The camera conundrum: Arctic 10

So here’s the short version of the battery charger fiasco. I brought the USB cable but not the charging cradle for my battery. I thought I could charge it using just the cable. Nope. Scott asked the passengers at a daily recap if anyone was using an Olympus EM1 mkii. Nobody was but one person had an Olympus camera and kindly took my battery to her room for a quick check as to whether her charger would fit. It didn’t. Okay, next plan. There might be a camera store in Nuuk Greenland where I could pick up a charger.

In the meantime, I was in the ship’s gift shop and happened to notice a point and shoot Nikon Coolpix A 300 on the shelf behind the counter. A camera, with a zoom lens. Not bad. Even better that we had a credit at the gift shop. I bought the camera. As with all baby cameras, it has a pretty wide angle lens but given that photos I take with the zoom on my phone end up looking like pointillism, I was happy enough to get it.

Parasitic Jaeger in flight

After I charged up the battery, I began to play with it. There are a lot of things I like. It’s light and pocketable. Phone in one pocket, Coolpix in the other. The exposure compensation is in a very convenient spot. Twenty mega pixel is plenty for what I want, and the colour rendering is generally to my liking. My main complaint is one of the same ones I have with the phone: I can’t see the blooming screen in bright sunlight so there is quite a bit of ‘point the camera in the right direction and press the shutter.’ Pixels are cheap, opportunities are not so fire away and hope for the best. I hadn’t ruled out using the Olympus but I was thinking carefully about under what circumstances I would willingly drain the batteries.

We arrived in Nuuk on a Sunday and, although it’s like a small European city, many places were closed. There were two stores that sold electronics. Both were closed and as I peered through the windows I could see that the chances were 99% against either having what I needed anyway.

I wasn’t done quite yet. We were staying onboard for the High Arctic Explorer voyage. Maybe someone on that one would have a charger I could borrow. As the new group of passengers came aboard I checked out as many of the brands on camera straps as I could. Mostly Nikon, followed closely by Canon with a smattering of Panasonic and Sony thrown in for good measure. Barbara, our host, asked at a recap if anyone had an Olympus charger that might fit. I was quite delighted when Jon, a friend from previous trips, put up his hand. After the recap he went to get his charger and I went to get my battery. Once again, the two didn’t fit.

At least I knew for sure that I wouldn’t have a chance to recharge the batteries. I chose two locations to shoot the last of the photos with the Olympus. On Monday August 8 we made a landing in Croker Bay. It was sunny and warm and the scenery was gorgeous. I decided there was no point in returning home with any juice in the batteries so I took the Oly. It was a good call. There was a pair of parasitic jaegers, also called Arctic skua, protecting their territory. I had a wonderful afternoon trying to capture their body positions in flight as they squawked at the human intruders. They are much bigger than sparrows so they were a bit easier to track. I also got a chance to try different settings as they flew.

The last battery died on August 10. Because we were unable to reach Resolute we sailed back to Greenland. We paused for a zodiac cruise amid the sea ice in the middle of Baffin Bay. It was foggy and chilly cruising among the bergs and the sea ice. Because of the temperature the battery drained more quickly than I thought it would but, again, I had a most enjoyable time taking the photos.

Cruising in the ice

I’ve come to a few conclusions. I’ll ignore the obvious one regarding battery chargers. I love shooting with the Olympus and I’m getting better at understanding the features. I hate carrying it on the plane though. It is smaller and lighter than a lot of cameras but the 100-400 mm lens is not a featherweight. When I add a second lens to the weight of the camera body, and throw in a book, a notebook, a few coloured pencils, a bottle of water, and the various cables and chargers I need for my other electronics, the backpack comes in at around 9 kilos. That is heavier than I want it to be when I have to sling it into the overhead bin. Before you ask, Richard is more than willing to do the slinging to help me out. There is a part of me that feels strongly that if I can’t manage the pack by myself I shouldn’t be carrying it in the first place. Perhaps I need to up the strength training in between trips. In any case that certainly wouldn’t hurt. The jury is out on whether I will continue to carry the Oly or whether I will look for a lighter travel camera. I really like the one I used in Holland and Belgium but the zoom on it is unreliable and it’s usually just as cost effective to buy a new camera as it is to try to get a point-and-shoot fixed. Oh well, I have another year to make up my mind.

