Weather is on the Change

February 14, 2017

Looking at the mountain weather forecast for the coming days was not great reading. Cloud free summits at between 10% and 30%, rain heavy at times and wind speeds hitting gale force levels as the days went on. Perfect Scottish walking conditions.

The plan was to go for 4 munros for the day. Heading up the valley we soon spotted a vey clear path on the opposite side of the river to the part we were walking on. Our track soon came to an end as we trudged back to the start.

Finding our way through yet more wet sticky bog to reach the path we had seen became an interesting challenge in itself with elements of the route feeling more like a series of small streams. We finally made it onto the path and route up the valley we had spotted previously. It was also at this point that we spotted the route we could have taken if we had continued slightly further a long our original route on the other side of the river.

All about us small streams trickled off the mountain side allowing us to stop for an occasional drink from these whilst basking in the sunshine. It was starting out to be a glorious day. Heading up the onto the saddle between a few hills the wind hit us. Clearly we had been sheltered by this in the lower valley.

A head of us lay a large swathe of boggy ground before the initial ascent of ciste dubh. The start of the route zig zagged its way up through soft, thick brown sludge. As we came over a crest of the main ridge taking us too the top lay in front of us. It was a spectacular sight.

Overhead the clouds were beginning to build and the wind pick up. We continued trudging on up with a shear drop to one side and a steep slope to the other and views over the nearby lochs it was building up to be the favourite summit of the tour. The thought of these being snow covered and skiing down these slopes would be incredible with the right conditions.

The final part of the ridge was marked by a series of false summits. Each once getting our hopes up before another peaked its head above again. Finally reaching the top, the views were spectacular. After spending the previous day on a ridge line being on a single Munro surrounded by the other peaks was incredible despite meaning we had to go all the way back down before making another ascent.

Despite some of the challenges on the way up, the down was remarkably quick. And we were soon heading up the other side, a steep grassy slope towards the next summit. The winds were really beginning to build up and we only stopped briefly at the top before heading up toward the next summit. As we dropped onto the saddle the winds would increase until we were back into the shade of the ascent. Each time we got buffeted by the wind the temperature would plummet.

We were on a role but as we made our way towards the third summit of the day the wind was beginning to be a considerable force which with a considerable drop on the down wind side was certainly less than welcome. The winds were due to pick up to around 50mph. With this beginning to occur and a natural route down off the hills we made the decision to call it a day and head down.

The route off was initially a lot better than the previous day with a gentle decent back into the valley. This became less than ideal as we hit a fenced off wood land. Skirting round this was definitely possible but the ground was sodden and despite the wet weather a number of bugs and beetles sought refuge in our clothing, faces and hair. You could feeling them crawling all over us. Each one raising a number of expletives as we were attacked from all angles and our feet sank deep into muddy puddles.Hitting the main road was a delight.

Despite our delight it was short lived as we became shocked at the amount of rubbish that lay just next to the roadside amongst the beautiful highlands.

Don't leave a trace.

Munro's

Ciste Dhubh

Aonach Meadhoin

Visiting far places and cycling Great Glens

February 9, 2017

After a day of enforced rest due to yet more high winds. We opted for a tour to the furthest westerly point in mainland UK. Ardnamurchan.

This gorgeous peninsular involved a short ferry trip before creeping along the roads that meandered along the coastline. It was gorgeous particularly as the colours were changing as autumn approached. Behind us lay a bank of cloud while the sun shone down on this peninsular.

We finally arrived at the end point. A lighthouse perched on a rocky outcrop and protected on all sides by stone built walls. We even became aquatinted to the local goat population. Before heading to a nearby beach to enjoy the white sandy beaches of Scotland. Almost like Barbados just a tad on the cooler side of things.

The next day we woke early from our cosy glamping hut at wigwam. Our sights set on some nearby hills. Coming to our first option the wind began to increase and so we adapted our plan to a nearby summit. Later we found out this one was renowned for being windy. Making our way up the wind was increasing dramatically and the cloud level dropping. As we got closer to the top and with and the wind increasing substantially I thought it wiser to come down rather than to keep slogging for the sake of it. We managed it a few days later under slightly calmer conditions. The route up would have been ok particularly as the slightly more technical part of the route was in the lee of the wind.

We made up for it with a fantastic cycle from Killin to Lochearnhead along a fantastic cycle route. The going was great heading quickly through the valley past streams and squeezing over cattle grids. We came across a Canadian cycling round Europe and was looking to head further north before it became too cold we headed our separate ways wishing him luck. With only an occasional shower and with the sun poking its head out we could enjoy the change of pace. Turning round we realised it had been a bit more of a downhill than we realised and the wind had been behind us. It was going to be tight with the bike hire place shutting. The last mile we lost our luck with the weather and it chucked it down.

Finishing up we headed to our accommodation for the night. With views over the loch it was a gorgeous setting despite the clouds.

We certainly felt fresher for the more relaxed day and the cosy accommodation.

Munro Bagging

February 7, 2017

We started the week with an ambitious plan of routes, with the aim of bagging as many munro's as we could whilst meandering our way through the Scottish highlands. We had slight trepidation with the weather set to change for the worst. After a couple of weeks of good weather and the bank holiday on the horizon it was a big ask for a further week of dry weather.

Setting off for the most northerly point on our quest in our trusty Landy towards Glen Shiel and the gateway to the Isle of Skye. Arriving to a glorious evening where we ate at the nearby pub over looking Loch Duich before preparing for the next days long outing.

We woke the next morning to an autumnal feel. Dew glistened on the grass and leaves whilst the colours looked like they were changing to slight hues of reds, oranges and yellows. It was looking to be a perfect day for a walk. Arriving at the start point we noticed a few other walkers covered from head to toe as if it was a freezing day. Getting out of the car we soon realised why they were covered as the Scottish midges were out and descended on us as fresh targets. I was nibbled within the few minutes I left my arms exposed.

To escape the midges we quickly departed the car park and headed the meandering path towards the foot of the first munro. With hardly a breathe of wind we could hardly enjoy the view for a moment before they descended on us again, trying to nibble any exposed skin. The path began to zig zagging its way up onto the ridge line where we were to follow for the day.

Seven munro's stood before us on the South Glen Shiel ridge. Each hidden by the one before preventing us from seeing our finish point, which we were very thankful of in many ways. The day turned out to be a scorcher as our water began to run low and we certainly heated up. Each summit was a mixture of rounded tops to the odd scramble. Despite this we met a few other walkers including a group on very good form despite not liking the occasional element of exposure.

After a day of relatively good weather the final summit clouded over. With the guide book advising on a more direct route down to the main road we made a bid in this direction and soon picked up the start of a rough path. This however disappeared clearly at a point where people either turned back or everyone took on the ethos of "everyone for themselves". Making our down steep boggy ground with no signs of it finishing. Until we came across a sheep track that meander alongside a beautiful stream where we could top up on some more water. Not without its challenges as the bottle top fell off and floated down stream before securing it with a walking pole before it descended the next small water fall. The final section finished with a small detour through woodland. Slipping and sliding our way down through the wet under growth before arriving at the road side. We had been joined by a couple from Edinburgh for the final descent who we had a quick celebration with before attempting to hitch hike back to the cars to finish the evening.

The pint of coke in the bar never tasted so good.

7 munro's down:

Creag a' Mhaim,
Druim Shionnach
Anoach Air Chrith
Maol Chinn-dearg
Sgurr an Doire Leathain
Sgurr an Lochain
Creag nan Damh

Sky Run - Peak District

October 13, 2016

With trail and ultra running ever growing in the UK it was only a question of time before the sky running series made its way to our shores. Big in the Alps the race formats are normally marathon plus distances in the mountains with the aim of taking in peaks and ridges along the way. At one extreme you have the Salomon sky run along the Aeonach ridge, a grade 3 scramble to others which are much less technical. This weekend was much less technical in comparison but with 29 miles and 2000m of ascent it wasn't to be sniffed at. Especially when this height gain to distance ratio puts it in a slightly more aggressive category than UTMB or the Lakeland 100. Admittedly despite that fact being floated about, those races are a much more incredible feat of human determination and endurance.

A short recce the day before took me to the top of the first climb, Solomons Temple near Buxton with great views over the course of the following day. A final bit of race preparation was enjoying an incredible meal at the Samuel Fox inn, potentially a tad much for a pre-race meal but with this being my first outing back into ultra racing for a couple of years my aim was to enjoy the day and start getting back into it.

Wondering amongst the competitors it was great to chat and hear stories of competitions completed and planned for the coming year. From quick dash fell runs to the rather more brutal races such as King Offas Dyke 185 mile race or the 268 mile Spine race in January along the pennine way.

The race commenced and we made our way quickly up to Solomons Temple with short pauses as we were funnelled onto single track. Despite the forecast being of overcast conditions I was glad I had packed some sunglasses for the day with the sun beaming down on us. As we rounded the temple with a bagpiper playing up top we began to spread out as we started our decent already. This was going to set the stage for the day with every ascent marked soon afterwards by a descent and slightly demoralisingly loosing all the height just gained.

The route took a course along ridges, through moorland, bogs and of course up a number of hills.

With a well marked course we could concentrate on the running and getting our feet in the right spot. With plenty of opportunities for twisted ankles amongst the rocky tracks being light on our feet and an emphasis on twinkle toes was the name of the game.

The only slight mistake came when chatting to another competitor about his up coming race in Oman. Taking the wrong turn we led out towards a farm building only to realise we had gone half a mile in the wrong direction. Slightly devastating as was the sight of maybe 20 odd runners who had followed on behind us. Quickly making up the ground we had lost we all made our way back into the course and meandered back down the hill side.

Running through one boggy area I came across a pair of Oakley sunglasses that had clearly dropped off one of the runners in front and were gently perched on some long grass. Picking them up I handed them into a later checkpoint. You never know when you might be in a similar situation. I didn't have to wait long!

About 10 mins later the course was incredibly beautiful and one I would have certainly wanted to capture more of it wasn't for the fact I dropped my phone. Fortunately it was picked up by one of the other competitors not far behind me. A quick snap and with it firmly packed away for the remainder of the race after learning my lesson and not fancying a repeat before heading on.

The course meandered on and my pace ebbed and flowed as the terrain and distance took its toll. The three food and drink checkpoints on the route hit the spot every time. With the opportunity to refuel on chunks of banana, succulent orange slices, flapjack, soreen and of course a wide array of other goodies. I try to make these as quick as possible and continue to eat as I walk along out of the checkpoint. Partly this is to not get too comfortable and I would much prefer to finish sooner.

Chatting with some of the fell runners it was great to see them descend in front of me. I still don't understand how they did it so quickly other than through a bit of experience and raw tenacity to descend quickly! I envisaged face planting a rock face first if I tired the same so clearly an area I can improve on.

The route went past quiet a few climbing and bouldering spots with chalk marks on some and people clambering about in the sunshine on others. Unfortunately it would have to be for another time.

As the day wore on I went over on my ankle. With my run going well this was pretty disappointing but deciding to walk it off for a bit I soon managed to break into a trot again. Some of the rocky ground though became much trickier to negotiate as my ankle seemed to get twisted on even the smallest of stones.

Finally the town of buxton came back into sight. I was delighted despite not being able to increase my pace a huge amount. One guy asked if we were to have a sprint finish. As much as I wanted to my legs and ankles had run out of juice. I was happy to finish the race at a plod.

Within moments of crossing the finish line I was welcome by a flat coke, my trainers coming off and my wife looking at me in a slightly sorry and apparently "grey" looking state.

Despite the ankle it was awesome getting back into the running again having been out of ultra running for a couple of years. I was remembering all the elements i had learnt about through training runs, competitions and chats with numerous runners and trainers. I finished middle of the pack which may not have been my best result ever but it was one I will certainly remember. I would certainly recommend checking out the sky running series with a greta mix of terrain and distances.

