ARCTIC LIFE


Something that takes up a large part of our day and one which we haven’t really spoken about is what it is like on a day to day basis. Having spent over a couple of months travelling in an Arctic environment we are certainly building on our previous cold weather experience. The main priorities of the day are water, food, warmth and sleep. So pretty basic things. Our days roughly start at 5.30 am. In our bid for freedom, getting out of our sleeping bag resembles something David Attenborough would commentate on. Try and imagine the voice…

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“Here in the Arctic tundra the small and now hairy faced Jamie/Benno wakes for yet another morning in this cold and wintery environment. Making an opening large enough to squeeze their arms and head….”

You get the idea.

We begin our day trying to avoid a freezing cold shower as the moisture in our breath freezes to the edge of our sleeping bag. As you open it down sprinkles tiny little ice crystals onto your sleepy face, any method of avoiding this is a bonus. Then comes the start of our daily tasks melting snow, boiling water, cooking up food (pouring hot water into our food to rehydrate it) and in typical British fashion a cup of tea to start the day. All of this is done whilst in our sleeping bags. The pans have to be constantly topped up with more snow, even a full pan of snow melts down next to nothing. Whilst this is going on we get ready as much as we can without leaving the warm cosy oasis of our beloved sleeping bag. They haven’t got names yet but they are defiantly our happiest places and out attachment to them makes a duvet morning on a Sunday look like child’s play. A morning isn’t complete without using our pee bottles; where despite lying down, it is possible to have a conversation in your sleeping bag without over filling or spilling a drop. If you are feeling clumsy the whole process is slightly easier kneeling. The important bit, particularly if it’s still quite dark, is keeping the now filled bottle away from the drinking bottle as they are exactly shape the same except in colour and in the past it has been known for people to have almost made the mistake of taking a gulp before the smell hits their nostrils and they realise their error. Best not to risk it in the first place. Then there are the socks and tent booties to get on. Trying to get the down booties on is hard enough for myself. Jamie opts to test out his sleeping bag yoga to get his socks on. It seems an impossible task but with a few groans, some weird facial expressions and some impressive moves, success! One sock done, one to go.

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Wriggling down into our bags we finally make enough space to eat our muesli, or porridge if we are lucky. The short straw is something called hot cereal start. It resembles a warm brown sloppy mix with unknown ingredients bar a few raisins thrown in for good measure. It isn’t our favourite but apparently it goes down well with others.

Despite being in the Arctic and surrounded by ice and snow the area is virtually a desert with very low amounts of precipitation throughout the year. The snow tends to get blown off everything and instead collects in snow drifts generally around the rough ice and is where we tend to collect it. This is a bit of an issue as it means every time we get close to camping we have to think is there enough snow to melt and just as important; is it far enough from the sea ice to not have become salty? It is really not a great start to the evening when you have collected enough snow, started melting it only to find that your hot chocolate at the end of the day is salty and you have trundle back out for more snow. Doing this twice in a row is just gutting.

Following a hearty breakfast we pack up and hit the trail. In sunny conditions this is fine. However in windy ones we have to plan out each step to make sure nothing blows away mainly so we don’t get too cold before starting the day. This is particularly the case when going to the toilet. The hole is dug, the paper is ready and you’re thinking about how quickly you can get your trousers down, business done and them back up again before your bum feels like it’s been left in the freezer for too long. No one wants frostbite down there of all places!

Once we start skiing things settle into a natural rhythm. Ski for an hour. Have a break for a snack and a drink. This makes up part of our daily 4,500 to 5,000 calorie diet. It ranges from flapjack, cakes (our favourite being the Eccles cake), nuts, chocolate, biltong and Maximuscle protein bars. This pattern continues until about 5 to 6pm when we stop.

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We spend the entire day constantly thinking how do my toes, fingers, face and general body feel. They can’t be too hot or too cold. Too hot and the sweat freezes when you stop. Too cold and you’re at risk of getting a cold injury. We have a selection of gloves we can change between which is pretty straight forward to do. Less simple is the task of removing our thermal top if we get too warm. Having to strip down to bare skin and then get your jacket back on is nippy to say the least. Despite being hot and sweaty at -30C your nipples can cut glass within seconds of taking your top off. It’s not a particularly pleasant experience although we do tend to do this only when it is sunny and little or no wind.