Covid onboard: Arctic 9

Now that I’m back in Calgary I think I should talk about Covid 19 with respect to our trip to the Arctic. Covid was a major concern for us in the lead up to the trip. We wore our masks every time we stuck our noses outside the door, kept our bubble small, and met with friends mostly outside even though we were all fully vaccinated. I did my best not to think about what it would be like if one of us tested positive before we boarded the ship or if one of us tested positive once we were on the ship.

Adventure Canada required a negative PCR test within 72 hours of boarding the charter flight to Iqaluit and, at the initial briefing the night before we boarded, they administered a rapid test to each of us. One person we know of had a positive result on the PCR test and could not go on the trip. He signed up to go during the 2020 season which was cancelled and then postponed to 2022. It was a huge disappointment to him and his sister with whom he was to have travelled. It was also a sobering reminder to the rest of us.

We heard that on the trip before ours there were more than 20 cases. Then there was a five-day repositioning sail and only essential crew stayed on board while the whole ship was cleaned stem to stern, again. We didn’t find out until the end of our Heart of the Arctic trip that the ship remained free from Covid for our entire voyage. The protocols were strict. We wore our masks whenever we were in public spaces. We could remove our masks in the dining room when we were eating but the moment we stood up to get other food, the masks went back on. Unlike previous years, we sat with the same people for meals and went out in zodiacs with the same group.

At the first recap Jason Edmunds, expedition leader extraordinaire, demonstrated what he called the nutcracker method of drinking to be employed after a meal or anywhere else on the ship where we might have a beverage. Pull the mask down below your chin, take a sip, and replace the mask. I have to wonder if alcohol sales were in any way affected by the enforced slow down in consumption. People being people, we all forgot our masks at one time or another and all of us had the responsibility of gently reminding anyone in a public space whose bare face was hanging out to mask up. In every case the reminder was a shocked look of recognition followed by a hurried ‘thank you’ as the offender scurried off to get the mask or quickly whipped it out of a pocket and put it on.

There were many face-palm moments as we told each other “I got all the way to the mud room before I realized I didn’t have my mask,” “That’s the third time today I got up from the table without putting on my mask,” and conversely, “Don’t try to lick your finger when you have a mask on - bad idea.”

Those of us not in the health care professions got a small taste of the irritated skin and sore ears that comes from wearing a mask for extended periods of time. My main bugbear was the foggy glasses. I solved the problem by simply taking my glasses off and carrying them in a case attached to my belt loop. I’m extremely grateful for the successful cataract surgery that allows me to wear glasses or not as I choose. I know some of my friends will be re-horrified (if that’s not a word it should be) by my complete lack of fashion sense. In this case it came back to bite me when I leaned against my glasses and bent the frames. I did my best to bend them back but they are still wonky and fairly uncomfortable to wear so I continue to take them off when I don’t need to read. [ed. They are now fixed and I wear them morning til night as usual.]

I had a hunch while packing for the trip that I should bring a pair of drug store readers with me. After I munched my expensive progressives, I took to leaving those in the room and carrying around the cheapies. I also had a pair of safety sunglasses that I bought at Rona. It’s actually more comfortable for me to hike without the progressives so that worked out well.

On the last night of the expedition, Jason declared that our trip had been Covid free. We all cheered and I felt a twinge of anxiety about the new group of passengers that would board the ship while we stayed on for a second expedition. Even though they followed the same testing protocol as we did, Jason had to announce a couple of days into the trip that Covid was aboard. Everyone who was a close contact had been notified and the unfortunate soul(s) who tested positive enroute was confined to the cabin for 10 days. If that wasn’t the whole trip it was pretty darned close to it. I don’t know which would be worse finding out before boarding that you had Covid or getting onboard and spending the whole voyage in your cabin having contact with only the person who brought you food and water. I have to hope that whoever it was and however many people there were at least had a porthole to look out.

