The Great Arctic Air Adventure Blog

There are signs:

It could be that we haven’t been fighting a headwind for the last couple of days…

Perhaps it’s because we haven’t had an Arctic Char feast for a few days…

Come to think of it we didn’t set up our Polar Bear defenses last night…

Or it could be that last night we landed in relatively flat water and pulled the planes up on a nice sandy beach free of rocks and pounding wind waves…

The bears are black instead of white…

Maybe it’s because we pulled up to an actual seaplane dock in Kuujjuaq this morning, and refueled with Avgas instead of auto gas…

It could be all of these things, but I think the campfire we had last night, enabling us to warm our feet was the final sign.

Yes we have departed the Arctic – and are saddened for our loss. After whining about the rigors of the north for the last few weeks, and fearing that we might get stuck up there for the winter, it is an unexpected emotion, but I think we are all experiencing it.

We all miss the Arctic our own way, but for me I think our travels have suddenly become too easy. There is something about fighting for each mile against the elements of wind, rain, and cold that gives you a certain satisfaction at the end of the day. Perhaps it’s the vastness of the place, the thousands of miles of tundra inhabited by some of the toughest animals and humans on the planet that changes your focus. For the last few weeks, we’ve had no news of or interest in the politics, financial markets, or other functions of western society that normally dominate our day-to-day lives. We’ve just being concerned with eking out another mile, getting fuel, and experiencing this exotic place.

Yesterday, after crossing into the Boreal Forests, finding a campsite with available firewood became a priority. And so after a brief search for a suitable site, alert GAAA’er Dave Good spotted wood lying on a beach, immediately clinching the place as our campsite.

After three weeks in a land with no trees, the return of the evening’s fire and the warm and cheery atmosphere it provided was welcomed by the weary GAAA team.

And so after listening to the soothing patter of a warm and friendly rain on our tent flaps last night, we broke camp and made the short hop to Kuujjuaq where we glided to rest at a seaplane-friendly dock, and pumped real Avgas from drums into our thirsty Beavers. While there, we spent some time with legendary bush pilots Johnny and Billy May. Johnny, who has logged an incredible 20,000 hours of flying in these parts, was one of the first native pilots in the north. For these guys, the rigors we experienced over the last few weeks are just another day at the office. Out hats our off to Johnny and Billy, who endure bad weather and engine failures with no complaint.

Departing Kuujjuaq, we headed south to “Caribou Central”, an area about one hundred miles south rumored to be swarming with the hoofed herbivores. Alas, our efforts yielded little, as we only saw three of the elusive reindeer. However, ever vigilant GAAA’er Dave spotted two black bears, another sign that we were returning to a familiar land.

Mark and crew opted to land at a lake about 60 miles NW of Goose Bay (N54 02, W61 36) while Doug and crew pressed on to the Otter Creek Seaplane base at Goose Bay to meet up with incoming GAAA’ers Norma Ward and Robbi DeVries (Doug’s spousal unit.) Doug and crew were greeted by Freeman Poole of Air Labrador who provided a well appreciated docking space and loads of support and goodwill to the weary travelers. Thank you, Freeman, for your warm hospitality.

Norma, who by now had made friends with the entire town, took us out for a nice dinner, each of us savoring the fresh food while sipping our “spirit” of choice.

Did anybody hear what the Dow did yesterday…?

Until tomorrow,

Doug and the GAAA Team

N53 21, W60 25

Carol, our webmaster Dave Good’s gracious wife, (he’s Good naturedly with us) has been responsible for all you armchair explorers getting your daily dose of drizzle. Thank you Carol from the GAAA team!

But today it is a whole different story. From a cameraman’s perspective (cause that’s who’s bloggin’ tonight, folks) we went from mud and rain and wind and low contrast overcast gray dismal days of soldiering, slogging, and being grounded in unpredictable unflyable, unfilmable, tent-bound weather to another weather report of 40 knot winds and 60 knot gusts and four more tent bound days near Coral Harbor. So we jumped ahead of the storm. All of a sudden the heavens opened yesterday and stayed that way and Eric starting filming everything that walked in hip waders or four hairy legs or attempted winged head-on collisions with a Beaver windshield, and we found ourselves believing that it was Mark’s sister Lisa who had flown all the way from Germany who had brought blue skies with her. Thank you, Lisa, for the weather, and the German chocolate, and a delightful example of how a brother and sister can get along for almost half a century and hug while flying as co-pilots. We picked Lisa up in Coral Harbor where the sailor/cameraman/editor/photographer and cheerful Jim Clark gave up his spot for a week. Jim, how many times have we chuckled at Doug and Mark telling us they were in T shirts when they made their reconnaissance flight last year up north? I witnessed three of our group in that very fashion this very morning with the temperature climbing to 60 degrees at the time of our slide in on a quiet windless lake with trees.