Helvellyn Circuit

September 9, 2016

With a weekend of spectacular weather on the cards and a wide range of walks across the Yorkshire moors, Dales or the Lake District to choose from we were certainly spoilt choice. After much debating over these options and gaining some local knowledge we set our sights on Helvelyn in the Lake District. With a choice of routes to go up Helvellyn including the famous striding edge it was set to be a fantastic outing.

Waking the next morning and rushing for the curtains I was welcomed to a view of low cloud and overcast hills. Not quite what we expected. Stepping outside the cool weather was perfect for walking and so I began filling a couple of flasks with hot water in preparation for some cooler ascents.

As we headed out along the a66 with awesome views over the Pennines the cloud began to lift. As we drove down onto the western side of the pennines we were greeted to glorious sunshine. The temperature began rising and the thought of no sun cream along with the hot flasks of water all began to seem like daft ideas.

Arriving in Glenridding the car parks were jam packed with rucksack and map carrying hikers. Brilliant to see but dashing our thoughts of being in the wilderness. Gathering a few final essential supplies including the sun cream and chocolate bars we were ready to begin. The chocolate unfortunately did not make the journey as it was eaten in advance before we started.

We headed on up the valley.

Wondering along side the stream that flowed through the village. Huge chunks of it were missing and the foundations of some houses completely exposed showed just how powerful this meandering stream had become in the floods over the winter. There was still a decent amount of work to be done before everything was back in order. Still evident from the number of trucks, diggers and reinforcements being put in place.

The route up was a path that carved its way up the hillside with only a short detour taking us away from the swathes of groups heading up the hill. In front and behind of us were a steady stream of harden walker to enthusiastic opportunist, young and old, tourist and local as well as a few dogs thrown in for good measure.

As we reached a small plateau in front of us we could see striding edge with the silhouette of walkers making their way across it. The sun was beaming down on us and it's safe to say the sweat was beginning to stream off me at least.

The edge itself was great fun, certainly in this weather. Despite being occasionally exposed it wasn't like tryfan or crib goch in Wales and in this dry and sunny weather it made for a great outing. Despite this you there were reminders to tougher times with a memorial to Mr Dixon who fell off it in 1858 whilst running with hounds, as well as the occasional scrape from crampons left over from a previous winters. It would certainly be a challenge in cold, wet and icy conditions. One for another day! Darting over the rocks we paused occasionally to soak up the views and let some of the blockages on route ease up. The final chimney proved to be the biggest pinch point of the ridge yet despite this we watched as one guy virtually ran along the length of the ridge swerving round people while a rather elderly looking gentleman made this chimney look a piece of cake. There were of course many others for whom this was not quite so simple but seeing the elation and satisfaction from everyone on conquering striding edge was awesome to see.

Making the final ascent up to the summit which flattens into a great plateau we reached the top. To beautiful views over the surrounding valleys. Sitting down with our feet dangling over one of the slopes we munched on some sandwiches as we watched the start of some fell runners coming up from the other side looking remarkably fresh. We briefly joined the throng of supporters cheering on the competitors before they made their descent.

Surveying the surrounding routes we opted to not go for the well trodden path up Catstye Cam but to meander round along a flat ridge line. The sights and smells brought back memories from many a previous trip up into the hills.

On reaching what we thought would be our final summit, with us both still feeling pretty fresh and the day still young we set our sights on a further peak and ridge line. Passing school groups and walkers relaxing on the slopes whilst soaking up the afternoon rays of sunshine. It was definitely far too hot for the still steaming bottles of hot water I had packed in the cool yorkshire morning.

We made our way along a final ridge with hardly a soul about. It felt much more like the walk we had both expected being slightly more out in the wilderness. With the sun beaming down on us the occasional sip on cool stream water was incredibly satisfying.

The final descent into town was through a field packed full of blue bells lit by the soft evening sunshine. It was a pretty spectacular find for the end of the day, especially as this bit had been an unplanned extension to the day. Before the final descent into town.

Sitting down to a plate of chips and a pint of coke was a delight. We could relax enjoying the evening and the feeling you get from being outdoors all day. A mix of tiredness and satisfaction at what has been achieved. All that was left to do was get some flip flops on, essential after any walking trip and head back to yorkshire for the night.

Scottish Ski Touring

May 13, 2016

After much deliberating over the last few years I finally took the a spur of the moment to get some ski skins after chatting to one of the team at a local ski and mountaineering shop in Perth. For those who haven't heard of these, it is a material where all the hairs lie in one direction so when stuck to the base of the ski they allow the ski to slide in one direction but hold in the other. Along with a touring binding the whole setup allows your foot to pivot up and down so you can trek up hill.

The first trial trip was just at the end of a beautiful days skiing at glenshee however this coincided with the wind picking up. With the temperature plummeting and the skins flapping around I learnt a lot about the equipment and using it in poor conditions. Some of which I should have checked in the warmth of the house! The short notice of good conditions in the hills meant for a quicker trip and slightly rushed prep as I cut the skins to shape at midnight the evening before heading off.

After the initial delay I was off. Gliding along the snow, over snow drifts, heather, ice and rock. I was rewarded with views from the high point across the valley. You could see the snow line across the valleys and the winding road up to glenshee. The nearby stream gleaming in the sunlight. All topped off by a great ski down. The little bit of effort rewarded with untouched Scottish powder, not quite the depths of the alps or further afield but powder nonetheless. I passed a couple making a similar journey up the hills.

The second outing was much better with perfect weather and the snow was due to be good in bits despite the recent warmer conditions. Being in the hills covered in snow is a beautiful sight as was meeting a few like minded people up there. I stopped to discuss route options and snow conditions with a fellow ski tourer. It also gave me the chance to cool down despite the cool breeze I was vastly over dressed for the constant trekking and "warm" weather. If it had been the arctic I would have definitely been sweating far too much. As it brought back memories of the tougher days we had whilst trying to minimise any sweating to an absolute minimum in order to prevent our clothes from freezing.

Some of the more exposed slopes were quite icey. I don't mind skiing down ice but skinning up hill in a zig zag fashion makes the turns quite interesting. Still perfecting my technique I slid back occasionally on the turns as I shifted round.

It was slightly gutting every time about the loss in hard won height despite it only being a tiny difference. Once at a decent height it was time to head down hill. Skins off, realising I had forgotten the gauze that makes them easier to pull apart, I packed them away eager to hit some fresh snow. Heading down into some of the bowls the skiing improved and I could carve out some turns down the hill between clumps of heather. Before slowly making my way back to the car.

It was a great experience learning a new skill but there is the greater satisfaction knowing you put in the hard graft to experience and reach the area you wanted to ski in. I learnt about how using normal ski boots although does work is not only much heavier but you don't have nearly as much flex in the ankle which ended up giving me a couple of blisters.

End of a good day

Despite skiing in Scotland being a bit of an experience compared to the likes of the alps. It often involves some rock, streams and heather avoidance. Its close, you can get some incredible conditions particularly if your willing to put some effort in and I will certainly be doing it again! Skiing and ski touring in particular in Scotland is certainly on the increase with the snow lasting well past spring if your willing to go away from the ski areas. As well as allowing you to visit areas with potentially more snow and certainly a lot less skied on gives that adventure and exploration experience.

If you have some ski or other touring experiences why not share the story or the pictures here or on Instagram #Mytour

Reflections on 2015

February 25, 2016

2015 can only be summed up as a year of some serious highs and lows. It began with an incredible expedition which at points had some interesting ups and downs. Despite that Jamie and myself had learnt a great deal, saw some amazing sites and experienced the Arctic in all its harsh beauty. Although it wasn't a trip that broke records and I'm not sure if we were or weren't the first people to ski up the east coast of Baffin Island the experience humbled us. It showed what was important in an expedition; seeing new places, meeting new people from different cultures and pushing our comfort zones. We were helped by a huge number of people back in the UK and all across Canada and particularly on Baffin Island

On getting back to the UK I felt raring to go. I had a game plan of what I wanted to do for the remainder of the year. First up and even I would admit a rather bizarre one which was a desire to make croissants from scratch. This came about part the way through the trip in a rather random train of thinking during a ski session and it had stuck.

Then followed it up with an interview on radio scotland.

Not long after getting back and following what sounded like a seriously tough eight months of physical and mental preparation my brother passed out of the Royal Marines. It was a fantastic weekend watching them march out, heads held high and their pristine uniforms. Despite the torrential rain it was still an awesome sight.

Once the formalities had finished he showed us some of the areas they had been trained on to give us a snippet of an insight into their daily training regime. It was like an adults playground and looked incredible, I can only try and imagine the sight of it early on a cold wet morning is probably a lot less appetising.

I got into some new sports which made for a change of thinking, one of which was trying my hand at a spot of kite surfing. Dragging face first through water was a new experience. Never the less a good one as I'm keen to do some more and hopefully some kite skiing at some stage.

There was then a huge curve ball. One that has continued to make me think deeply about family, friends and loved ones. My dad was diagnosed with a stage four brain tumour. It was one of those things that you don't see coming, there had been no signs just one day after work a call from my mum. It has changed my perspective on, well everything.

My plans, ideas and thoughts evaporated in the space of a short phone call.

Up till Christmas has been spent with regular trips back to Scotland, visiting hospitals, Macmillan centers and hospices as well as time spent researching into the diagnosis and the possible treatments available. I can't comprehend the number of friends which have stepped up and helped everything from just being on the end of the phone to many a kind gesture, for that no words can describe how lucky and thankful we are for that.

As I said it made me stop and think. Like an expedition you begin to appreciate the simple things. Moments of happiness and laughter are held tighter than before and time together is suddenly invaluable. There has been some serious laughter and of course some tears too. I realised that something's I planned on doing I was waiting for no reason.

Since going back to work after my expedition I have been living and working in Yorkshire. I had been thinking of it for a while but I decided that I wanted Laura to be permanently in my life. I got her up to Yorkshire and after a bit of persuading she agreed on marrying me in 2016.

Now you maybe thinking why am I telling you this? Is it some sob story, raising awareness of the work cancer charities do or the NHS. Although they all do a fantastic job. However the answer is no. As I write this I've had a video of my dad walking again which may sound small but it is something I am incredibly proud of and amazed at his strength to continue and aspire to better things. He has since been walking down the road, which a few months ago we were only hoping for. I don't know why I feel compelled to tell the story other than to ask that after reading this you pause, reflect and learn from our families experience. Try and spend time with friends, family, loved ones and do stuff that is important to you. There is one thing certain in life but how we get there is what's important.

Everyone's life is for living and open to adventure whatever that might be.

The Final Push

May 28, 2015

It almost felt surreal waking in the tent that morning. It was our last night on the ice in our tent or at least we hoped so as we were only 10km from Pond Inlet. Going about our morning activities as we had for the previous 70 days in a now almost ritualistic and exacting manner. The only difference was there was no hurry. We lay in our sleeping bags drinking tea, despite the fact we had run out of earl grey and were now onto chai. Putting off the inevitable for once not because it was cold but more the fact that by the end of the day that would be it. This was quite a weird and in many ways a scary though as we had been consumed by this adventure from the early stages of congregating round maps in pubs and kitchen tables to where we were on the ice. Finally escaping from the warm cosy environment of our down sleeping bags we began packing up. We had hoped to wake to blue skies to take us in the final few km’s but as we exited from our tent we were greeted to a grey dull sky. This was not going to help capture those last few photos and footage that we had planned. The tent went away for the last time it had kept us sheltered for the duration of the trip. Despite the fact that each night was only temporary it had become our home, everything had its place and even with the freezing temperatures it had a safe and almost homely feel about it once inside. There was even enough for a final snow angel before setting off for the day!

