The fog was so thick that we couldn’t see the beach from the cabin this morning. One shade of grey was all that greeted us through the window. As I lugged my second load of gear down to the shore, I was excited to see some recent fox prints running along the wet sand near the gently lapping ocean. Maybe he trotted by as we were having breakfast above, shrouded by the mist. Launching at 6.45, fifteen minutes ahead of schedule we heard a minke whale breathing nearby. Dozens of large sculpins lay prostate on the shallow ocean floor. The sailing directions for the area said there were local magnetic anomalies in village bay. They warned of a five degree discrepancy but it seemed like much more as we tried to follow a westerly bearing to cut across the bay and reach the north shore. I felt like I was traveling in a straight line but my compass swayed 30 degrees. I compensated and the bearing stayed the same until suddenly jumping when I lifted my gaze towards the shore. I’m not sure whether it was some magnetic ricks posting havoc or just the group getting used to the disorientating fog as we all seemed to be zig zagging in different directions. In the end, the group decided to follow a gps instead of a bearing and Larry led us across the bay and tight along the shore for the first hour.
We were heading west then south down Port manvers run, a meandering narrow channel which forms the inside route to Nain. Tall steep mountains lay hidden on either side. A brown bracelet of land at sealevel was all that showed itself. I identified where we were by changes in the orientation of the land and the hammering noise of two large rivers that plunged into the sea. Despite the fog, a cold wind ruffled the sea and chilled my hands. Finding the current with us, we cut a corner using the gps to reach a pinch point in the channel called a rattle. Twenty minutes later when we arrived the current had turned and we switched tactics, hugging the shore in the narrows and paddling partially inside bays.

I followed my compass while crossing 3km to anchor point, not taking my eyes off the needle to avoid getting disorientated. I asked JF to let me know if he saw land and after about 20 minutes he called out that he could see a mountain top to the right. Soon afterwards a shape loomed out of the murk in front. The fog was dissipating revealing pink granite slabs and domes on either side. Raw rock was laid bare on the stepper sections while the gentler slopes were laden with lush green vegetation. The warmth of the sun penetrated through and we landed at anchor point to pull our drysuits down to our waists. Crossing to the east shore for the rest of the day, we started to chat more now. The sky darkened with aggressive rain clouds but they soon disappeared after no more a light sprinkle. A tiny sail boat passed through the middle of the channel in the other direction. We chose a low angled rock slab for lunch, and I noticed an unmoving black pair of ears just above the grass 50 metres further. The black bear sat up as we approached , abandoning its midday snooze and loping away into the valley.

Progress was slow but steady against the current until we reached the vast expanse of Webb bay to the east. A fresh wind funneled down the bay kicking up waves that slammed against our right sides. I tried to time my strokes and angle my kayak to avoid waves hitting the boat and splashing up onto my upper body as I still had my drysuit tied around my waist. I couldn’t win every battle but the sun and sea was so warm that the occasional dousing of my right arm was quite pleasant. An hour later the wind was head-on and progress was slow enough that we abandoned hope of reaching another cabin seven km further on and landed at a small sandy beach tucked behind a smooth rocky point. It’s a pretty spot for our last night of the trip and here I am on my last night watch, the first time I haven’t worn my fleece hat. I’m sat by the driftwood fire to try to keep the bugs away, reflecting on a varied and exciting journey. We have 23km left to Nain tomorrow and plan to be on the water at 7am to try to arrive around lunchtime so we have time to chat with Noah, who is leaving in the evening.