to Greenland on a four-month trip. “I know that I am different,” Geoff told a reporter upon their return, “But it means a great deal to me to finally get to Eric the Red’s fjord, with the icebergs in it and …seeing the same scenery that has not changed one bit in a thousand years.” In 1988 Geoff also sailed around Cape Horn on the 57-foot fiberglass Bowman Ketch, Cloud Nine, skippered by his friend Roger Swanson. It was easy to see the wanderlust in his eyes when he talked about sailing.
I can’t imaging retiring and not going sailing
So it was not surprising, when Geoff began to discuss taking the Sheila Yeates on another voyage to Iceland, Scotland, and England. The lure of the sea was always with him. “A man who could canoe from New York to Nome was not afraid of difficulties,” according to friend, Bob Crockett, “and Geoff was always seeking new challenges.” In order to finance such an extensive trip, it would be planned to accommodate charter “crew” relay teams that would join the expedition at different stages along the route. Some people would be able to stay on board for a month or six to eight weeks but others would not, so breaking the trip into intervals could make the adventure affordable for more people. The longest stretch of open water and the one requiring the most experienced crew would be the stretch from St. Anthony, Newfoundland across the Labrador Sea and North Atlantic to Reykjavik, Iceland nearly 1,500 miles away. Instead of a direct crossing, Geoff wanted to sail through Prinz Christian Sund Passage, a stunning waterway through the fjords of southern Greenland before heading to Iceland.
HOME THE DREAM PASSAGE ICE BOUND DELIVERANCE LOSS REFLECTION
On May 14, 1989 the Sheila Yeates set sail from Duluth, Minnesota. The log entry reads, “Chaotic departure becomes maelstrom …but departure at last.” The crew steered a course toward Sault Ste. Marie, Michigan where she would pass through the first set of locks to take her through the Great Lakes. Nearly forty different people crewed on the ship as it made its way to Newfoundland. In addition to U.S. ports, she stopped in Ontario, including Sarnia on Lake Huron, Windsor enroute to Lake Erie and Kingston on Lake Ontario.
Photo by Nate Wilson
Then she entered Quebec and the St. Lawrence River, stopping at Trois Rivieres, Quebec City and finally, Gaspe on the Gulf of St. Lawrence. Various crewmembers came and went at ports of call along the way. Rick Palm came on board at Gaspe and the ship continued south to Baddeck on Cape Breton Island. Here crewmembers Mike Metzmaker and Nat Wilson came aboard, along with Geoff’s friends, Bob Crockett and his son, Rigel. Then the Sheila Yeates headed across the Cabot Strait towards Port aux Basques on the southwest corner of Newfoundland. It seemed whatever port they stopped in, Geoff knew someone who would offer a home-cooked meal and lively conversation.
“Greenland Command recommended sailing that course to 41° West Longitude to avoid ice and then to set their course east towards Iceland.”
They sailed up the scenic western coast of Newfoundland on their way to the Port of St. Anthony, their final stop before crossing to Greenland. It was ruggedly beautiful and invigorating sailing as the Sheila Yeates made good time under westerly winds. While sailing through the Strait of Belle Isle between Labrador and Newfoundland, Nat Wilson took the 2300-hour watch. “I watched the sun set, the aurora borealis light up the sky, the moon rise and the sun rise all in one watch,” Nat remembered in a recent conversation. When the ship docked in St. Anthony, a final core group of six crewmembers had assembled to help Geoff take the Sheila Yeates on her ocean crossing.
Three were from Minnesota and they had all sailed on the Sheila Yeates previously. Rick Palm and Mike Metzmaker had met Geoff Pope at midnight in southern Chile in January 1988 getting ready to sail around Cape Horn on Roger Swanson’s yacht, Cloud Nine. They became close friends of Geoff’s and sailed with him on Lake Superior. Rick would serve as first mate. Klaus Trieselmann had sailed often with Geoff on Lake Superior and was now anxious for some blue water sailing experience.
Crew Photo of the Sheila Yeates, 1989. Left to Right back row: Rob Schliz, Geoff Pope, Rick Palm, Klaus Trieselmann, Nat Wilson. Front row: David Steer, Mike Metzmaker. Crew photo by Óli Lindenskov.
David Steer and Rob Schilz joined the Sheila Yeates in St. Anthony. David was from Ontario and Rob from Nova Scotia. Still a teenager, Rob, whom the rest of the crew dubbed “the stowaway”, had the dubious distinction of being the youngest crewmember. Rob had been an admirer of the Sheila Yeates and first joined her during the Great Lakes leg of the trip. David had been a friend of Geoff’s for years and had formerly served as an officer in the British Navy. He would be ship’s navigator. Nat Wilson was a sail maker from Maine who had previously served as bosun on the 295-foot Coast Guard tall ship Eagle. Geoff had walked into his sail shop one day and they remained friends for years. Nat had made most of the sails for this voyage of the Sheila Yeates. Over the years Geoff and the Sheila Yeates had touched the lives of all six men, and now had drawn them together for this new adventure.
Bob Crockett and his son, Rigel, had hoped to be on the cruise to Greenland, as well, but plans to sail in Maine had been made months previously. Bob was a boat builder who had worked on the Sheila Yeates. Over the years, Geoff had helped Rigel sail on several historic ships encouraging a love of tall ships, which changed the course of his life. No sooner had they waved goodbye to Geoff in St. Anthony and boarded a bus home, when they decided to flip a coin whether to go back on the Sheila Yeates or stay on the bus. Three out of five flips of the coin told them to stay on the bus. So with real regret they continued home.
