Justine’s Blog

“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.

The sky had cleared for the first time all day. There was still a layer of white cloud like a bracelet on the lower slopes and the sky was full of clouds various shades of white and grey but it looked promising. We could see more than a few kilometers ahead the first time all day. Smiling at the view of low headlands and steep rugged cliffs, out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a huge wall of white moving towards us from the ocean. Shaped like a giant nose on the surface, it swept across the sky before I could get my camera out. A sudden, chill wind ruffled the water and i started shivering. Everything was white again in an instant. We were back to keeping the coast on our right, and following a compass when crossing fjords.

We started with a 4 km hop across Nachvak fjord. this 60 km indent into the mountains is notorious for fierce katabatic winds. We joked that at least we wouldn’t have to worry about being blown offshore in a day with no sun. I checked my watch as we left 8:10 AM. Heading into the haze, My gaze shifted between my small deck mounted compass and the white gloom ahead. Different shades of gray in the clouds played tricks on me. Was that the side of a mountain way off to the left? My mind played tricks on me. Did I make the right adjustment for magnetic variation? Would the flood current sweep us off course into the fjord? Was the compass wrong? Yes, maybe and no. I checked the time. 8:40 AM. Still no clues that we were anywhere near land. I kept steadily paddling on, knowing I would feel uneasy, until we saw land. 8:47 AM. and I heard it. The distinctive swoosh of waves against land. It sounded like it was a head still see the details and slightly off to the right. I resisted the temptation to turn in Paddle towards the noise. Five minutes later that really was a mountain side looming out of the mist. It was dead ahead, and I felt my body relax. First crossing done.

It was a shame not to see these stunning mountains in their full splendor, but paddling below these giants shrouded in mist was also magical. Cloud hung in cracks and accentuated the sharp geometry. Spires of black rock reached up into the heavens before disappearing into the murk. Up close we could still see the onionskin weathering and sharp lines of black intrusions striping up the mountain sides.

We landed for lunch before rounding Gulch cape. We’ve learned that we can land and usually camp, in most wide valleys. But this stretch of coastline was different. Instead of a sand or gravel beaches, the valleys are fringed with low rock walls. We settled for a small “beach” of large smooth boulders beneath a deep gully of sharp rocks. Lunch was quick. Despite our lunch spot being sheltered from the wind, I was feeling very cold. I’m usually I kept on my storm kayak, the extra layer I put xxx on at lunch to trap my body heat. So did Larry and JF. The damp cold seems to cut to my core more than dry cold. The light wind and gentle swell was accentuated around Gulch Cape. Just enough to be a little exciting. Cruising along beside the cliffs, the sleek black back of a minke whale emerged just in front of Frank and I. The graceful arc of the fin was gone as quickly as it appeared.

We rejected a valley wed identified as a possible campsite. A steep slope of uneven boulders would have worked as a get out but didn’t appeal. We pushed on to Ramma, the former site of a mission and rock quarry. Rounding the last Headland, we wondered what we would find. A beautiful Crescent of gravel beach, backed by a low flat grassy bank was a welcome sight. A 10 m high waterfall gushed from a cleft in a low rocky cliff. I was already cold before we landed and didn’t have another layer to add. I unpacked my boat as fast as I could, and started fumbling with the stove to make hot water. Frank noticed me shivering and quietly took over stove duties so I could get changed. Half of our evening meals are quick to prepare freeze dried ration packs from happyyak. After mushroom and cheese risotto, JF and Frank went for a walk and discovered some old bricks and a rusty stove. I took a quick look at the photos and went to bed. I was very glad it’s my turn to be last watch so I got almost 8 hours in bed uninterrupted. Now it’s 6:30 AM I’m two hours into my watch. I have two hot water bottles inside my clothes. One is wrapped around the damp thermal trousers that I will have to put back on before paddling. I love being out here in the wilderness. It’s beautiful and exciting and makes me feel alive. We haven’t seen anybody else for 2 weeks, but there are times when I’d be very grateful for a hot bath and a clean dry set of paddling clothes!

It’s time to start making breakfast for everyone I think I’ll treat us with bacon and eggs or pancakes.

I am huddled under the tarp for a minute, my rain jacket,pulled tight around my face. It’s raining for practically the first time in two weeks. I’m grabbing brief moments of shelter in between scanning for Bright Eyes with a bright flashlight. Its time to go out, check on the fire and walk around the inside of our bear fence shining the light. its 2:30 AM., the thermoses are full of hot water, our wild rice, breakfast is rehydrated ready for tomorrow.

We rounded cape white handkerchief today. The first Cape with any sort of conditions. as we crossed the valley before it, a hot wind lasted us from the side. It was like being in an air-conditioned room in a hot country, and suddenly opening the doors. The warm gusts highlighted how frigid it’s usually is. . The wind and waves were in our face, and the kayaks bounced down into the chop water splashed up into our faces, and we had to dig deep. It was a beautiful place to work hard. A steep cliff towered up above us, Brown rock injected with vertical black stripes. Once around the Cape, the wind dropped but the sea remained lively with waves rebounding off the cliffs. I enjoyed the energy I love being able to make small course corrections, using the waves and the view got even better. A long line of tall steep mountains lay ahead of us. ribbon waterfalls tumbling down onto icebergs below. Smooth granite type rock on one Headland, a block sized black intrusion on the next. A lone, male polar bear sat on a rare grassy patch on a less steep section. He stood up as we saw him and strode along the cliffs in our direction catching I was sent he turned towards us and sniffed before continuing on His way. Visibility was a little better today. there was some texture in the sky with a few clouds visible. We could still only see a detail a few miles ahead. It had the effects that we could only appreciate the beauty of our immediate surroundings. New delights revealed them selves all day. It was like we could only open our presents one at a time. we stopped after about 34 km as the next decent beach was over 10 km further.

It’s starting to get a bit brighter outside but I still need the light to scan. Time to wake jf for his shift

I woke up hot this morning and had to take some layers off. It actually felt warm getting ready but the sun was hidden behind a veil of smoke. It could have been fog but we think it was smoke from forest fires in Quebec. The sky was an even vanilla color like parchment paper. The sun barely shone through as a small pink disc. For our first 10 km we paddled alongside a flat plain with steep mountains rising behind . We spotted several small caribou, their white winter coats, giving them away now that the snow has mostly disappeared. We paddled under the sun’s reflection through small waves flecked with shiny copper. Visability grew gradually worse. We had to make a 5 km crossing from Murray head. We could barely see the mountains we were aiming for a small band of gray appeared on the horizon, followed by the dull gray shape of the Headland. 15 minutes later, a few snow patches appeared. It wasn’t until we were right under the cliffs that we could make out vertical bands of rock and grassy slopes scattered with scree. I’m sure other beautiful mountains lay beyond hidden to us by the heavy air. It was warmer today despite the haze limiting the suns affect. I didn’t put on my storm cag at lunchtime. The wind blew up in our faces around the headlands, but gently without malice we were able to make good progress to a small bay we’d identified on the chart. Our total distance over 13 days is about 430 km so far. tomorrow we pass the highest mountains in the park. I really hope the smoke clears so we can enjoy that majesty.