HUH?! WHAT!? Did I say the T word? Yes, folks, the big news today is that at about the 58d.28m parallel, the forests (albeit small dwarf pines) have suddenly emerged after a very tense $5. per head bet amongst the six sojourners over who could guess the closest latitude where a clump of trees would emerge. Eric won the wager having bet last and just calling out a number lower than anyone else’s. Everyone’s grumbling, but he nailed it within 2 miles. But there are many things to wager: when Mark will first fall off a float after 30 years of flying float planes, or who snores the loudest among Dan, Dave, Eric, Mark, or Lisa. (We can’t hear Doug because he has his white noise maker going constantly which is like one long snore.) So far, (though there is no recorded proof or admission of guilt), people are ganging up on Eric as being the one who is keeping our campsites free of bears. Thank you, Eric.

Before that, though, we made a sea-landing visit to another spectacular iceberg we nicknamed the Crown Berg since it had spires around it worthy of royalty. Mark was determined to hop off his plane onto the floating majesty, but he’d left his ice-axe at home and decided that it was a bit slick for his fingernails and tennis shoes. After seeing and touching an iceberg that towers overhead, one gets the distinct feeling of shaking hands with a gentle giant -the ocean was blue green, the sky dappled with white beautiful and benign clouds, and things started looking like National Geographic magazine for a change. That means shooting video is soooo much more fun. After taking off and flying a few more miles, Lisa spotted her first Muskox, then several, and then a small band of 15 or so. We’re still searching for the reputed herds of 40,000 caribou, and maybe we’ll make another bet about when we’ll see more than two at a time, but we’ll leave that for another blog. The sun is setting earlier and earlier, and those who thought a flashlight wouldn’t be needed in the arctic because the sun barely sets (that would be me) will be sorrier and sorrier as they travel further south.

Shout outs go to FCNQ Petrol Tagulik Qisiiq who opened his station in the small coastal town of Kangiqsujuaq (CYKG for the flight sim boyz) and pumped gas on Sunday, and to Aloupa and his wife Lizzy who drove several times the many jerry cans full of car gas several miles from a lake to the gas station and back again. But from someone who is blogging for the first time I have to acknowledge Mark for his infectious and indefatigable enthusiasm, story telling, and helpfulness, and Doug, for his steadfastness, tireless, analytical and even-keeled nature. And one can’t say enough of their inventiveness in the face of myriad ever-changing challenges of both aeronautical and practical nature. Just one example is that unless you’ve experienced it, it is incomprehensible what it takes to load and unload a small float plane (remember we’re floating over water) of enough camping and cooking and photographic gear to comfort a small army, and do it on a daily basis for 6 weeks. That and hand pumping 120 gallons of fuel in each plane every day. To them my hat is off, even on a bad hair day.

This just in from Jim Clark who has reported that the two beavers and their fortunate passengers barely escaped out of Coral Harbor which was deluged with lightning, wind and rain as soon as we departed for sunshine in the south. That’s all for now, folks, but if we have a few more beautiful filming days like this one, we’ll have a movie that will inspire and thrill the most cynical among us. See you at the movies.

Eric and the GAAA Team

Current location:

N58d 16.947m

W68d 35.057m

Morning of Day 28 dawned in Baker Lake much as those before – gray skies dripping with moisture hovering close to the soggy tundra. Undaunted, and armed with a reasonably good forecast from Arctic Radio for our flight to Coral Harbor, we loaded our sodden gear into the Beavers and departed to the NE in hopes of better weather ahead. Initially, visibility was fair, with scattered areas of reduced visibility in fog and rain. Gradually, the rain and fog won out, and poor flying conditions forced us to land at a lake located at N 64 50, W 90 50. After pulling the planes onshore, we got out the Sat phone and checked in with Arctic Radio. Incredibly, we were now informed that conditions had deteriorated and no improvement was expected for the next 4 days. If you are all tired of hearing about our weather problems, multiply that emotion by ten and you have some insight into our thoughts and feelings at that moment. Were we ever going to get out of the arctic? After contemplating our plight and deciding that we had food and shelter to survive the siege, we had a good laugh and took off to “summit” the nearby five hundred foot stone mountain.

