The end of our journey is approaching as we prepare to leave Canadian waters, surrounded by icebergs
TAY BAY, Northern Canada — On the morning of August 27, the glaciers flowing into Navy Board Inlet were bathed in exceptionally clear light. The landscape around our boat had once again changed dramatically. Just a day earlier, and only a few hours before, the dark water had been marked by restless waves, persistent sea-level fog, wisps of cloud at higher altitudes and cold northerly winds. Now, everything was still.
In the bright Arctic light, the mountains of Canada’s national parks and protected areas were reflected in pale shades that distorted our sense of distance and challenged our ability to judge direction and landscape. After leaving the sheltered waters of Tay Bay, where we had spent the previous 48 hours, our hull broke through a thin layer of ice for the first time during this voyage. It was something we had not encountered since arriving in Alaska in early June.
For 19th-century explorers and sailors, such conditions were warning signs of the rapid change of season. By early October, they had to find a well-protected place to anchor their vessels and shelter their crews before the long winter months brought navigation to a standstill.
We, by contrast, have the enormous advantage of an engine. Even against strong winds and rough seas, we can easily maintain speeds of more than six knots. We reached Tay Bay two days earlier after crossing Lancaster Sound in around 12 hours, using both sail and engine.
Along the southern shore, the high glaciers of Bylot Island National Park came into view. In the fading light of the late-summer Arctic night, they looked like paintings by the Macchiaioli or blurred color reproductions of old restored prints.
These are protected areas where foreign visitors and non-residents are generally limited to observing the landscape and wildlife. Local Inuit, however, are permitted to hunt outside the park, on nearby Baffin Island, solely to obtain what they need for their survival.
In the heart of the Arctic, among ice, icebergs and mountains: our correspondent’s report
The anchor was dropped at midnight. The bay was completely quiet, with only three curious seals swimming around the motionless hull.
On August 26, we went ashore by tender. We first walked along a cliff, where gulls flew close to the ground in an effort to keep us away from their nests. We then spent a couple of hours hiking through marshy terrain, while meltwater streams flowed down from the steep hills running parallel to the coast.
At one point, we came across what appeared to be the carcass of a young bear, possibly an animal that had died earlier in the summer. We sent photographs to the officers at Sirmilik National Park, which is managed by the Canadian government and maintains detailed records of local wildlife. We also sent them photographs of fresh bear tracks, clearly visible in the muddy ground.
Along the inner beach, we found the tangled remains of an old fishing net. We brought it back aboard and plan to hand it over to park rangers in the coming days.
In roughly 100 hours, we had not seen a single other boat. Two small cruise vessels, each less than 150 meters long, were meanwhile anchored at Pond Inlet, where fuel is available and vessels can complete the formalities required to leave Canadian territorial waters.
I am writing these notes as the boat moves through an extraordinary landscape. Mountain ridges illuminated by the sun are dotted with enormous glaciers, while permanent snow can be seen on vast plateaus more than 1,000 meters above sea level. Nearly every valley appears to be blocked by crevasses and towering blocks of glacial ice.
Only once did we catch sight of the sun reflecting off three or four corrugated-metal huts. They are used as temporary shelters by Inuit hunters.
At 5 p.m. on August 27, we were still making around seven knots under engine power, with little wind and a current against us. In the 19th century, sailors relying on wind power would have lost valuable days in such conditions, forced to adapt to the unpredictable weather.
Now the sun remains high in the sky. The air is crystal clear and the temperature is no higher than 3°C, giving the impression of a beautiful winter day in the Alps.
But this is the Arctic Ocean, and the difference is made by the blue-tinted icebergs that occasionally appear on the horizon before drifting past us on either side.
Over the next few hours, we plan to anchor at Cape Hatt on Baffin Island, where Inuit communities have established a small shelter camp for summer hunting expeditions.
With every mile, our departure from Canada draws closer. Soon, we will reach the open waters of Baffin Bay.
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