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PDF The Little Ice Age How Climate Made History 1300 1850 Brian Fagan Ebook Full Chapter
PDF The Little Ice Age How Climate Made History 1300 1850 Brian Fagan Ebook Full Chapter
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People of the Earth An Introduction to World Prehistory
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Copyright
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E3-20191015-JV-NF-ORI
CONTENTS
Cover
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Preface
Acknowledgments
Author’s Note
• PART ONE •
WARMTH AND ITS AFTERMATH
1 The Medieval Warm Period
2 The Great Famine
• PART TWO •
COOLING BEGINS
3 The Climatic Seesaw
4 Storms, Cod and Doggers
5 A Vast Peasantry
• PART THREE •
THE END OF THE “FULL WORLD”
6 The Specter of Hunger
7 The War Against the Glaciers
8 “More Like Winter Than Summer”
9 Dearth and Revolution
10 The Year Without a Summer
11 An Ghorta Mór
• PART FOUR •
THE MODERN WARM PERIOD
12 A Warmer Greenhouse
Discover More
Afterword
Also by Brian Fagan
Notes
In memoriam
Professor Glyn Daniel and Ruth Daniel,
archaeologists
Professor Hubert Lamb, climatologist
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The fog lies close to the oily, heaving water, swirling gently as a
bitterly cold air wafts in from the north. You sit gazing at a
featureless world, sails slatting helplessly. Water drips from the
rigging. No horizon, no boundary between sea and sky: only the
gray-shrouded bow points the way ahead. The compass tells you the
boat is still pointing west, barely moving through the icy chill. This
fog can hug the water for days, hiding icebergs and the signs of
rapidly forming pack ice. Or a few hours later, a cold northeaster can
fill in and sweep away the murk, blowing out of a brilliantly blue sky.
Then the horizon is as hard as a salt-encrusted knife, the sea a deep
blue frothing with white caps. Running easily under reduced sail, you
sight snow-clad peaks far on the western horizon a half-day’s run
ahead—if the wind holds. As land approaches, the peaks cloud over,
the wind drops, small ice floes dot the now-calm ocean. The wise
mariner heaves to and waits for clearer weather and a breeze, lest
ice block the way and crush the ship to matchwood.
Icebergs move haphazardly across the northern seas. Pack ice
floes undulate in broken rows in the endless ocean swell. Far to the
north, a ribbon of gray-white light shimmers above the horizon, the
ice-blink of solid pack ice, the frontier of the Arctic world. To sail
near the pack is to skirt the barrier between a familiar universe and
oblivion. A brilliant clarity of land and sky fills you with keen
awareness, with fear of the unknown.
For as long as Europeans can remember, the frozen bastions of
the north have hovered on the margins of their world, a fearsome,
unknown realm nurturing fantastic tales of terrible beasts and
grotesque landscapes. The boreal oceans were a source of piercing
winds, vicious storms and unimaginably cold winters with the ability
to kill. At first, only a few Irish monks and the hardy Norse dared sail
to the fringes of the ice. King Harald Hardråde of Norway and
England is said to have explored “the expanse of the Northern
Ocean” with a fleet of ships in about A.D. 1040, “beyond the limits of
land” to a point so far north that he reached pack ice up to three
meters thick. He wrote: “There lay before our eyes at length the
darksome bounds of a failing world.”1 But by then, his fellow Norse
had already ventured far over northern seas, to Iceland, Greenland
and beyond. They had done so during some of the warmest
summers of the previous 8,000 years.
I have sailed but rarely in the far north, but the experience, the
sheer unpredictability of the weather, I find frightening. In the
morning, your boat courses along under full sail in a moderate sea
with unlimited visibility. You take off your foul-weather gear and bask
in the bright sun with, perhaps, only one sweater on. By noon, the
sky is gray, the wind up to 25 knots and rising, a line of dense fog to
windward. The freshening breeze cuts to the skin and you huddle in
your windproof foulies. By dusk you are hove-to, storm jib aback,
main with three reefs, rising and falling to a howling gale. You lie in
the darkening warmth belowdecks, listening to the endless shrieking
of the southwester in the rigging, poised for disaster, vainly waiting
for the lesser notes of a dying storm. A day later, no trace remains of
the previous night’s gale, but the still, gray water seems colder,
about to ice over.
Only the toughest amateur sailors venture into Arctic waters in
small craft, and then only when equipped with all the electronic
wizardry of the industrial age. They rely on weather faxes, satellite
images of ice conditions, and constant radio forecasts. Even then,
constantly changing ice conditions around Iceland and Greenland,
and in the Davis Strait and along the Labrador coast, can alter your
voyage plans in hours or cause you to spend days at sea searching
for ice-free waters. In 1991, for example, ice along the Labrador
coast was the worst of the twentieth century, making coastal
voyages to the north in small craft impossible. Voyaging in the north
depends on ice conditions and, when they are severe, small boat
skippers stay on land. Electronics can tell you where you are and
provide almost embarrassing amounts of information about what lies
ahead and around you. But they are no substitute for sea sense, an
intimate knowledge of the moody northern seas acquired over years
of ocean sailing in small boats, which you encounter from time to
time in truly great mariners, especially those who navigate close to
the ocean.
The Norse had such a sense. They kept their sailing lore to
themselves and passed their learning from family to family, father to
son, from one generation to the next. Their maritime knowledge was
never written down but memorized and refined by constant use.
Norse navigators lived in intimate association with winds and waves,
watching sea and sky, sighting high glaciers from afar by the
characteristic ice-blink that reflects from them, predicting ice
conditions from years of experience navigating near the pack. Every
Norse skipper learned the currents that set ships off course or
carried them on their way, the seasonal migrations of birds and sea
mammals, the signs from sea and sky of impending bad weather,
fog, or ice. Their bodies moved with swell and wind waves, detecting
seemingly insignificant changes through their feet. The Norse were
tough, hard-nosed seamen who combined bold opportunism with
utterly realistic caution, a constant search for new trading
opportunities with an abiding curiosity about what lay over the
horizon. Always their curiosity was tempered with careful
observations of currents, wind patterns, and ice-free passages that
were preserved for generations as family secrets.
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