Training Diary

Jim Baird’s Arctic Adventure: Cliffs in the Dark at 40 Below

Online Editors — Tue, 19 Apr 2011 13:58:29 -0400

With the trip winding down, Ted and I knew we’d have to make a long push through the night to reach Ulukhaktok in time to spend a few hours with our friend Pat and, more importantly, catch our flight home. Fortunately, the weather was good enough for such an aggressive travel plan, and Ted and I left Rymer Point and headed straight overland, northward for Prince Albert Sound.

We passed many herds of musk oxen, including one that was 17 strong. In the late evening, Ted and I stopped to do some fishing in a spot where we were told the ice was thin and the fishing was good. But the ice was not as thin as we’d hoped, and we drilled through 6 1/2 feet straight into rock and damaged our auger blade. The dull blade made second hole we drilled was quite difficult and required every bit of strength Ted and I had to get through the ice. We fished for a while, but got skunked. Overall, the fishing on the trip wasn’t nearly as good as we’d hoped.

By the time we got back on our snow machines, it was pitch black and the terrain got rougher. We began traveling up and down some huge hills. At times it was a bit unnerving because you’d crest a hill and see nothing but darkness before the headlights picked up the grout. Ted warned to be careful not to fly off a cliff

He was right.

We were following a river—the final pathway to Price Albert Sound—and to save time, we drove over the bank to cut off a large bend in the river. Then, all the sudden, I saw a huge canyon in front of me. I turned away just in time.

I jumped off my machine and waved to Ted for him to stop. He pulled up and stopped beside me.

“What,” he asked.

I pointed to the canyon below us.

“Holy s---!” This is crazy. We shouldn’t be traveling at night like this.”

It was a good thing I wasn’t blindly following my GPS—or we would’ve plummeted over the 100-foot canyon wall...with the end of our journey in sight.

***

While we crossed Prince Albert Sound, the sky lit up in the east as the sun started to rise. As big as Great Bear Lake was, traveling on the sea ice is more daunting. There is no cover, the weather is colder, and the ice conditions are less reliable. This leg of the trip was the coldest yet—40 below zero, not factoring the wind chill. The sweat in our base layers from auger-drilling hours earlier chilled us to the bone. Ted started to shiver, and I wasn’t far behind. As the winds howled, we broke into our clothes bag and dug out some sweaters and fleece pants. Ted even took of his boots to stick a foot warmer in there.

None of this helped. He started to worry about frostbite on his toes, while I could start to feel it on my nose, cheeks, and ears. But once the sun got up, and the temperature rose, it got a little warmer. We turned west to follow the northern shore of the Sound, putting the strong east wind at our backs.

***

As exhausted as we were, we kept pushing. We stopped to refuel 100 miles from Ulukhaktok and called Pat to let him know we were close. We made good time on the last leg of the trip as we passed through the Safety Channel. The scenery was dramatic: Rugged, snow-sprinkled cliffs shot straight up out of the sea to our right and to our left we could see the horizon on the frozen Amundsen Gulf between the islands of the Channel. Finally, 26 hours and 225 miles after leaving Rymer Point, we could see Ulukhaktok.

It’s tough to describe the feeling of pulling up to a community like Ulukhaktok. Where everyone is so friendly and helpful. Where people are immediately interested in you and make you feel welcome. Where visitors are a big deal.

Pat and his wife, Jean, came out to meet up and brought us into their home. We told them all about our trip and ate delicious muskoxen until our bellies were full. Pat shared a couple amazing stories about how he had avoided death. Jean joked that he has nine lives. It was nice to share my stories with Pat—a friend I hadn’t seen in a long time. I wish I had longer with him, but Pat would leave for a hunt late the next morning; Ted and I later that afternoon. I think Pat was proud of us for making the trip. We had traveled a very long distance and completed an epic journey through a land that has claimed the lives of many travelers. Very few people can say they’ve accomplished what we did, and I wonder if anyone has ever done the full route in one shot like Ted and I did.

When took off from the ice runway in Ulukhaktok to begin our string of flights back home, I thought about the deep satisfaction I felt when we first saw Ulukhaktok. We’re going to make it, I thought. And we did. We made it. —Jim Baird

Jim Baird’s Arctic Adventure: Crossing the Arctic Circle

Online Editors — Mon, 11 Apr 2011 10:56:42 -0400

When we got to Hornby Bay on Great Bear late in the afternoon, we were surprised to see snowmobile tracks. We followed them for a couple minutes until we saw a few walled tents in the northeast corner of the bay. We went over to check it out and met several people. They were mostly high school students, lead to Great Bear Lake by a few older men from Kugluktuk. The kids were learning traditional ways of hunting, fishing, camping, and navigation from the older guys.

