Travels with Wisdom and Gravitas – Arctic Voice
By Richard Cree
Wisdom, according to the Merriam-Webster dictionary, is defined as the "1 a: Accumulated philosophic or scientific learning-knowledge; b: Ability to discern inner qualities and relationships-insight;
Gravitas (from Latin) is a quality of substance or depth of personality.
14th June 2007 this was the beginning, a year of planning and today it all starts, I am going to the Arctic, I am the third member of the Arctic Voice kayak expedition, over the next three months the plan is to kayak from Inuvik down the Mackenzie River to the Arctic Ocean heading West along the coast to Tuktoyatuk, then Paulatuk before finishing three months later at Kugluktuk, all sounds fine on paper, how hard can it be?
Today’s the day, woke up worried, the kids put on a brave face for me as they left for school I wasn’t going to see them for three months, the longest we have ever been apart is a week, it’s a quiet drive to the airport and it’s over all too soon, this leaving is hurting more than I thought it ever would.
Two hours later I am in London, Glen and Stephen are having a worse morning than me; Firearms laws have changed since either of them travelled with guns, and it takes three hours to check in. I get a seat at the posh end of the plane and they don’t; the day’s getting better.
Eventually we escape Vancouver customs and make it to the outside, our party consists of 10 bags of assorted kit, rifle, shotgun, ammunition, and a large Blue barrel we named Billy and the three of us. We summoned a limo, on the advice of the flight director ‘cheaper than a taxi’ he said, after some negotiating over the luggage it worked out.
Wake up far too early. Need to find the Internet to check that all is ok at home. Going to see Feathercraft today. When I heard we were using their boats I have to admit I had a little worry, I tested them, hard surfing and rockhopping and they performed really well. I was surprised, but the boats would be great. We had been invited to visit the factory. Another surprise. It wasn’t a huge boat-manufacturing machine that you fed in raw materials in one end and a finished product popped out the other. It was a workshop with real people; a skilled and dedicated workforce that cares about what they make, every boat made to order, painstakingly, one piece at a time.
Vancouver is a stunning city, probably one of the nicest I have ever visited. As we wandered around, collecting the last bits of kit we needed, we talked menus. We had sent ahead some expedition food courtesy of Wayfarer; these meals were for emergencies, we planned on cooking most nights. As Stephen headed off for groceries we entered the Tilley shop, after listening to probably the best sales pitch ever, I parted with dollars and became the proud owner of a Tilley hat, later to come in to its own! Stephen returned $500 lighter, but laden with food. The man was in his prime - AFD rice, readily available in the supermarket; another three boxes to add to the luggage list.
Looking at this huge pile of stuff Glenn is wondering if it will fit. I am wondering if there’s enough. Glen and Stephen keep talking about smaller rations, and your stomach shrinking as you get used to it. I don t want my stomach to shrink, I like the amount I eat.
We end the evening in the Feathercraft workshops, watching Doug make us mounting blocks for our newly acquired Spirit Sails (that I never got to use).
Saturday. Off to Edmonton today. I am knackered. Three days in and haven’t even got to our start point and I am struggling. Called Karen and the kids this morning, really hard to talk to them, the more I try not think about them the harder it is, e-mail much easier. We wake up in Edmonton in the rain, just like being at home. Glad to leave here, the hotel has no atmosphere. It’s like the motel in ‘Psycho’ every one watching, it’s not a comfortable place. On the plus side we get to see our start point today, ok its two flights away, but it is getting closer.
First flight of the day sees us getting to Yellow knife, off we get to stretch the legs and there standing in the arrivals is a huge stuffed polar bear. Our luggage is starting to cause problems, thankfully we sent the boats and some stuff ahead or this would be an absolute nightmare (and very expensive). What’s in the barrel? After three days of packing and unpacking we haven’t got a clue. Imagine it; a busy customs desk, an upset customs man, us, a pile of kit and a barrel – the contents of which are now a mystery. Quote of the day came from this man “there is no us, no we and no ours, only me” he was talking about prosecuting us for breaking the rules. After another hour of sorting and repacking were ready to go. The last flight, we would see Inuvik soon. It was this last flight that brought home just how big Canada is, we flew for 90 minutes and didn’t pass over a single thing that would indicate people. Inuvik airport, another stuffed Polar Bear, I wonder if every Arctic airport has one?
We leave the airport and it hits me were here; five days from home, about to start this trip in to the unknown. We pick up our hired vehicle, its huge 25’ long and 8’ wide. Stephen not keen on driving, how hard can it be? Another day draws in. It’s midnight and the sun is shining, how can that be? How do you get used to this? Weather far too hot. Wish I had brought shorts. Heading to the Arctic and needing shorts - this trip is opening my eyes.