While at St. Anthony, the crew made repairs to the ship’s navigation system and radios. The coaxial cable for their SATNAV needed replacing. The trip along the Newfoundland Coast had registered positions miles away from their actual location. Both the VHF and single side band radios were acting up requiring the ship to be practically still in the water to get a clear transmission. The radar needed adjusting as well. Then after resupplying the ship’s larder she was ready to leave. Geoff checked the weather reports. Greenland Command noted an ice build-up near the coast but “nothing prohibitive” which translated to Geoff as a window of opportunity for the crossing to Frederiksdal and then Prinz Christian Sund Passage. The Sheila Yeates departed St. Anthony on the evening of July 6th.
Swells, North Atlantic ©2020 Nate Wilson
The crossing began in the golden glow of the low arctic summer sun, which in high latitudes barely dips below the horizon. Sea conditions were ideal and winds were slight. Daylight brought fair skies and westerly winds that drove the Sheila Yeates east towards Greenland. It was an exhilarating sail as her graceful bowsprit rose to meet the crest of each wave and then momentarily dipped in its trough as she rode the swells rhythmically, like she was designed to do. The ocean and occasional icebergs glistened in the sun and spirits ran high. At one point the Sheila Yeates was a mile from an iceberg that began to calve. The crew watched in fascination for nearly an hour, amazed at the power of these massive, mountains of ice. With light lasting well into the evening hours, the days seemed to last longer. Some nights it was 2100 hours before the crew realized they hadn’t eaten dinner.
The crossing began in the golden glow of the low arctic summer sun, which in high latitudes barely dips below the horizon. Sea conditions were ideal and winds were slight. Daylight brought fair skies and westerly winds that drove the Sheila Yeates east towards Greenland. It was an exhilarating sail as her graceful bowsprit rose to meet the crest of each wave and then momentarily dipped in its trough as she rode the swells rhythmically, like she was designed to do. The ocean and occasional icebergs glistened in the sun and spirits ran high. At one point the Sheila Yeates was a mile from an iceberg that began to calve. The crew watched in fascination for nearly an hour, amazed at the power of these massive, mountains of ice. With light lasting well into the evening hours, the days seemed to last longer. Some nights it was 2100 hours before the crew realized they hadn’t eaten dinner.
Iceberg riding the Labrador Current south between Greenland and Newfoundland. ©2020 Richard Olsenius
Geoff communicated regularly with Greenland Command as the Sheila Yeates crossed the Labrador Sea to Frederiksdal. Technically named, Island Command Greenland, it is the agency that oversees maritime sovereignty and search and rescue operations.
The Labrador Sea is an arm of the North Atlantic situated between the east coast of Labrador and the west coast of Greenland. It connects to the waters of Baffin Bay through the Davis Straight, a major highway for icebergs that have calved off the tidewater glaciers of West Greenland and are carried by the Labrador Current southward to Newfoundland. The icebergs, some as large as city blocks, make for treacherous waters.
Although summer was the best time for a crossing, strong currents from both the East and West Greenland ice fields move densely packed floes of sea ice across northern ocean waters. Along the eastern side of Greenland, the East Greenland Current flows in a southerly direction moving large quantities of polar ice along with it. The current eventually moves ice north along the western coast of Greenland, providing additional danger to shipping. Sailing near the sea ice along the coast of Greenland allows little room for error. One wrong move or miscalculation can lead to a spiral effect, where there is little chance for recovery.
Log of Sheila Yeates July 12, 1989
As the Sheila Yeates neared Frederiksdal on the southwest corner of Greenland the crew could see an ice sheet extending nearly 50 miles from shore. Geoff radioed Greenland Command. He was told the Prinz Christian Sund Passage was impassable. There would be no transiting the Passage on the way to Iceland. Greenland Command asked Geoff’s course and he told them they were sailing 100° true. Greenland Command recommended sailing that course to 41° West Longitude to avoid ice and then to set their course east towards Iceland. In the meantime, they suggested that the Sheila Yeates check in with them on an hourly basis.
Under sunny skies and calm seas, the Sheila Yeates encounters a sea ice near the south Greenland coast. Photo Rick Palm.
HOME THE DREAM PASSAGE ICE BOUND DELIVERANCE LOSS REFLECTION
In spite of ice along the Greenland Coast, the weather had been good and the wind light. July 12 had started as another clear day and by afternoon a light southwesterly breeze developed. The crew saw growlers, bergy bits and smaller ice chunks and continued to veer away from what they perceived to be the ice edge. As night fell, the crew encouraged Geoff to get some rest and divided the night watches among themselves. By morning the world of the Sheila Yeates had changed dramatically.
““We were starting to see a few small bergs so we changed course to the south. The air was very light but we were conserving fuel so we didn’t go to engine power, instead opting to wait and see if we’d get some wind.””
“It happened quietly without any drama,” said Mike Metzmaker. “The crew on night watch began to see patches of sea ice and we would steer along their edge. Then more ice appeared but it was loose. At some point the ice began to condense and grow more expansive, so we kept steering away from what appeared to be the edge of the floes. Visibility began to lessen as the fog thickened. We were starting to see a few small bergs so we changed course to the south. The air was very light but we were conserving fuel so we didn’t go to engine power, instead opting to wait and see if we’d get some wind. We had no perception of real danger at the time that suggested a more aggressive action was needed.” said First Mate Rick Palm. “I had this surreal moment. I remember when I went up on the bowsprit to pull down the headsail and just a few hundred feet off, a killer whale breached, and it was like we made eye contact and it went back down. It was almost like this telling thing - like we are getting a warning.”
When the crew woke Geoff in early morning of July 13, visibility was less than 50 yards and the Sheila Yeates was surrounded by sea ice and large bergy bits and growlers, some the size of the boat itself. The southwesterly wind together with an opposing current had probably caused a massive buildup of sea ice around the unsuspecting ship during the night. The directions from Greenland Command may have kept them too close to the ice edge. Whatever the reason, a large mass of sea ice now hemmed in the Sheila Yeates.
As captain, Geoff accepted full responsibility for their predicament. “It’s like flying an airplane,” he said years later. “If a little thing goes wrong and you aren’t on top of it then the next little thing goes wrong and then it spirals out of control.”
