Coast Guard icebreaker like a floating village

The Amundsen enters an ice field Aug. 4 as it heads north through Baffin Bay, where within hours the ship was plowing through heavy ice. (PHOTO BY JANE GEORGE)

Marie Goudreau, chief medical officer on board the Amundsen and a nurse in Nunavik for more than 20 years, is in charge of the ship’s infirmary. (PHOTO BY JANE GEORGE)

ON BOARD THE AMUNDSEN — For the 80 or so passengers and crew travelling aboard the Amundsen, the icebreaker is a self-contained floating home.

From bow to stern, the 98-metre Coast Guard icebreaker is completely self-sufficient.

The ship has its own power plant, water purification system and food, more than enough for the voyage from Iqaluit, where it anchored Aug. 2, to Kugluktuk, where it’s expected to call Aug. 12.

The Amundsen carries many supplies, so you know you won’t starve or develop scurvy while sailing through the Northwest Passage, as did many unfortunate sailors in bygone days.

The Amundsen’s freezers and refrigerators, including a “potato room,” are stocked with enough meat, fish, fresh vegetables and other foodstuffs to last for weeks. Tonnes of fuel are stored in tanks at the bottom of the hull to keep the ship’s motors running and all the lights turned on.

Although you can’t hear the machinery on the upper decks, the Amundsen’s lower decks, covered with a web of pipes, resound with the noise of loud diesel generators.

Metal walkways lead through the belly the ship, past giant engines with enough force to propel the ship through thich sea ice and a huge rudder that keeps the vessel pointed in the right direction.

Other equipment below the main decks includes a water purification system, which removes salt from seawater and treats it so it’s clean enough to drink.

Grey water, used in showers and sinks, is also cleaned. As for solid waste, it’s taken out of the dirty toilet water and subjected to ultra-violet light and other processes so that it’s clear and clean when dumped.

Trash — with the exception of things like aerosols that might explode, as well as batteries and plastics — are burned in a high temperature incinerator, while bins throughout the ship also encourage everyone to sort their trash beforehand.

Most essential equipment needed for the ship’s operation is kept in doubles, so if there’s fire or some other emergency, “we’re not left in the dark,” says Vincent Grondin, the Amundsen’s chief engineer.

This floating work place has just about anything crew or passengers could possibly need or want — from repair shops to laboratories and laundry facilities.

For recreation, there’s a tiny gym, equipped with a treadmill and stationary bikes.

Three evenings a week, from 8:00 p.m. to 11:00 p.m., members of the crew can also relax at an informal bar in a crew lounge, where volunteers act as bartenders. Beer sells under $2.00 a can — and there’s a five-drink limit.

There are other diversions: a cribbage board and other games, a karaoke set, films, and wide-screen television sets in the lounges.

Even the next meal is something to look forward to.

The Amundsen’s kitchens, with their spic-and-span stainless steel appliances and chefs in black toques, look more like restaurant kitchens — nothing like the sooty, coal-heated galleys used by early European explorers.

Two choices are available at every meal, such as battered haddock or macaroni and cheese. For breakfast, eggs and French toast along with fresh blueberries and raspberries are on the menu.

No one goes hungry — or gets bored with the selections, which rarely repeat, says a young researcher who’s been on board the Amundsen for five weeks already.

The Amundsen also runs its own servers for satellite internet connections — some reserved for the Coast Guard and others for scientists who have access to much higher speed internet — a necessity that costs about $42,000 a month to maintain.

Most people on board aren’t allowed to access the internet in their cabins and must use public computers where’s a 20-minute limit on use.

Sometimes the internet connection vanishes, as it did Aug. 4 when internet connection on the Amundsen stopped as the ship sailed northwards along Baffin Island and out of the telecommunication satellite’s range.

The Amundsen also features telephones in every room where it costs $40 for 25 minutes of talk time — but on the ship’s current voyage, the recently-installed system hasn’t worked.

Like any small community, the Amundsen also has its firefighters and health care workers. If you fall ill or get injured, you can visit the onboard nurse, the ship’s chief medical officer.

Marie Gaudreau operates the clinic, a small room, with an examination table and shelves of medicine and supplies.

Gaudreau keeps medical files on every person who comes on board. She’s used to sewing up cuts, setting sprains or fractures and handing out seasickness medications for those who need it.

The Amundsen is like a floating emergency ward, she says.

Gaudreau, who worked as a nurse in Nunavik for more than 20 years, also decides if someone needs to be evacuated for medical care. One passenger was recently evacuated due to seasickness.

But even when seas are rough and the ice bangs like a jackhammer against the hull, the crew keeps working in spite of seasickness.

“No one is freed from work,” says logistics officer Serge Lamoureux.

Most crew members work 42 days of 12-hour shifts before getting 42 days off.

To pass the time, some embrace hobbies: the chief engineer sews sealskin mitts with complex appliqué designs, and the nurse paints watercolours of northern scenes.

For a change of pace, you can also head deck and watch turquoise-edged ice pans and icebergs pass by, along with the occasional polar bear or seal.

But no matter what you do, you’re always aware you’re on a ship, as you hang on to handrails for support down narrow corridors and steep stairwells.

You know you’re on an icebreaker when the ship’s contact with an ice pan sounds and feels like two bumper cars colliding.

Then it’s reassuring to know that this self-contained icebreaker — which some passengers compare to ships from the movie Waterworld — has what it takes to finish the voyage.