I wanted to be at home having a hot bath, and watching a movie snuggled up on the sofa with the wood burner roaring. I’d have roast chicken and roast potatoes for dinner and some fresh fruit afterwards. Why did i choose, instead, to spend my time battling into a headwind in pea soup fog, unable to see anything for the last 2 hours, with stiff, tired muscles and freezing feet in the 4 degree Arctic? This morning I wondered what my mother and sister probably wonder more often! Why chose to send a month on an expedition in a cold inhospitable place and give yourself a limited number of days to achieve a target? I could be on a hot beach with a drink and a swimming pool?!

More realistically, I really wanted to land, put the tent up and go back to sleep. Some minutes, hours or even days, I am not enjoying myself, it’s hard work, I’m tired, the elements are conspiring to reduce our hard grind to a snails pace. But i have been through the ups and downs enough to know that my smile will return when I see something beautiful, or have a seal pop up beside me, or a tail wind springs out of nowhere, and later I’ll feel good that I fought through my self imposed battle.

3 hours later, the fog lifted, the sun burned down brightly on us and the wind dropped. A seal popped up behind us. The fog played with us all day, clearing to show us the island ahead, then creeping in stealthily to cover the hills in a blanket of white, so we could see no trace of land. At 6pm, after over 9 hours on the water, a favourable current picked up and sped us towards Cape Neptune. We hadn’t planned to paddle that far but we couldn’t resist a free ride. We flew around the corner and into a channel behind Cape Prince of Wales, with a couple of knots of assistance. We landed near a small cabin, still inside the channel, with the shortest portage of the trip, all of 10 metres up to where our tent is now. So after a low start to the day for me, we covered over 55km, enjoyed some beautiful light displays, and had flocks of birds fly so close to us in the mist that the noise of their wing beats startled me. I’m feeling very good about being out here in the beautiful
Canadian Arctic. But I am looking forward to a hot bath and a movie in front of the fire.

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We woke to grey skies, rocks and sea. Intermittent grey rain fell on us as we packed. But monochrome can be beautiful and each grey was different, the rocks varied from almost white near sealevel, to lichen clad black high on the hills, with dark green grass clinging to shallower gradients where it could.
We launched at 7am onto a sea of liquid mercury, lightly agitated at first then becoming more alive around the headlands, with our first real swell of around 2 metres rebounding on the steep cliffs to form a lively sea. The scenery was breathtaking, even in black and white, with barren rock walls rising steeply from the sea , reminding me of northern Norway or Iceland. Mist clung to the peaks, a veil to enhance the beauty. We saw 2 seals, more curious than the others we spotted, and a tiny minke whale. There are fewer birds along these loose cliffs although a few groups of pigeon guillemots flew by.

The wind was low like the clouds and we made the most of it, covering 64km (34 nautical miles) in almost 12 hours afloat. We didn’t land once all day as there wad nowhere convenient without a 1km detour and we wanted to make good distance. We inky have 11 days left to get to Salluit which is approaching 400km away so we are under a bit of pressure to make hay while the sun shines!

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We only made 14 nautical miles today with an increasing wind which threatened to blow our paddles out of our hands, and blow anything away that wasn’t tied on tightly. SE sounded good in the forecast as we are now heading roughly west but the coastline is heavily indented with many steep valleys. Its very beautiful, the landscape had changed dramatically since 2 days ago. In Ungava bay a tall hill was 60 metres, now every headland soars steeply up to 100 or 200 metres, jagged impressive peaks interspersed with more distinct valleys and beaches. These narrow valleys are very effective wind funnels and each time we crossed a bay, we’d cross a line from the shelter of the headland into the fury of a sidewind. Whitecaps, cats paws, waves breaking on us… we’d endure the onslaught for the 2 or 5 km crossing before the wind bent around slightly behind us at the far end pushing us onwards for a few hundred metres to rewards our efforts. Then we’d round the new headland and do it again.

After lunch, the wind was angry and we felt we were using a lot of energy and running the gauntlet, risking being blown out to sea if the wind increased. We turned towards a beach 1.5 km away, now battling straight into the blasts. It took us 30 minutes to reach the beach where we are now camped. We will get an early night and hope for a calm early morning start tomorrow.

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We moved all of 1.65km today! We probably should have known not to launch when i had to change my footing to avoid getting blown over by a gust while packing the tent, but the wind seemed in a good direction and we thought we'd give it a try. The wind was slightly helpful for the first km but as we turned NW it was unhelpful and pushing us offshore. We estimate at least 30 knots and we had to lean in to it to avoid capsizing. We could have battled it for about 3km before the coastline turned approximately N/S again and we could get shelter or even a bit of assistance, but it would have been really slow, exhausting progress with next stop an island 90km to the east if something went wrong.

Ironically as we were faced with the full wrath of the wind, a beautiful campsite came into view. A long steep gravel beach leading up to a green flat mossy platform, in a small inlet, somewhat sheltered from the relentless gusts. We laughed to each other, th inking about trolleying the kayaks up a rock face last night and somehow securing the tent to the rock with the kayaks. JF did an amazing job of setting up our "bear fence" on the kayaks with paddles, throwlines and the trolley. Our packalarm is a trip wire that is invisible but which emits a loud siren when a bear (Our more usually me or JF) walks through it. We could have paddled an extra 15 minutes last night and had a beautiful vast campsite! But we both agreed that we enjoyed last night's high spot and as it turns out, we get to enjoy this one too as the wind hasn't relented and its switched to a chilly NW. We plan to get up at 3am tomorrow and get on the water soon afterwards if the wind is calmer.

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