We mentioned the route we planned to take to Ulukhaktok once we reached Kugluktuk. Two of the men in the group, Gerry and Isaac, were very experienced travelers and told us that the route we planned would not work. There would be open water on the ocean at the mouth of Prince Albert Sound and our fiberglass toboggans would never make it on the rocky overland section we had planned to cross. Isaac drew a different route out on our topo maps, and we’ve decided to follow his advice. The new route will make the trip longer but hopefully much safer. That night the Northern Lights danced in the sky over the route to Kugluktuk we planned to take in the morning.

The next day we woke up to the sound of a howling wolf. We fished all morning with no success, although the previous evening one of the older guys had landed a couple lake trout. Our plan was to leave for Dismal Lake that afternoon but by the time we packed up, tightened our suspensions, fixed a broken hitch, and chatted with everyone, it was evening already. Gerry gave us a whole caribou leg before we left and we were very grateful for the good meat. We left Hornby Bay under overcast skies, knowing we would be traveling well into the night. After climbing a large hill we got a final look at Great Bear Lake. About 10 minutes later we crossed the tree line and cut a standing dead tree, which we strapped to our sled for emergency firewood. Winds howled and snow fell causing whiteout conditions as we crossed the Arctic Circle. It was almost dark and it was very difficult to follow the blown-over trail. The horizon was barley visible to the east and west but non- existent in front of us. We had left traditional Dene territory and were now in the realm of the Inuit.

Soon we came into the rugged canyon terrain of the Theshierpi River that we would follow to Dismal Lake. The canyons cut the wind and although it was dark we could see that the country was beautiful. Wolverine tracks crossed our trail and we followed them in the darkness on foot for a while, hoping to catch a glimpse of the elusive creature.

It was pitch black out for a couple hours when we stopped to add oil. We were out of the canyons, traveling over a large hill nearing Dismal when the winds began howling again. It was freezing. We’d hoped to stay in a small cabin we heard was at Dismal Lake. The tracks left from the group at Hornby Bay became much easier to follow once it had gotten dark because of the shadows my headlights cast.

We rolled onto Dismal Lake around 2:30 a.m. and a light went on in the cabin. Larry and his son, who we had woken up, came out into the wind to greet us and invited us into the cabin for some hot coffee. We gladly accepted. He and his son had been out wolf hunting—they got two, one being his son’s first wolf. We set up camp on the ice and the wind died down.

The next morning Larry went towards the Kendall River to look for more wolves. Ted and I wanted to fish for char that are in the lake. Dismal feeds the Coppermine River and Arctic char often spend the winter in lakes connecting to the Coppermine. Our auger plus one extension couldn't make it through the ice and we had to add another extension. The ice was almost 7 feet thick and we could barley pull our auger out of the hole. Finally we dropped line only to realize the water was less than a couple feet deep below the ice. This wasn't the end of the world though because we knew people in the area often fish in shallow water. We jigged for a couple hours and caught nothing. With our tails between our legs we began to break camp. Larry came back from his hunt, no wolves, but his son got a caribou. They escorted us back to town and we were able to go between 35 and 45 kph through the open country. We stopped to meet with another few guys who were on their way to visit their dad at Hornby Bay. It was nice to meet other people; we were surprised that we saw anyone.

We made it to Kugluktuk by 9 p.m. and began to prepare for the second leg of our journey. We will travel across the Dolphin and Union Straight to Victoria Island, then overland to the Wollaston Peninsula to Prince Albert Sound. Then we'll cross the sound to follow the north shore, through Safety Chanel all the way to Ulukhaktok—longer but much safer route than we had originally planned. --Jim Baird

Jim Baird's Arctic Adventure Diary: Ulukhaktok or Bust!

Online Editors — Fri, 25 Mar 2011 16:40:43 -0400

The adventure has begun! Well, kind of…

My brother Ted and I are stuck in Deline.

First, we were waiting on the auger to arrive. When that got here, we thought we’d be ready to hit Great Bear Lake, but then we had a slight glitch with one of our snow machines during the first leg of the trip. Now we’re just waiting for the mechanic to make the repair and then, fingers crossed, we’ll be on our way.

This delayed start gives me a chance to show you the route Ted and I will be taking. We’ll travel across a few different landscapes: spruce forests, massive Great Bear Lake, mountainous northern shield country, treeless barren lands, and the frozen Beaufort Sea ice finishing the trip in the stark but beautiful landscape of the Arctic Islands.

Here’s a breakdown of our trip, stop by stop:

Tulita: The expedition started in Tulita, a small community on the Mackenzie River in the Northwest Territories. Ted and I landed Tulita earlier in the week, and we organized our gear for the first leg of the trip—a 65-mile winter road trek to Deline. The ride took a couple of hours and was tough at first. But then, toward the end of the leg as the sun was setting, we came over this hill and got our first glimpse of Great Bear Lake. It was one of the most beautiful sights of my life. We rode the ice rode in the rest of the way to Deline.