Finally when it comes to the end of the day the process is repeated in reverse. Tent up, snow melting, hot chocolate followed by a meal and a cake. It doesn’t get much better than having a warm drink tucked up in our sleeping bags. Lights out is normally around 9pm depending on when we finish. Although, with daylight gaining about an hour every 4 days it will be less of a lights out and more of a pulling our hats down over our eyes. With the increased daylight we are hoping the tent temperature doesn’t drop to the -40s we had at the start where we would diving into the bags with almost as many clothes on as during the day despite the huge amounts of insulation on the bags.

We have also upgraded our sleeping arrangement. Caribou hide. Jamie manage to locate one first in Clyde river. Despite looking really quite dishevelled it had made a big difference. I on the other hand manage to find a very plump and hairy one. The downside is it is malting. Everywhere. Fortunately it is now in a bag that keeps most of the hairs in but within an hour of testing it out hairs were turning up in our mugs, water bottles, clothes, food and just about everywhere else you can think of. Even after being sealed up we are still finding them several days later. Then repeat from start to finish.

Summing up the day to day Arctic life ignoring all the beautiful scenery, obvious good company and conversations musing over the meaning of life. Cold and monotonous probably cover it very well. Having the chance to visit local communities, meet hunters, look after a couple of dogs and of course each other make it a far more interesting trip.

THE GREAT ESCAPE


Finally back on the sea ice, our mid-way point and resupply location lay ahead, invisible to us. However, rather than being frustrated at feeling like you aren’t getting any closer this was a welcome sight compared to the hills, rough terrain, false summits and rocks which prevent us from taking the most direct path. With the edge of an island set as our target there was a renewed vigour in our steps. We bolted out of this imaginary start gate. It felt amazing to be sliding along, not worrying about rocks, and just enjoying the tugging on the lines rather than feeling like you’re horizontal and trying to pull some monumental object like in a strong man competition. Our pace naturally slowed as the ice undulated along in its never-flat state. Despite the improvement, we still dreamed of pancake flat ice with a dusting of snow. Our search for perfect ice continued. We have been ticking off the kilometers since leaving the headland. Our initial plan had been to head overland for the final leg into Clyde. Due to our last experience this was out of the question, we thought far better to take our chances with the ice gods and their beautiful whites and blues rather than the ones controlling the barren and stark land routes. We were making fantastic progress towards our headland with a band of ice appearing on the horizon. As we came closer these towering blocks broke through the surface creating an almost impenetrable wall of ice. It was the worst ice we had seen all trip. Fortunately we spotted a way round. A glimmer of hope. Thoughts of “have we chosen the right route?” started to eek into our minds as we closed in on the second headland and the possibility of a hut for the night. As the wind picked up we arrived at this remote and desolate hut with a strange and small lookout post on roof. It was possibly a whaling station in the summer as it overlooked two bays. After clearing the snow, piled as high as the door, we staggered in. Typical for the larger huts it was colder than outside. The main benefit was we were out of the wind and a rickety bunk bed sat in the corner, which very quickly we were tucked up inside. Stoves burned gently next to us still in a bid to warm the place up. We were awoken to Tala licking my face and jumping up towards Jamie’s bunk above me. We lay in our bags drinking hot tea, cradling a hot bottle and discussing options if the ice ahead resembled what we had seen the night before. The options weren’t great; head back down the coast to another route overland or cut across from near our current position. This would slow us down considerably and possibly provide another torturous set of days. We decided to climb a nearby hill for a better view. Reaching the top having been crossing fingers, toes and anything else flexible we looked up the coast. There was a slither of “flat” ice. It was fantastic news, we could head up using our route. Pulks ready, dogs in position we headed north again in beautiful sunshine and a sharp breeze that cut through any chink in our armour of clothing. We walked past huge explosions of ice that looked like giant marshmallows that the sea had forced to the surface in a mess of blue and white. They are an incredible sight and demonstration of nature’s brutal power as we weaved between them on our way up the coast towards our next stop. With forecasts of 30mph and higher winds we dug in, digging a small hole for the tent behind a slight hill in this tundra coastline. Guy lines were all out and the sleds tied on for extra stability. We headed to bed wishing for soft winds and a good night’s sleep.