Rick Palm
Ice closes in on the Sheila Yeates
“In 36 hours we quietly went from a boat moving along the ice to ice surrounding and moving the boat,” said Mike Metzmaker.
Geoff started the engine and the crew used pike poles to move large ice chunks away from the hull in an effort to maneuver the 50-foot sailboat to open water. They motored down one opening channel after another. Geoff would find one large area of open water and then find there would be no outlet or the ice was too thick to power through. Seals watched from their perch atop the larger ice floes. The crew remained optimistic; joking about which ice floe they would choose to “ride” when abandoning ship.
But they were soon sobered by the sound of large ice chucks crushing against the wooden hull with such a ripping sound that it sent crew members searching for cracks below deck. Luckily there were none yet and there was no water getting into the ship. For the entire day the captain and crew continued to search for an opening that would lead to the ice edge. Finally they could hear the surge of heavy seas that signaled open water not more than half a kilometer away, but as they slowly worked closer to the ice edge, the surge became a roar and no one on board believed that the wooden hull of the Sheila Yeates could withstand the intense grinding action it would take to move through the massive three-meter swell from pack ice to open water. She could be pulverized in the transit.
As the captain and crew weighed their options and made a radio call to Greenland Command, the wind and ocean current continued to pack sea ice around the ship. In a short span of time, their window of opportunity to exit the ice was lost; the opening to the sea closed and the Sheila Yeates became completely trapped once again. The more she struggled to free herself from the ice, the more tightly she was bound. “It became obvious to all of us,” said Metzmaker, that we were not going to get out of this on our own." After a day of trying to free the ship from the drifting sea ice, the wind and currents of the Labrador Sea were now carrying the Sheila Yeates on a separate course. According to Palm, "the Sheila Yeates had become the inner part of the mass, rather than the edge of the mass." "I have never seen a denser white fog in my life," remembered Nat Wilson, "The ocean was a deep navy blue and the ice was white and the fog was even whiter. You could see blue sky above, it was just very strange."
Nat Wilson by Dave Harp
Throughout the day Geoff had been calling in his position to the marine station at Julianehab, Greenland on nearly an hourly basis. There was a heliport located there for search and rescue missions. Now it was time to officially request help. Geoff called and described their situation, gave their position and requested assistance. The response from the station was not what he wanted to hear. The radio dispatcher responded; "œYou are below visibility and beyond the limits of our helicopter range. We cannot send assistance." The Sheila Yeates was on her own floating in pack ice in the Labrador Sea.
Geoff and the crew were stunned. Somehow, up to this point, everyone"™s spirits had remained high and all believed there was a way out. Help would be accessible. But the fact that no helicopter would be sent by Greenland "was sobering news." The crew began to understand the seriousness of their situation. "Dread set in," remembered Palm. The captain of a German freighter had overheard their radio conversation with Julianehab. He called the Sheila Yeates and spoke with Geoff. The crew’s spirits rose until he said that his ship did not have ice-breaking capabilities, so there was no way he could help them. Ten minutes later another freighter contacted the Sheila Yeates. They too had heard Geoff’s request for assistance, but they too, were not equipped to assist a vessel caught in ice. In addition, they warned Geoff of the estimated three-meter swell at the edge of the ice. With the realization that no assistance was forthcoming and the ship was floating farther out of radio range, the mood of the crew turned somber. The ice continued to grate against the wooden hull of the Sheila Yeates. Time and circumstances were running out. The crew pulled out the life rafts and tied them on the deck of the ship. They began to survey the most level ice sheets to use for a possible evacuation, should the hull of the Sheila Yeates be penetrated and flooded. But they all knew they wouldn’t survive for long on the ice. As the second evening watch unfolded, fear set in, deep fear. No one spoke of it but everyone felt it. If help didn’t come soon, Geoff thought to himself, “We are seven dead guys."
“Mayday. Mayday. This is the Sheila Yeates calling any vessel. This is the Sheila Yeates calling any vessel.”
Sometime after midnight on that second night of being trapped in ice, crew-members Mike Metzmaker, Rick Palm and Nat Wilson gathered on deck. Mike had the 11:30 p.m. watch. He had tried to make the hourly call to Greenland Command but he couldn’t reach the station. Rick had joined Mike to help on the watch. Nat was unable to sleep and was getting ready to take over the next watch at 12:30 a.m. The fog was thick as soup. The ice was grinding against the hull of the ship. The men could hear the southerly wind building swells along the outside edge of the ice. There was no change in their icebound predicament. Their fear was palpable but unspoken. They all felt that only one alternative remained. It was time for a Mayday. Without waking Geoff, they went to the VHF radio and Mike picked up the receiver hoping that someone in that vast stretch of the Labrador Sea would hear his call. "Mayday. Mayday. This is the Sheila Yeates calling any vessel. This is the Sheila Yeates calling any vessel. The time is 0015 hours. We are caught in pack ice approximately 49 miles south of Cape Farewell, Greenland; Latitude 59°10.6’ North, Longitude 43°39.0’ West. We are outside helicopter range and below ceiling for Greenland Command. We are in need of rescue. This is a Mayday."
The commercial fishing vessel Kiviuq 1 had finished fueling in Godthab, Greenland after a successful shrimping run off the coast of Labrador in the Davis Strait. Most of the 20 factory workers had disembarked, leaving a core crew of eight men on board. Captain David Fancy was looking forward to getting home to Lunenburg, Nova Scotia. His international crew included two Canadians, one Greenlander, one Paraguayan and three Faroese (Faroe Islanders). Their names read like a Herman Melville novel. They had all signed on for a two-month stint and were ready to get back to land. The ship would have headed for Newfoundland, but Fancy had been notified via satellite phone to take the vessel to Hirtshals, Denmark for a refit. The ship was being sold to a Danish firm so Fancy set the steel-hulled, 184-foot vessel on a course south along the Greenland coast before heading due east across the Labrador Sea.