Trudging our way back onto the ice we could already make out the buildings of Pond Inlet with the low cloud behind them. We stopped occasionally to get a few photos yet as the hours ticked by and our supplies of flapjack and chocolate eaten, the community never seemed to get that much closer. There was a thick covering of snow on the ice which had been dumped by the numerous weather systems that had come over the surrounding mountains releasing their soft fluffy load over the area.

It still amazed us in this environment how the size and scale of everything around us twisted our perspective making covering ground always seem to be a slow process until you were almost on top of what you were aiming for. It was almost a surprise when we finally could make out cars, lorries and a few dogs on the outskirts of Pond. The buildings were perched on the shore line looking out over to Bylot Island. It must be beautiful in the summer without all the ice as a whole variety of wildlife come through the area including whales and narwhals.

We were making our way towards the RCMP building who had kindly been holding some of our gear for the return journey to the UK when we were met by a couple of skidoos. It was the same guys who had met us at our last supply depot on our way from Clyde River to Pond Inlet almost 3 weeks previously. To our delight we had arrived just before the dog sled race, which was due to start that evening. Out on the ice we could already make out a crowd gathering of dogs, people, cars and skidoos all congregating for the start of it. This included our friends Jake and Shari who we soon found out had been drawn to start last out of the 12 or so competitors.

The entries had come from far and wide across the territory ranging from Clyde River to Arctic Bay for this annual event. For some of the teams this year just getting to the start line had been a challenge with rough ice and poor weather coinciding together. You wouldn't have guessed it as the sun was coming out and the temperature felt positively warm. The dogs would be struggling in the heat as they pulled some heavy loads despite it still being -20C. Most importantly it's a time when family members can reunite, keep the old methods of travel alive and also the chance to win a cash prize.

We helped out for a bit, including when a dog managed to escape from its owner only to cause havoc with the other teams about it as each pack in turn tried to chase after it. Feeling the pull of the 10 dogs as we stood on their lines holding them back from joining in the chaos was seriously impressive. I thought at one stage it might take me off my feet. Fortunately the dog decided to hide under a sled before, with a bit of team work, one local inuit moved the sled whilst the other pounced on the husky as soon as it was out in the open. The atmosphere was incredible with hundreds of dogs barking with growing excitement for the race to start. It felt like the whole town was out in force with massive 4x4’s lining up on the ice as well as all the spectators young and old.

First to take off on the skidoo’s was an army of support team members carrying extra supplies, food and gear. Although each rider is self-sufficient in case of emergency or for some of the more secluded parts of the race, the skidoo teams set up camp for the dog sled teams each night. As the skidoos headed off into the distance the dogs pulled harder on the lines thinking that they were off next. One team managed to pull so hard it took their driver along the ground with them until others managed to help stop them all.

We weren't able to see the start of the race as it was getting late and we needed to head back to our sleds and on towards the RCMP station. It was perched on the coast line with the Canadian flag flying high and proud in this glorious weather that had come out for the start of the race.

We had come to the end of our ski expedition and it was bizarre thinking that tomorrow there would be no skiing, although its not quite so strange as reaching the summit of a mountain where you still have to climb back down, you have in your head a big crescendo the reality is its just like any other day.

There is no big finish line, crowds of people to great us or anything like that. Just an imaginary point on the land. Standing outside the RCMP station we gave each other a hug and a congratulations before wondering up the steps.

We were greeted by the RCMP officers Paul, Jason and Andrew who were incredibly kind and looked after us throughout our stay in Pond Inlet.

Pond Inlet 1938, how things have changed!

Our next challenge.... returning to civilisation, starting with a warm shower and a comfy bed!

Entering the Northwest Passage

May 6, 2015

Time seems to have gone incredibly quickly since we left our depot on the final section of the expedition as we continued our trudge north. We had been informed by the skidoo riders we met at the hut as well as from Shari, one of our friends from Clyde River, who's husband Jake along with Sarah and Boomer who were making their way with their dog sled teams to Pond Inlet to expect some bad ice. Every time we came towards a spot or closer to a headland where it tends to accumulate we wondered if it was going to hit. We knew roughly where it might be but without knowing it's exact start point we kept wondering if we had passed it or if not how much would it slow us down. With both our finite number of supplies as well as having to start finalising departure plans from Pond inlet we were watching our daily mileage carefully.

Another Headland and the potential of rough ice

Rounding a headland our route options split. The faint outline of the dog teams trail hugged the shoreline through the "rough" ice where as a skidoo trail from the hunters we had bumped into headed out into the frozen sea of Baffin Bay. Maybe this was the start. After a day of trudging through it it didn't seem that bad and if this was as bad as it got then we could cope with that. Camping up we felt pleasantly surprised and satisfied with the situation as well as our mileage for the day. Falling asleep thinking was this as bad as it would get? We both hoped so. Dreams of the perfect ice kept floating through our minds. Depending on your thinking spending your nights dreaming as well as physically walking across ice during the day could be bliss or a nightmare, it all depended on how smooth the journey was. The next day we rounded a point and our questions were answered. The ice resembled a mountain range shrunken down to the scale of car sized peaks. This picture went as far as the eye could see. Basically our worst nightmare. On top of this the wind was blowing into our faces. Meaning that despite the hot work we had to wear face masks and goggles that steamed up before ice froze on the inside during our breaks. With no sign of an obvious path there was nothing for it but to get stuck in.

For the remainder of the day we spent it happily dragging our sleds up, down and around this field of ice debris. With sleds rolling over, dogs getting tangled and skis crossed there was a lot of huffing, puffing and a number of choice words being used. It had only reached 3pm with a couple of sessions still to go and it felt like we had gone 8 rounds in a boxing match. Our backs ached, legs burned and our minds hurt from having to constantly look for the best route with only a multitude of bad options. With the wind picking up we found a beautiful iceberg to pitch our tent behind. It didn't cut all the wind out but certainly made a difference.

Standing on top of the iceberg it was difficult to see with the swirling snow but one thing for sure the next day would certainly involve more of the same. The views were spectacular though, being able to get a different perspective with the extra height allowed us to see above all the debris which stretched out all the way to the horizon. Collapsing into the tent we checked out the maps to try and hazard a guess at what was causing it and where it might end. Despite our up beat thinking we were still estimating it could continue for another 30km for all we knew. As I checked our position and distance covered for the day it had hit us hard but given the start of the day had been ok conditions it meant it was not as bad as it could be at a whopping 12km over 8 hours. About 6 to 8 km shorter than we had been averaging for the trip but it still beat the 4km we managed over the moraine earlier in our voyage, which took a day and a half.

We both agreed that the conditions were a recipe for a tough few days as we curled up in our sleeping bags munching down our dinner and strategically placing our hot Nalgene bottles on our aching muscles. The day had certainly quickly developed to type 3 fun! Waking the next morning ready to take on the world or as Jamie has started singing "welcome to paradise" as he rubs the sleep from his eyes and his old body creaks up from a morning doze. The tent door was opened to a scene of flat light. This was far from ideal! Within minutes of starting we had one sled tip over as the continuation of bumping along over the ice began for another day like we had never stopped. This is always a good sign of what the day has install. We soon found ourselves back on the trail of the dog sled team with the occasional pee mark from the dogs making it feel like something out of Hansel and Gretel. Then a skidoo track appeared this was great news as it showed there would have to be a half decent route out. The Inuits are not going to completely trash a skidoo simply to find a route through some bad ice when there might be the option to go round. However we soon lost both due to the flat light and a pause in pee marks, shame it wasn't bread crumbs or even better chocolate buttons. We continued on making our own fresh tracks through this unforgiving terrain. For a brief period of time we were even treated to a spot of sunshine which revealed that we were coming to the end of the bad ice or at least a larger section of ok ice. In the distance we could see the point we were aiming for however it was slowly being shrouded in a vail of fog. First snow began to fall but as we continued on the wind speed began to increase and for a second night in a row we headed instinctively towards an iceberg. We had been incredibly fortuitous to have this in what is otherwise an incredibly exposed channel. With our initial thoughts of getting our ice breakers back on, which we had taken off earlier in the day due to the balmy -20c temperatures, our thoughts soon turned to the fact we probably need to get the tent up with the wind speed rising. With a couple of attempts at finding a large enough spot for our tent tipi we finally settled on one. The downside of our tent for 2 people is that it is monstrous in width and more importantly height. Despite it's strong construction this represents a real challenge in rough ice and strong winds as you try to find somewhere flat enough to sleep as well as with enough of a wind break to naturally block it or with enough snow to create your own wall. Pitching it up we had all the guy lines out pinning it to the ground with the majestic grey and blue iceberg behind it. As much as I would like to stand on top of this one we would need ice axes and crampons to make it up.

Our daily mileage was again disappointing at just over 10km due to it being a couple of sessions short. But with no protection past this iceberg it was our best option. Day soon turned to night and conditions improved. That was until about 3am when we were awoken to roaring winds. By 4 we decided a snow wall was now required as well. Kitted up with not a millimetre of skin showing we went outside where we were almost blown off our feet. We stumbled about for about an hour getting a wall together along with tightening down the guy lines. None of this was helped by the fact that the wind had turned through 90 degrees. Although we still had a natural wind break there too it just wasn't quite big enough. By 5am we were back in the tent with breakfast being served far earlier than normal before heading back into the sleeping bags for a duvet day. Just without the same level of comfort or films on show.

Throughout the day we lay there eating, drinking hot chocolate and watching as the one central pole vibrated and bent in the wind as the high sides of the tent acted like small sails billowing in the breeze. It was unnerving not knowing how much the wind might increase or how much more the tent could take. We made the occasional trip outside to adjust guy lines, to redo bits that had loosened and build up the snow round it's base as the tent took a battering from the wind and snow. There was the occasional lull, which gave us some hope before kicking back in with greater ferocity. Falling asleep that night we hoped not to be woken in the early hours nor that it would be blowing still the next day. Waking to not a sound was incredible there was hardly a breathe on the tent, we could hear ourselves rather than shouting across to one another despite being only a meter apart. The next few days ticked by incredibly quickly as we made good progress, keen to get away from the area that had pinned us down for almost 2 days. With this calm came a period where we could admire Bylot Island which although felt incredibly close was actually still 20km away. It's picture perfect peaks, ridges, bowls and glaciers covered the horizon. It was an incredible sight and together with the region we were passing through looked incredible for a ski trip, downhill as apposed to the cross country we were currently doing.

Camping up for the final time we finished slightly earlier than usual. We could see the houses in Pond Inlet up on the hillside which felt strange being so close but yet not quite there. We had planned this so that the next day would be short but not too short plus it would give us a chance to take some more photos assuming we had good conditions. We relaxed eating left over chocolate, biltong and hot chocolates until a couple of celebratory cigars came out. Although it was slightly early the last few days had been windy and the chances of us being able to smoke them as we skied along through face mask and goggles was not likely! It was amazing to think that 70 days previously we had left Qik and about 100 days since we had left the shores of the UK. We were almost at the end of the journey......

Edited with BlogPad Pro

Bear Necessities

May 4, 2015

The morning started like any other with the normal rituals of life in the arctic, which after 3 months were running pretty slickly. We were getting the final part of the tent away when I heard an almighty noise. Looking up I realised it was just Jamie sneezing. You forget how quite and soundless the arctic region is. The only sounds we hear are that of our group, the wind on the tent and the odd raven that fly’s past. I had only just started sorting out my sled when a small noise from erupted from Colin's direction. This could have been a bark or, and probably far my likely, a sudden release of air from one of his other orifices. Jamie looked round. The next word I heard in normal situations wouldn't make me bat an eyelid in this environment however it makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand up while your pulse rises rapidly as adrenaline shoots into your veins.

BEAR!