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Waking the next morning to gentle flapping wasn’t what we expected but it was a bitterly cold day. When the sun finally poked its head out we could begin to see just how flat and barren the landscape was as sea and land flowed into one another under a blanket of snow and ice. It was here the troubles began. Colin, who was attached to the sled, launched a cunning ploy create chaos with his lines and Jamie’s harness. As Jamie scrambled about on the ground with the line all of a sudden he was holding both ends. His line had broken. Colin, who is usually not too switched on, spotted his chance and made a bid for freedom. He spent the rest of the afternoon sprinting about with Tala just out of our reach. You can imagine him screaming “freedom” (obviously in a Scottish accent despite his Inuit upbringing) on every pass as part of his hedonistic and wild afternoon antics continued until the end of the day where he collapsed in a ball. Trying to catch him was futile as he waited till you got close and then got up and trotted off. Maybe food will bring him closer! The morning brought strong winds; Tala was coated in a layer of snow, as was the entire tent, with one side building up quite a large drift. We thought it was too strong to ski in but it had brought Mr Colin in for food and capture. It was a stroke of fortune before turning our attention to securing the tent more and building a snow wall to sit out the weather and wait for more favourable conditions for our approach to Clyde River.

GINGERLOCKS AND THE THREE BEARS


(Jamie)

It is northwards to Clyde and so northwards we went, leaving a warm and comfortable hut for the sea ice and our trusty tent once more. In good spirits and now both showing signs of good beard growth, things were looking up.

Growing facial hair has always been an issue for Benno so he has been delighted to start to show the signs of some serious progress on his chin and chops and I have been happy to see that his barb is also decidedly gingery in colour. It’s an odd phenomenon that neither of has another ginger hair on our body, we have thoroughly checked, apart from the area between clavicle and nose. So leaving the hut, with a dash of the fox about us, we were determined to make a coastal point some 20km away but with our now reloaded sleds weighing in at around 50kgs heavier, life moved at a slower rate. We were both taken by surprise at quite how much more effort we were now putting in to move the sleds and our dream destination for the evening seemed sure to elude us. That is until we saw the bears- it’s amazing what adrenaline will do for your daily mileage!

We had seen lots of tracks at the hut and criss-crossing our path for the past 6 hours, confidently announcing to each other that this was a male or here you could see a young mother and cub and that this track is clearly weeks old when Benno stopped and squinted at the horizon. “It’s a bear” I replied as soon as I followed his finger and saw a mother and two cubs around 600m away, ambling along towards us very bear like and pausing occasionally to stand on hind legs to smell us and get a better view. Having rapidly dumped harnesses and grabbed shotguns, we secured Tala, hid the marmalade and loaded our bear bangers. As we watched the mother trundle closer who should we suddenly see bolting towards the bear at full pelt but Tala, having slipped her lead and seeing this as a wonderful opportunity to get aquatinted with her polar cousin. As the queen bee of Battersea Park and used to lording it over the Cockapoos and French Bulldogs, Tala is not lacking in self confidence and despite us shouting and swearing at her, she wasn’t coming back for anyone. Benno and I watched in horrified silence both thinking this was going to end in one of two ways, neither happy. Tala would either get mauled or killed by the bear, very bad news meaning we would be left with only Colin who was trying his hardest to look in the other direction and pretend he couldn’t see the bear, or Tala would get close enough to severely piss the bear off and when she realised this wasn’t the big husky from the park and that maybe a play fight was out of the question she would run back towards us bringing an angry and irate mother bear with her. Tala however proved us wrong, she fully charged the bear, ears up, legs galloping, taking entirely airborne strides until the bear turned and with her cubs ran as fast as they could in the opposite direction. Tala chased her for around 600/700m, barked at the bear quite a lot as if to say ” and don’t come back” then turned round and strutted back to us looking very pleased with herself. Needless to say we weren’t shouting at her anymore and she received lots of attention and praise once she had sauntered back to our position, head held high and in expectation of some flapjack for her bravery.

As the light faded and we watched the bear and Cubs saunter off into the dusk we decided to push on to put some distance between us and this large and powerful creature. It is a strange experience being separated from a large, hungry, predator by only an open stretch of flat sea ice and in some ways it felt as if we were watching the whole experience on the most vivid wide screen imaginable, which I suppose in some ways we were. Still it’s nice to have a shotgun and a dog like Tala just in case you can’t find the remote to change channel fast enough when things get a bit too real.