Pilot House of the Kiviuq as they search for Sheila Yeates
““Not much to see tonight but there was always the threat of icebergs and sea ice to help keep the crew alert. Captain Fancy filled his coffee cup, when the ship’s radio crackled with static and he heard the call.””
The night watch on the Kiviuq was a lonely one. The wheelhouse was situated high above the dark grey ocean with a 360-degree view of the dark grey horizon. Not much to see tonight but there was always the threat of icebergs and sea ice to help keep the crew alert. Captain Fancy filled his coffee cup, when the ship’s radio crackled with static and he heard the call: “Mayday. Mayday. This is the Sheila Yeates calling any vessel. This is the Sheila Yeates calling any vessel...we are in need of rescue...”
Kiviuq crew (Left to Right), Hjaltur Poulsen, Jens Joensen, Cecil Bannister, Óli Lindskov, Capt David Fancy, Flemming Ipsen, Norman Papinean, Hans Petersen, Mrs. Hans Peterson and child.
Nat Wilson, photo David Harp
Fancy made some quick calculations between the Kiviuq’s position and the Sheila Yeates’ coordinates as he considered a rescue. One of the Kiviuq crew was also a company representative for the ship’s new owners. He advised Fancy against any rescue attempt. It was far too dangerous to rescue a boat from sea ice. But the first mate encouraged the Captain. “It’s a Mayday. We can’t ignore it.” Captain Fancy re-scanned the Sheila Yeates coordinates. Then he radioed: “Sheila Yeates, this is the Kiviuq 1 calling. We are 12 miles south of you. We know where you are. We can be at the ice line in two and a half hours.” Nat took the radio and asked, “Kiviuq 1 what kind of a vessel are you?” Captain Fancy responded, “We are an ice-breaking shrimper out of St. Johns, Newfoundland.”
“We knew we had hit pay dirt,” said Nat. From the depths of despair, to complete elation, the crew breathed a collective sigh of relief. “We knew we were going to be saved,” said Mike. By now Geoff and the remaining crew were all awake for the celebration. On the Kiviuq, all crew were alerted as well to assist with the search for the Sheila Yeates. From that moment on both captains stayed in radio contact as the long rescue effort began.
The decision by Captain Fancy to rescue the Sheila Yeates was a brave one, made out of compassion for men whose lives were in danger at sea, but it was in direct opposition to the advice and wishes of the new owners. If the Kiviuq had returned to Newfoundland as in past trips, it would have never heard the Mayday. Setting a course to Denmark had brought them within VHF range of the Sheila Yeates for a brief time. The fishing vessel’s cruising speed was approximately 12 knots. If the Sheila Yeates crew had waited 30 minutes longer to send their Mayday, the Kiviuq would have been out of radio range.
Location of the Sheila Yeates calling Mayday. Latitude 59°10.6’ North, Longitude 43°39.0 West. The Kiviuq was just 12 miles south when the call was made.
As daylight increased, the Kiviuq made good time to the ice edge but there was heavy fog over the sea ice and the swell at the edge of the sea ice was still a dangerous three meters. Captain Fancy had to find a safer entry to the sea ice that would not damage his ship. Meanwhile, he called Greenland Command to confirm that they could send no assistance. There was so much clutter on the Kiviuq’s radar that it was hard to make out a sailboat among the ice chunks and bergy bits. Only their SATNAV showed the Sheila Yeates as a small dot on their chart. It was dangerous going as the Kiviuq gave wide berth to the larger, deeper blue growlers , the “harder” more dangerous East Greenland “glacial” ice. Even a steel hull could be damaged by Greenland ice. Meanwhile, because the visibility was so poor, both vessels shared their positions via SATNAV and blew their foghorns to help locate one another. The Sheila Yeates crew sent up flares. But the flares disappeared in the fog and the sound of the foghorns was muffled. After several hours and two attempts, Captain Fancy could not find an open lead through the sea ice to reach the Sheila Yeates. He radioed hesitantly; “It’s not looking good, eh Geoff.”
While it was important to find the sailboat, Fancy was becoming less sure that he would be able to make it out of the ice once he made it in. The Kiviuq traveled over a mile to the west to find calmer water and an open lead into the ice floe. Using their bow thruster to clear a path, the Kiviuq’s steel hull and powerful engine began to make progress. It was now early morning. While approximately 12 miles away from the Sheila Yeates, it took Fancy nearly six and a half hours to reach the sea ice and then negotiate a path through the ice to the Sheila Yeates. On board the Sheila Yeates, the crew had expected a quick rescue. As the hours stretched on, their worry intensified. The life rafts remained on deck but they weren’t really a viable option. At last the Kiviuq’s foghorn could be heard in the distance even though the dense fog masked any view of the ship. The foghorn was getting louder. Then the Sheila Yeates’ crew spotted a bright orange circle in the sky, the size of a soccer ball. “It was the best light you could ever see in all your life,” said Mike. “We knew we were going to be okay.”
““This was a moment they would all remember for the rest of their lives””
It was the Kiviuq’s masthead searchlight. Slowly the ghost outline of the Kiviuq came into view. Cheers could be heard from the crew of both ships as they finally viewed each other faintly through the fog on that icebound morning of July 14. There wasn’t a dry eye among rescued or rescuers alike. This was a moment they would all remember for the rest of their lives. When finally the two ships met amid the dense fog and undulating ice, a delicate dance began between the 50-foot sailboat and the 184-foot, 1,024-ton trawler. The challenge confronting both captains, was how best to maneuver the Sheila Yeates through the ice to open ocean without damaging her or the Kiviuq. It would prove to be an enduring test of seamanship on the part of both crews, but in particular, a feat of dexterity for the Kiviuq.