Looking round I immediately see the ambling cream coloured figure of a bear. There was a momentary pause, as you think wow look at that. Then the far more urgent one that this bear was only 30 - 40 m away, which was close enough for us to need to do something about it. Within moments I had my shotgun as did Jamie. We had discussed and run through our plan for this kind of situation particularly after our last encounter, our rapid reaction force known only as Tala was released. Colin was kept by our side partly for security but mainly because he is more likely to run in the opposite direction. Tala chased down her target, barking aggressively until she was closer to the bear.

Tala had clearly expected the same reaction as with the mother and her cubs, which ran quickly off into the distance. She returned victorious arriving back to a hero's welcome of belly rubs and food. Being a lonesome young male bear it had other ideas and held his ground. At which point there was a stand off between the two of them. The bear was still obviously trying to work out what we all were and what we were doing in his back garden. They approach down wind lifting his nose in the air to get a better whiff of us and occasionally getting higher on his back legs to see and smell us better. Irritated and distracted by tala he made a little run forward but she kept him at bay. He was only testing the water but the move had Jamie and me on edge.

We didn't get the cameras out when it was closer...

With tala keeping him busy this gave Jamie and I time to load up a few bear bangers to fire at him. The guns are kept with live ammunition as the first option so we have to assess the situation before using bangers. With a loud crack and flash of light they started going off around his feet and one bouncing off him. They took effect immediately on both dog and bear as they paused mid stand off each unsure of what these explosions of noise were. These first few didn't unfortunately budge him much as he only wondered off a few steps and certainly not far enough away. Before beginning a slow shuffle back in our direction.

Time seemed to go incredibly slowly. Other than a couple of bangers we kept my shotgun on live rounds as a very last resort. There was the incessant barking from Tala, I had joined in shouting at the bear, Colin well I will come on to that while Jamie loaded up more bangers. This second round of explosions and with everything else he turned on his heels and routed, clearly deciding this was not worth the effort. Tala continued to follow him with continued aggression until we called her back.

As he wondered off he clearly heard a noise from a seal. Rising on his hind legs he dived into the ice. Nothing, he was not having a good start to the day. We stood watching carefully as he then continued his long walk into the distance. Now that he was further away we could appreciate the sight of this magnificent animal as he meander about icebergs with the sun rising behind him. It was a beautiful sight seeing a polar bear in it's natural environment. They are certainly an animal to both admire but also respect incredibly highly.

Surveying the scene in front of us, it had been quite an experience, we had fired 8 bangers which later when we walked over to see his foot prints you could see the small blast radius's left as they had exploded about him. Looking from his perspective highlighted just how close he had come. Despite only being 9.30 in the morning we both felt like we had been up and moved a considerable distance already. You don't appreciate how being on edge even for a short period of time takes it's toll on the mind and body.

Finally with some decent distance between us we felt comfortable enough to finish the remainder of the packing and make a quick get away onto whiter pastures.

Now throughout this entire fiasco Colin who had raised his small alarm had made one of two decisions. Either the situation was all under control and didn't need his assistance or in one final last stand of pleasure he would look the other way and lick his bollocks. We were both delighted that Colin was the first to highlight the bears presence but then incredibly frustrated that the dog selected for his polar up bringing and likely handling of a polar bear had come so short of the mark. Despite this though he has certainly grown on us particularly over the last few weeks as he still shakes off the effects of 2 years of a harsh upbringing and his lifetime experience where human contact was limited at best. He now nudges me at each break with his nose and licks his lips in hope of receiving some flapjack, which as long as it isn't cappuccino flavour or ginger choc chip if he has gone to Jamie, he gets some. His confidence does seem to be improving with him now slowly reaching up with mouth opening round and in the direction of the flapjack that we are about to eat ourselves. He is incredibly gentle though feeding him by hand he eases it away from you as if it were a delicate relic from centuries ago rather than the semi frozen block of food that it is. We have resorted to warming them up in our chest pocket before hand to stop some flavours breaking our teeth. Tala on the other hand has been trained under the careful watch of Jamie and the occasional addition by myself to balance food on the end of her nose, having her leave it for a few seconds as drool dribbles from her mouth before flicking it up with her nose and grabbing in her mouth. It is then munched down with such a ravenous tenacity that you would think the flapjack is about to come alive.

ARCTIC LIFE

April 20, 2015

Something that takes up a large part of our day and one which we haven't really spoken about is what it is like on a day to day basis. Having spent over a couple of months travelling in an Arctic environment we are certainly building on our previous cold weather experience. The main priorities of the day are water, food, warmth and sleep. So pretty basic things. Our days roughly start at 5.30 am. In our bid for freedom, getting out of our sleeping bag resembles something David Attenborough would commentate on. Try and imagine the voice...

"Here in the Arctic tundra the small and now hairy faced Jamie/Benno wakes for yet another morning in this cold and wintery environment. Making an opening large enough to squeeze their arms and head...."

You get the idea.

We begin our day trying to avoid a freezing cold shower as the moisture in our breath freezes to the edge of our sleeping bag. As you open it down sprinkles tiny little ice crystals onto your sleepy face, any method of avoiding this is a bonus. Then comes the start of our daily tasks melting snow, boiling water, cooking up food (pouring hot water into our food to rehydrate it) and in typical British fashion a cup of tea to start the day. All of this is done whilst in our sleeping bags. The pans have to be constantly topped up with more snow, even a full pan of snow melts down next to nothing. Whilst this is going on we get ready as much as we can without leaving the warm cosy oasis of our beloved sleeping bag. They haven't got names yet but they are defiantly our happiest places and out attachment to them makes a duvet morning on a Sunday look like child's play. A morning isn't complete without using our pee bottles; where despite lying down, it is possible to have a conversation in your sleeping bag without over filling or spilling a drop. If you are feeling clumsy the whole process is slightly easier kneeling. The important bit, particularly if it's still quite dark, is keeping the now filled bottle away from the drinking bottle as they are exactly shape the same except in colour and in the past it has been known for people to have almost made the mistake of taking a gulp before the smell hits their nostrils and they realise their error. Best not to risk it in the first place. Then there are the socks and tent booties to get on. Trying to get the down booties on is hard enough for myself. Jamie opts to test out his sleeping bag yoga to get his socks on. It seems an impossible task but with a few groans, some weird facial expressions and some impressive moves, success! One sock done, one to go.

Wriggling down into our bags we finally make enough space to eat our muesli, or porridge if we are lucky. The short straw is something called hot cereal start. It resembles a warm brown sloppy mix with unknown ingredients bar a few raisins thrown in for good measure. It isn't our favourite but apparently it goes down well with others.

Despite being in the Arctic and surrounded by ice and snow the area is virtually a desert with very low amounts of precipitation throughout the year. The snow tends to get blown off everything and instead collects in snow drifts generally around the rough ice and is where we tend to collect it. This is a bit of an issue as it means every time we get close to camping we have to think is there enough snow to melt and just as important; is it far enough from the sea ice to not have become salty? It is really not a great start to the evening when you have collected enough snow, started melting it only to find that your hot chocolate at the end of the day is salty and you have trundle back out for more snow. Doing this twice in a row is just gutting.

Following a hearty breakfast we pack up and hit the trail. In sunny conditions this is fine. However in windy ones we have to plan out each step to make sure nothing blows away mainly so we don't get too cold before starting the day. This is particularly the case when going to the toilet. The hole is dug, the paper is ready and you're thinking about how quickly you can get your trousers down, business done and them back up again before your bum feels like it's been left in the freezer for too long. No one wants frostbite down there of all places!

Once we start skiing things settle into a natural rhythm. Ski for an hour. Have a break for a snack and a drink. This makes up part of our daily 4,500 to 5,000 calorie diet. It ranges from flapjack, cakes (our favourite being the Eccles cake), nuts, chocolate, biltong and Maximuscle protein bars. This pattern continues until about 5 to 6pm when we stop.

We spend the entire day constantly thinking how do my toes, fingers, face and general body feel. They can't be too hot or too cold. Too hot and the sweat freezes when you stop. Too cold and you're at risk of getting a cold injury. We have a selection of gloves we can change between which is pretty straight forward to do. Less simple is the task of removing our thermal top if we get too warm. Having to strip down to bare skin and then get your jacket back on is nippy to say the least. Despite being hot and sweaty at -30C your nipples can cut glass within seconds of taking your top off. It's not a particularly pleasant experience although we do tend to do this only when it is sunny and little or no wind.

Finally when it comes to the end of the day the process is repeated in reverse. Tent up, snow melting, hot chocolate followed by a meal and a cake. It doesn't get much better than having a warm drink tucked up in our sleeping bags. Lights out is normally around 9pm depending on when we finish. Although, with daylight gaining about an hour every 4 days it will be less of a lights out and more of a pulling our hats down over our eyes. With the increased daylight we are hoping the tent temperature doesn't drop to the -40s we had at the start where we would diving into the bags with almost as many clothes on as during the day despite the huge amounts of insulation on the bags.

We have also upgraded our sleeping arrangement. Caribou hide. Jamie manage to locate one first in Clyde river. Despite looking really quite dishevelled it had made a big difference. I on the other hand manage to find a very plump and hairy one. The downside is it is malting. Everywhere. Fortunately it is now in a bag that keeps most of the hairs in but within an hour of testing it out hairs were turning up in our mugs, water bottles, clothes, food and just about everywhere else you can think of. Even after being sealed up we are still finding them several days later. Then repeat from start to finish.

Summing up the day to day Arctic life ignoring all the beautiful scenery, obvious good company and conversations musing over the meaning of life. Cold and monotonous probably cover it very well. Having the chance to visit local communities, meet hunters, look after a couple of dogs and of course each other make it a far more interesting trip.

INTO THE FJORDS

April 16, 2015

From the warming lights and RCMP hospitality in Clyde we travelLed North West into the otherworldly coastal fjord System. We had yet to cover such ground, a mixture of frozen fjords and overland traverses littered with moraines from receding glaciers. It was unknown to us but the visual rewards were full of promise so we took a westerly turn from the direct route north to travel through this area. Tongue like fjords linked by overland passes, littered with glacial moraines and debris, awaited us and it took us a full day of hard work to cross the first small "small" moraine. The promise of a further two more to escape Stewart Valley meant we hit the ice with a renewed vigour. A big motivator being that over last few days, on the flat fjord ice, we had annihilated our average per day mileage. Luck was now on our side; the ice was pan flat, the wind on our backs, as it swept off the rolling glaciers now behind us and slabs of steep rock face towered above us curving out of sight. It was majestic.

We soon found large sections of clear ice where you could see into the depths of the fjord beneath our feet, littered with bubbles of air, trapped until the melt. Not that you could see much, the snow covering the majority of it prevented much light entering and peering into the darkness beneath we wondered what sort of fish lurked beneath us- maybe even a Baffin version of Nessie. We were zipping between the slower snow cover and this new found friend of "perfect" ice, where for a brief moment our sleds felt almost weightless and we could let our minds wonder without having to concentrate on picking our way through debris.

Our time was spent admiring the chutes and bowls that could be skied down as well as the numerous cliff faces that may or may not have been climbed. We dreamed we would come round the corner to a huge base camp of climbers on their own winter expedition; ideally with some seriously heated tents, food that was not rehydrated and, best case, a cool beer to sip on. It's sad and not particularly surprising to say that we didn't find any.

Ahead of us loomed moraine number two, according to the map and GPS it was certainly shorter than the first but still we dreaded it. From a distance the options didn't look great- a high wall of rock and mud starting on the right hand side and sweeping across the glaciated valley with the odd dip until land on the adjacent side. There did look to be a tight but potentially skiable path on this far side. As we came closer and could see further it gradually opened up to provide a passable route. Our initial fears of spending a day trying to get over it were brushed aside as we found ourselves cruising down a frozen stream on a gentle sloping gradient with massive grins on our faces. Colin did not have the same feeling as he scrambled around, like Bambi on ice, unable to grip and looking as if he might die of terror at any moment. I tried putting him on top of my sled and he looked pretty happy, especially as he had been sneaking onto them to sleep each night, until I started moving again at which point he jumped off. I hadn't expected that, I was more expecting him to pee or poo all over it like he had done on the a skidoo ride, which although messy was certainly easier than having him slip and slide whilst attached to my sled.

