“Bear”, Larry pointed to the small low island just a few hundred meters away from where we had spent the past two nights. We had just got on the water to leave and I was looking ahead to the steep craggy mountains we’d soon be paddling past. I instantly turned my attention to Almaty Island, where I’d read that Nigel and Kristan Foster had camped when they paddled this route 20 years ago.

“Where?”, I said urgently. I didn’t see it and didn’t want to miss it.
“On the hill”, JF added. Finally when I lowered my gaze from the summit, I saw movement, the lumbering long white limbs of a specialized predator moving powerfully right to left along the slope. I was struck with how majestic and big he looked. Frank was boldly paddling in his direction, keen to get a closer look. I followed, a bit behind, not sure if that was a good idea but drawn to observe the bear in his element. The wind was blowing our scent away and the bear was striding purposefully over the rock, oblivious to us. What long fur he has on his legs, I thought, like hairy flares. About 100 metres away we stopped paddling. Finally the bear saw us and walked a few steps towards us, his nose held high and his tongue out to try to taste us on the air. He was so big! I was glad we were on the sea in our kayaks and he was on land. We watched each other for a few seconds and I hoped he would not come closer to investigate. He looked like he was deciding what to do before lumbering away over the low hill.

Wow, we all said. What a magnificent creature.
“It’s a male, probably four or five years old”, Frank shared. He got his phone out and entered the details on a bear tracking app that he’s contributing to.

The rest of us were feeling the chill from the SW wind that was ruffling the sea into small choppy waves. We paddled a few strokes away to warm up before waiting for Frank.

“Walrus”, JF pointed dead ahead about 60 meters away. A low grey back was just visible on the surface, like a tiny submarine, and as I watched two nostrils and a glimpse of two white tusks emerged in front of it. I’d read that walruses travel as far south as the northern tip of Labrador so we were lucky to see one at the edge of their range. The male came up to breathe again, and again, barely lifting his head, before disappearing from view.

The four of us started paddling south past black domes of ancient rock. The horizon was hazy, perhaps from smoke from distant fires but the closer peaks were striking, rising precipitously from the ocean. I craned my neck up at near vertical gullies, with fans of sharp boulders extending down to the sea. Some debris channels had become gently sloped enough to support plant communities, others had been stable long enough to be black with lichen. More recent landslides were marked with lighter colored rock.

The breeze blew consistently and as we came to a headland we bounced through steeper waves, enough that our bows crashed down into them and slowed our progress. The extra roughness showed we were in a favorable current that opposed the wind. We are learning the rules of a new coastline and noted that the falling tide seems to create a south going current. We aimed for a Long skinny island about 2km off shore, hoping to see some wildlife as we paddled by the green lower slopes.

“Caribou”, JF called out excitedly. I followed his paddle signal and saw two gigantic curved sets of antlers trotting away over a hill. What a day for wildlife!

The antlers reappeared several times as we paddled south, sometimes with a third smaller caribou, and always in the distance. At the southern tip they were closer, ambling over a grassy area with their noses down, occasionally stopping to take a mouthful. We watched silently as one by one they strode deftly over the rocks towards the sea. Their fur was white and brown and their antlers almost black and velvety. The leader had four large dark lobes at the front. After a few minutes he walked down to the sea and walked straight into the water 60 meters away. The other two followed right behind and the tight knit group started swimming, noses, backs and racks above the water. We stayed still, excited and confused, not sure what to do. After a few strokes in our direction, the leader made a quick u-turn and headed back for shore. The others followed and they lumbered out of the water. A big shake sent water droplets flying.

What a day for wildlife! We also saw a ringed seal hurled out on a rock, heard the melodic call of the loon and saw our first groups of pretty harlequin ducks. The winds eased and we slid under the imposing cliffs of our first big cape, close enough to touch the few boulder beaches. We’re camped at a wide open valley on a flat patch of grass above a gravel and stone beach. Life is pretty damn good!

Larry is tracking our route on his Inreach every 10 minutes for anyone wanting to follow our progress. See my last Facebook post for details