At first Geoff assumed that the Kiviuq could plow a way through the ice to open water and the Sheila Yeates would follow. But the prop wash from the trawler’s powerful engines sent the ice swirling and pounding against the hull of the Sheila Yeates. The plan quickly changed. Geoff agreed to be towed through the ice, with the Kiviuq crew hauling the Sheila Yeates up into their trawler bay at the stern of the ship. But in order to clear the stern gallows, the Sheila Yeates crew spent hours dismantling the important rigging, her jib stay and head stays, and then securing the hawsers and bridle so that she could be hauled into the ramp. Once secured in place, it was time to get both ships out of the sea ice to the safety of open water as quickly as possible. The rescue had taken much longer than anticipated. In her precarious position in the trawler bay, it was too dangerous for anyone to remain on the sailboat, so Geoff and his crew climbed on board the Kiviuq.
“It was a silent hurt. As the book says, it was a silent screem.”
It was a rough passage from sea ice to open water for the Sheila Yeates. First, the Kiviuq was zigzagging through the ice floes to avoid large growlers. The motion sent the Sheila Yeates banging against the sides of the trawler bay. As they motored through the steep swells at the ice edge, the Sheila Yeates was a hobbyhorse, sinking in the trough of a wave when the Kiviuq was rising and rising in a swell when the Kiviuq was descending. This violent motion tore off her bowsprit, billet, cathead and topmast. If the ship had been built with screws instead of rivets, she would never have survived the ordeal. Then as the Kiviuq and Sheila Yeates made open water, the towline broke, sounding like a gunshot and recoiling with such force that it ricocheted over the deckhouse of the Kiviuq with a crash.
Geoff Pope (rt) watches from the shute where they would try and haul the Sheila Yeates up into. Photo by Nat Wilson.
The Sheila Yeates was suddenly floating crewless in the North Atlantic receding into the ocean swells behind the Kiviuq. Hans Petersen, one of the Kiviuq crew known as HP, quickly donned his survival suit and lowered their inflatable dinghy into the water. Rick Palm followed him and they raced across the waves to re-connect the Sheila Yeates. A bridle was secured around the hull of the Sheila Yeates and two lines were tied to the stern of the Kiviuq. There was about 500-feet of towline to ease the stress on the sailboat. The Sheila Yeates seemed to prefer the extra space, dutifully following behind the Kiviuq. She would do so for over 500 miles over the next three days. “It’s the high drama rescue of the century,” Geoff radioed home. “We have a strong crew. Nobody gave up. But all that night we were out of the real world!”
By now both crews had been up for hours, with the Sheila Yeates crew having been awake for nearly 20 hours. Dazed and exhausted, Geoff and his crew finally climbed into warm, dry bunks to get some needed rest. Nat had been injured on the first day of poling through the ice and his foot and leg were swollen and blue. The crew put cold packs on his foot while he propped it up on his bunk. But all were accounted for and grateful to the Kiviuq crew for their rescue. Camaraderie was high.
Now warm, dry and fed, the crew of the Sheila Yeates could not believe their luck. Not only had they been rescued, but Captain Fancy also planned to take them to the Shetland Islands, one of their destinations and a good place to make boat repairs. In addition, the crew now had Danish beer, Danish bread and hot showers. “We were suddenly fat, dumb and happy on our way to the Shetlands,” said Geoff. Standing a watch several days later, Nat tried to express his gratitude. “I don’t know how to begin to thank you all for saving us from the ice”, he told Kiviuq’s First Mate, Cecil Bannister.” Bannister replied, “You know, one day it will be us out there.” That was all that needed to be said.
Under tow. photo Nat Wilson
Everyone was in high spirits until the weather report predicted a front moving in with gale force winds and heavy seas. As conditions deteriorated, the seas grew. For the next two days the Sheila Yeates crew donned survival suits, and HP took them in the Kiviuq’s inflatable zodiac to check for leaks on the Sheila Yeates.
The trip was harrowing amid the building waves, and trying to jump from a violently bobbing dinghy to the side of a 50-foot ketch was a daring act of gymnastics. It was difficult enough for the younger crew and amazing that Geoff, now 76, still had the dexterity to match their moves. Much to everyone’s surprise, there was very little water inside Sheila Yeates on the first day of towing. On day two, the Sheila Yeates was riding lower in the water. This time the crew found water up to the sole of the chart room. The ignition was under water and there was no way to start the engine to pump the water. The crew worked furiously to pump her manually. The strain of being hauled through ocean swells was pulling hard on the bow of the Sheila Yeates and water was seeping in through seems that were opening between her wooden planks. On the third day the Sheila Yeates had settled dangerously low in the water. It was in desperate need of pumping, but for some unexplainable reason, the motor on the Kiviuq’s zodiac would no longer start. The crew tried everything to get it going but nothing worked. There was now no way to reach the Sheila Yeates.
The Sheila Yeates was suddenly floating crewless in the North Atlantic receding into the ocean swells behind the Kiviuq. Hans Petersen, one of the Kiviuq crew known as HP, quickly donned his survival suit and lowered their inflatable dinghy into the water. Rick Palm followed him and they raced across the waves to re-connect the Sheila Yeates. A bridle was secured around the hull of the Sheila Yeates and two lines were tied to the stern of the Kiviuq. There was about 500-feet of towline to ease the stress on the sailboat. The Sheila Yeates seemed to prefer the extra space, dutifully following behind the Kiviuq. She would do so for over 500 miles over the next three days. “It’s the high drama rescue of the century,” Geoff radioed home. “We have a strong crew. Nobody gave up. But all that night we were out of the real world!”
Location of the Sheila Yeates calling Mayday. Latitude 59°10.6’ North, Longitude 43°39.0 West. The Kiviuq was just 12 miles south when the call was made.
