Scratching the Surface

 

Torngat Mountains

kANGIDLUASUk  (St. John’s Bay), Saglek Fjord

Basecamp

August 2, 2013

“Some people put sugar on them but I like ‘em plain,”  Maria explained as she handed me leaves from a roseroot plant.  The tangy taste sat on my tongue as we hiked above Nachvak Brook’s spreading fan of water emptying into Saglek Fjord.  Maria was one of 3 bear monitors provided by Torngat Mountains National Park for our zodiac ride and hike. 

 

 

Motoring to the head of St. John’s Bay in Saglek Fjord last night, the one permanent building housing dining hall, offices, and scientific labs surrounded by heated yurts and tents came into view.  It’s a startling sight to see such a large human footprint after travelling through wilderness for weeks.  This is kANGIDLUASUk, the Inututik name for the head of St. John’s Bay and Torngat Mountains National Park’s (TMNP) Base Camp on Saglek Fjord.  TMNP was the first Canadian National park created with input and co-management of local First Nation’s People.  It seems to be going well. 

Saglek Fjord was our last chance to really hike in the Torngats versus power walking up and down the beach in sight of dinghy and Andante.  It was also our last chance to venture far into the fjords, something we hadn’t done because of fuel concerns.  “Saglek” means shortcut and the saddle between Cape Uivuk and the 3000ft high mountains inland of the Cape was used by people and bears moving up the coast for millennia.  Today, that saddle is occupied by an airstrip where visitors to Torngat Mountains National Park arrive by chartered plane from Nain or Goose Bay and are ferried by boat from the landing strip to Base Camp. 

This isn’t a national park as we think of it. It’s only “open” 6 weeks of the year and is as much a scientific base as a place for tourists to explore wilderness, history and wildlife.  All visitors are requested to check in here and get bear information and find out about the resources available. 

Anchored off the beach was Tarok, a Swiss boat that’s been in Lewisporte, Newfoundland for several years as they spend summers exploring Newfoundland and Labrador.  We’ve been trading e-mails since before our trips started but this will be the first anchorage we share.  The crew of both boats met at the dining hall for seeing the faces behind the e-mails and radio conversations we’ve been sharing. 

Every evening activities for the next day are posted in the dining hall.  On tap for the next day - Zodiac ride & hike up Nachvak Brook - finally a chance to hike and explore deeper into the fjords.

We met Lorenzo from Tarok and our bear monitors, Henry, Maria and Jobe at the dock.  Loaded into the large zodiac, we blitzed up the Fjord each of us pointing in different directions at something to see; an unusual geologic feature, a waterall plummeting to rocks below, a polar bear romping up a steep incline.  

Maria, Alison, Russ & Jobe
 

Nosing close to some rocks we scrambled out of the inflatable and began walking.   Nachvak Brook is the eastern terminus of another Inuit/Polar Bear highway.  It connects with River Koroc which connects with George River and Ungava Bay transversing the long triangle that is the tip of Labrador & Quebec.  Maria told us her mother had been born here, a traditional camping spot and she grew up traveling northern Labrador with her family.  A few years ago Inuit from the Labrador side and the Ungava Bay side placed a commemorative inuksuqs here.    Jobe, the other bear monitor, grew up in George River on the Ungava Bay side so it seemed fitting to have both sides represented on our hike. 

Their official title is “Bear Monitor” but they’re so much more.  We learned what plants to eat and tasted them, about what it was like to grow up here and how much it meant to them to be able to come back and live a more traditional lifestyle than those living in town year-round.  Seeing a robin hopping amongst the heather, Jobe & Maria commented it was the first robin they’ve seen this far north.  That coupled with comments of how the green growth is reaching higher up the mountainsides provided anecdotal evidence of climate change.

I love Maria's hot pink gun strap.

Sometimes we second-guessed ourselves on our bear caution. Were we being too cautious?  Could we have gone off hiking when it was just the two of us?  Hearing the respect and caution that our bear monitors have for polar bears confirmed our decision.  We’d been right to be cautious. 

Gliding along this coast in Andante sometimes feels like car touring.  You’re in the place but not touching or tasting it.  We got the chance to go deeper, to do more than scratch the surface of the coast by moving inland and by learning about life here - a magical end to our time in the Torngats.

 

 

 

Security

Schooner Cove, Nachvak Fjord

July 31, 2013

 

 

“The scene is beyond the possibility of my pen, and I shall not attempt it.  The rocks were entirely barren, except here and there, on the lower ranges, where the slopes were gradual, and patches of heather, or bog, or stunted vegetation of some kind, relieved the dullness of their uniform color.  Higher up near the clouds, on the giant precipices, we could see, here and there a rough broken garment of moss, the growth, probably, of a thousand years. The summits were capped with perpetual snow in many, places that sparkled and glowed in the morning sun, as its rays broke through the parting clouds, like crowns of glory.  The prospect was strange and wild – strange in the angularity of the steep declivities, bold, rugged, barren and desolate, yet altogether, as one passes within the entrance, continuing to inspire a sense of security.”