The important thing is that Covid didn’t spread on the ship; I don’t think the case(s) were severe: and we weren’t responsible for taking it into any of the remote communities we visited. We wore masks when interacting with the locals even when we were outside.



In Ottawa we continued to wear our masks when in public spaces indoors. At one point we hid out from the heat in the Rideau Mall. I watched for about 5 minutes and noticed only 6 people in addition to us had masks. I’m really hoping that as the vaccines get more sophisticated there will be one that not only protects from severe outcomes but also protects from contracting the virus in the first place. I don’t even know if such a thing is possible. In the meantime we’ve signed up for another expedition cruise next summer. We will cross our fingers and hope that we will be able to sail and if we have to follow the same protocols we will. However, it would be very nice to be able to dial down the level of anxiety caused by not knowing if you have Covid or not. I’m putting that though on the back burner for later. At the moment I have photos to sort, blogs to publish and both of my camera batteries are now fully charged. Lesson learned, I hope.

Guest post by Barbara Turner-Vesselago

[ed. This summer was Barbara's first trip with Adventure Canada. Before she left, Barbara asked me a few questions about the trip. As many of you know, when I get excited about something it's impossible to shut me up and there were quite a number of emails back and forth. Once we got on the ship there was very little connectivity and I kept thinking of other things I wanted to tell her. Barbara and her husband boarded the ship the day that Richard and I got off so I left a note and a drawing. See tip #7.

Enjoy the tips and, as a side-note, I didn't know there were some many brands of Merino wool!]

Ocean Endeavour with ice berg

Marian’s Ten Best Arctic Travel Tips

1. Top Tip: Wash underwear in stateroom. MH’s reasoning (if the soap in the bathroom dispensers is okay to wash with, it’s okay to wash your knickers with) made sense to me, and it made much more sense than sending underwear out to laundry or bringing 14 pairs. They dried quickly, as did liner socks, on a hanger in the closet.

2. Buy a neck tube. I ordered one from Lupa (Canadian), in sapphire blue (matches Adventure Canada jackets), even though I had never even heard of a neck tube before. I came to love mine dearly. Not only did it keep my neck warm, on deck and on zodiac excursions, it could also be pulled up to cover double chins (or whole face, at 5 a.m.) as required. Often required.

3. Don’t bring other currencies. You won’t need them. I didn’t bring them, and I didn’t need them.

4. Don’t buy anything new for the trip unless you absolutely have to. This would have been an excellent tip to follow. The time I spent combing through websites and going to stores before the trip will only be matched by the amount I’m about to spend returning all the things we didn’t use. (Barbara’s tip: Eddie Bauer, Patagonia and MEC will take things back even if you have used them, any time you want. They want you to be happy with them. What a concept.)

5. Consider merino wool long underwear. Dries fast, MH points out, and does not get stinky. I found MEC’s version scratchy, and also Merino Tech. But the merino wool Kombi tops (MEC) were fantastic – soft and warm. In fact, my husband hasn’t taken his off yet, and they are not yet stinky. My ancient polypro bottoms worked just fine, too (see Tip # 4).

6. Make sure everything has two uses. Like having some idea what your ideal weight would be, this is a good one to have hanging around in the background, to refer to from time to time.

7. Leave your rubber boots inside bottoms of rain pants for easy access next time. MH described this and also drew a diagram. The diagram alone has provided hours of head-scratching on-ship entertainment. [ed. Barbara didn't have the benefit of this photo and my artistic rendering of the concept left something to be desired.]

Configuration of rubber boots and rain pants

8. Get on top of sea-sickness in advance. I’m not sure how much doing this actually helped, but it certainly made me feel as if I was doing something, at a time when everything else – and I mean everything – was clearly heading far beyond my control.

These last two are not tips Marian gave us directly, but they were great tips nonetheless – provided via the age-old principal of showing rather than telling. This is what I’ve learned from being on the receiving end.

9.As you leave the ship, gift your friends with a bottle of wine for their maiden voyage. Have this presented in an ice-bucket with two glasses (and a folded napkin) in their stateroom when they arrive. You will know by now what an enormous schlep it has been for them, just to reach the point of boarding, and how very, very badly they need a drink by now.