By now both crews had been up for hours, with the Sheila Yeates crew having been awake for nearly 20 hours. Dazed and exhausted, Geoff and his crew finally climbed into warm, dry bunks to get some needed rest. Nat had been injured on the first day of poling through the ice and his foot and leg were swollen and blue. The crew put cold packs on his foot while he propped it up on his bunk. But all were accounted for and grateful to the Kiviuq crew for their rescue. Camaraderie was high.
Now warm, dry and fed, the crew of the Sheila Yeates could not believe their luck. Not only had they been rescued, but Captain Fancy also planned to take them to the Shetland Islands, one of their destinations and a good place to make boat repairs. In addition, the crew now had Danish beer, Danish bread and hot showers. “We were suddenly fat, dumb and happy on our way to the Shetlands,” said Geoff. Standing a watch several days later, Nat tried to express his gratitude. “I don’t know how to begin to thank you all for saving us from the ice”, he told Kiviuq’s First Mate, Cecil Bannister.” Bannister replied, “You know, one day it will be us out there.” That was all that needed to be said.
Everyone was in high spirits until the weather report predicted a front moving in with gale force winds and heavy seas. As conditions deteriorated, the seas grew. For the next two days the Sheila Yeates crew donned survival suits, and HP took them in the Kiviuq’s inflatable zodiac to check for leaks on the Sheila Yeates.
The trip was harrowing amid the building waves, and trying to jump from a violently bobbing dinghy to the side of a 50-foot ketch was a daring act of gymnastics. It was difficult enough for the younger crew and amazing that Geoff, now 76, still had the dexterity to match their moves. Much to everyone’s surprise, there was very little water inside Sheila Yeates on the first day of towing. On day two, the Sheila Yeates was riding lower in the water. This time the crew found water up to the sole of the chart room. The ignition was under water and there was no way to start the engine to pump the water. The crew worked furiously to pump her manually. The strain of being hauled through ocean swells was pulling hard on the bow of the Sheila Yeates and water was seeping in through seems that were opening between her wooden planks. On the third day the Sheila Yeates had settled dangerously low in the water. It was in desperate need of pumping, but for some unexplainable reason, the motor on the Kiviuq’s zodiac would no longer start. The crew tried everything to get it going but nothing worked. There was now no way to reach the Sheila Yeates.
“It was 12 hours of agony because you know what the end result is going to be. The vessel is going to founder and there is nothing you can do.”
“To describe feelings when you know it is inevitable that (the ship) is going to founder. It’s so solemn,” said Geoff years later while describing his loss. “It was 12 hours of agony because you know what the end result is going to be. The vessel is going to founder and there is nothing you can do.” Winds on the third day had risen to Force 8 on the Beaufort scale; 39-46 miles per hour. The crew watched helplessly from the stern of the Kiviuq as the Sheila Yeates sank deeper into the heavy seas. Her bow kept rising to meet the crest of each wave just the way her Nova Scotia boat builders had designed her to do. But with her cabin flooding the sea was overwhelming her from within. Watching this beautiful vessel resist the waves was difficult for everyone, but especially difficult for Geoff who sat high on the stern rigging, motionless and speechless.
On July 17 at 11:20 GMT the Sheila Yeates foundered and while she put up a final struggle, she slowly sank beneath the waters of the North Atlantic at 60° 55.3 North Latitude, 28° 29.8 West Longitude. The top of her mast circled above the water for a moment, as if signaling a final salute, before it too disappeared from view. Geoff walked from his position at the back of the trawler into the pilothouse with a vacant look. The assembled crew were silent. He asked Captain Fancy if he could use the satellite phone and made a call to his good friend Tim Carlson in Minnesota. His first words were, “She is no more.” From that moment Geoff took full responsibility for the loss of the Sheila Yeates but it would be a wound that never healed. “Everyone had their heart in their throat for the loss of the boat, for Geoff, his dream, his world,” remembered Nat.
The foundering of the Sheila Yeates. Photo ©2020 Nat Wilson
“It was absolutely heart-stopping,” said Rick. “Geoff had made the Sheila Yeates his life. And it was me watching Geoff watching her go, that made it harder.” “There wasn’t one grown man not crying,” said Mike. “Geoff’s hurting and everyone was hurting for him. Then suddenly I realized the importance of the ship; all the things the Sheila Yeates had made happen, all the people she brought together, all the laughs and stories that were associated with her.
“It was more than the loss of a boat, more than the loss of 50-feet of handcrafted wood. Boats have a persona, which is why, as Geoff said, “We name them after our daughters and our wives.””
On July 17 at 11:20 GMT the Sheila Yeates foundered and while she put up a final struggle, she slowly sank beneath the waters of the North Atlantic at 60° 55.3 North Latitude, 28° 29.8 West Longitude. The top of her mast circled above the water for a moment, as if signaling a final salute, before it too disappeared from view. Geoff walked from his position at the back of the trawler into the pilothouse with a vacant look. The assembled crew were silent. He asked Captain Fancy if he could use the satellite phone and made a call to his good friend Tim Carlson in Minnesota. His first words were, “She is no more.” From that moment Geoff took full responsibility for the loss of the Sheila Yeates but it would be a wound that never healed. “Everyone had their heart in their throat for the loss of the boat, for Geoff, his dream, his world,” remembered Nat.
“It was absolutely heart-stopping,” said Rick. “Geoff had made the Sheila Yeates his life. And it was me watching Geoff watching her go, that made it harder.” “There wasn’t one grown man not crying,” said Mike. “Geoff’s hurting and everyone was hurting for him. Then suddenly I realized the importance of the ship; all the things the Sheila Yeates had made happen, all the people she brought together, all the laughs and stories that were associated with her.
Then I watched the bubbles come up as the boat disappeared. It was heart breaking and gut wrenching. It was a funeral.” The look on Geoff Pope’s face spoke of a loss that no words could express. It was more than the loss of a boat, more than the loss of 50-feet of handcrafted wood. Boats have a persona, which is why, as Geoff said, “We name them after our daughters and our wives.” And that is why it felt like a death in the family. The ship had brought a lifetime of friends and adventure to Geoff and all who sailed her. It had taken a lifetime of dreaming to build the Sheila Yeates but only a few days to lose her.
