A Baffin Vacation: Love on Ice

Join adventurers Boomer and Sarah on a two-month long epic Baffin Island vacation – kite skiing, skiing, climbing and whitewater kayaking.

WATCH THE FILM

STRANDED ON AN ENDLESS SUMMER VACATION

My feet are wet. Not damp, wet. The ice-cold water has soaked through not only my ski boot liners but also my socks. Boomer sits on his kayak and rings out his sock. I can’t be bothered; my feet have been wet for the last couple days. I try to ignore the discomfort. Plus, once our break is done, we’ll be skiing through more slush and pools of water that cover the surface of the unnamed glacier we are crossing. Ringing out my socks will only be temporary relief from cold wet feet.

Erik Boomer and I have now been out on expedition for two months. Our journey started kite skiing and ski-traveling north along the east coast of Baffin Island. Once in Kangiqtualuk, our attention turned to climbing our first big wall, then as the temperatures warmed up we traded in our climbing ropes for our kayaks and headed inland to kayak three unrun rivers. Our final river, that we are now returning from, required us to ice climb up onto this glacier with our kayaks and gear and cross it.

As Boomer puts back on his slightly less wet sock, I snack on some nuts and chocolate. Our conversations turn to the comforts we look forward to as we near the end of our expedition.

“I bet they have some good food on the boat”, Boomer says.

I wiggle my toes trying to get blood flow back into them, and add, “Do you think they have a heater on the boat?”

It doesn’t matter how long the expedition is, when the end is near, it’s impossible not to daydream about luxuries – namely, heat and food.

Earlier in the year, I had gotten a work offer on a sailboat traveling through the Northwest Passage. Instead of flying to the east coast of Baffin to join them, I came up with what I thought was a genius plan.

Boomer and I were going to ski and kite ski into Kangiqtualuk just before the sea ice condition became untravellable and get ourselves “stuck” in the stunning fjord until the sea ice cleared up enough for a boat pick up, which is generally about two months. The timing was perfect, as the sailboat traveling the Northwest passage would simply sweep in, pick us up, drop Boomer off in the next town and I would continue the journey with them.

“Looks like the sailboat sent us a message.” Boomer reads the message out loud. “Too much ice blocking the fiord, we have decided to bypass and won’t be able to pick you up.” A second message reads “Sorry.”

What could possibly go wrong?

Now past the summit of the glacier, we lose elevation quickly and cross the snow line. Here we switch from wet ski conditions to an icy surface. Crampons on our feet, our kayaks behind us glide across the ice and allow us to make good mileage. Another day will bring us down the glacier. From there we have at least two days to portage our gear back to the ocean, our rendezvous point for our boat pickup.

Now evening, in the tent I light the stove and balance our pot of water on the burner. As we wait for the water to heat up for hot tea and to rehydrate our camping meals, I stretch out my back and let out a grunt.

“You sound like an old woman over there,” Boomer teases me.

“I think my body is ready for a rest.”

It had been two months of non-stop moving. Access is the crux of these remote expeditions. Although we came to ski, climb and kayak (and we did), much of our time has been spent carrying gear, kite skiing and skiing towing our kayaks and sleds. We spent days hiking our gear to the base of the climb, hauling camp up the side of the cliff, then portaging across the tundra and across a glacier to access rivers that we had caught only glimpses of through satellite rivers.

Boomer turns on his InReach. It flashes a green light and beeps indicating a message has been received.

“Looks like the sailboat sent us a message.” Boomer reads the message out loud. “Too much ice blocking the fiord, we have decided to bypass and won’t be able to pick you up.” A second message reads “Sorry.”

Although we were prepared for delays, unpredictable weather, and ice conditions, it was now early August and we had expected the coast to be mostly ice free. We quickly send out messages to friends with lots of experience traveling through icy seas along the east coast of Baffin. The replies slowly trickle in and are all similar: satellite images indicate 60 km of ice off the coast. And even if a boat can possibly navigate through the ice, the entrance of the fiord is choked full of ice that blocks access into the fiord.

The sailboat is no longer an option as they decide to change course and focus on the long journey in front of them. We in turn need to focus on getting back to our ocean base camp. Once there, we can take the time to count food and come up with a plan B.

As we hike our boats up and over the moraine, we catch a glimpse of the fiord below us. The water that lays ahead of us is ice free – even though around the corner is miles of ice blocking the mouth of the fiord.

Once our tent is set up, Boomer climbs up on a boulder near the camp where we had stashed our extra food to keep it safe from bears and other animals. He passes down the dry bag, and we empty the contents across the tundra.

Boomer counts out loud, as I take notes.

“I count 10 breakfasts each. And 10 dinners each. Lunch…we probably have about 11 days’ worth.”

I look at the food laid out in piles and comment “We might be able to stretch our food out to 12 days, but after that we’ll be getting hungry.”

We have two options.

Option one – wait and keep our fingers crossed that the ice will clear in the next two weeks and get a friend or hunter to pick us up. But if the ice and weather don’t cooperate, we might be hungry.

Option number two – stash our heavy climbing gear to get picked up later, and paddle and hike back to the nearest town.

I stuff food into the front of my kayak and push the foam footrest back in place compressing the gear into the front of my boat. Sleeping bag, tent, and kitchen gear I pack behind my seat. My camera is left off to the side, to stuff in between my legs. And last, the gun, for polar bear safety, will strap on top one of our kayaks.

Boomer and I take one last look at the 150 km route we have mapped out to get to the nearest settlement. The journey will involve ocean paddling, portaging our kayaks and gear over several passes, paddling down a long lake, with a final section of ocean travel.

But most importantly, along our route is a whitewater river where we get to kayak. Our vacation is not quite over yet.

Words by Sarah McNair-Landry
Photos by Erik Boomer and Sarah McNair-Landry

This photo-journal entry was written in conjunction with the film from Whitewater Stories & Red Bull Media House.

Watch “A Baffin Vacation: Love on Ice”