10. Encourage your friends to sign up for an Adventure Canada trip to the High Arctic. You know by now that they will have the adventure of a lifetime.

Cruising in the ice: Arctic 8

HIgh Arctic Explorer: Arctic 8


Sunday August 14, 2022

Back in Ottawa

I can feel the heat through the window. I’m glad I’m inside and have air conditioning because this is hotter than I’ve experienced for the last month. It’s actually hotter in Calgary than it is here in Ottawa although the humidity here is much higher.

It was a good decision to spend an extra day here before flying home. When we mentioned this to friends on the ship they said they could suggest all sorts of interesting things to see. The offer was very kind and we’re not here to see things. We’re here to sleep in, take long showers in a space where we don’t need to keep our elbows in, and gradually readjust to life in the south.

I first ventured into northern Canada in my late 20’s on a bus tour with a company called ‘Canadian Camping Adventures.’ They had canvas umbrella tents and we brought our own sleeping bags and mattresses. The route took us into the Yukon and Alaska and when I returned home I knew I wanted to travel there again. The various trips to the north could be the subject of a blog entry but not this one.

Now that I’ve repacked my duffle bag yet again, I can sit with a cup of tea and reflect on the fact that this time yesterday I was sitting on a rock in the sun outside the Kangerlussuaq airport. I did a rather bad job of packing the night before and squinted into the sun as I realized that both my hat and my sunglasses were in my checked luggage. Mostly you will find me seeking shade; this time the temperature was in the high teens and the warmth was pleasant, so I stayed in the sun.

Kangerlussuaq airport 

On the way to the airport we took a short bus tour and saw muskox and a lone caribou. This is the closest I’ve been to muskox, or caribou for that matter. The caribou was right in front of the bus and the muskoxen were on the tundra a couple of city blocks away. They were close enough to see clearly and far enough away that to get a decent photo you needed to use a telephoto lens. Just one more point for remembering to bring the charging cradle for the camera battery next time. When we had a short tour on our last trip we saw muskox as tiny dark dots against the green of the summer tundra. You just never know on these trips.

Blurry muskoxen

What I’ve discovered is to focus on what we did get to see and do and forget about the published itinerary. We didn’t get to Dundas Harbour, Beechey Island, or Resolute this trip. All of those places were on the itinerary. Instead, we had a wonderful walk on the land in Croker Bay, where a pair of parasitic jaegers swooped and dove overhead. I decided before going to shore that it was a day to use up some of my remaining battery. I don’t know how long I stood watching the birds swoop and dive: time stops for me when I’m photographing birds. I stayed back, judging my distance by whether or not they would settle on the ground and stay there until someone else walked over the invisible line of protected territory. Close to me, Niap was seated on the ground quietly painting.

Niap at work

I’ve downloaded my photos and had a quick look. I’ll need to spend time with them on my computer to evaluate the images I captured. I already know that, even if all the images are crap, I had a wonderful day. It’s an enjoyable challenge for me to try to find the right exposure, composition, and shutter speed to capture something of what I’m seeing as I follow the movements of the birds, first with the naked eye and then with binoculars or camera. I hear the birds call probably to warn the humans to get away from their nest and ask myself how I can convey the birds’ determination in a still photo.

I’ve spoken before about my interest in photography and the various camera equipment I’ve had over the years. Now my focus is different. I still consider composition, light, and shutter speed, all the technical things that make cameras work but I’m finding more and more I’m concerned with story. It’s no surprise to me that I have a pretty good idea of how a story works in written text and not such a good idea of what a story is and how to tell it in photographic images.

I’ve read blog posts and listened to talks about story in photography and it’s still a slippery concept. I’ll continue to read and watch videos about the topic because I enjoy that. When I have my camera in hand, I find myself asking, “How can I tell this story?” even though I’m not exactly sure what the story is. My method is to get out there with the question and the camera and see what emerges.