Two moraine hurdles down and one to go. Despite the sun beaming down on us the days were cold and the temperature was plummeting again with forecasts of -39C which was not great to hear. This made the final section that much harder as we donned masks and goggled up with the breeze of the ice caps chilling exposed skin in seconds.

Approaching the final moraine, which on the map was as foreboding as the first one which had hampered our progress. It brought back still fresh memories and the question of was it worth the detour for these spectacular views? There was meant to be a small stream but it wasn't that clear on the ground where this was. Spotting what appeared to be a valley and praying for a similar situation to the last frozen stream we made a beeline for it. It was our only option as the rest of the moraine up close was impassable with pulks.

A route briefly opened up before we had to scramble over some rocks. Maybe our luck was up? To our relief a frozen stream lay on the other side. Feeling physically tired we took a short break- it was a perfect spot for filming. Whilst in the process Jamie shouted over that some water was gurgling up under the pressure of the lake behind it and instantly refreezing in beautiful forms on the surface of the established ice. That's pretty cool! Then we spotted some more and then another patch, this was becoming less cool and a bit concerning. The issue was that a layer of ice had formed with some water running between it and the thick ice that lay beneath. As we moved the pulks occasionally sunk into the weak ice becoming trapped as the water froze around them. We donned skis to spread the weight and focused on our route. Although the water was not at all deep we did not want to get any of our kit wet as it would freeze and make for a particularly unpleasant period depending on where and how wet it got. Even in the tent on the warmest night the temperature wouldn't be higher than -10C, once wet and then frozen kit would remain frozen. To our relief this weaker patch of ice only lasted a short distance as we carefully and safely made our way through before we were zig zagging the meanders of the river back down to the sea ice once more.

We then exited Stewart valley with high fives, fist punches and a hug all round- dogs included. It had been quite a detour and a mini adventure within this journey north. The tough going had certainly taken its toll on us and each night we had collapsed into our sleeping bags hoofing down our meals and any other calories, not thinking of them as food only fuel that we had from that days rations. It had become simple numbers game. When we reflected back on the escapade it is easy to question whether it was it worth it or not? Observing this natural region of jaw dropping beauty made the answer easy; of course it was, now we were out of it!

We now made a straight line crossing past the spectacular Sillam Island with its glaciers falling off its steep sides, skimming Scott Island with its angular bow like rock face rising from the ocean floor, towards another overland pass and our first and only depot. We weren't sure what to expect from the pass. Our opinion of going overland had been tainted by a few experiences. It certainly didn't conjure up positive feelings but with lighter sleds we had a positive mind set.

Entering it and despite the views being impressive the pass just didn't compare to what we had been seeing so recently, we had been spoilt and were in danger of becoming geography snobs. Following the river we met the tracks of our dog sled friends and skidoo drivers Levi and Boris. For the next few days we followed these tracks and as our sleds got ever lighter and the going got easier despite the patches of rough windblown snow and occasional rocky outcrop or the hills that neither set of drivers seemed to wish to avoid. Our map, although sufficient, lacks the detail for micro nav meaning we were hoping they would take the easiest path. We crested another hill again only to find the valley we had been following linked below us with only a small detour which would have avoided all those meters gained to lose them again. It did provide Jamie the opportunity to test out his telemark skiing skills as he glided down in control even with a Pulk. This is an almost impossible task when you have Colin attached to your sled as I did. As the sled picks up speed going downhill it gets closer, panicking Colin decides to increase his pace in a bid to get away from the one object he is tied to on a fixed length of line. This only results in the sled careering into me at higher speed and almost taking my legs out from beneath me.

We are however slowly making progress with the lovely chap as he certainly seems happier and less timid than when we first got him. Falling asleep on top of our sleds certainly shows an air of confidence he didn't have before and a clever streak that he has managed to keep very well hidden up to now. A beautiful and almost hot (-20C) day brought us nicely into the hut and our depot stop. Sitting by a frozen lake with pristine snow, mountains and glaciers in the surrounding area, it is certainly a beautiful spot.

The almost unspoilt view excluding the defecated patch where around 20 or so dogs had been with the sled teams which I am sure you can imagine was less pristine. You could see where all the dogs had slept with these small round melted depressions in the snow and the area was littered with the pitter-patter of paw prints. Compared to our previous hut finding days with strong winds and snow this felt a lot better plus the "it's obvious to see" is very true when the weather is good. We could see it from a good distance off! Unpacking our supplies and re-measuring for the umpteenth time how far the next section is. Concentrating on what we would encounter initially the first 15k are going to be tough with our heavy sleds again as we cross the remaining bit of land down to the sea ice. We are making the most of the opportunity with a day to rest up and to organise ourselves before taking this and the remainder of the journey on.

One slight surprise whilst packing up was the sound of an engine followed by another and then nothing. It was as if a skidoo had stopped outside but we were in the middle of nowhere! Two people suddenly appeared through the door. It was a group heading up for the dog sled race taking place in Pond in about 10 days time. We joined them for hot drinks and the freshest sushi of Arctic char cut straight off a whole fish in large slivers. It was delicious. The remainder of the afternoon was spent chatting away with the group, admiring the caribou gloves they had, packing up the remainder of our kit and patching up some of the gloves which have taken the full brunt of this environment. It isn't the sort of place that takes any prisoners, the slight sign of weakness in any bit of equipment and it soon unravels. In the case of our gloves my favourite pair is now held together more by my quality sewing (it is anything but this) than the original stitching. The seriously dry air also has the habit of causing fingers and lips especially crack as we begin each day and finish each night with increasing levels of moisturiser including Mushers secret hoof and paw cream for my feet. Jamie has a particular liking for some lotion with self tanning in as he glows ever more orange. At least I can spot him from a distance even without his Baffin jacket on. Onwards and upwards!

THE BOYS ARE BACK IN TOWN

April 3, 2015

Arriving in Clyde River during a blizzard was never part of what we envisaged. With Chris from the RCMP shouting over the noise of the wind that he had a load of our stuff and we could meet him once we checked out the local hotel. Bundling into the warm hotel was a treat as new and exciting smells wafted past us from the kitchen. Emily who runs it was incredibly kind to us despite our dishevelled appearance and biohazard smell having not washed for over a month. The price was astronomical compared to our budget. The hotel is in a beautiful spot with views over the frozen bay and mountains behind. Emily pointed out my mum had phoned trying to sort out some supplies that she was sending up including some whiskey. It turns out Clyde is also a community within Nunavut with a by-law requiring a permit to buy alcohol as well as the need to ship it up once it has gone through a committee. So it's safe to so say we didn't manage to get any.

Trudging back to the RCMP station in the wind and snow wasn't pleasant but after explaining our predicament to Chris he kindly let us stay in the police station as well as the use of our first hot shower since we left Qik. In a semi zombie state we ate, showered and crashed to sleep feeling almost normal. It certainly felt strange waking up in a heated building and simply turning on a tap rather than having to melt snow for water. With an aim of getting out within 4 days or so and a long list of things to do the race was on. The most major of our tasks being to sort out our depot drops for the onward leg. Like in Qik there were some huge maps on the wall of the detachment which we could survey every time we passed during our stay. It served as a very useful reminder of what we still had to cover as well as being able to see how far we had come... whilst also planning our onward journey with it. It was fascinating seeing all the names of the mountains and fjords. Names like Ayr pass, Kintyre point, Patterson fjord, Royal Society fjord, Cape Carmichael and many others with British and particularly Scottish references. Not surprisingly with the likes of John Rae doing the lions share of the exploring up here. We met up with Chris and his partner Shaun at the station in the morning who were full of ideas on who we could speak to. It was a stroke of luck that the first in the list was a guy called Jake who not only has travelled large sections of the area by dog sled but also knew Sarah and Boomer who are currently dog sledding round Baffin and were due in any day. Meeting up with him as well as a few locals, including an elder, we had a pretty experienced bunch examining our map and pointing out areas of interest. Time certainly flew by and soon are map was annotated up with notes on where bears, bad ice, potential routes and an idea of where base jumpers go. The last being more out of interest rather than something that either of us wish to do. Back at the RCMP station we re-examined the huge map of the area, we were in luck potentially for using some of the huts for depots with them being nicely spread out. We were also introduced to a possible skidoo driver who was going to meet us the following day with prices for the trip.

After a few days in Clyde river we can finally see the bay we skied up!

Wandering about Clyde in the sunshine was certainly a different experience to the previous day of blizzards. Turns out it is renowned by local pilots for the worst weather in the region and it is normal for these bad spells to roll through every few days (as we soon found out). With a rather long to do list and mixed emotions...relaxing vs getting back on the trail, the following days were a whirlwind of activity. A large amount of time was spent counting out cakes, flapjacks, beef jerky, chocolate and maxinutrition trying our hardest not to dip into our limited supplies. As I tucked into a packet of chocolate which on the ice could be gobbled up in a few seconds made me pause as I felt slightly ill with all the sweet items we had eaten.

Sorting out the depots was proving challenging. Most of the locals don't tend to do the big trips between Clyde and pond till April once the ice has had time to flatten, the days are longer and the temperatures are warmer. Due to this the current ice conditions and the fact that the caribou/ polar bear hunts had been postponed meant that people weren't travelling north particularly as far as we were hoping them to go. We were aiming for two depots splitting the journey into almost perfect thirds. After much negotiating, one driver fell through and we had to settle on plan b. This was for a single drop slightly closer than we anticipated but still far enough away that the second start although heavy would be a feasible weight.

We also adapted the plan to take in Sam fjord particular after Jake and his wife Sheri showed us some incredible pictures of the region. People travel up here just to visit them and in occasions BASE jump off the giant peaks! In between all this we were introduced a delicious local snack at the hotel called bannocks I think they were called. These moreish deep fried bread snacks were exactly what was required by a couple of lads who were eating pretty much everything in sight. Along with all of this was a busy social calendar with dinner kindly put on by Shaun and his wife for a fantastic spicy vegetable curry followed on the next night by Chris and his wife for another treat of pasta followed by cherry pie. It was incredibly kind of them welcoming us into their family homes, the company and a different diet to our normal rehydrated meals. We have eaten all the varieties enough times to work out the pecking order. We did unfortunately miss the local community feast partly whilst trying to sort jobs which inevitably take longer than expected as well as a blizzard forecast speeding up proceedings for a much earlier finish than anticipated. Mainly due to us finally sorting out our depot drops as well as fixing up our skis which we spent a happy few hours drilling and riveting our kicker skins (the bit that provides us with traction under our feet) onto the ski as the stitching on the straps holding them in place had disintegrated.

With the weekend approaching which tends to be the stations busy period we had to find a new place to crash. Walking about town whilst a blizzard was happening reminded us of our arrival, it was pretty awful weather and trying to cross town took far longer with you not being able to see where you were exactly. We were kindly taken in by the nurses of Clyde. Gary did a sterling job of feeding us up on caribou stew and ice cream. A real treat whilst discussing a whole variety of trips we had all done as well as climbing and skiing. Being able to sleep on the sofa was the closest to a bed that we had had in over 2 months both crashing out in minutes. With the blizzard still on our friends Sarah and Boomer who are dog sledding were unable to set off. Despite us expecting them to be chilling it was a hive of activity as they helped their hosts Jake and Shari set his sled up who had decided to head north with them partly in preparation for a dog sled race going from pond inlet to arctic bay some 400 miles roughly. We joined them for Shari's amazing home-made pizza making me reminisce about the ones i make at home before heading back to Gary's for evening super of caribou stew, more ice cream and catching up on some climbing/ BASE jumping films he had. A pretty awesome way to chill before heading off the next day. The day had come and we were finally off. After 5 full days it was only marginally longer than we had expected.