Following trails set by caribou and musk ox, we entertained ourselves by trying to match the various scatological samples along the trail with the animals of the tundra. Meanwhile, ever so slowly the skies to the east began to lighten, and we again plotted our escape. Adopting a new opportunistic policy of flying whenever the weather is good regardless of the time or duration, we again took to the skies – much to Dan’s chagrin who had just pitched his tent and was hunkered down for the duration. Too our delight, the weather continued to improve, and the arctic yielded some unexpected surprises. After seeing several small groups of caribou our hungry eyes picked up two white forms streaking across the terrain. As we grew closer the shapes took form as none other then canis lupis, los lobos, two arctic wolves looping with ease across the barren terrain, no doubt on the hunt for an unwary caribou. Reluctantly we flew on, lost in our thoughts about the life and death drama unfolding below.

After some distance, while scanning the surface below, we spotted what appeared to be a small iceberg in a lake, which upon further inspection turned out to be a Polar Bear. While Doug spotted from above, Mark landed and the film crew got some great footage of this grand arctic predator. The bear eyed us as if debating our suitability as a food source. Ultimately deciding that we were too old and tough for a good dinner, he ambled on unperturbed by our presence.

As we approached Coral Harbor, alert GAAA mate Dave Good noted that we were quickly approaching sunset, a problem that in the continuous light of the high arctic had heretofore not been an issue. So we landed on a lake about 30 miles west of Coral Harbor and set up camp for the evening. (N64 08, W 84 25). The arctic served up one more delight that night in the form of the northern lights, nature’s light show of dancing light sabers against the northern sky.

The next morning everything seemed wrong as the sun was shining, the winds were low, and the air was dry. These conditions, new to the crew, prompted an early departure to Coral Harbor. After scanning for a good site, we set up final approach over the town, and carefully avoiding both power lines and rocks in the water, landed to the south. Doug’s landing was aborted by the departure of a flock of birds, but everyone got down safely and we beached the planes. We were greeted by an enthusiastic mob of villagers, and over the next 5 hours refueled with over 200 gallons of car gas carried in 5 gallon jerry cans from the one and only pump in town. Since the pumps were closing down for a holiday weekend, we had competition from the locals and had too wait in gas lines up to 18 deep. Due to the inquisitive Inuit kids and a rapidly changing tide, we had to post guards at the planes to make sure they were not damaged by the changing tide or the eager fans. The local RCMP, Serge Cote stopped by to make sure we were OK, having been notified of our pending arrival by our RCMP mates back at Baker Lake.

We departed about 3 PM and headed south and east crossing the north end of the Hudson Bay via Fox Channel via Nottingham Island. Arriving on the mainland at Cape Wolstenholme, we descended to do some filming along the spectacular white cliffs. Suddenly, and unexpectedly, the air was filled with thousands of birds, who fortunately proved skilled in avoiding these large noisy interlopers that had invaded their nesting area. We quickly departed the area and headed south east along the coast of Peninsula D’ungava to our next fueling stop at Kangiqsujuaq. With sun setting in the west, we landed on Lac Qanartaliup Tasinga (N 61 42.38, W 72 54.26) where we pitched our tents in the serene arctic twilight.

It was, in short, a Great Day in the Arctic.

Our shout-out today is to Able, Doris and their wonderful family who helped us hump fuel at Coral Harbor for the better part of 5 hours, a helping hand that was gratefully accepted by the GAAA team.

Your warm-and-dry-for-the-first-time-in weeks GAAA Team

The GAAA team phoned in tonight to report that they are safely camped on the shore of an unnamed lake approximately 30 miles west of their intended destination of Coral Harbor. Flying conditions today were again very challenging and exhausting. They are set up for the evening, looking forward to some rest, but too cold and tired to compose a blog. They promise to report more details tomorrow, and are hoping that the weather will cooperate and allow them to proceed on to Coral Harbor.
Today was a day of wildlife sightings – two white arctic wolves, a large polar bear in its natural habitat, and lots of caribou.