So we made the Point that evening and set off for our next destination, Cape Henry Kater. Having poured over maps looking at this area for many weeks it is always gratifying to arrive at a large, much anticipated check point as it helps validate the miles you have already completed and allows you to settle on your next objective. Having followed our neatly marked map exactly (EXACTLY) to the spot where the Inuit hunters had told us to cross the Cape, we were a little taken aback by the scale of the river valley running down the land. We had been told to expect a ‘steep bit’ at the beginning but the ravine slicing its way down a considerable Munro sized peak was not what we expected. Optimistic as ever we assumed the valley must level out behind and so began the bastard task of lifting the sleds over the 100ms or so of rocky beach and dragging them uphill. After one particular stint of shuttling the sleds up an increasingly steep slope we decided that a quick recce was in order to scout the terrain ahead and if this was a feasible or ludicrous undertaking. After 30 minutes it became obvious that getting a skidoo up this slope, let alone a 140kg man powered sled, would be a tough task and that turning round was the only feasible option. We walked back down to the sleds, which from our new perspective were resting on a slope resembling a challenging red run and we both marveled that we managed to get them that far uphill without realising maybe this was not the right route. We needed some help and when you are pissed off, shattered and confused on Baffin Island the only people to call are the Qik RCMP. We spoke to Chris and John first assuring them that we were fine and hadn’t injured ourselves and asked that they tracked down Jaipotte for us, whose line on the map we had been diligently following. Thirty minutes later Jai was explaining to us that there is a hut to look for right by the valleys entrance and we were about 8km to the west of the position we needed and that our map was very hard to draw accurate lines on. We headed back down the slope as the sun began to fade, frustrated to have wasted a day, a huge amount of energy and our moods only briefly brightened when Colin managed to wrap Benno’s legs up and send him down the slope head first as we were descending. Well it brightened my day although I daren’t laugh as B looked like he was about to skin Colin on the spot. That night was definitely a brownie night and we gratefully ate the last of Celine’s excellent treats and enjoyed her final quote which was, once again, oddly fitting.

The next day we found the hut and valley and with the river frozen our progress and morale increased as the day brightened up with the sleds skimming lightly over the still river despite going uphill. This was not to last. After 7k the river poured into a large frozen lake which was also easy to cross, however with the fog creeping in and an alarming uphill section in front of us we call it a day and camped in a shallow saddle. The next morning was bright and clear which revealed to us in all its glory the task that lay ahead; an undulating hillside, reminiscent of the Scottish highlands, dotted with incalculable rocks which poked menacingly through the snow. Jai’s sage advice to “just follow the land” seemed a little optimistic now and so we headed North as best we could, aiming for the lowest saddle on the horizon and hoping to find a path through. The going was harder than either of us thought possible and always tinged with the knowledge that we didn’t know if this was best course, having no map of a small enough scale to be of use for detailed navigation. The horrible small rocks sticking through the thin snow cover meant that we zigzagged constantly, often pulling for 5 or 6 metres for only 1 metre forward gained, all the while heading uphill. After 5 Hours of this we were both exhausted and beginning to feel cold despite the heavy work load, a sure sign we were running low on energy. Finally we crested the top of the saddle with the glorious sight of a flattish landscape ahead and in the distance the exit valley on the other side of the Cape clearly visible. Benno summed it up perfectly when he said “I feel a bit emotional”.

Not only could we see that the land beyond was tolerably flat we also had a direction to aim for in the form of a topographical feature large enough to be clear on our maps, which put an end to those nagging doubts we were heading into a range of mountains. We trudged off down the hill exhausted and feeling depressed by the reading on the GPS telling us that despite all of our back breaking hard work we had only covered 6km in a straight line. The next day showed no sign of a letup in work load. Pulling pulks on anything other than flat terrain is horrible, any change in gradient is instantly noticeable and made painfully obvious by the biting of the harness into your back and yet we covered some good ground so slept thinking we would be back on the sea ice tomorrow evening. Oh what fools! Those last 16km proved to be every bit as difficult as the first section, constant ups and downs, rocks everywhere and the previously very obvious valley and river system slowly becoming a large drainage area for the surrounding marshes with many false exits and non -draining lakes meaning finding the actual watercourse was sometimes impossible. Both knackered from the previous 3 days our paced slowed and despite eventually finding he main river channel we both realised that this Cape was going to be the gift that kept on giving as night and the temperature dropped. Waking the next morning to a fresh breeze and -38 on the thermometer did little to lift our spirits and we packed in silence and headed back to the river channel. The sea ice was tantalisingly close now, less than 3km away and yet we weren’t counting any chickens this time. The river had steepened into a ravine, obviously a powerful white water rapid during the spring melt, unlike the lovely little river we had pottered up on the other side this was steep, dotted with huge boulders and filled with deep snow. Despite going downhill we had to pull the sleds almost as hard as if we had been going uphill and on three occasions 20ft snow drifts filled the valley forcing us to do shuttle runs to get the sleds over the top. Finally we turned a meander in the river and there, spread before us was the ice, flat and inviting like a massive rink ready to be skated happily across.