We spend the first evening looking around. We find a launch spot, and a store that includes a Pizza Hut and a KFC. This shop is amazing. One isle has, at one end, underwear, at the other shotguns! I go to bed happy in the thought that I will speak to the family tomorrow.
We meet the kids at Samuel Hearne School today, the Arctic Voice Expedition is about bringing the Arctic Voice back to the UK, one way of doing this is to forge links between kids in the Arctic and kids in the UK. We met the kids, just like the kids at home, only different. Many things are the same i-Pods, Playstations and the Internet, but different. Lots of them hunt with their fathers, and have a real fondness for there history. They all want to leave, to head south to the bigger cities, to experience a different life. Had dinner with Stephen this evening, being away from the family was proving much harder than I ever imagined. I was so glad I had such a good friend with me. After tears and reassurances, we headed back to the hotel.
Tomorrow we get on the water.
Visited the Coastguard station; they do six month shifts here and fortunately they were just beginning. We were assured that they would hear us till we got to the Arctic Ocean; a comforting ‘just in case’ thought. Turns out the station’s maintenance man used to kayak on the Norfolk Broads. Small world.
Next stop the Royal Canadian Mounted Police. In Canada you have to log a route plan and organise check-in times. The people here are all so helpful. The only worrying thing was the cannon at the front door; padlocked to the ground to stop it being nicked. We were all ready to go; all we had to do was assemble the boats, pack them, and then get the whole lot five kilometres to the launch spot…
Four hours later…
And they’re off… We have a send off committee; some of the teachers and local kids we have met, even the local Police came by, probably to make sure we had left and hadn’t run off with their cannon! Have had the last conversation with Karen and the kids for probably eight days - it was tough. Put my jacket on earlier and found sweets the kids had hidden in the pockets; enough to bring me to tears.
On the water at last, it had taken a year, umpteen weeks of training and specific courses, an understanding and supportive family and a fortune, but we were on the water and it felt great. Whilst packing we had even found all the bits we thought we had lost, this cheered up Glen, who was feeling pretty down about it. We had thought that we would paddle for a couple of hours, just enough to get out of town, and find somewhere, a little more remote, for our first camp. The boats are heavy, I am jammed in and listing to starboard.
We found a spot on river right, up a sand / mud bank, there were beaver and caribou tracks, but no sign of bears. This would do. I got to work on the tent, whilst Stephen and Glen made up the kitchen area and got the food on the go.
Beef curry and rice (suitable for vegetarians) followed by stewed fruit and custard. It’s midnight, the sun is shining and here I am sitting in this beautiful place, all that’s missing is my family. I spoke to Karen this afternoon, it was great to hear her voice – makes me realise how much she means to me. I didn’t speak to the kids – it’s just too hard.
It’s Wednesday now, our first whole day on the water. It seemed to take an age to break camp. I sorted my kit, again. What I needed at hand. I hate being disorganised; it makes it so much harder. Three hours to get on the water. We need to get more organised. Packing the boats takes a while; everything goes in through the cockpit. The hatches are more for helping you gain access to position the dry bags. Our problem is the amount of food; we are self sufficient for 40 days. On the water we see beaver, you see their noses as they swim around, then all of a sudden they slap the water with their tails and disappear; this usually happens in time with you getting your camera out.
I had thought that sleeping in the tent with the sun shining might have been difficult, no such problem. The tent seemed huge, when we put it up on Skye, but now we are all in it with our kit it has shrunk. Our sleep mats are overlapping and there is a gun between each of us. We have time to get used to it!
Anyone who has ever travelled in bear country will know the challenges that you face; before going ashore you make lots of noise to scare them away. We have to cook in a separate shelter, 50 metres downwind from the tent; this is where we also store our food. Even going for a crap is a challenge - you need to take paper, lighter and a rifle, and be able to balance in the mud whilst stopping your trousers from falling in what you’ve just done.
We saw our first bear print today, looks like a big one, so we don’t hang about. We manage a respectful 36 km today, not bad for a first day with overloaded kayaks. We are all feeling good. We have a fire tonight; it’s the only way of getting rid of rubbish. We are trying to cook on open fires as much as possible, trying to minimise the amount of fuel we are carrying. Dinner; paprika stew and rice followed by fresh pancakes and maple syrup.
Today was odd. Stephen is just Stephen. Glen is on better form. It was me, not feeling great. I’m missing Karen and the kids and realised that I have another 85 days till I see them. I take my mood out, indirectly, on Stephen and Glen – had a strop about stopping. I didn’t want to go as far as we did, although it was good getting the miles done. Stephen tries to reach the Coastguard, no reply, so much for contact all the way. Will try again tomorrow.