Is anyone out there starting to notice a pattern to our blogs? Is anyone picking up on a theme for our adventure? Yes, once again we spent a day waiting for better flying conditions. Since our arrival in Resolute on Monday, August 18th, we have made progress on our route around Canada in only three of the last ten days. Is it growing old?

And so we learn the hard lessons of travel in the Arctic. Fly. Wait. Wait. Fly. After yesterday’s miscalculation, we are careful not to repeat that adventure, finding ourselves perhaps a bit more conservative in our decision-making. We are united in our decision-making however and we will continue to wade our way as safely as possible through this labyrinth of low pressure systems that continually pound this land with which we are unfamiliar and at the same time awestruck.

We have been well-treated here in Baker Lake. Dale Schwehr, the manager of Nunamuit Lodge has provided us with cozy rooms and great meals. Thank you Dale. RCMP Constable Jeff Henderson has kept us out of trouble. We look forward to seeing his dad, John, when we visit the Canada Aviation Museum and Canada Vintage Air in Ottawa on September 7th. All of our encounters here have been of a friendly sort.

Eric and Jim interviewed a couple of men here in Baker Lake, today. Glenn McLean, owner of Arctic Fuel has done just about every job you can do in the Arctic and told us great stories about a life well lived above 60 N. Ebe Scherkus, president of Agnico-Eagle Mines, was gracious to spend time with us telling how his company is opening one of the first goldmines in Nunavut and its positive impact on the community of Baker Lake. Eric and Jim were inspired by the importance that both of these men place on caring for the people and land of Nunavut.

The planes are fueled and ready to go at Airplane Lake. The forecast is improving somewhat. We look forward to the opportunity to make some progress tomorrow.

Until then,

The GAAA Crew

Dave working on the pan / tilt camera mount

Jim with a narwahl tusk

Winging along in the sun, a rare event

Ice flows in McClintock Channel

Mark is a happy pilot in the sun (and all the other times as well)

No, this isn’t the Caribbean, but this stretch of beach sure looked like it

Before coming to the arctic, back when we were reading and dreaming about it in the warm comfort of our sitting rooms, we learned that this place, and particularly the weather, is in a state of constant change. At no time was this more dramatically played out then our flight in to Baker Lake today.

After a restless night on “Dog Days Lake” listening to the tent flaps snapping and popping in the wind, we crawled out of our warm cocoons to a slightly better day, which is to say that the ceiling was up to 600’ and we had a mile or two of visibility. A quick call from the Sat phone to Arctic Radio confirmed that with predicted ceilings 800’, 4 miles visibility, and winds of 18-22 knots we were good for the run to Baker Lake where we could refill our thirsty tanks and fly on to Coral Harbor.

So in celebration of our impending good fortune, we cooked up a mess of Kodiak Cake flapjacks, broke camp, packed up the planes and were off in a mere 2 or 3 hours. With our 450 hp Pratt and Whitney radial engines roaring at full power, we made a safe (if a bit rough) take-off.

As we approached Baker Lake, our ground speeds slowed to less then 70 knots in the face of an increasing headwind. WHINING ALERT: statistically, we should experience an equal amount of head and tail winds on a trip like this, but in fact have been bucking a headwind over 90% of the time. (Thanks for letting us vent our resentment to this great metrological injustice.)

We contacted Baker Lake radio to report our position and to get the updated weather. We were somewhat disconcerted to find that the pressure had been dropping dramatically over the last couple of hours, winds were now in excess of 30 knots, and for good measure a wind driven rain was hammering our planes. Continuing on to Baker Lake, we observed 3-4’ wind waves way in excess of our landing capability, so we continued on to “Airplane Lake” , the designated seaplane base according our Canadian Water Aerodrome Supplement. As you will soon see, we have a bit of a bone to pick with guy who named this “Airplane Lake”, as it is the worst case of false advertising since a group of four male rock-n-rollers got together and named their group the “The Bare Naked Ladies”. After circling the lake a few times, we decided to splash down, knowing that it would be a rough ride with 2-3 foot wind waves. After some rather energetic control inputs, and dodging a radio tower on final, both planes touched down, with Mark landing short and Doug landing long.