I can now fully sympathise with a female turtle desperately hauling herself slowly and painfully up a beach to lay her eggs. Some things are meant to be on land, some things are not. Pulks, and the silly ginger bearded Brits pulling them, are definitely sea mammals and the relief and accomplishment we felt as we crossed the tide gap back onto the ice must be the same as the turtle as she slips gratefully back into the ocean. I do doubt that the turtle turns round to the land, gives it the finger and tells it to go f*$k itself, but it’s nice to think that maybe in her own way she does and after all, who could blame her.

So off we went again, ignoring the map and the drawn line that pointed us towards the next Cape and the recommended over-land crossing, instead heading belligerently for the sea ice and a coastal route beyond where we belong.

“Whatever you think you can do, or believe you can do, begin it. Action has magic, power and grace.” *Thanks Celine!!!

HOME BAY & BEYOND


About 12 days ago we reached our first depot.

It has been a bit of a shock to the system being back on the trail after everything that has happened, however Jamie and I have been trudging away the miles. We have constantly been looking for that flat and smooth ice where we just effortlessly and gracefully fly over the surface. Sadly we haven’t found it, by any stretch of the imagination, and we now have first hand knowledge of what rough ice looks like. Our standards of what we can expect have almost certainly adjusted.
We had been advised the area we were heading through had very rough ice, the locals keep saying its the worst it has been in years and they have been skirting around it. This process is much quicker on a skidoo and for us the maths made the tougher route the unfortunate winner.
We made it to a large bay that we needed to cross but it was difficult to envisage the vastness of it due to the thick fog that hugged the surface of the ice and the setting sun. Waking the next morning we were met by beautiful blue skies, vast inlets, glorious mountains and ahead of us a rolling sea of broken ice. It was disheartening as our pace slowed to a crawl. It was like being in a constant scrummage with an opponent that lasted for the entire day plus part of the next. For every step won forward you could feel the energy being sapped out of you. Even at -30C we could feel ourselves breaking a sweat, something which we try our hardest to avoid as it clogs our clothes with ice. Being the slightly hotter team member, this comes from bitter experience as I squeezed myself into a ice crunching jacket the following morning.

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Despite the tough ice we have been touched by glorious weather. Excluding one day where ourselves and our tent were rattled by the 30mph+ winds. We awoke far earlier in the morning than the usual 5 am. Although we stayed wrapped in our sleeping bags for as long as possible we soon had to depart this safety blanket and meet the day head on. The snow swirled round our feet all day. It was impossible to spot a reasonable path through it all. Despite the balmy temperatures in the mid -20’s the wind made the temperature plummet and every millimetre of skin needed to be covered. Despite our best efforts we would walk along constantly adjusting as the wind managed to squeeze its icy fingers into any gap. It also made the experience of going to the bathroom regardless of what it was, a very chilling and quick but necessary experience. There is only so long you can wait and unfortunately the weather doesn’t seem to correlate with toilet stops.

After all of that we finally made our way to our next stash of food and fuel! We are now sitting here appreciating some warmth from some left over fuel in a good friend Jaipotties hut. We are enjoying munching through some planned treats plus some of the surplus goodies that we have.

The next part of our journey sees us heading over the final stretch of Home Bay and then towards Clyde River. It’s still a fairly good chunk at around 200 km. Possibly more importantly it marks, to Qikiqtarjuaqs relief, the transition from being closer from one to the other. Chris and Halie can finally relax knowing that we aren’t going to spring up and crash in the police station. Thanks again for the awesome hospitality. We are forever grateful.

So now just to push further north.

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In doggy news Colin and Tala are getting on incredibly well. Colin whines and pines after Tala when she goes about her wanderings each day. It does give us a slight headache but provides bears with a disincentive to approach. A win overall we have concluded. It might also explain why Talas trundling goes off into the distance until she appears to be a little speck before bounding back…particularly when she senses we are stopping for food. Her nuzzling Colin though suggests she does quite like him after all though.