~ C.R. Tuttle (1885) describing entering Nachvak Fjord in Our North Land:  Being a full account of the Canadian North-west and Hudson’s Bay Route, together with a narrative of the experiences of the Hudson’s Bay Expedition of 1884.

 

This was our farthest north on our 2011 trip and it was so foggy we didn’t get a sense of the place.  This year, bright blue skies opened our eyes to what’s known as the most dramatic scenery on this very dramatic coast. These aren’t the soft shouldered mountains of The Blue Ridge.  These mountains reach jagged fists upward to tear the belly out of skimming clouds.  Snow drifts fill bowls and cling to near vertical ramparts.   Clouds dance up the sides while waterfalls cascade down.

 

The mountains have remained the same since Mr. Tuttle wrote about them in 1884 but if anything the area has become more devoid of human life. During the 1880’s Inuit families would have been camped along the fjord during the summer months. Fishers from Newfoundland would’ve been over for the fishing season.  People would’ve been moving up and down the coast all summer.  We’ve seen 2 boats since leaving Nain 16 days ago.  One was a fishing boat heading to Ungava Bay and the other was an American sailboat returning from Cape Chidley.

Today we’re sharing Schooner Cove in Nachvak Fjord with a young polar bear.  She* was moving about on the rocks at the water’s edge as we anchored and then found a comfortable spot and has been there for 2 days!  She’ll lift her head every once in a while and rearrange herself but basically hasn’t strayed from a 10 foot area.  She’s the 9^th bear we’ve seen so far.  Russ paddled over a safe distance and she just looked at him. 

 

*We can’t tell if they’re male or female. This one looked fairly small so we’re thinking maybe it’s a young female.

Polar bears are the only bears that don’t hibernate but summer is their down time.  They tend to laze about in the day and move around at night.  If you were wearing a fur coat in the summer, wouldn’t you do the same?

I paddled into the middle of the fjord.  Paddled until Andante was the tiniest speck nestled against the mountains.  Paddled until I was an infinitesimal speck. I didn’t feel Mr. Tuttle’s “sense of security” but knew I floated on and among a sea of beauty. 

Farthest North

Farthest North

Clark Harbour, Labrador
07/25/2013          

 

 

 

 Dressed in a layer of polypro, 2 pairs of socks, and a wool hat, I'm ensconced in my sleeping bag with an inner liner. My gloved hand holds a book and my voice fills our forward cabin as I read to my similarly clad and ensconced husband. Our breath comes out in visible puffs as rivulets of condensation make their way down every vertical surface. We're at Clark Harbour, the northernmost harbor on the Labrador mainland and the harbor at the entrance to McClellan Strait the narrow, tide ripped passage that leads to Ungava Bay. The only reason we're able to relax enough to read is we were up at 5 this morning running a line ashore. The wind is forecast to pipe up and we're afraid, after our 3 attempts to anchor yesterday, that the only thing attaching our anchor to the bottom is a bunch of kelp and sea grass.

This will be our northernmost anchorage for this trip and it feels very north. Andante's interior hull temperature is reading 33.5° Fahrenheit. The thermometer inside our bubble (the nickname our dodger has acquired on this trip) is 36°. The land is lacking any softening layer of vegetation, at a glance it looks like pure rock.  We made a foray onto shore, being very alert for bears, and found up close it's a different story. There are plants here. Lichens, moss, and wildflowers tiny enough for a gnome's home lay in crevices. Their height is measured in millimeters as they seek shelter and warmth from the rocks around them. 

 We'd thought about continuing north from here but fuel consumption is becoming a concern. To get this far north this fast, we've motored on calm days, and there have been a LOT of calm days. Now we need to make sure we have enough fuel to get back to Nain or tuck in somewhere safe if the weather turns nasty. Earlier, we'd thought about crossing Hudson Strait, one of the foggiest places in the world, and visiting Baffin Island but we'll be saving that for another trip. We're quite happy to have safely made it here and we can see Cape Chidley when the fog lifts.

 Next morning we rose early to retrieve our line ashore before the rising tide put it under water. After a leisurely breakfast we began raising the anchor and cutting kelp off as we went. Glancing off our stern a pair of black eyes stared intently at us, nose in the air using that incredible sense of smell to discern if we were edible. Our seventh polar bear was young, a male we think, and very, very curious. He clambered up the rocks until he was looking down from the nearby cliff. Out came the cameras. Russ shot video and my job was to #1 keep us off the rocks and in deep water and #2 get some stills if I could. "Clark Gable" happily obliged and posed for us. These young males are known as the troublemakers and we were glad we hadn't encountered him on shore the day before!