Storyline: Hiking in Nunavut August 1-12, 1998
The air is still this morning. Banks of cloud march NE to SW and the sun shines through them, creating alternate bands of blue, white and grey. Waves stirred up by the strong breezes last night break on the shore, and the stream at our campsite trickles down its alternating rock and sand bed.
I am the first one up and about. Unusual for me, but not abnormal on this trip. Yesterday I woke at about this time, too. This morning I rearrange the tarp we are using as a windbreak (I bought an extra tarp in Pond Inlet before we crossed to Bylot, thinking I’d use it inside the tent as the floor had become damper and damper in the rain we’d experienced on Baffin). The wind has clocked almost 180º since last night. Then I fill the cookpots and put one on the stove to boil before going around waking the others.
It’s sunny and quite warm in our little coulee, so after a breakfast of scrambled eggs Mexicana (I added too much water so it was a little sloppy), bacon and (powdered) potatoes, I washed my hair and upper body in the stream. Ahh it felt good. Then we are off to the Aktineq glacier, about 8-10km as the crow flies but more like 15km walking distance.
We headed inland over reasonably dry tundra and the weather was beautiful. I was soon hiking in T-shirt and shorts. My backpack, containing the cookware, stove food, utensils plus my warmer clothing, coat and rain pants, felt good against my back, and protected me at our rest stops from whatever little breeze there was.
After a couple of hours we had a good view of the glacier. It wasn’t gleaming white as I had somehow expected, but was almost zebra-like, with dark lines running everywhere along grey-white ice. From this distance, the lines looked like they were made of gravel. There was also a huge gravel bed in front of the glacier, which must have been retreating for some time.
For our approach, we had a choice—high to the right along the slopes of the valley or low through the valley and straight to the base of the glacier. Michael, Tim and I elected to take the high route. The others went low. What a view we had as we approached! To our left the glacier expanded. Jim, Marian and Lindsay looked like ants as they made their way across the valley, occasionally disappearing for minutes as they traversed the streambeds that criss-crossed the area.
As we headed downhill the enormity of the glacier began to sink in a little. We descended to a warm green streambed running roughly parallel to the glacier’s face. It must have been formed decades ago by the runoff from the glacier’s face. Above us was a wall of boulders, 40’ high from which I eagerly anticipated reaching the face. I scrambled up, following Michael and Tim, and was more than a little surprised by what lay before me. There was about a kilometre of rocks and boulders between me and the glacier. This was the “gravel” we had seen from a distance. The boulder field was broken three or four more times by valleys that had once been at the face, but none of these were old enough to display much plant life.
The face of the glacier was now before us. A new stream ran down from our right, around a curve in the face. 50-60’ above us was the edge of a huge ice cliff, overhanging the stream that to our left had created a pool 150’x50’ that in turn cascaded into a torrent like none I’ve seen before. Reminded me of pictures and videos I’ve seen of British Columbia’s Hell’s Gate. Streams of water cascaded from the top of the glacier, creating waterfalls that glistened in the reflected sun. One of the streams had cut a hole in a ledge partway down, then burrowed through the ice and now poured from a hole further down in the face. In the half hour or so that we spent there, the hole doubled in size.
At our feet were several ice boulders, 15’ around, that had fallen from the glacier’s face. My T-shirt was damp with sweat from the warmth of my backpack, and I took it off to change into my dry sweatshirt. Marian snapped a photo of me, shirtless, leaning against one of the ice boulders. I’m sure it will look cold, but the sun was warm enough that out of the slight breeze, I was quite comfortable. Unfortunately, there was no way to cross the stream on to the glacier. Tim would have to save his crampons for another time.
We rock hopped back to the green valley to make lunch. As we cooked, clouds started to form to the northeast. By the time we were ready to move on, it was overcast and decidedly cooler. We set off; first following the cliffs above the tumultuous waters flowing from the glacier. It was wild down there, and definitely not a place I would like to be. It was at least 100 times more powerful than the creeks we did not want to risk crossing. Next, we headed back across the glacier’s valley.
We were all tired when we returned to the camp and there was a bitter wind coming off Eclipse sound. We re-erected the windbreak tarp and made dinner—alfredo primavera for most of us (didn’t taste like chili—hoorah!) and macaroni and cheese for Tim & Lindsay. As I finished my dinner I suddenly felt very chilled, so I headed straight for my tent and crawled, shivering into my sleeping bag. Marian brought me a hot water bottle, then at Jim’s suggestion, a cup of hot chocolate. I dozed for a while then talked with Tim for a couple of hours (Michael contributed periodically from his tent a few feet away) before finally dropping off at about 11.
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