Saying final good byes in many ways felt strange as within such a short space of time many of the people had shown a tremendous amount of hospitality to strangers who had walked off the ice. Levi the outfitter rolled up with the two skidoos transporting us and our gear first to our drop then the food to the depot. It was a huge amount of stuff. The dogs unfortunately had to come in the same box as myself and Jamie. Having seen the mess they had created in the last box we had been tactical with our feeding times in the hope of minimise a repeat. With bin bags covering our legs, two nervous looking dogs and even more nervous lads we headed off. The start was thankfully slow as the skidoos meanders there way out onto the sea ice. The dogs unable to sit still kept trying to scramble out of the box over the top of us. As they began to calm down we started to pick up speed causing us all to gain air time over the bumps. It was funny initially until the combination of factors caused Colin to poo in the corner. We now had a ride smelling of engine fumes, dog poo and dog breath. In a confined space this was pretty desperate. On top of that Colin was also drooling constantly like a tap. Tala looked like she had been in the shower while Jamie and I were trying desperately to use the bin bags to prevent us from getting shit or drool on us. Fortunately as this point the dogs began getting the idea that sitting or lying down was more comfortable as we all settled into the three hour ride with the occasional spells of air time. It turned out myself and Jamie could almost find a position to sleep in until we hit a bump as our heads were resting on the ledge we would drop onto. Pulling up for the stop, we exited to beautiful views of the valley ahead with wind causing some of the snow to spin in mini twisters.

It was a pretty special way of starting the second leg.

AN INTERLUDE IN CLYDE RIVER

April 2, 2015

(a blog from Jamie) As the wind smashed into the side of the first vehicle we had seen in thirty days, the driver wound down the window, winced at the force of the storm, and said cheerfully "welcome to Clyde River", thankfully pointing us in the direction of the RCMP detachment. We had made it. The last two days had seen us cover over 56km in dense fog, buffeted by withering winds that had steadily built to gusts of 40mph as a we crossed a seemingly endless succession of broken ice.

Clyde is a natural mid-point on our journey and the knowledge that this was such a key objective for us along with the incentives of walls, heating and possibly a hot shower meant we were willing to push hard to reach it. The journey up the last section of coastline has been long and windy; with extended days of hauling on broken ice making the trip physically hard work and meaning we needed to be extra vigilant to the risks of cold and fatigue. Our sleds however have been steadily lightened and as the daylight hours have increased as has our fitness and ability to push ourselves harder than before whilst staying at safe level of knackered and on the right side of exhaustion. With this has come the satisfaction of seeing our daily mileage start to climb and our spirits rise as the distances to Clyde began to become feasible measurements and no longer unobtainable distances that only existed in the realms of dreamers or those with motorised transport.

The final two days to Clyde were a bit of a crux for us. Two carrots were dangling; the first a hut at the edge of the peninsular which would be a welcome relief after the last seven days of windswept tundra and the second, Clyde, sitting out of sight but within touching distance, we could almost smell the fruit and vegetables in the Northern Store. We kicked off for the hut with a strong headwind that gradually faded away to leave us bathed in sunshine and enjoying the sight of the first big icebergs we had seen for weeks on the horizon. Like container ships gone astray and stranded against the frozen sea line, these mammoth blocks of floating water grow larger and taller as the sun distorts and stretches them into a mirage of illusions often to staggering proportions. These ice bergs often sit on the horizon for two or three days looming majestically over the flat ice like cathedrals of electric blue gracefully decaying in the Arctic sunshine. However, as you get closer they start to shrink rather than grow until as you reach and pass the block of freshwater you have been endlessly looking at it is no bigger than a decent sized church. Still impressive but not quite the Salisbury or Winchester-sized Gothic monument you were expecting.

We had a tough time over the rough ice surrounding the point and as we rounded the Cape and turned west the freshening breeze gave us cause to eagerly scan the horizon for the hut. As we have been disappointed so many times before this time we were ready for the lack of any human-made shelters and a good thing too. No visible hut. After a brief search we tucked into the headland and found the most sheltered spot we could, comforting ourselves in the knowledge that with a big effort the next day we would be in Clyde and hut or not, without today's slog those bright lights would still be out of reach.

Colin, who had been given bail the day before had steadfastly refused to be caught at night, even forgoing his dinner, stubborn little git and was duly caught that morning - his growling tummy overcoming his usual razor sharp wit and cunning. Similar to a slightly demented dribbling drunk, convinced that a dirty kebab is a good idea and that he can make a run for it from the large, knife-wielding owner without paying, not realising the glass door to the shop is closed - running straight into it and knocking himself out. Colin sulked for the rest of the day.

Despite securing Colin, we had awoken to a world of white. The fog had descended and enclosed us making the days difficult task even harder. As we set out we realised what a great camp spot we had chosen and the wind began to get stronger and stronger as we moved away from the sheltering coast line, battering us in the backs, pushing and urging us forward. The final blow came when after an hour we hit a patch of very rough ice that slowed us down to a crawl for the next two hours. Needing to make a lot of ground, we grunted and crunched our way through the blocks of broken sea, never seeing more than twenty yards ahead so never knowing when it might end. Thankfully it did end, and as we headed into flatter ice the clouds began drifting higher, and the land we were heading for came into focus giving us the shot of motivation we needed to believe there might still be a radiator at the end of the day. We continued slogging until finally the GPS said less than 1km to Clyde and with baited breath we scanned the horizon. When we were supposedly 300m away from a town of 1500 people and yet couldn't see an aerial, a post-box, even a skidoo trail we began to think something might be up. It turns out the Garmin coordinates for Clyde are 4.2k to the East of the town and with the wind now gusting above 35mph this was an extra few kms we didn't really need. Eventually however, out of the mist appeared a collection of man-made objects, first barely distinguishable then growing more solid and become the buildings, street lights and boats of an Arctic coastal town in the grip of winter.

As we dragged our pulks through town, too exhausted to realise fully that we had arrived, Clyde RCMP Detachment Commander Chris Moreau opened the front door of his house and said "you must be the British explorers", we both smiled and thought well I suppose we are now aren't we?

THE GREAT ESCAPE

March 28, 2015

Finally back on the sea ice, our mid-way point and resupply location lay ahead, invisible to us. However, rather than being frustrated at feeling like you aren't getting any closer this was a welcome sight compared to the hills, rough terrain, false summits and rocks which prevent us from taking the most direct path. With the edge of an island set as our target there was a renewed vigour in our steps. We bolted out of this imaginary start gate. It felt amazing to be sliding along, not worrying about rocks, and just enjoying the tugging on the lines rather than feeling like you're horizontal and trying to pull some monumental object like in a strong man competition. Our pace naturally slowed as the ice undulated along in its never-flat state. Despite the improvement, we still dreamed of pancake flat ice with a dusting of snow. Our search for perfect ice continued. We have been ticking off the kilometers since leaving the headland. Our initial plan had been to head overland for the final leg into Clyde. Due to our last experience this was out of the question, we thought far better to take our chances with the ice gods and their beautiful whites and blues rather than the ones controlling the barren and stark land routes. We were making fantastic progress towards our headland with a band of ice appearing on the horizon. As we came closer these towering blocks broke through the surface creating an almost impenetrable wall of ice. It was the worst ice we had seen all trip. Fortunately we spotted a way round. A glimmer of hope. Thoughts of “have we chosen the right route?” started to eek into our minds as we closed in on the second headland and the possibility of a hut for the night. As the wind picked up we arrived at this remote and desolate hut with a strange and small lookout post on roof. It was possibly a whaling station in the summer as it overlooked two bays. After clearing the snow, piled as high as the door, we staggered in. Typical for the larger huts it was colder than outside. The main benefit was we were out of the wind and a rickety bunk bed sat in the corner, which very quickly we were tucked up inside. Stoves burned gently next to us still in a bid to warm the place up. We were awoken to Tala licking my face and jumping up towards Jamie’s bunk above me. We lay in our bags drinking hot tea, cradling a hot bottle and discussing options if the ice ahead resembled what we had seen the night before. The options weren't great; head back down the coast to another route overland or cut across from near our current position. This would slow us down considerably and possibly provide another torturous set of days. We decided to climb a nearby hill for a better view. Reaching the top having been crossing fingers, toes and anything else flexible we looked up the coast. There was a slither of "flat" ice. It was fantastic news, we could head up using our route. Pulks ready, dogs in position we headed north again in beautiful sunshine and a sharp breeze that cut through any chink in our armour of clothing. We walked past huge explosions of ice that looked like giant marshmallows that the sea had forced to the surface in a mess of blue and white. They are an incredible sight and demonstration of nature's brutal power as we weaved between them on our way up the coast towards our next stop. With forecasts of 30mph and higher winds we dug in, digging a small hole for the tent behind a slight hill in this tundra coastline. Guy lines were all out and the sleds tied on for extra stability. We headed to bed wishing for soft winds and a good night's sleep.

Waking the next morning to gentle flapping wasn't what we expected but it was a bitterly cold day. When the sun finally poked its head out we could begin to see just how flat and barren the landscape was as sea and land flowed into one another under a blanket of snow and ice. It was here the troubles began. Colin, who was attached to the sled, launched a cunning ploy create chaos with his lines and Jamie’s harness. As Jamie scrambled about on the ground with the line all of a sudden he was holding both ends. His line had broken. Colin, who is usually not too switched on, spotted his chance and made a bid for freedom. He spent the rest of the afternoon sprinting about with Tala just out of our reach. You can imagine him screaming "freedom" (obviously in a Scottish accent despite his Inuit upbringing) on every pass as part of his hedonistic and wild afternoon antics continued until the end of the day where he collapsed in a ball. Trying to catch him was futile as he waited till you got close and then got up and trotted off. Maybe food will bring him closer! The morning brought strong winds; Tala was coated in a layer of snow, as was the entire tent, with one side building up quite a large drift. We thought it was too strong to ski in but it had brought Mr Colin in for food and capture. It was a stroke of fortune before turning our attention to securing the tent more and building a snow wall to sit out the weather and wait for more favourable conditions for our approach to Clyde River.

GINGERLOCKS AND THE THREE BEARS

March 14, 2015

(Jamie) It is northwards to Clyde and so northwards we went, leaving a warm and comfortable hut for the sea ice and our trusty tent once more. In good spirits and now both showing signs of good beard growth, things were looking up.

Growing facial hair has always been an issue for Benno so he has been delighted to start to show the signs of some serious progress on his chin and chops and I have been happy to see that his barb is also decidedly gingery in colour. It's an odd phenomenon that neither of has another ginger hair on our body, we have thoroughly checked, apart from the area between clavicle and nose. So leaving the hut, with a dash of the fox about us, we were determined to make a coastal point some 20km away but with our now reloaded sleds weighing in at around 50kgs heavier, life moved at a slower rate. We were both taken by surprise at quite how much more effort we were now putting in to move the sleds and our dream destination for the evening seemed sure to elude us. That is until we saw the bears- it's amazing what adrenaline will do for your daily mileage!