It’s hot this morning, no wind that means mosquitoes; they are the worst things on Earth. If hell were a real place, there wouldn’t be fire - there would be mosquitoes. I thought, I’ll get on the water, it’ll be fine, but they follow. I can paddle probably 8- 10 km/h and they can keep up, there is no escape. One piece of advice we got before heading off was to take a daily antihistamine; they don’t stop the biting, they do however stop the allergic reaction and the swelling. We managed around 40 km today and everyone was on top form. We seemed to be settling in to a routine; Stephen seemed to be doing the cooking and managing the food, I sorted the tent and the sleeping stuff and Glenn organised the food / cooking shelter and pulled the boats up etc.
We were using a tent designed and made by Force 10. It was a fully geodesic model with extra skirts; we chose this design for its sturdiness. We could pitch it without pegs and we knew it would stand up to all the weather could throw at it/us. We were lucky, Force 10 had given us our tent, and they had also given us stoves, sleeping bags and bivi bags. We managed to check in with the Coastguard today; part of the plan we had left with the RCMP said we would check in regularly, so no one would worry. Beef stew and mashed potatoes followed by rice pudding and jam; Stephen was really going to town on the cooking. Water is proving hard to find. We could use the river water but it’s silty, we have a Milbank bag to filter it and we could boil to kill the bugs. It would be easier if we could just find a nice stream.
Last night was awful. It was 50c in our tent and we ended up using the tent for shade and sleeping in our bivi bags behind it. The Arctic is meant to be cold, or so I thought. This was the hottest I have ever been. The only way to cool down was to get in the river, which was about two degrees. Was the cold worse than the hot? No idea. All I know is that it took till after midnight to cool down enough to get some sleep
Friday. Our goal today was Swimming Point; this would get us on the map. We hadn’t had a map for the first bit, but how wrong can you go on a river? This morning, our mosquitoe induced camp takedown was the quickest so far. The weather was warm and calm. Although the barometer had dropped from 1025 to 1003 the weather showed no sign of changing. Within an hour, force 3. Five minutes later, force 7. We were heading straight in to it. It felt good. This is where I had practised, not on the flat in high temperatures. We stopped for lunch at a disused oil exploration hut; miserable places these, the remnants of an industry, abandoned and left to rot. The sad place combined with it being Karen’s birthday brought on tears. I hadn’t cried since I was 10 and now it was happening every two days. Funny place this. Stephen reckoned it was good that I cared as much. I felt a bit silly. Later I had a chat with Glen, (a seasoned explorer he is in his 20th Arctic trip) who said he used to get the same; it wasn’t unusual. People just don’t prepare for it he said. We had all undergone a huge amount of extra training in the physical sense, but had done nothing in preparation of being without loved ones.
We could see the disused airfield; we were on the map(!) and the water started to move, not enough to be scary, but enough to have to ferry glide. Whilst watching my transits I saw a truck move. This place is ‘meant’ to be abandoned! As I clambered out of my boat I heard a shout of ‘Hello, do you want some coffee’. We followed Tommy, a resident of Inuvik, to his truck. the airfield hadn’t been used for years. Tommy and Herb travelled out for a week twice a year to make sure it was in good repair and could be used if needed. Most of their time was spent fixing what the bears had wrecked looking for food. As we got back on the water we could see the rain coming. A proper Scottish shower; the sky went black and the thunder growled. We paddled another six or seven km and made camp. It was too windy to get the tarp up, so in the best Ray Mears style, we fashioned a shelter from logs and built a fire to keep us warm; a proper white man’s fire; huge and wasteful, just what we need to warm us up. Tonight’s menu; chicken noodle soup followed by couscous and vegetables and finished with a sweetened bannock. We had been experimenting with different recipes, this one seemed to work. It’s raining again. Bed.
Saturday. It’s not raining and there’s enough wind to keep the mosquitoes down. It makes a huge difference not having ‘them’, flying around, biting you. The wind picks up as soon as we get on the water. Force 4 / 5 again. The views are very like Scotland. As I paddle along in my own wee world, I am thinking… why am I missing Karen so much, being alone and miles from anywhere focuses what’s important to you; she‘s my best mate as well as partner and mother of our kids. I decided that I would ask her to marry me; I hope she says yes. We have stayed together for 15 years; it is amazing, what a week in the Arctic makes you think about. They, the family, are all off to Mull today. I hope Karen has emailed a phone number. I will call her tomorrow, hopefully, or as soon as we get to Tuktoyaktuk.