And, in a roundabout way, that brings me back to the experiences we had on this trip. Because it was foggy and we didn’t have a good chance to land at Douglas Harbour, Jason, our expedition leader, chose to turn the ship around and sail back to Greenland which was our closest ‘extraction point.’ I haven’t made friends with that term yet. It leaves me feeling a little like an abscessed tooth. Coming from Greenland to Canada on the first part of the trip we sailed far north to avoid the sea ice. On the way back to Greenland we came closer to the sea ice so we could tuck in behind it and take a zodiac tour amid the ice floes. It was foggy and ice bergs rose out of and disappeared into the mist. We were almost equidistant from Canada and Greenland and the water beneath our zodiacs was over 2 kilometres deep. We were, literally, in the middle of the ocean.

Ocean Endeavour emerges

On our way back to the ship I couldn’t see the lights of the ship until we could distinguish the shape of its hull. Others said they could see the lights and our zodiac drivers had GPS coordinates and radio contact with the ship. I’m willing to bet that there is only a handful of people who have been for a zodiac cruise in sea ice in the middle of Baffin Bay.

Last walk on the land

Our last walk on the land was at Hollanderblugt Greenland, another new place. We got a little way up the slopes of the hills and enjoyed the vista of a calm brilliantly-blue sea. We passed quietly by a burial site that Lisa, the archeologist, judged to be a child's grave given the length of the pile of stones. She told us that the Inuit often buried their dead in places that had a spectacular view and this spot was no exception. We saw many goose tracks, the tracks of foxes, and a beach of sparkling black sand. The tundra was spongy under our feet and made for comfortable walking. I will return again and again in my imagination to that beach as we stay close to home during the winter.

Another opportunity because of our altered plans was the visit to Sisimiut. We’ve been to Sisimiut on previous trips in sunny and overcast conditions. This time it was sunny and warm and after a tour of the town where we saw new things, Richard and I opted to walk out beyond the lake where we watched ravens and black backed gulls and where I noticed a corral for horses I hadn’t seen before. I will always remember the snowmobile races on the water that we came across on our last visit. There were no snowmobile races this time and that allowed us to explore an area we had wondered about before.

I’ve often heard the expression, ‘life is what happens while you’re making other plans.’ The same can be said for expedition travel. We didn’t get to some places on the itinerary but we had unique experiences every step of the way and that’s what keeps me coming back.

Missing Beechey Island: Arctic 7

High Arctic Explorer: Arctic 7

Sunday August 7, 2022
[ed. I didn’t draft very many blog posts on the second part of our trip ‘High Arctic Explorer.’ I’m not sure why I didn’t. Oh well. One of the characteristics of travel in the Arctic is that you are always, ALWAYS, at the mercy of ice, wind, fog, and swell. Around the middle of the trip Barbara, the host, asked if I would give a short talk on what the ‘adventure’ part of adventure travel looks like when you’re in the middle of it. This is what I said:]

Cruising in the fog

I have a bit of a story to tell you tonight. It won’t be very long but it starts off when I was a kid. When I was a kid, I didn’t like to clean my bedroom. Those who have seen my woodshop would say that I haven’t changed much. One day my mum put her foot down and told me I had to get my room tidied up. I must have been near the end of the task because I was in the process of capturing and disposing of the immense dust dinosaurs that had accumulated on every horizontal surface and under my bed.

I remember I was running the dust cloth over the top of my dresser and listening to a CBC program about the Franklin expedition and the three graves on Beechey Island. I stopped dusting and listened. Something in that story caught my attention. It wasn’t immediately a desire to see the place, just something that remained a tickle in the back of my mind as I grew older.

Like most white kids of my generation I was completely ignorant of the fact that Franklin was a very short English blip on the vast richness of the Arctic’s past. Still it was, for me, the beginning of an interest in the land and her peoples.

Fast forward to 2015 and my introduction to Adventure Canada. A friend Photographer, Scott Forsyth, was going on a trip to Newfoundland and Labrador and his excitement about the adventure was contagious. We joined him on that trip and learned that Adventure Canada offered a trip into the Northwest Passage. The teenager with the duster in her hand appeared and announced, “I want to be on that trip.”

On the Newfoundland Labrador trip there was one day when we couldn’t make a landing because of the swell and I was a bit disappointed but loved the talks aboard the ship that were offered instead.