We had seen lots of tracks at the hut and criss-crossing our path for the past 6 hours, confidently announcing to each other that this was a male or here you could see a young mother and cub and that this track is clearly weeks old when Benno stopped and squinted at the horizon. “It's a bear” I replied as soon as I followed his finger and saw a mother and two cubs around 600m away, ambling along towards us very bear like and pausing occasionally to stand on hind legs to smell us and get a better view. Having rapidly dumped harnesses and grabbed shotguns, we secured Tala, hid the marmalade and loaded our bear bangers. As we watched the mother trundle closer who should we suddenly see bolting towards the bear at full pelt but Tala, having slipped her lead and seeing this as a wonderful opportunity to get aquatinted with her polar cousin. As the queen bee of Battersea Park and used to lording it over the Cockapoos and French Bulldogs, Tala is not lacking in self confidence and despite us shouting and swearing at her, she wasn't coming back for anyone. Benno and I watched in horrified silence both thinking this was going to end in one of two ways, neither happy. Tala would either get mauled or killed by the bear, very bad news meaning we would be left with only Colin who was trying his hardest to look in the other direction and pretend he couldn't see the bear, or Tala would get close enough to severely piss the bear off and when she realised this wasn't the big husky from the park and that maybe a play fight was out of the question she would run back towards us bringing an angry and irate mother bear with her. Tala however proved us wrong, she fully charged the bear, ears up, legs galloping, taking entirely airborne strides until the bear turned and with her cubs ran as fast as they could in the opposite direction. Tala chased her for around 600/700m, barked at the bear quite a lot as if to say " and don't come back" then turned round and strutted back to us looking very pleased with herself. Needless to say we weren't shouting at her anymore and she received lots of attention and praise once she had sauntered back to our position, head held high and in expectation of some flapjack for her bravery.

As the light faded and we watched the bear and Cubs saunter off into the dusk we decided to push on to put some distance between us and this large and powerful creature. It is a strange experience being separated from a large, hungry, predator by only an open stretch of flat sea ice and in some ways it felt as if we were watching the whole experience on the most vivid wide screen imaginable, which I suppose in some ways we were. Still it's nice to have a shotgun and a dog like Tala just in case you can't find the remote to change channel fast enough when things get a bit too real.

So we made the Point that evening and set off for our next destination, Cape Henry Kater. Having poured over maps looking at this area for many weeks it is always gratifying to arrive at a large, much anticipated check point as it helps validate the miles you have already completed and allows you to settle on your next objective. Having followed our neatly marked map exactly (EXACTLY) to the spot where the Inuit hunters had told us to cross the Cape, we were a little taken aback by the scale of the river valley running down the land. We had been told to expect a ‘steep bit’ at the beginning but the ravine slicing its way down a considerable Munro sized peak was not what we expected. Optimistic as ever we assumed the valley must level out behind and so began the bastard task of lifting the sleds over the 100ms or so of rocky beach and dragging them uphill. After one particular stint of shuttling the sleds up an increasingly steep slope we decided that a quick recce was in order to scout the terrain ahead and if this was a feasible or ludicrous undertaking. After 30 minutes it became obvious that getting a skidoo up this slope, let alone a 140kg man powered sled, would be a tough task and that turning round was the only feasible option. We walked back down to the sleds, which from our new perspective were resting on a slope resembling a challenging red run and we both marveled that we managed to get them that far uphill without realising maybe this was not the right route. We needed some help and when you are pissed off, shattered and confused on Baffin Island the only people to call are the Qik RCMP. We spoke to Chris and John first assuring them that we were fine and hadn't injured ourselves and asked that they tracked down Jaipotte for us, whose line on the map we had been diligently following. Thirty minutes later Jai was explaining to us that there is a hut to look for right by the valleys entrance and we were about 8km to the west of the position we needed and that our map was very hard to draw accurate lines on. We headed back down the slope as the sun began to fade, frustrated to have wasted a day, a huge amount of energy and our moods only briefly brightened when Colin managed to wrap Benno's legs up and send him down the slope head first as we were descending. Well it brightened my day although I daren’t laugh as B looked like he was about to skin Colin on the spot. That night was definitely a brownie night and we gratefully ate the last of Celine’s excellent treats and enjoyed her final quote which was, once again, oddly fitting.

The next day we found the hut and valley and with the river frozen our progress and morale increased as the day brightened up with the sleds skimming lightly over the still river despite going uphill. This was not to last. After 7k the river poured into a large frozen lake which was also easy to cross, however with the fog creeping in and an alarming uphill section in front of us we call it a day and camped in a shallow saddle. The next morning was bright and clear which revealed to us in all its glory the task that lay ahead; an undulating hillside, reminiscent of the Scottish highlands, dotted with incalculable rocks which poked menacingly through the snow. Jai's sage advice to "just follow the land" seemed a little optimistic now and so we headed North as best we could, aiming for the lowest saddle on the horizon and hoping to find a path through. The going was harder than either of us thought possible and always tinged with the knowledge that we didn't know if this was best course, having no map of a small enough scale to be of use for detailed navigation. The horrible small rocks sticking through the thin snow cover meant that we zigzagged constantly, often pulling for 5 or 6 metres for only 1 metre forward gained, all the while heading uphill. After 5 Hours of this we were both exhausted and beginning to feel cold despite the heavy work load, a sure sign we were running low on energy. Finally we crested the top of the saddle with the glorious sight of a flattish landscape ahead and in the distance the exit valley on the other side of the Cape clearly visible. Benno summed it up perfectly when he said "I feel a bit emotional".

Not only could we see that the land beyond was tolerably flat we also had a direction to aim for in the form of a topographical feature large enough to be clear on our maps, which put an end to those nagging doubts we were heading into a range of mountains. We trudged off down the hill exhausted and feeling depressed by the reading on the GPS telling us that despite all of our back breaking hard work we had only covered 6km in a straight line. The next day showed no sign of a letup in work load. Pulling pulks on anything other than flat terrain is horrible, any change in gradient is instantly noticeable and made painfully obvious by the biting of the harness into your back and yet we covered some good ground so slept thinking we would be back on the sea ice tomorrow evening. Oh what fools! Those last 16km proved to be every bit as difficult as the first section, constant ups and downs, rocks everywhere and the previously very obvious valley and river system slowly becoming a large drainage area for the surrounding marshes with many false exits and non -draining lakes meaning finding the actual watercourse was sometimes impossible. Both knackered from the previous 3 days our paced slowed and despite eventually finding he main river channel we both realised that this Cape was going to be the gift that kept on giving as night and the temperature dropped. Waking the next morning to a fresh breeze and -38 on the thermometer did little to lift our spirits and we packed in silence and headed back to the river channel. The sea ice was tantalisingly close now, less than 3km away and yet we weren't counting any chickens this time. The river had steepened into a ravine, obviously a powerful white water rapid during the spring melt, unlike the lovely little river we had pottered up on the other side this was steep, dotted with huge boulders and filled with deep snow. Despite going downhill we had to pull the sleds almost as hard as if we had been going uphill and on three occasions 20ft snow drifts filled the valley forcing us to do shuttle runs to get the sleds over the top. Finally we turned a meander in the river and there, spread before us was the ice, flat and inviting like a massive rink ready to be skated happily across.

I can now fully sympathise with a female turtle desperately hauling herself slowly and painfully up a beach to lay her eggs. Some things are meant to be on land, some things are not. Pulks, and the silly ginger bearded Brits pulling them, are definitely sea mammals and the relief and accomplishment we felt as we crossed the tide gap back onto the ice must be the same as the turtle as she slips gratefully back into the ocean. I do doubt that the turtle turns round to the land, gives it the finger and tells it to go f*$k itself, but it's nice to think that maybe in her own way she does and after all, who could blame her.

So off we went again, ignoring the map and the drawn line that pointed us towards the next Cape and the recommended over-land crossing, instead heading belligerently for the sea ice and a coastal route beyond where we belong.

"Whatever you think you can do, or believe you can do, begin it. Action has magic, power and grace." *Thanks Celine!!!

HOME BAY & BEYOND

March 5, 2015

About 12 days ago we reached our first depot. It has been a bit of a shock to the system being back on the trail after everything that has happened, however Jamie and I have been trudging away the miles. We have constantly been looking for that flat and smooth ice where we just effortlessly and gracefully fly over the surface. Sadly we haven't found it, by any stretch of the imagination, and we now have first hand knowledge of what rough ice looks like. Our standards of what we can expect have almost certainly adjusted. We had been advised the area we were heading through had very rough ice, the locals keep saying its the worst it has been in years and they have been skirting around it. This process is much quicker on a skidoo and for us the maths made the tougher route the unfortunate winner. We made it to a large bay that we needed to cross but it was difficult to envisage the vastness of it due to the thick fog that hugged the surface of the ice and the setting sun. Waking the next morning we were met by beautiful blue skies, vast inlets, glorious mountains and ahead of us a rolling sea of broken ice. It was disheartening as our pace slowed to a crawl. It was like being in a constant scrummage with an opponent that lasted for the entire day plus part of the next. For every step won forward you could feel the energy being sapped out of you. Even at -30C we could feel ourselves breaking a sweat, something which we try our hardest to avoid as it clogs our clothes with ice. Being the slightly hotter team member, this comes from bitter experience as I squeezed myself into a ice crunching jacket the following morning.

Despite the tough ice we have been touched by glorious weather. Excluding one day where ourselves and our tent were rattled by the 30mph+ winds. We awoke far earlier in the morning than the usual 5 am. Although we stayed wrapped in our sleeping bags for as long as possible we soon had to depart this safety blanket and meet the day head on. The snow swirled round our feet all day. It was impossible to spot a reasonable path through it all. Despite the balmy temperatures in the mid -20's the wind made the temperature plummet and every millimetre of skin needed to be covered. Despite our best efforts we would walk along constantly adjusting as the wind managed to squeeze its icy fingers into any gap. It also made the experience of going to the bathroom regardless of what it was, a very chilling and quick but necessary experience. There is only so long you can wait and unfortunately the weather doesn't seem to correlate with toilet stops.

After all of that we finally made our way to our next stash of food and fuel! We are now sitting here appreciating some warmth from some left over fuel in a good friend Jaipotties hut. We are enjoying munching through some planned treats plus some of the surplus goodies that we have.

The next part of our journey sees us heading over the final stretch of Home Bay and then towards Clyde River. It's still a fairly good chunk at around 200 km. Possibly more importantly it marks, to Qikiqtarjuaqs relief, the transition from being closer from one to the other. Chris and Halie can finally relax knowing that we aren't going to spring up and crash in the police station. Thanks again for the awesome hospitality. We are forever grateful.

So now just to push further north.

In doggy news Colin and Tala are getting on incredibly well. Colin whines and pines after Tala when she goes about her wanderings each day. It does give us a slight headache but provides bears with a disincentive to approach. A win overall we have concluded. It might also explain why Talas trundling goes off into the distance until she appears to be a little speck before bounding back...particularly when she senses we are stopping for food. Her nuzzling Colin though suggests she does quite like him after all though.

HUTTER MADNESS

February 28, 2015

Round the Cape and Northward bound we go! Benno and I have started to rack up some respectable distances and rounded Cape Hooper in calm and clear weather and good spirits. The ice and snow Gods have not however been particularly kind to us and the conditions under sled and foot have been testing and frustrating. As our sleds get lighter the going is getting easier and the previously insurmountable ice and snow ridges can now be conquered with brute force and a lot of swearing. The lighter sleds bring us happiness in that they now feel like dragging a small dead cow behind you where as previously it had felt like trying to drag a dead Narwhal tusk and all through the deep snow, the difference I assure you is noticeable! This happiness is tinged with the knowledge that the sleds are light because they are rapidly emptying. Food, fuel, dog food and Benno's haemorrhoid cream are all disappearing at an alarming rate and it is a daily reminder to us of what is needed out here to keep your body functioning and our tent warm. We have however judged it correctly so far and we should be arriving at the next depot in 3 days time with 5 days worth of everything to spare which is good to know I case we get any unforeseen hold ups. Jaipotties hut that we are now aiming for has our cache of food and fuel is well marked and we have exact coordinates from the man himself, so finding it should pose no problem. Not so with the last two huts. There are few things more demoralising than promising yourself a warm evening in a hut, maybe even sitting in just your base layer if it gets warm enough. A raised platform to snuggle up together on, the ability to sit upright against a wall and the special thought of waking up in the morning without your beard frozen to your sleeping bag. We have had these heady dreams twice dashed now in the last week. True disappointment is knowing that despite having skied for 8 hours to reach a random point on a map given to you by a hunter 2 weeks previously, the 8ft by 8ft hut that is apparently "unmissable" is nowhere to be found. When moving by skidoo traveling 6-10kms in search of the exact spot is a 15min job and of no real concern but when that distance represents half a day's travel by foot, searching becomes a totally different proposition. Knowing you are probably only 1-2kms from a small shed whilst you put your tent up in -30c after a long and arduous day is completely gutting but at least it means we will really appreciate Jai's hut when we get there.