Deline: It’s actually a blessing that our snow machine trouble happened when it did, because we’re still in “civilization” where we can easily get mechanical help. That won’t be the case after we leave Deline and head out on to Great Bear Lake, heading east toward the McTavish arm and Hornby Bay. On this 190-mile stretch we’ll take our time, stopping to fish for trophy lake trout in Great Bear, the ninth largest lake in the world. The average March temperature for the area is 2 degrees below zero—and temperatures below 40 degrees are common.

Hornby Bay & Dismal Lakes: Just the name of this place is unsettling to me—especially because it’s at the head of the most difficult part of our journey. The Bay was named after John Hornby who starved to death while wintering in his remote NWT cabin. We will navigate this stretch by following creek beads and riding over large hills to make our way through the mountainous terrain. Trees will be sparse and by the time we reach Dismal Lakes they will be well behind us. At Dismal, and other lakes on this route, we will ice fish for Arctic char that spend the winter in the headwaters of tributaries of the mighty Coppermine River just east of us. We’ll cover 93 miles on this part of the journey.

Kugluktuk: We’ll refuel here for our final 200-mile push to Ulukhaktok. Fifty miles of this trek will be overland before we head out on to the Dolphin and Union Straight of the Beaufort Sea. There won’t be a tree in sight, and we’ll be camping right in the middle of the ice—so if a blizzard hits, we’ll be very exposed. We’ll also be right in the hunting grounds of polar bears.

Ulukhaktok: At the end of our trip, we’ll reunite with our friend Pat Ekpakohak. Ted and I first met Pat about four years ago when we were exploring the Kuujja River. He invited us to his home, and before we left I bought a musk-ox hide from him that I brought on this trip. Pat is an expert in the ways of Arctic travel and survival, and we will spend a couple days with him. Hopefully he’ll show us how to build an igloo or take us out on his trap line. By the time we reach Ulukhaktok, Ted and I will have travelled 548 miles.
That’s if we were to travel our chosen path exactly.

Video: How to Build a Quinzhee Shelter (a.k.a. Snow Cave)

Dave_Maccar — Tue, 22 Mar 2011 16:02:23 -0400

Here’s a scenario for you: The wind is howling. It’s 20 degrees below zero. And a blizzard destroyed your tent.

What do you do for shelter?

Build a quinzhee, of course.

The word “quinzhee” comes from the Dene language, and for the first stretch of my journey across Great Bear Lake to the tree line I’ll be in traditional Dene territory. So I think it’s a good bet that a quinzhee should do the trick.

In this video, you’ll see me practicing my quinzhee-building skills. I’ve made this kind of survival shelter couple of times before, and each situation was a little different. But basically you just pile up a big mound of snow and then dig into it to make a cave. If you have packing snow you can roll a snowball for a door. Otherwise, just use a big pile of snow or some snow blocks—even your pack will work. For this trial I started (and then quit to protect our camera gear) during a day of driving rain. But overnight the temperature plummeted, and when I went back out the next morning I had a lot of light fluffy snow to work with. This meant I got to practice in different conditions.

What I Learned:
1. The heavier the snow, the smaller your pile of snow has to be…but the tougher it will be to dig out.
2. If I have to build one north of the tree line, I will do so very slowly. It’s easy to work up a sweat when you build a quinzhee and without wood to build a fire that can be a killer.
3. Don’t keep piling the snow you dig out on top unless you compensate with thicker walls. I've had one collapse on me in the past.
4. Use a small shovel for digging out the inside. A large shovel will cause all kinds of problems, although it's good for getting it started.
5. Although I didn’t dig out the shelter while it was raining, I realized that for a while, it would even work as a rain shelter to keep you dry.
6. Piling up the snow I dig out of the shelter on either side of the door does a good job at keeping the wind out.

A quinzhee is definitely a good thing to know how to make if you plan on venturing off the beaten path in winter. It doesn’t take a lot of skill to build and it does a great job at blocking the wind and insulating you. It’s pretty fun to make, too, just like building a snow fort when you were a kid—only, you know, practical.

How to Make Ice Spikes and Use Them to Crawl Out of a Frozen Lake

Dave_Maccar — Wed, 16 Mar 2011 16:06:34 -0400

In a previous post where I willingly broke through the ice...twice...I noticed a question from MissMuley in the comments section about the ice spikes I used to pull myself out of the frozen lake.

It’s a good question, because without them I’m not sure I could’ve crawled out. Here’s how I made mine:

Step 1: I started with two 5-inch nails (Phillips-head screwdrivers would also work) and a length of strong cord (p-cord works great) slightly longer than my wingspan.