Another shelter tonight. I love the whole ‘boy scout’ thing... fires and shelters. Glen has made some furniture. We finish the day with a guided walk along the beach. All the logs look the same, bleached by the sun, torn out by the ice. Glen can tell the difference; ‘they are all very different, if you know what to look for’.
My boat was wet today. I think water is coming in the front hatch. I (probably) haven’t done it up properly. There were a few waves breaking over the boats today. Need to be more careful tomorrow. All our equipment is in dry bags (thankfully) kindly donated by Lomo Watersports. We have worked out the secret to packing the kayaks - lots of small bags rather than a few big ones. We have some tapered dry bags; you can squeeze the air out of them and they’re great for cramming into the ends of the kayaks. We are all carrying ‘biggish’ bags on our back decks. I don’t like this, however we just have no space. Colder today. The temperature has dropped to around three degrees. Two days ago it was 35! How do you plan for that sort of variance?
Woke up feeling a bit sore, with terrible pins and needles in my hands; assume it was the way I slept. This was our first day on the ocean proper. It’s another cold one, with a slow start. The further north we head, the more ice we see washed up on the beaches. The landscape was becoming more and more barren - just the odd tree and a pingo here and there. Pingos are formed when underground lakes freeze. They expand and push up a mound of soil, like a giant molehill. The ice melts and the top falls in, creating a very identifiable shape. With over 300 in the area, Tuktoyaktuk is the pingo capital of the world. Stopped on a beach this afternoon waiting for Stephen and Glen to catch up. As far as I can see there are huge logs, thousands of them, all bleached white. It’s an amazing sight. A bit like a dinosaur bones; if you look closely enough you could find legs, claws and even skulls.
Another two hours paddling and we would finish the first map. The first of 22! We stop for the night.
Just eight km to Tuktoyaktuk.
We had some boat issues today. Stephen’s nearly sank. His is the older style K1 and the cockpit coming came of. This let the cold water flood inside and fill his boat. He made it to shore, but in our haste to help hadn’t pulled my boat far enough up the beach. A wave got it and before we had noticed its was 100 metres offshore and heading south; Glenn to the rescue. I helped Stephen unpack his sodden boat. One of my strongest memories of the trip is this moment. We stuck sticks in the ground to hang stuff on. The sticks were all at 45 degrees, because of the wind. There must have been 40 of them, each drying something different, from dry bags to socks. It’s late now. We will fix Stephen’s kayak in the morning.
Monday. A beautiful day, but my back hurts; near the top, and my hands and arms don’t feel right. I didn’t say anything to the others, there’s no need to worry them. A late start… As we are packing Stephen notices me wincing. I have some more painkillers. We repair Stephen’s boat.
We can make a proper repair to Stephen’s boat in Tuktoyaktuk. He is not happy about paddling it in its present state. It’s only a two-hour paddle away, but that could be a bloody long swim. We set of in the usual force 3, but pretty soon it’s blowing 5 or 6. The waves are building and we can’t see each other. I am trying to go slowly, in case Stephen’s kayak breaks again. My back hurts like hell. I decide to push on. Glenn’s beside Stephen, they will be fine. Two hours after setting off we still have an hour to go... We all reach the beach around the same time. Stephen said the look on my face said it all. Was the trip over before it had really begun? We put the kettle on. We had stuff to discuss. Feathercraft couldn’t get another boat to Stephen and his wasn’t safe to carry on in. He was talking about going home; this meant so much to him, there had to be another way.
We met a friendly local, John, who gave me a lift to the medical centre. After a 20 minute wait and a form to fill in, the Nurse, Erin, who had worked beside Rebecca, the Doctor who had delivered our wilderness first aid training in Inverness (small world!), suspected some sort of compact fracture. ‘How do you fix it?’ I asked. ‘You don’t’ was the reply. ‘Do nothing for six weeks. Here are some painkillers and muscle relaxants.’ Decision made. I would be going home.
Back on the beach I broke the bad news. I was sad to be going. How had I hurt my back? A year’s worth of planning and all that money… What a way for my trip to end. I hadn’t even seen a bear, one that hadn’t been stuffed, anyway. The next two nights we spent in a bed and breakfast. A first shower for a week! We still had school visits to do. After a couple of days my back started to ease and I started the long journey home. Mixed emotions. So sad to be leaving, but excited about going home.
Karen said ‘yes’. Glenn and Stephen finished the trip (more next month), and my back is better… turns out to be some sort of arthritis.
The title of this piece relates to the friends I paddled with and how they described themselves as wisdom and gravitas, I never worked out which was which, but was thankful to them both for an amazing experience.