HUTTER MADNESS


Round the Cape and Northward bound we go! Benno and I have started to rack up some respectable distances and rounded Cape Hooper in calm and clear weather and good spirits. The ice and snow Gods have not however been particularly kind to us and the conditions under sled and foot have been testing and frustrating. As our sleds get lighter the going is getting easier and the previously insurmountable ice and snow ridges can now be conquered with brute force and a lot of swearing. The lighter sleds bring us happiness in that they now feel like dragging a small dead cow behind you where as previously it had felt like trying to drag a dead Narwhal tusk and all through the deep snow, the difference I assure you is noticeable! This happiness is tinged with the knowledge that the sleds are light because they are rapidly emptying. Food, fuel, dog food and Benno’s haemorrhoid cream are all disappearing at an alarming rate and it is a daily reminder to us of what is needed out here to keep your body functioning and our tent warm.

We have however judged it correctly so far and we should be arriving at the next depot in 3 days time with 5 days worth of everything to spare which is good to know I case we get any unforeseen hold ups. Jaipotties hut that we are now aiming for has our cache of food and fuel is well marked and we have exact coordinates from the man himself, so finding it should pose no problem. Not so with the last two huts. There are few things more demoralising than promising yourself a warm evening in a hut, maybe even sitting in just your base layer if it gets warm enough. A raised platform to snuggle up together on, the ability to sit upright against a wall and the special thought of waking up in the morning without your beard frozen to your sleeping bag. We have had these heady dreams twice dashed now in the last week. True disappointment is knowing that despite having skied for 8 hours to reach a random point on a map given to you by a hunter 2 weeks previously, the 8ft by 8ft hut that is apparently “unmissable” is nowhere to be found. When moving by skidoo traveling 6-10kms in search of the exact spot is a 15min job and of no real concern but when that distance represents half a day’s travel by foot, searching becomes a totally different proposition. Knowing you are probably only 1-2kms from a small shed whilst you put your tent up in -30c after a long and arduous day is completely gutting but at least it means we will really appreciate Jai’s hut when we get there.

We are starting to see more bear tracks and in one area saw either a single bear running around a lot looking for something or the equivalent of a mass polar bear rave. We both agreed it was probably just one or maybe two sniffing about and cleared and recycled the shotguns. We have taken more recent glances over our shoulders just in case. A quick and casual reminder of whose Kingdom we are trespassing in and that vigilance is key to a safe journey through.

Jamie&Benno Hutter Madness

Our evening of sulking over a lack of huts was improved immeasurable by eating some of the brownies Celine had given us before we left. We had been saving them for a low moment and this seemed appropriate. As we broke the brownies hurriedly we saw pieces of paper tucked in between the slices. On our piece of paper was a quote from Ernest Shackleton giving us a timely reminder as we snuggled in our down sleeping bags next to our roaring camp stoves that somethings are best kept in perspective. A wonderful gesture from Celine and Yves and it helped turn a miserable night into a happy one as we sat like children at Christmas reading our quote and munching our brownies.

So onwards to the hut and some more biltong, chocolate buttons and no doubt more deep snow and horrible mounds of ice. However as the great Shackleton said “difficulties are just things to overcome after all” and we will be bearing that in mind as we go.

NORTHERN HOSPITALITY


We departed Qik early in the morning in a bid to get dropped off before our drivers for the day Jaipottie and his son kyle headed further north. Despite the time, Yves and Celine who have been incredibly helpful, gave us a departing gift of brownies!! We are definitely going to appreciate them when the going gets tough.

After a few hours driving we were dropped off near to where Alex had his head injury and where we were all picked up. Smack bang in the middle of nowhere. Standing there realising this was our opportunity to continue further north towards Clyde river and continue learning about the east coast of Baffin Island. Despite the early start and following a late night doing last minute packing and final goodbyes, we still managed to get some good miles under our feet before stopping for the night on an open estuary between distant towering cliffs.