Step 2: I wrapped the cord around the nails and secured them with strong knots. And to be sure the knots stay put, I ran a lighter over them to melt them together. I also taped some foam to the to 2/3 of each nail for a better grip—and so they’d float.

Step 3: Wear the spikes underneath your coat with the cord running up your arms and around your shoulders—just like you did with mittens when you were a kid. Let the spikes dangle from your sleeves (or tuck them in your sleeves, if you prefer) when you’re on the ice.

If you break through, try to exit from the same direction from which you fell, because the ice there was strong enough to support you—at least until you go too close to the thinner area. Get a good grip on your spikes, then reach your arms out of the hold as far as you can and dig the spikes in...hard.

With the spikes in the ice, float your body to the surface while pulling yourself out. Keep driving the spikes into the ice, pulling yourself forward, until you’re away from the hole. Once out, roll away from the hole. This will distribute your weight on the surface more evenly than standing up on likely thin ice.

Now, be happy that you were smart enough to carry ice spikes. They may have just saved your life.

Video: The (Mock) Polar Bear Charge Shootout

Dave_Maccar — Fri, 11 Mar 2011 14:17:41 -0500

In today’s video I’m practicing my aim in a drill that simulates a charging animal. For the test I rigged a target on a pulley and had it come “charging” toward me. The goal was to hit the target three times before it reached me—or else, I’m bear food. Although this was a good way to practice, it’s impossible to prepare for the kind of fear I’d experience if a bear were really to charge me.

During my upcoming adventure, when I pass the Arctic coast to venture onto the ice, I’ll be in prime polar bear country. An encounter would most likely happen while I’m around camp cooking or even asleep in the tent. Polar bears, attracted to the fish and food rations we'll have, might see us as a food source. (A polar bear can smell a seal on the ice 20 miles away.) We will leave our food several hundred feet from camp at night, but in the morning when we retrieve it, a bear could greet us. They’re massive creatures and can reach a running speed of 25 miles per hour. They're also smart: I’ve heard accounts from people who have been stalked by polar bears say the bears will use a paw to cover their black noses to camouflage against the white snow. That being said, I have also been told that most of the time, if you leave them alone, they will leave you alone. I hope that’s true.

What I Learned:

1. Next time, I’ll practice picking my gun up off the ground before firing. How often will you have a gun shouldered and loaded with the safety off before a bear charges?
2. Don’t rush the pump and to make sure my gun is in good shape. I jammed up once during the drill and that could mean my life in a real attack.
3. It’s not easy to fire a gun while wearing mittens. If a bear comes at me in the arctic I’ll have to be an extra step ahead so I can throw my mitten off before firing.
4. It’s tough to line up the second and third shots. My last two shots were usually on instinct.
5. If this were to happen for real, I would have to remain as calm as possible and make my shots count.
6. I became more confident that if I were charged and I had a loaded weapon, I would come out on top. It’s a good feeling.
7. I really hope a polar bear doesn’t charge me.

Video: How to Survive a Fall Through the Ice and Prevent Hypothermia

Dave_Maccar — Mon, 07 Mar 2011 12:39:57 -0500

Spoiler Alert: You are about to see me carve a hole in a frozen lake and jump in the freezing-cold water—twice. After both jumps I’ll take the necessary steps to pull myself out, change clothes, and start a fire to get warm as fast as possible.

I performed this stunt last weekend (in a controlled environment where help was close by) because this is exactly the type of survival scenario I could encounter on my upcoming snowmobile adventure. After I cross Great Bear Lake, I’ll be traveling on stretches of rivers as I make my way to the Arctic Coast. If there’s one section of the trip where I’ll be most at risk of falling through the ice, it’ll be on these rivers. Frozen rivers are the most dangerous to cross because they’re the most unpredictable.

With that out of the way, enjoy the video and be glad you aren’t the one getting dunked.

What I Learned:

1. How my body reacts to the initial shock of freezing-cold water, so I know what to expect if it happens for real.
2. How my body reacts to the cold, so I have a better understanding of how fast I’d loose my core heat.
3. That I would have been OK if I had been in the ice water longer, because, although I was very cold afterward, I was not shivering.
4. That my ice spikes work. It would have been very difficult to crawl out of the water without them. They could be a lifesaver.
5. That fleece, although better than most fabrics, doesn’t do a great job of insolating you when wet; my legs were freezing cold under my fleece pants.
6. That it would be much tougher to get out of the hole if the surrounding ice was weak; I put a good amount of pressure on the ice while climbing out.
7. That I can survive. Being able to think rationally in a situation like this is what saves you, and after this test I gained confidence knowing that I could rescue myself if this happens for real.