Piugarpok (Looking for trouble)
Sunday, 3 April 2004
Almost to Demise, TwiceYesterday was unforgettable and unbelievable. The decision was made earlier in the week to try out cross-country skiing, and all the way up to Thursday the plans were good. Then, midday that day, we heard there would be a possible storm-front on Saturday, and quickly our plans deteriorated. But come Friday, the weather forecast improved and things were back on. After work and fitness training, the three of us (remaining from a group of 6 originally) went to the outdoor rec shop to pick up our gear. After an evening at game night, I got to sleep around 11 to get ready for the long day. But around 2AM, the late evening crew from the club came stumbling in pounding on doors, and needless to say I was up for a couple extra hours trying to get back to sleep. Around 4 the sun started coming up (speaking of which, we've had daylight now from 4AM to 11PM!). So when the alarm went off at half past 6, I was beat! But the trip ahead got me pumped up, and after a shower I was ready to go.
We had breakfast at the chow hall, and around 8 we were on our way to the docks of Dundas Mountain. Strapping on the skis for the first time was awkward, and getting started was just as uncoordinated, but after catching the rhythm, we were making good time. Our goal was visit one of the three portions of the Polar Ice Caps to the north of the base. Our journey led us across the vast expanses of the bay, which this time of year is frozen over, and the ice is about 5 feet thick. Along the way, we encountered several icebergs, standing tall and majestic, one of which was ten times as tall as me. (And icebergs are 5 times larger beneath the water's surface!) That's where we took our first break, about 2 hours into the expedition. After a short rest, we investigated the circumference of the berg, finding unreal discoveries. At what we determined to be the "front" side, we could see where the huge block of ice was slowly pushing forward, large chunks of bay ice pushed to the side. A thin stretch of actual water rounded the berg, and you could see down several feet before the disappeared to darkness. Then it caught our eye; something small darting from beneath the surface of the water. After a brief moment, we saw it again ... a fish! An "Arctic minnow"! It was tiny and appeared to be just a couple of large eyes and a tail fin, no longer than my thumb. Then there were two, then three. They kept coming out and dodging back, curious about seeing us, but scared none-the-less. They eventually got used to the idea we were there and were more comfortable being out for us to see. After taking a couple of photos, and the urge to press on, we continued across the whiteness toward our ultimate destination.
However, not even a third of the distance returning, we encountered a sudden snow storm. It started with some howling winds from the south (in the direction of the mainland and base), and soon were heard all around us. Visibility slowly diminished, too, and we were soon trekking in white out conditions, trying as best we might to stay the right course towards Dundas Mountain. Chris, being the most adapt at cross country skiing, had quite a distance on us, but we could still see him as a small icon in the distance. With no compass or GPS to guide our way, we had to use the little bit of sunlight that occasionally came through to guide our way. At one point we saw the side of the southern cliffs, vaguely, through the snow. During a brief rest break, I made my way forward to see if it wasn't only an illusion. I called back that it really was the mountains, and soon we found that, though we had backtracked a little, we were on the right track to get back to Dundas. Our spirits raised by our good fortune, but energy draining fast, we unceasingly advanced towards our starting point. Soon, after what seemed like hours, the weather broke, and we could see the outline of the icebergs in the bay. The rounding tip of the cliffs, which marked the final turn of our excursion, was looming in the distance. Legs exhausted from the continuation of finding new muscles, I unstrapped my skis, realizing I wasn't going much fast with them on than off. Thankfully, the skis were extremely light, and I hiked with them under my arm or over my shoulder.
Chris was the first to arrive at the tip, and we could see that he was taking advantage of his early arrive and sat down to rest. When we finally caught up, we followed suit, and sat down behind an icy barrier, which blocked the winds. Following a short breather, with which we recapped our "fun" up to this point, we gathered up our bags and broke out for the final stretch. At this point we all hiked, carrying our skis. It was still an hour to the truck, but the site of Mount Dundas kept our spirits alive. Climbing a small ridge, and walking a short rocky road, we reached the truck. Taking off the excess baggage and layers of clothes, changing out to dry shoes and squeezing in the cab, we called in to the base to let them know we were coming back (we're required to call in before and after leaving the base). The Dane on the other end reminded us that we were supposed to have called in at 1800, and it was now half past. We drove back toward the base, over a road of fresh snow, and layers of ice underneath. That snow was almost our undoing. Rounding the final corner before reaching the base, the truck slid toward the edge of a cliff, and we barely clung to the road after almost knocking over a reflector-guide, before the back tires spun us back to the road. What a day.
Getting back to the dorms, I slowly made my way up a flight of stairs, into my room, and tried to remove the layers of sweaty, frozen clothing. After a refreshing shower, I was quickly comatose in the room's recliner (nicknamed "old blue"). Ten hours of skiing/hiking will do that to ya. I think I earned the 13 hours of sleep that night?