And then things started to get interesting…

A seaplane is an uneasy marriage between a boat and an airplane, with both functions somewhat less then optimum. On the Beaver design team, the aviation guys won out over the marine guys, yielding a pretty cool airplane with somewhat compromised boating characteristics. While you contemplate this strange juxtaposition of competing elements consider this: what boater in his right mind would go skimming across three foot wind waves at 70 mph with a hull constructed of 0.040” thick aluminum.

Mark’s crew skillfully maneuvered over towards the north shore, but found the rocky landing site combined with the pounding surf unsuitable for beaching. Where upon Mark and Jim jumped into the chest high freezing water and proceeded to set an anchor, an admirable feat considering the circumstances. Meanwhile, up at the far end of the lake Doug and team were experiencing an aquatic thrill of their own. Unable to turn down wind because of the strong wind, Doug decided to shut the engine down and “sail” back to Mark’s location. This scheme worked well for a few seconds until one of the floats struck a rock just under the surface that was completely hidden by the high seas. Firing up the engine, and with tremendous help from Dan and Dave, Doug was able to “tack” down the lake through a series of sailing and power-taxing maneuvers, all the while checking the relative freeboard of both hulls to see if they were taking on water.

As Doug approached the landing zone backwards, Mark, who gets the hero-of-the-day award, jumped in yet again to the chest high water and set an anchor. Now, at least for the moment, the planes and crew were safe.

Doug hitched a ride into town with some miners, while the rest of the crew shivered in the driving rain. After hoofing around the this hearty hamlet for the better part ofan hour trying to find transportation and lodging, RCMP Corporal Cam Lockwood and fellow seaplane pilot graciously took pity on him and drove out to the lake to fetch the guys, who were now very cold and shivering badly. They all piled into his pickup and rode into town where we found some rooms at the Nunamuit Lodge.

After warming up and drying out, Dale the cook presented a feast of Caribou steak, and we had a grand time reliving the day’s experiences. Later, Constable Jeff Henderson drove us out to check the planes where a thorough float pumping revealed that the floats on Doug’s Beav were still intact. ONE HUGE THANKS TO THE GUYS WHO DESIGNED AND BUILT THESE RuGGED EDO FLOATS.

Having internet connection, we entertained ourselves by reading a comment to our Blog of Episode 24 from a “Steve” who took off from Seattle in a turbine Beaver and is flying our route in an effort to catch up with us – you’ve got to read this as it is very entertaining and has a plot twist at the end. Thanks Steve to you and your buddies for all your support.

Our Shout-Out tonight goes to RCMP Corporal Cam and Constable Jeff who came to our rescue in this trying time. You guys are the best.

Current location: N 64 degrees 19.26 minutes, W 95 degrees 58.46 minutes.

OK, we’ve done the Adventure part of the GAAA, we’re all ready for the “Great” part.

The GAAA Team

PS: Most of the Inuit villages are “dry”, so we are forced to relive the day’s events while completely sober, thereby reducing the magnitude of our own bravado, which is a real drag to everyone but non-drinker Mark. We even tried to score some black-market hooch – but alas our RCMP friends were of no help in our retched scheme.

PPS: Steve, when you land at Airplane Lake, be sure to do it with forty knot winds, 3’ whitecaps, and watch out for the rocks on the NE end of the lake.

It started to rain around midnight. Not that pitter patter rain we love to hear on the roof of the house back home on a warm spring day. Not that spitting Yukon rain that we experienced a couple of weeks ago; the kind of rain that is barely an annoyance. No, this was more like a hard driving Arctic rain, that comes in sideways, accompanied with a 30 knot blow out of the NE, blasts through the seams of your tent and your expensive raingear, slides under your ground cloth and weeps up to your sleeping bag; that kind of rain.

Even though our lake has a short ½ mile fetch, three foot rollers with whitecaps have pounded the shore all day. Scud hangs low in the rolling tundra. And so we find ourselves weather-bound yet again. These are our dog days, where forward progress slows as we patiently wait. Whose idea was this anyway?