Final moments of the Sheila Yeates
60° 55.3 North Latitude, 28° 29.8 West Longitude
“I always felt there were four miracles involved in the saving of the Sheila Yeates.”
Everyone felt Geoff’s loss. Spirits on board the Kiviuq were low. After a few days Geoff emerged from his room and told Nat that the mood had to change. There was nothing left to do but plan another vessel. Understanding Geoff’s need to move on, Nat agreed. Shortly after, Geoff came topsides and surprised everyone. “I think the next boat should be 65-feet, steel hulled and a brigantine,” he declared. Everyone was stunned. Perhaps as a survival mechanism, a way to deal with grief, or the universal need to dream, Geoff was starting to plan Sheila Yeates II. He got on the satellite phone and called Bob Jackson in Minnesota to ask him to draw up plans. “Geoff,” Jackson said, “I already have the plans in progress and they are for a brigantine, 65-feet and steel hulled. I know you so well!” Ever the salesman, it did not take long for everyone to buy into Geoff’s new plan. “By the time the Kiviuq reached Denmark,” remembers Mike,” it was just a matter of raising the money and we were all going sailing again!”
Geoff Pope on the Sheila Yeates. Photo Mike Zerby
The good news was that the crew was safe and each would remember this singular experience in their own way for the rest of their lives. “What I remember through the years isn’t the sinking, but the fact that my life had been saved through an act of compassion and courage,” remembered Rick in a recent conversation. “Captain Fancy was a hero. Destiny? Fate? How does the Kiviuq, a steel-hulled vessel named for a legendary Inuit hero with superhuman powers, just happen to be in radio range of a ship stranded in ice in the middle of the Labrador Sea? For years to come, many of the crew would ponder such an amazing convergence of circumstances.
“I always felt there were four miracles involved in the saving of the Sheila Yeates,” said Geoff one summer day at his home in suburban Minneapolis.
“First, the Kiviuq was the only vessel within a thousand miles equipped to get through sea ice. Second, if the Kiviuq had gone to Newfoundland, as originally planned, it would have never been in radio range. Third, if Mike had waited 30 minutes to send his message, the Kiviuq would have been out of radio range. And lastly, it was a miracle that the Kiviuq actually made it into the sea ice to rescue the Sheila Yeates. I always felt like we had won the $40 million Canadian lottery.”
Once the Kiviuq landed in Hirtshals, Denmark, the captain and crew of the Sheila Yeates went their separate ways. While the rescue at sea would always bond them in a special way, it was time to go home. “It was extremely personal for everybody there in a way you wouldn’t be able to really describe,” said Nat in a recent conversation about the experience. “I have read about other accounts where there has been a real fear of loss and death and then people survive and they never talk to each other again. Here they were in this really intimate situation of survival and then after that’s over they all separate and go their way. And that’s what happened here.” While some Sheila Yeates’ crewmembers stayed in touch with Geoff over the years, most moved on with their busy lives. But when they were contacted recently to talk about the trip for this story, the impact of that journey still evoked powerful memories and emotions.
Once the Kiviuq landed in Hirtshals, Denmark, the captain and crew of the Sheila Yeates went their separate ways.
The irony for the Kiviuq was that in 1999, ten years to the week after rescuing the Sheila Yeates crew, the ship sank 8,000 miles away off Cape St. Francis in South Africa. By then it had changed owners and crew several more times and had been renamed – Palli Hja Mariannu. Renaming a boat has long been a maritime superstition for bad luck. The sinking of the Palli Hja Mariannu was one of the worst maritime disasters in South African history with the loss of 29 of the 38 crewmembers. One decade the ship saved seven lives in the North Atlantic and a decade later the ship lost 29 lives an ocean away.
KIVIUQ Crew (Left to Right), Hjaltur Poulsen, Jens Joensen, Cecil Bannister, Óli Lindenskov, Capt David Fancy, Flemming Ipsen, Norman Papinean, Hans Petersen, Mrs. Hans Petersen and child.
The rescue and subsequent loss of the Sheila Yeates was a drama that played out in different ways for each crewmember. It would take years to sort out the long-term impact that the voyage would have on these seven men whose lives had hung precariously on a Mayday call at sea.
For some, it’s harder to accept the reality of loss, and that loss becomes the basis of a new dream. For several years after his return home, Geoff tried to find investors for Sheila Yeates II. But the price tag for building a 65-foot, steel-hulled brigantine had soared far beyond the original price tag of $150,000 for the Sheila Yeates. Estimates were around $800,000 for Sheila Yeates II. There would never be another Sheila Yeates. One dream realized would have to serve for a lifetime. While the loss of the Sheila Yeates would always be a tender issue for him, the sea still beckoned and Geoff ‘s love of sailing was undiminished. Still the explorer, at 81 he set out with his friend Roger Swanson on Cloud Nine once again. This time they attempted to sail the Northwest Passage, the vast Arctic waterway that joins the North Atlantic to the Pacific Ocean. Cloud Nine made it to Beechey Island where several men from the failed 19th century Franklin Expedition were buried. But once again ice would be Geoff’s nemesis, blocking the ship’s progress westward through the Passage as it had done to so many previous sailors and explorers. Cloud Nine had to turn back. It would be Geoff’s final sailing adventure.
But the story of the Sheila Yeates endures, in tribute to Geoff for bringing so many people together and as a testimony to the power of a sailing vessel to touch people in special ways by bringing adventure to their lives. Geoff had once said, “The experience of the Sheila Yeates has given many people a chunk of personal horizon they didn’t know existed. If there is a purposeful role for the Sheila Yeates, that is it.” Geoff wanted to make passages to places few people go and in the process offered many people the chance to experience a world of beauty, excitement and adventure beyond their land-locked lives. There are so many who have their own stories of the Sheila Yeates.