We are starting to see more bear tracks and in one area saw either a single bear running around a lot looking for something or the equivalent of a mass polar bear rave. We both agreed it was probably just one or maybe two sniffing about and cleared and recycled the shotguns. We have taken more recent glances over our shoulders just in case. A quick and casual reminder of whose Kingdom we are trespassing in and that vigilance is key to a safe journey through.

Our evening of sulking over a lack of huts was improved immeasurable by eating some of the brownies Celine had given us before we left. We had been saving them for a low moment and this seemed appropriate. As we broke the brownies hurriedly we saw pieces of paper tucked in between the slices. On our piece of paper was a quote from Ernest Shackleton giving us a timely reminder as we snuggled in our down sleeping bags next to our roaring camp stoves that somethings are best kept in perspective. A wonderful gesture from Celine and Yves and it helped turn a miserable night into a happy one as we sat like children at Christmas reading our quote and munching our brownies.

So onwards to the hut and some more biltong, chocolate buttons and no doubt more deep snow and horrible mounds of ice. However as the great Shackleton said "difficulties are just things to overcome after all" and we will be bearing that in mind as we go.

NORTHERN HOSPITALITY

February 20, 2015

We departed Qik early in the morning in a bid to get dropped off before our drivers for the day Jaipottie and his son kyle headed further north. Despite the time, Yves and Celine who have been incredibly helpful, gave us a departing gift of brownies!! We are definitely going to appreciate them when the going gets tough. After a few hours driving we were dropped off near to where Alex had his head injury and where we were all picked up. Smack bang in the middle of nowhere. Standing there realising this was our opportunity to continue further north towards Clyde river and continue learning about the east coast of Baffin Island. Despite the early start and following a late night doing last minute packing and final goodbyes, we still managed to get some good miles under our feet before stopping for the night on an open estuary between distant towering cliffs.

It was a beautiful spot with the mountains behind us still glowing in a pinky colour with the setting sun and the icebergs in the distance gradually turning from electric blue to green. We managed to get all the necessary snow melted for the next morning before hitting the sack. What struck us whilst lying there was the lack of sound. There was not a breath of wind and all we could hear throughout the night was the odd snore or one of the dogs have a short walk and a shake off. At least with the snoring it is obvious who the culprit is. I had forgotten my alarm was set for 5 am, I soon corrected it for a bit later in the morning when I realised it was still dark and freezing cold. Morning in the Arctic is always a nice surprise. All the moisture in your breath freezes to the lip of your sleeping bag during the night so when the time comes to wake up this has a tendency to flutter down onto your face in ice cold spots. On top of that if you happen to touch the side of the tent this has the same effect but on a grander scale! Heading off with the sun rising into the sky and burning off any cloud, we continued on to our depot of food. It was a fairly standard day with Tala running about in her crazy fashion, while Colin whined constantly at the injustice of being on a lead. Jemima I am afraid despite some spectacular final attempts to catch her, remains in Qik. We miss her dearly. We knew we were getting close. Coming round a head land a hut slowly appeared and what made it even more special was that smoke was rising from it. This meant one thing warmth! Then off one hill appeared two boys tobogganing down it and going off a small jump. It was quite a surreal sight. Tala meanwhile was ignoring all commands and exploring the new smells and surroundings. Arriving we were soon offered a warm room for night, a choice of caribo and Arctic char soup and some tea. Both soups Jamie and I decided were delicious. All this, despite our conversation either being translated by the 12 year old boy Edmond or through a mixture of English and hand signals. We couldn’t have asked for more then they provided us with a huge chunk of iceberg ice saving the task of collecting a load of snow to melt. It also makes some pretty epic tea, hot chocolate or maxi nutrition viper for recovering. Not quite as good as the glenlivet on iceberg ice but carrying that would be an unnecessary extravagance. It has been some incredible hospitality from our hosts who were surprised to see 2 men walk over hauling sleds.

The coming days see us heading further north towards our next depot. Meanwhile Alex is heading further south to Ottawa for further medical evaluation and recuperation. We are hoping he has a speedy recovery and to see him shortly.

A Dogs Life - Colins Blog

February 17, 2015

Its been an odd month inside what so far has been a completely normal winter. The snow fell as is usual and the darkness and frozen sea gradually grew longer and stronger in just the same way they have for the last 4 winters I can remember. My cold paws and nose felt just the same whilst waiting patiently for my coat to grow nice and thick again to warm me up and of course occasional visits from “the man” to bring food and get us all excited before driving off again on his dogless sled. I am quite an anxious dog by nature and know one has ever accused me of being too intelligent therefore it brings me a great deal of contentment when things happen as they should, the seasons change and the “the man” comes and goes. I’m not one for too much excitement.

Things took a considerable turn for the worse when “the man” arrived one afternoon with the dogless sled and unceremoniously dumped me sideways onto it. Despite the lack of strong canine’s running out front those things can really move and make very loud and distressing noises and before long I was dizzy, scared and half choked on the black fog belching from within the monster. The noise gradually lessened and as we came to a stop I assumed we had reached our destination, although I was so shaken and disorientated I was struggling to stand up, let alone make a rational judgement as to where I was. I was also very distressed that Jemima had disappeared and since we do everything together this was defiantly a cause for concern.

In front of a very large box with a door stood 3 pale faced mens with massive orange chests and arms and surprisingly skinny legs, talking in an odd sounding growl to “the man”. They came over and touched my head and paws, felt my tummy and looked in my eyes and mouth. Being a well behaved dog who knows his manners I did not growl or pull away but i can tell you now I didn’t like it. Not one little bit. Whilst assuming my standard meeting new people pose of cowering and shaking slightly I spied Jemima through the wall of orange , she had found me. My heart leapt and i gave a little whoof to let her know I had seen her. This happy feeling was quickly banished when “the man” grab my special area saying in his strange growley language “if you want him stand up just grab penis” I stood up as he grabbed me as I am sure you would and tried to look unconcerned but this is difficult when some you don’t want to touch your privates is rather forcefully holding onto your delicates.

Suddenly i was released, the dogless sled was being started and small pieces of paper were changing hands. I braced myself for another horrible sideways ride but it never came. Instead “the man” drove away, kicking up a cloud of snow and dirty smoke and leaving me lost and forgotten with 3 strange orange mens in a new and terrifying part of town. Thankfully my memory is pretty poor even by dog standards and despite feeling anxious, the sight of Jemima skulking around out of grabbing range and the large bag of dog food one of the orange mens was bringing calmed my heart rate and bought the most influential part of me back into immediate focus. My tummy. Now i wouldn’t consider myself a greedy dog although others may disagree but here in the North when tasty edible things are put in reach, you dont wait for a polar bear or Jemima to come and take it, you eat it as fast as you can. Tasty and edible covers a range of things, well to be honest absolutely anything unless I am physically unable to chew it or get it in my mouth. I have eaten some things that were a bit queer, even things that smelt alot like dogs I once knew but I am sure its a coincidence Uncle Chops disappeared on the same day we had that strange, stringy, furry meat .

I digress, see food does that to me, its very therapeutic it clears my mind of everything else regardless of the situation I am in which is not always a blessing.

The orange mens put the bag of food away after a disappointing portion size, they always are and pulled me round the back of the building. As we turned the corner an alarming flurry of grey fur, massive ears and booming bark was my shock introduction me to Tala. What a Bitch. Please take it from an amorous male dog she is a slamming hottie. Well built in all the right areas, luxurious flowing fur, gleaming teeth and a come get me stare in her bright eyes. Her lovely coat was grey with flecks of white and black and as I stared at her a strange sensation began to creep over me. Instincts from the past 1000 years began to click together in my brain and I could feel the cogs turning until suddenly the realisation hit me, holy f*#k its a wolf.

This was not a good scenario, the orange mens had obviously bought me to feed to this massive slavering wolf thing, I cowered and shook as if my life depended on it, which believe me I thought it did. In the way of all dogs, horrible nasty wolfs or nice well behaved huskys, we sniffed at each other, front and back to find out a few essential facts. I had my eyes firmly shut the entire time waiting for the blow to come that would end my beautiful and terribly short life. After several minutes had passed and I hadn’t taken my last breath, I ventured a glance through one squinting eye at the wolf. To my considerable relief and bemusement the wolf dog was sitting down next to the Orange Mens whilst they spoke to her and patted her on the head. To my amazement they began pouring a small pile of food from the same bag that they fed me from and with various grunts from the Orange Mens the wolf dog sat down, then lay down, then gave them a paw and finally waited agonisingly by the pile of food until one of the mens gave her a sign and she attacked it with gusto. This was really bad news. These Orange Mens were strange sorcerers from a distance place, no dog I had ever seen or met would do that for any mens, anywhere, ever. The Orange Mens must be very powerful dog lords indeed and I whimpered anxiously wondering when I would come under their spell and be fed to their pet wolf.

However the Orange Mens patted me on the head and wandered off leaving me sitting with the wolf under a frozen Arctic sky with the darkness broken only by the pinpricks of starlight and the glow of the young moon (I always know where the moon is and how big it is. Its a husky thing). The wolf approached. “Hello daaarling, my names Tala, with a T in case you didnt know. Your a sorry looking boy arent you, when was the last time you got dewormed?”. Although I understood what she said her accent was very strange, clipped yet snotty, crystal clear and yet nasal. ” My name is ᑕᐃᒪᐃᓪᓗᑐᕐᑐᐊᓗᒍᓐᓇ I replied and you dont sound as if you come from these parts”. “Thats funny” Tala quipped, “My boys said you were called Colin, dreadfully common sort of name but easier to comprehend than that rubbish you just came out with”. “Your right, I am not from around here, I am from Chelsea in London, I am sure you know it, everyone does so I wont go into to details but needless to say this winter ski holiday is proving to be quite disagreeable. I flew cattle class over, I have missed an entire week of Made in Chelsea and its bloody freezing. I only recently changed into my winter collection and my coat is taking longer to come through than usual hence this awful red thing I am wearing. Still it will be worth the wait wolf grey is this seasons black according to Karl. I can only imagine there has been a terrible mix up with the Maitre’d in the hotel here as I have been outside for the last 2 nights, but I am sure my boys are sorting out my room as we speak and hopefully they have digital so I can catch up on New York fashion week”

Well I was pretty tired and most of this made very little sense to me so I simply said “well its certainly nice to meet you” and added as a after thought, “do you only eat dog food”? “Of course” replied Tala “although I am partial to a little fish if served correctly and I only drink glacial water or snow served at room temperature”. “Oh good” I replied “Well I hope you dont mind but I am going to sleep, its been an eventful day ” and with a quick look round for Jemima, hiding under the building, she has a wonderful knack for finding the warmest places, I settled down and closed my eyes. As I mentioned before its difficult for me to dwell on things for to long as I tend to forget everything rather quickly even my supposed new name and as I got comfortable I thought I could almost hear my friends from the dog team snuffling next to me. As I drifted of to sleep I thought whatever next, hopefully breakfast.