It took until 2018 for us to embark on our Northwest Passage trip. As soon as we arrived in Ottawa, I was introduced to ice charts and the true meaning of adventure. At our first briefing Jason showed us an ice chart with a whole lot of red on it. In fact, the Ocean Endeavour had turned around half way across Davis Strait and headed back for Kangerlussuaq. Instead of starting in Canada we were to spend an unanticipated day in Ottawa and then fly to Greenland.

Fast forward again further into the trip and a few ice charts later. We were heading for Beechey Island where we planned to land. As we got closer the ice coverage near the shore got thicker. There was to be no landing on Beechey. I was disappointed but, by then, I was thinking differently about adventure. Before Beechey Island, I had considered adventure through the lens of hiking, canoe, and bicycle trips that had a few blips in them but, in general, proceeded as planned. Of course, I knew the possibility of not being able to complete a trip according to plan was there, but I tucked that bit of info in the back of my mind where I didn’t give it much attention.

Jason and the ship’s captain tried to shift the schedule and the route to get us through a Northwest passage. In the process I think we saw Beechey twice more. Once it looked like we would be able to land but our human concept of time, the ice, swell, and fog had other ideas.

For the rest of the trip the ice continued to determine our course. The specific details have faded, but it seems we sailed toward several communities in hopes that we might be able to disembark and fly south. We spent an extra day at sea sailing as fast as we could back to Mittimatalik where the Adventure Canada staff pulled off one of their routine miracles. Somehow, on the long weekend in September, folks behind the scenes chartered every available small aircraft in Yellowknife to fly us from Mittimatalik to Yellowknife where we boarded a 737 charter that took us to Edmonton.

So why am I telling you all this? Well, I have never set foot on Beechey Island and this might or might not be the trip where I can do that. The other thing that has changed since my first trip is my attitude to adventure. When I was young adventure involved a certain amount of discomfort and it was all wonderful. Now I truly appreciate a warm bed, hot food and a shower when I go adventuring.

Something else I appreciate is that when I come on one of these adventures it is not so much to experience a specific place but to experience whatever the land, her people, the weather and the ice have in store for me. If we set foot on Beechey Island I will be truly delighted, and if we don’t, I will have fond memories of the welcoming give of mossy tussocks under my boots in Disko Bay, seeing Nancy’s paintings take shape, the ethereal blue of the icebergs, and the many laughs and stories that are part of this voyage. Regardless of whether we return home via Resolute, Kangerlussaq, or some other landing place, I will have had an adventure and that’s what I signed up for.

Ice

[ed. Once again we missed Beechey Island. Instead we experienced a cruise amongst the pack ice halfway between Canada and Greenland where the water was 2km deep. Quite a number of people have been to Beechey Island but I’m willing to bet that not very many have been in a zodiac negotiating among the ice pans in the middle of the ocean. That is another sort of adventure.]

Bread or a doorstop?

I’ve written before about the desire to bake bread during the pandemic and the other day I decided to dig out a recipe that was one of my favourites when I lived in the small suite in Banff in the building that was once the Bankhead railway station.

During the winter most weekends weren’t particularly busy, and I’d often spend my Saturdays baking bread for the next week. I had a gas heater in the living room and I’d put the dough near it to rise. My circumstances are much different now than they were then and I haven’t made that recipe for over 30 years. Time for a little adventure. The recipe used rolled oats and molasses and I remembered the dough being very sticky. I used to refer to it as bubble gum bread. Be prepared to use lots of flour on the counter and hands when kneading it. For most of my bread baking I have used ordinary rather than quick-rise yeast. The jar I have at the moment is quick-rise. Okay, I can find out how to deal with that.

To the internet for the differences between regular and quick-rise yeast. Let the dough sit for 10 minutes and then form it into loaves instead of doing the first rising in a bowl, punching down the dough and, after a second rising, shaping the loaves. Sounds good. Sounds quicker. Now where to put the dough to rise? I think the last time I made bread I put it in the oven with the light on and that worked.We use our convection oven most of the time now and low and behold, there’s a setting for proofing bread on it. I put the loaves in the convection oven and started it on the ‘proof’ setting. I forgot to cover them. I kept checking on the bread and it didn’t seem to be doing anything. I began to think of the bun recipe my mother gave to one of my aunts. It was a standby for Mum but when my aunt made it one my cousins called the results ‘cement patties’ and the other referred to the buns as ‘asphalt balls.’ I began to envision doorstops.