The dismal forecasts for Baker Lake (95.5 nautical miles SE) and Coral Harbour (app. 450 nm east) notwithstanding, the bright side still has its shine. Our planes are safe and sheltered on what we have agreed is the nicest sandy beach of the trip so far. (Mark is excited by his belief that a good fine sand polish on the bottom of his floats will increase his take-off performance.) Eric has become quite the provider and caught a beautiful 7 pound char this morning, resulting in another fish feast. Caribou were spotted. The venerable Beavers have performed flawlessly the last 2 weeks. (Oh Canada, we love these airplanes!) Our camera crew of Eric and Jim, has proven itself Arctic tough, and remains energetic and driven in its insatiable appetite for the perfect footage. Our new team mates have proven their worth. David Good, an experienced pilot, gave Mark a needed break at the controls of 2SF yesterday during a long, tough day in the cockpit with a heavy load in deteriorating weather. He has also been a major contributor around camp. Dan Noble, an experienced Himalayan mountaineer, has willingly pitched in with getting the stoves going in windy conditions and provided medical advice. (He won’t say it but I’m sure he finds our plight laughable when compared to some of the weather he’s endured.) Jim and Mark entertained themselves jacket sailing off a bluff. At dinner, Doug explained to Mark the various sub-cultures of California, helping him to better understanding the strange behaviors of our Santa Cruz-based camera team. Tundra walks to break up the tent-bound monotony have been accompanied with friendly conversation and camaraderie.

Through it all there’s been no complaining, no ill-temper, no self-pity. All remain upbeat, expectant and committed to our goal at hand of navigating these 2 wonderful machines around their homeland while inhaling a full draft of this spectacular country.

And so we remain one more day at 65d.33m north, 98d.21m west.

Allison’s ornithological report:

Today’s ID’s: Canada goose, snow goose, peregrine falcon, and glaucous gulls nibbling on the remnants of Eric’s fish. Yesterday, flying over enormous flocks of snow geese, our tally ran into the thousands.

Our hearts and prayers go out to the Wilsey’s of Delmar, NY tonight, a hearty and loving family that has courageously pulled together to inspire us at a difficult time.

With thoughts of familial love to all our family members throughout the world,

The GAAA Team

Morning of day 23 dawned much the same as the previous five mornings, low ceilings, poor vis, etc. So with newbies Dan and Dave in tow, we showed off our local knowledge and gave them a tour of the hamlet of Resolute Bay. That kept us busy until 8:30 AM or so, at which point Mark & freinds took off to summit the mountain to the north. I am happy to report that the expedition summited without oxygen – all four hundred feet of it. Upon returning they stopped in to the local Anglican church and enjoyed the service even though it was spoken in the native tongue and they had no idea what was being said. Fortunately, the good pastor let the service out in time for Randy-the-chef’s lunch at the South Camp Inn.

Meanwhile, Jim and Doug took off to set up the camera system on Mark’s Beaver in the normal sub-freezing temperatures and high winds. Regrouping at 12 Noon we decided that the weather was good enough to stage our escape to the south. With winter setting in early, we need to get south FAST to insure the continuation of the GAAA.

Threading our way through snow squalls and mist, we wound our way south, ever vigilant for glimpses of the exotic arctic wildlife. On our approach to Prince of Wales Island, we spotted a large group of Beluga Whales, and decided to land to get a closer look. We spent the next hour or so bobbing in the rough seas and admiring these white whales of the arctic

Crossing McClintock Channel, we flew over pack ice and had some fun flying and filming over the patchwork below, looking for all the world like a giant snowflake resting on the surface of the sea. We made our camp on a small unknown lake some 100 miles east of Cambridge Bay. As we poked our heads out of our tents this AM, we were greeted by a light dusting of snow – confirming our resolve to continue moving south.

After refueling in Cambridge Bay, we headed south and east for Baker Lake, all the while bucking a 15 knot headwind. We flew over giant formations of Snow Geese, numbering in the hundreds. We made several attempts to fly in formation with these winged wonders, but found that our noisy Beavers were not well received by our would-be wingmen.

Tonight we are camping about 100 miles north west of Baker Lake.

The GAAA Team.

This post is being written from the warmth of your backup webmaster’s home. The guys called from their satellite phone around 10PM tonight to let me know that they are safe and hunkered down on the SE corner of Victoria Island, where conditions are below freezing and spirits are only slightly warmer than that! They are tired, cold, and heading to bed (such as it is) and promise to give us a more detailed report tomorrow.