But this one is ours and it will be our final story of the Sheila Yeates. It took over 20 years to heal the sense of loss and offer context for understanding the impact a voyage, a man and a sailing vessel can have on your life. It took time to distance ourselves from the loss of the ship and then the passing of Geoff in 2003, to be able to piece together, with the help of friends and former crew members, a broader perspective of the impact both ship and captain had on so many others and us. There are few experiences that remain with you over a lifetime, but sailing the Sheila Yeates is one of them.
The full video of the Loss of the Sheila Yeates
In the Name of Our Daughters and Wives (edited and published September 2011 by Richard Olsenius) Photographed by crew members Óli Lindenskov and Hjaltur Poulsen on the Kiviuq 1, July, 1989.
Geoff Pope had a dream. At 65 he wanted to build a 50' top-sail ketch and sail her to adventurous places. This is the story of the final adventure of that graceful ketch - the "Sheila Yeates", named for Geoff's daughter. Caught in pack ice off the coast of Greenland in the summer of 1989, the Sheila Yeates sent out a Mayday. When nearly all seemed lost, the voice of a Danish fishing captain came over the VHF answering the distress call. The Kiviuq turned course and slowly pushed through pack ice to save the seven-member crew of the Sheila Yeates,
This film documents the dramatic events of that fateful August day as viewed through the gritty video footage shot by the crew of the Kiviuq.
Before Geoff died, he sat down with filmmaker, Richard Olsenius, to talk about the event that changed his life and gave Richard the tapes of the daring rescue. His recount of the rescue of the crew, combined with earlier footage of the Sheila Yeates on Lake Superior and the dramatic footage of the eventual loss of the Sheila Yeates in heavy seas, offers a poignant story of dreams, adventure, life and loss.
As Geoff reflects on his feelings of watching the sinking of the Sheila Yeates, he tries to explain the closeness a sailor has to his ship - it is why, he says, "We name them after our daughters and wives." In The Name of Our Daughters and Wives music and video ©2020 Richard Olsenius. Kiviuq portions of video ©1989 by Óli Lindenskov and Hjaltur Poulsen.
HOME THE DREAM PASSAGE ICE BOUND DELIVERANCE LOSS REFLECTION
Richard and Christine Olsenius on the Shiela Yeates, 1985. Photo by Mike Zerby
Richard & Christine Olsenius with their Annapolis boat Essence.
Richard and Christine Olsenius have been collaborating on books, films and online multi-media productions for over 40 years. Blending writing, video and photography skills they have created stories that celebrate a sense of place, showcase personal adventure and highlight regions of great beauty. Their films have won awards at both the New York and Chicago International Film Festivals and an Honorable Mention at the National Education Film and Video Festival. Their multi-media project; “Arctic Odyssey”, won Second Place from the National Press Photographer’s Association. Richard Olsenius is also a recipient of the World Press Photo Award.
In producing “Icebound: Last Voyage of the Sheila Yeates”, the Olsenius’ have blended their videos; “America’s Inland Coast” and “In the Name of Our Daughters and Wives”, which included footage on Geoff Pope and the Sheila Yeates. In addition, they used still photos from a National Geographic Magazine assignment on the Great Lakes that was the genesis for meeting and forming a long-term friendship with Geoff. Christine spent time researching former Sheila Yeates crewmembers, friends and boat builders and reviewing newspaper articles on Geoff to glean first-hand stories and information for the written article. Richard applied his design skills to integrating all the text, video, audio and photographs into a long-form story for the Web.
Nate Wilson
Nathaniel Wilson is a sail maker in East Booth Bay, Maine. His detailed memories of events from the July 1989 trip, his story from his Maine Coastal News article and his excellent photographs from the journey added depth to the storytelling and helped us visualize life on board the ship, including the rescue and towing of the Sheila Yeates.
Bob Bruce
Robert Bruce, long-time friend and former business partner of Geoff’s, provided a copy of the Sheila Yeates’ logbook. Finally we were able to compare log entries with the final days of being icebound. Bob also provide early magazine articles on the Sheila Yeates and a copy of the tow agreement with the Kiviuq.
Bob Crockett, long-time friend of Geoff’s and one of the boat builders who worked on the Sheila Yeates back in the 1970’s, allowed us to quote from his detailed letters and blog posts about Geoff and the Sheila Yeates.
Bob Crockett
Hjalter Poulsen
Hjalter Poulsen (Left) and Olí Lindenskov (Bottom), both from the Faroe Islands, were crew members on the Kiviuq 1 who took the video of the rescue and sinking of the Sheila Yeates. Aside from their important duties, their persistent camera work was pivotal to this story about a dramatic rescue at sea.
Oli Lindenskov
Mike Metzmaker, now a teacher in a suburb of St. Paul, Minnesota, provided valuable insight on the impact Geoff and the Sheila Yeates had on so many people and added his memories of the events leading up to and after the rescue of the ship.
Rick Palm, now an executive with an engineering firm in Minnesota, provided background documents on the original Sheila Yeates newsletter, a Minneapolis Tribune article on the sinking of the Sheila Yeates and Geoff’s notes from his trip to the Northwest Passage. These provided valuable details to piece together story segments. In addition, Rick’s photos captured some of the flavor of life at sea which were helpful to telling a more visual story.
Michael Zerby, a former photographer with the Minneapolis Tribune and veteran sailor on the Sheila Yeates, provided some excellent photographs of Geoff sailing on Lake Superior. That is where the story of the Sheila Yeates began for so many of us.
Dr. R. Smith and Pat Schuneman, colleagues, teachers, and longtime friends contributed time and equipment in the filming of Geoff Pope's interviews. Without their support and effort, this project would not have come to fruition.
