Author: Justine

It seems like we’ve gone through a lot of transitions the last few days. It’s hot! At least by arctic standards. No more hot water bottles during night watches and I was overheating paddling yesterday in my thinnest thermals. It really feels like a different climate. It’s pleasant, except for one thing … Of course that brings bugs. They’re not so bad if you keep wrapped up. Yesterday after landing, I walked around in my thermals, so they could fully dry but thin merino is no match for long mosquito stingers and I soon added long pants and a jacket.

The landscape too is taming. The mountains are still dramatic with rugged ridge lines and steep cliffs towering above us. They’re beautiful, but suffer from their proximity to the even more dramatic Torngats. They’re lower with more green meadows and less bare bones. In the Torngats, contorted ridges, stark intrusions, active scree slopes and gravity, defying cliffs, make you feel like you’re watching them being created.

And we’re back in the land of people. Seeing Joey, Belinda and friends at Hebron was a wonderful surprise. We realize we’re now in boat driving distance from Nain and other communities further south. Yesterday we had a relaxed morning at Hebron. I woke rested after a full nights sleep in a cozy cabin. Our friends let us use their big propane stove to make a double dose of pancakes. The four of us ate the same amount I usually make for 10 people on a guided trip despite pigging out on the delicious Caribou stew Belinda made the night before. My appetite is in hyper drive with all the kayaking, moving boats and gear and until recently the cold. We left Hebron about 10 AM wishing we could have done a bit more in return for the kind hospitality we received. I am also very grateful to Noah who let us use his cabin in Hebron. Noah is an accomplished kayaker who, amongst other things, is introducing many Inuit to Kayaking and interviewing elders about Kayaking here in the past. He’s been really helpful about our trip and I hope we’ll see him again in Nain.

The hardiest mosquitoes followed us about 500 m out to sea before we lost them. We paddled into the same light headwind thats marked most of our days on the East Coast. The waves barely splashed the deck apart from around a few headlands where the wind picked up. Joey told us this is the calm time of year. By August they don’t come here by boat as the seas are too rough.

The tidal range is about 2m here compared to over 10 m on the Ungava Bay side so we have to worry less about where and when to land and tidal currents. We still often have to paddle an hour or two between landing spots. We chose a small cobble beach for lunch and another wider one for our campsite. A lush Meadow, and berry laden scatt made us think we might see black bears. It wasn’t long before we saw one a bit too close. JF was sat down behind the tent, changing his trousers when he suddenly shouted “bear”. I looked around in alarm scanning for something white or black. 5 m behind JF on top off a grassy slope a curious shaggy furred black bear gazed down. JF jumped up with his trousers half on. I think my laughter scared the bear away. We were recording a Time-lapse on a GoPro that was resting on a blue dry bag. The bear had come to investigate and knocked the GoPro over. I wish it had been filming in the opposite direction. The bear retreated a bit, but wasn’t very scared of us. We shot a bear banger to make sure he didn’t hang around. Half an hour later, Frank saw a larger bear in the meadow 100 m away. And an hour later, a third one ambled around behind camp.

It rained overnight, but it’s clearing up now. I am on last bear watch and it’s nearly over. Time to get breakfast going.

We arrived in Hebron early afternoon where we knew there are a few cabins including one owned by Noah, a kayaker from Nain. Rounding a headland into the bay, we saw a large white church and a cluster of cabins on a low hillside. As we eagerly headed in their direction a buzzing noise above startled me and I looked up to see a small drone flying low overhead. "There’s a boat", JF pointed, "and another one". As we landed, a woman with a rifle came to greet us. Belinda told us she is here from Nain for a week to rebuild a cabin from scratch. 4 men are laying down large plywood sheets for floorboards behind her. The previous building was her grandfather’s. She told us they’ve been bringing wood here for 3 years by boat, about a 6 hour ride from Nain. Yesterday there was a polar bear right by the house they are staying in. She points in the direction of Noah’s cabin and tells us to help ourselves to a beer from their fridge. We get another beer when we join them for an afternoon break and are given a password for their starlink wifi and a dinner invite for caribou ribs. My jaw dropped at a photo of an 8foot polar bear that Belinda shot 2 years ago. She looks tiny beside it.

Hebron used to be an Inuit village until the government relocated everyone. Now people visit to hunt and fish. A group of people are coming tomorrow to renovate the large church.

The paddle here was an easy going 34km into a light headwind under blue skies. It was hot for the first time and I regretted put 2 pairs of

The days have started to merge into one. I have no idea what day of the week it is and had to check today that’s we’ve paddled 18 days. I can feel I’ve got stronger, I notice that the kayaks don’t feel as heavy when we carry them to and from the water. My back muscles ache with the first few strokes every day and then I get in the groove and it all feels good. My hands are the most beat up part. My pogies rubbed a tiny bit of skin off my thumbs on day one and although I’ve barely worn them since, the sores have got worse. Other rubs that appeared from trying to wear the pogies differently, from wearing gloves, pushing gear into hatches or unidentified causes will also not get better until after the trip. Twice a day, I rub some antibiotic cream on them for some relief and a bit of healing before the salt water gets into them again. I think the cold makes my skin more sensitive as abrasions and rashes appear so easily.