Too late to do anything about it so I left it alone until the timer went off an hour later. When I looked again, the loaves had actually risen but they didn’t look quite right yet. I set the oven to proof for another 20 minutes. At the end of that time I took out the loaves and poked my finger into the dough near the edge of the tin. The indentation remained. Time to bake them. I followed the directions I had for the temperature but used some convection and cut down the time. When the beeper went, I removed the loaves, turned them out of their pans and thumped them on the bottom. There was a satisfyingly hollow sound. Bread done. I waited for them to cool a bit before cutting into one of them. Mum would not have been satisfied with the texture, too many air pockets but the bread tasted fine. Doorstop averted.

Heart of the Arctic reflections: Arctic 6

Heart of the Arctic 6

Ocean Endeavour

[ ed.On one of the last days of the trip Cedar Swan, CEO of Adventure Canada and host on the Heart of the Arctic trip, asked if Richard and I would give a thank-you, from the passengers’ point of view, to all of those who worked hard to give us the best experience possible. This is what I said.]

When Cedar asked us if we would say something at this gathering, I had a bit of a chuckle to myself. Cedar had no way of knowing that, having been married for 36 years, Richard and I can canoe, ride a tandem bicycle and wallpaper together fairly amicably. When it comes to joint writing projects, each of us wants to be in charge. One of the easiest ways to solve the problem is to each take a section.

In his section, Richard has talked about all the fabulous people who made this voyage possible and in my section I’d like to offer a few personal reflections.

We took our first trip in 20015 and I blame Scott entirely for that. When he told us about the trip we thought it would be a really interesting trip of a lifetime. He was right about the interesting part and entirely wrong about the ‘trip of a lifetime' part.

There is magic in the Arctic. Richard and I have seen parts of the Western Arctic on foot, on horseback and in a canoe but this ship offered us a new mode of transport and a chance to go to places we never would have gotten to on our own. We have met people we never would have met on our own and because of these experiences my world has expanded.

I’m a city kid and will never be anything else but because of people like Martha and Nancy, whom you’ve met, Robert, Ashley, and Jenna whom some of you have met, items in the news have become more personal. When I read that Iqaluit has difficulty with their water supply, I wonder how Ashley and her new daughter are doing.

When I saw news coverage a couple of years ago about Billy Gautier going on a hunger strike to protest a dam on a Muskrat River, I remember him as the skilled carver who sailed with us and who burned out the motor on his grinder because he forgot the ship’s voltage was different from what is supplied to the homes in Canada.

When I read about global warming I wonder how the hunt will go for my friends. I wear my sealskin mitts proudly and tell anyone who asks that I bought them in Mittamatalik from the sister of the hunter who killed the seal.

When I’m given the opportunity to, as Lizanne would say, bang on about how wonderful the Arctic is, I do so until my listeners start to roll their eyes and hide their yawns. I was a bit nervous about the voyages this season because 6 of my friends are first time travellers with Adventure Canada. I wanted all of them to have a wonderful time and I also wanted them to experience some of the awe I experience each time I have the privilege of sailing in these waters and walking out on the tundra.

So, for me, this voyage and the others I have taken are voyages of connection, a connection to part of the country many southern Canadians will not see, and a connection to the people I never dreamed of meeting and whom I now count among my friends.

I hope each of you will have particular moments from this trip that will return to

you in other times and places and you will pause for an instant and remember the land we have travelled through, the people we have met, and the laughter we have shared.

I know for some there have been moments - when the Ocean Endeavour rolled in the swell for instance - that the experience was less than ideal. I hope in hindsight that those moments will also become part of the adventure. Personally, I hope that this voyage will NOT be the trip of a lifetime. As long as I can continue to safely lumber into and out of a zodiac I plan to travel these waters on this ship. As this trip draws to an end I wish all of you safe journeys as you move back into the world beyond the Arctic and once again, I want to thank all of those who worked so hard to organize and orchestrate this experience.

Sunset at sea