It was a beautiful spot with the mountains behind us still glowing in a pinky colour with the setting sun and the icebergs in the distance gradually turning from electric blue to green. We managed to get all the necessary snow melted for the next morning before hitting the sack. What struck us whilst lying there was the lack of sound. There was not a breath of wind and all we could hear throughout the night was the odd snore or one of the dogs have a short walk and a shake off. At least with the snoring it is obvious who the culprit is.
I had forgotten my alarm was set for 5 am, I soon corrected it for a bit later in the morning when I realised it was still dark and freezing cold.
Morning in the Arctic is always a nice surprise. All the moisture in your breath freezes to the lip of your sleeping bag during the night so when the time comes to wake up this has a tendency to flutter down onto your face in ice cold spots. On top of that if you happen to touch the side of the tent this has the same effect but on a grander scale! Heading off with the sun rising into the sky and burning off any cloud, we continued on to our depot of food. It was a fairly standard day with Tala running about in her crazy fashion, while Colin whined constantly at the injustice of being on a lead. Jemima I am afraid despite some spectacular final attempts to catch her, remains in Qik. We miss her dearly.
We knew we were getting close. Coming round a head land a hut slowly appeared and what made it even more special was that smoke was rising from it. This meant one thing warmth! Then off one hill appeared two boys tobogganing down it and going off a small jump. It was quite a surreal sight. Tala meanwhile was ignoring all commands and exploring the new smells and surroundings. Arriving we were soon offered a warm room for night, a choice of caribo and Arctic char soup and some tea. Both soups Jamie and I decided were delicious. All this, despite our conversation either being translated by the 12 year old boy Edmond or through a mixture of English and hand signals. We couldn’t have asked for more then they provided us with a huge chunk of iceberg ice saving the task of collecting a load of snow to melt. It also makes some pretty epic tea, hot chocolate or maxi nutrition viper for recovering. Not quite as good as the glenlivet on iceberg ice but carrying that would be an unnecessary extravagance. It has been some incredible hospitality from our hosts who were surprised to see 2 men walk over hauling sleds.

Northern Hospitality

The coming days see us heading further north towards our next depot. Meanwhile Alex is heading further south to Ottawa for further medical evaluation and recuperation. We are hoping he has a speedy recovery and to see him shortly.

A Dogs Life – Colins Blog


Its been an odd month inside what so far has been a completely normal winter. The snow fell as is usual and the darkness and frozen sea gradually grew longer and stronger in just the same way they have for the last 4 winters I can remember. My cold paws and nose felt just the same whilst waiting patiently for my coat to grow nice and thick again to warm me up and of course occasional visits from “the man” to bring food and get us all excited before driving off again on his dogless sled. I am quite an anxious dog by nature and know one has ever accused me of being too intelligent therefore it brings me a great deal of contentment when things happen as they should, the seasons change and the “the man” comes and goes. I’m not one for too much excitement.

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Things took a considerable turn for the worse when “the man” arrived one afternoon with the dogless sled and unceremoniously dumped me sideways onto it. Despite the lack of strong canine’s running out front those things can really move and make very loud and distressing noises and before long I was dizzy, scared and half choked on the black fog belching from within the monster. The noise gradually lessened and as we came to a stop I assumed we had reached our destination, although I was so shaken and disorientated I was struggling  to stand up, let alone make a rational judgement as to where I was. I was also very distressed that Jemima had disappeared and since we do everything together this was defiantly a cause for concern.

In front of a very large box with a door stood 3 pale faced mens with massive orange chests and arms and surprisingly skinny legs, talking in an odd sounding growl to “the man”. They came over and touched my head and paws, felt my tummy and looked in my eyes and mouth. Being a well behaved dog who knows his manners I did not growl or pull away but i can tell you now I didn’t like it. Not one little bit. Whilst assuming my standard meeting new people pose of cowering and shaking slightly I spied Jemima through the wall of orange , she had found me. My heart leapt and i gave a little whoof to let her know I had seen her. This happy feeling was quickly banished when “the man” grab my special area saying in his strange growley language “if you want him stand up just grab penis” I stood up as he grabbed me as I am sure you would and tried to look unconcerned but this is difficult when some you don’t want to touch your privates is rather forcefully holding onto your delicates.

Suddenly i was released, the dogless sled was being started and small pieces of paper were changing hands. I braced myself for another horrible sideways ride but it never came. Instead “the man” drove away, kicking up a cloud of snow and dirty smoke and leaving me lost and forgotten with 3 strange orange mens in a new and terrifying part of town. Thankfully my memory is pretty poor even by dog standards and despite feeling anxious, the sight of Jemima skulking around out of grabbing range and the large bag of dog food one of the orange mens was bringing calmed my heart rate and bought the most influential part of me back into immediate focus. My tummy. Now i wouldn’t consider myself a greedy dog although others may disagree but here in the North when tasty edible things are put in reach, you dont wait for a polar bear or Jemima to come and take it, you eat it as fast as you can. Tasty and edible covers a range of things, well to be honest absolutely anything unless I am physically unable to chew it or get it in my mouth. I have eaten some things that were a bit queer, even things that smelt alot like dogs I once knew but I am sure its a coincidence Uncle Chops disappeared on the same day we had that strange, stringy, furry meat .

