The orange glow in the sky lit up the ice bergs that were beached on the rocks. We can see well enough to paddle at 2am, I noted! I think this is the earliest I’ve ever got up to paddle but it doesn’t make that much difference when it’s barely dark for a couple of hours a night and when we went to bed at 6pm! We rub the sleep from our eyes, cook and shovel down some oatmeal, pack up our sleeping stuff from the cabin and carry the kayaks 100 metres over some smooth rocks to the ocean. We are leaving close to high tide, hence our early morning. During the night, heavy rain drummed on the cabin roof, I woke just long enough to feel glad I wouldn’t have to pack away a wet tent and to hope it had stopped by morning. I was in luck and we launched onto a barely rippled sea under a pink and blue sky dotted with cotton wool clouds. It was one of those mornings where we should have made great progress with a favorable current and a gentle breeze behind us but someone stopped every few minutes to take another photo or video clip. Just when you thought you were done, another sculpted ice berg appeared glinting in the early morning sun.

It was classic Ungava bay geography today. The coast is all fairly even height, an endless low rocky ridge with a few undulations. The bare rock is light tan colored below the high tide mark and stained black with lichen above it. we lost sight of shore for half of the day, forced ever outward by hectare after hectare of reef, skirting a rock wall that guided us several kilometers from the mainland. The winds gradually picked up and joined forces with the current to give us a good push in the right direction. We landed after almost 6 hours as the favorable current faded out and had lunch on a Rocky shore at 9.30am! Scanning the map ahead, Frank noticed another cabin 18km ahead that Felix had told us about. The thought of another full night of sleep was all the motivation we needed to push on, out and around more offshore reefs, almost through a beautiful gully filled with giant ice bergs. We paddled into Bray inlet, scanning for the cabin. Jf spotted it and we happily powered towards it only to find a 400 metre wide, 1.5 metres tall rapid barring our entrance any further into the bay. We found a spot where we could carry the kayaks 50 metres over a low rubbly rock wall and spent an hour getting ourselves and all our gear the last 200 metres to the cabin. But it was worth it. It’s windy enough to keep all but the hardiest bugs away. Frank cooked over a fire, we had a relaxing few hours sorting out gear and we worked out if we leave close to high water tomorrow we should be able to paddle right over the rapids.

We finished paddling at 11.30 this morning which might make us sound lazy. But the alarm went off at 3.30am and we were paddling away before 5am. We set up our tents inside our tiny cabin last night, fly sheets almost touching, to protect ourselves from the many mosquitoes who appeared for the first time yesterday afternoon. They were celebrating the sun which appeared with a flourish and warmed our bones, bronzed our faces, dried our gear and charged our batteries. I flew my drone to see where the nearest water source was ( at least that’s my excuse) and JF and I went for a short hike to fill the water bladders. The msr gravity filter system worked great. We wandered around and enjoyed the rolling grey and green tundra speckled with blue ponds of various shapes and sizes.

Today a fresh wind behind us nudged us on our way, past endless low mounds of rock; long pointy islands, big black domes, and small smooth tan colored rocks that will be hidden by a rising tide. There’s not a tree to be seen and only dwarf plants like juniper, Heather and Labrador tea can get a foot hold. As we head north we see more and more ice. Offshore is a large bank of white, maybe a big chunk of sea ice from the winter that hasn’t broken up yet. We paddle past car size icebergs beached on islands, sparkling in the sun. They are getting bigger and more frequent. We stopped early today after 30km because there’s another cabin here. This time a bright red one, well maintained and mosquito and mice free. It’s on a tiny island with a Stella view of other craggy isles rimmed with glimmering ice. It’s the last cabin we will pass for 4 or 5 days so we’re making the most of feeling secure from the bears and getting a full nights sleep without being on watch. We’ll leave early again tomorrow close to high tide so we don’t have far to walk and we can make the most of the ebb current which flows north.

Morale is good. IT’s been Sunny the last 2 days until about an hour ago when it turned overcast and cold. We all put 2 jackets on! Time to cook dinner and get an early night!

“Justine, it’s your turn”, JF gently rubbed my shoulder. I quietly grunted acknowledgement, not wanting to wake up Frank and Larry in the next door tent. Jf left over to kiss me and his cold nose was like an one pack against my cheek. I shivered as I threw on more clothes and pulled my drysuit over my bottom half. It’s my turn for the last shift which is 1am-3am this time. It’s the second best option after the first watch which was 7-9pm. We won’t always leave so early but we’re getting into a rhythm with the tides. Yesterday afternoon we landed around 4pm on a steep smooth ramp of rock, just before the vast muddy rock strewn plain below it was revealed by the falling tide. Three hours later, at low tide, this Boulder field extended several hundred meters. In the bay next to us, it stretched over 1.5km. With a 9.5m tidal range landing at a steep shoreline at midtide or higher makes our lives much easier. We are aiming to leave at 4.30am to avoid multiple long, tiring slippery portages with 4 kayaks and bags full of 28 days did and gear. Loaded each kayak weighs close to 200lbs with at least 1 bag on our back deck and another in the cockpit. Larry’s back deck was so low on day one that I could barely see his seam.

As I crawled out of the tent at 1am the sea was still and silent with a thin layer of mist dancing on the surface. It doesn’t get fully dark here, I could see low lying peaks on the mainland and a few other islands across the water. The red hilleberg tents on a somewhat flat section of rock are easy to spot with the rainbow fleet of Boreal design epsilons lying just below. Scanning for bears, I note that I would easily see a silhouette if one approached. I walked over to the kitchen area where our one seat I’d set up beside the 1000 lumens flashlight and two shotguns, one loaded with noisy bear bangers and one with lethal ammo. There are no bullets in the chamber and we hope not to use either. Frank filled up my thermos with hot tea earlier and I sip half of it down greedily. There’s a thin layer of one on the tent and It staves of the cold for a few more minutes.

I was dreading night watch as I need my sleep. Surprisingly I’m enjoying the peace, alone time and the chance to take in my surroundings. I reflect on the day, stretch a bit, sort out my maps and fill my water bag for the next day, and today I took selfies with the gun against the pink sky.

Update at the end of the day. After two days of slow progress in headwinds and the need to detour long distances around ever expanding islands, we had a calm day today with a favorable current. We made it about 40km to a cabin that Felix told us about. That means no bear watch tonight and a bit more sleep! we’re having fun, enjoying the new landscape and all getting on well.

We are on our way! JF and I are in transit to Ottawa for a few days with all of our luggage for our month-long kayaking #Tongait expedition.
Thanks so much to all of our sponsors for great gear #wernerpaddles #fjallraven #hilleberg #sealline @icommarine @sealsskirts @loksak_inc @hornbyorganic @thermarest @northwater1 #borealdesignkayaks #msr_gear #kokatatusa