I woke early this morning because I was too hot. That doesn’t usually happen here! A southerly wind brought warmer air and the sun beat down on us. We were treated to the full vista of majestic domes and jagged peaks as we paddled 8km across Saglek inlet to a group of large islands. I gazed back at a near vertical cliff that soared up to the clouds. We paddled at its feet yesterday and didn’t see it. I was grateful for one last long look at the striking Torngat mountains as we left the National park.

We headed towards the bright white domes of a manned US radar station perched on top of the jagged cape just south of the park border. We spot a storage building and fuel tanks a couple hundred meters up from a small beach and can just make out parts of the road that winds up to the high station. We bypass “base camp”, a summertime camp for tourists and parks Canada staff. When it opens next week, there will be a visitors, flown in to the small airport shared with the radar station, staying in prospector tents, protected from polar bears by an electric fence and armed guard. There’s a skeleton crew there now and our contact at parks Canada, Andrew Andersen, who has been a great help, said we may get a hot meal and Shower if we called in. I always enjoy interactions with people in remote places so my vote was to visit but Larry and frank wanted to push on. They
didn’t want to make the 10km round trip detour for the possibility of a few luxuries, preferring the promise of staying at a cabin tomorrow night in Hebron if we did more mileage today and put ourselves in striking distance. Noah Nochasak, a kayaker from Nain, has also been a great help and he has a cabin there. After 8 days of Bear watch, it will be very nice to get a full nights sleep in a cabin.

Cape umiak soars vertically from the ocean to 450 meters tall. It’s easier for any wind to accelerate around it than go over it. Today it accentuated the moderate breeze into a fierce torrent. One minute we were paddling along chatting, gazing up at the stripy cliffs and down at a condosize ice berg stuck on shallow rocks, glinting blue in the sun. The next I was tightening my hat and tilting my head down against waves that splashed up onto my sunglasses as my bow crashed up and down into steep waves. Conversation was over, the tumbling waves and whistling wind would make anything but shouts hard to hear and we were too busy concentrating on paddling. I watched the view of the rocks to my left shift slowly. despite the current being with us, the wind and chop were slowing progress. Still, it was progress and I was enjoying the work out, pushing hard with my feet, clenching my stomach. It’s the first cape that’s really challenged us and it felt fitting.

We gathered together an hour later in the much reduced wind. Whooh! Larry summed it up.
We’d hoped to camp at a valley just south of the cape but steep rocks and a half metre swell made it infeasible, the next promising place was an hour away, with no guarantees so we settled for a tiny cobble beach which opens into a100 metre long cobbly gully. It’s not our prettiest campsite but it’s home for the night.

We saw 2 black bears today. One above each campsite on the rocks! Both curious and starting at us for a while then heading on their way

“Only 33 km?”, Larry questioned.
“Yeah, well 33.2” replied Frank. “I already double checked with Justine and JF”.
We’d just pulled onto a wide, rocky beach after 7 1/2 hours on the water without landing. A 5 m wide river gushed onto one corner through a vast boulder field. A 1000 foot high mountain appeared faintly through the mist above it. A triangle of blue sky teased us from up the valley. Would the Sun finally win the day long battle with the fog? We’d worked hard today, putting our heads down against a mild headwind and choppy sea. A white haze cloaked all but the adjacent lower slopes and a chill breeze felt like it blew right through me. We didn’t stop much to take photos, ploughing on over a furrowed sea, confused by wind, swell and rebounding waves from the cliffs. I lost sight of JF and Larry to my right as a line of swell rolled in. The swell must be at least a meter I noticed. Along a steep coastline there were just a couple of places where we thought we might be able to land. We hoped to get out for lunch, at a small valley where a previous Expedition told us they had camped. The low Rocky shelf looked very uninviting with waves crashing on it. It would be a challenging, wet landing. A few small cobble beaches nearby were battered with surf and overhung by steep gullies, full of loose rocks. Our speed had been dropping over the last hour and we needed to eat. We finally rafted the four kayaks together for a late lunch on the water, helping each other get food from hatches. I felt a lot better after the first few bites of cheese and crackers. I was getting really low on energy. I think we’ve done seven nights in a row of bear watch now and the sleep disruption takes it’s toll. I was yawning a lot on the water. I think it’s the first day I didn’t actively enjoy all of the paddling. Without a view and working hard in the chop, I was going through the motions like a paddling robot, and not a very efficient one by the end.

As we approached a fjord called bear gut, we were on the lookout for anything white as wed been told it’s a hot spot. I was just studying a white object in the water just ahead, trying to figure out if it was a bird when JF said “bear”. This one was swimming towards us. We should probably paddle away, so it knows our intentions, Larry said wisely. Pointing our kayaks offshore we made a detour to arc around the bear. For some reason, I didn’t expect to see so many bears swimming. From the front, you just see a couple ears, two black eyes, and a black nose. This bear was raising his nose high in the air trying to get our scent. After we passed him, I stopped to film him swimming away and he swam around behind us, coming slightly closer. I hurriedly put my camera away and started paddling. Happily the bear also decided to swim away.

Our valley campsite is a beautiful meadow. The Sun did break through the cloud. right now on nightwatch, the last of the mist disappeared and I can see the island in our bay for the first time, lit by a crescent moon. Distant lights from a us radar station are twinkling on the horizon.