I digress, see food does that to me, its very therapeutic it clears my mind of everything else regardless of the situation I am in which is not always a blessing.

The orange mens put the bag of food away after a disappointing portion size, they always are and pulled me round the back of the building. As we turned the corner an alarming flurry of grey fur, massive ears and booming bark was my shock introduction me to Tala. What a Bitch. Please take it from an amorous male dog she is a slamming hottie. Well built in all the right areas, luxurious flowing fur, gleaming teeth and a come get me stare in her bright eyes. Her lovely coat was grey with flecks of white and black and as I stared at her a strange sensation began to creep over me. Instincts from the past 1000 years began to click together in my brain and I could feel the cogs turning until suddenly the realisation hit me, holy f*#k its a wolf.

This was not a good scenario, the orange mens had obviously bought me to feed to this massive slavering wolf thing, I cowered and shook as if my life depended on it, which believe me I thought it did. In the way of all dogs, horrible nasty wolfs or nice well behaved huskys, we sniffed at each other, front and back to find out a few essential facts. I had my eyes firmly shut the entire time waiting for the blow to come that would end my beautiful and terribly short life. After several minutes had passed and I hadn’t taken my last breath, I ventured a glance through one squinting eye at the wolf. To my considerable relief and bemusement the wolf dog was sitting down next to the Orange Mens whilst they spoke to her and patted her on the head. To my amazement they began pouring a small pile of food from the same bag that they fed me from and with various grunts from the Orange Mens the wolf dog sat down, then lay down, then gave them a paw and finally waited agonisingly by the pile of food until one of the mens gave her a sign and she attacked it with gusto. This was really bad news. These Orange Mens were strange sorcerers from a distance place, no dog I had ever seen or met would do that for any mens, anywhere, ever. The Orange Mens must be very powerful dog lords indeed and I whimpered anxiously wondering when I would come under their spell and be fed to their pet wolf.

However the Orange Mens patted me on the head and wandered off leaving me sitting with the wolf under a frozen Arctic sky with the darkness broken only by the pinpricks of starlight and the glow of the young moon (I always know where the moon is and how big it is. Its a husky thing). The wolf approached. “Hello daaarling, my names Tala, with a T in case you didnt know. Your a sorry looking boy arent you, when was the last time you got dewormed?”. Although I understood what she said her accent was very strange, clipped yet snotty, crystal clear and yet nasal. ” My name is ᑕᐃᒪᐃᓪᓗᑐᕐᑐᐊᓗᒍᓐᓇ I replied and you dont sound as if you come from these parts”. “Thats funny” Tala quipped, “My boys said you were called Colin, dreadfully common sort of name but easier to comprehend than that rubbish you just came out with”. “Your right, I am not from around here, I am from Chelsea in London, I am sure you know it, everyone does so I wont go into to details but needless to say this winter ski holiday  is proving to be quite disagreeable. I flew cattle class over, I have missed an entire week of Made in Chelsea and its bloody freezing. I only recently changed into my winter collection and my coat is taking longer to come through than usual hence this awful red thing I am wearing. Still it will be worth the wait wolf grey is this seasons black according to Karl. I can only imagine there has been a terrible mix up with the Maitre’d in the hotel here as I have been outside for the last 2 nights, but I am sure my boys are sorting out my room as we speak and hopefully they have digital so I can catch up on New York fashion week”

TalaTala

Well I was pretty tired and most of this made very little sense to me so I simply said “well its certainly nice to meet you” and added as a after thought, “do you only eat dog food”? “Of course” replied Tala “although I am partial to a little fish if served correctly and I only drink glacial water or snow served at room temperature”. “Oh good” I replied “Well I hope you dont mind but I am going to sleep, its been an eventful day ” and with a quick look round for Jemima, hiding under the building, she has a wonderful knack for finding the warmest places, I settled down and closed my eyes. As I mentioned before its difficult for me to dwell on things for to long as I tend to forget everything rather quickly even my supposed new name and as I got comfortable I thought I could almost hear my friends from the dog team snuffling next to me. As I drifted of to sleep I thought whatever next, hopefully breakfast.

Baffin Island

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