Trekking ‘Neath the Midnight Sun

I flipped through the High Arctic lodge guest book to find decades of reminiscences by Korean, Swiss, Chinese, Australian and American adventurers setting out by dog sled, helicopter and ultra-light, on foot, by snowmobile, motorcycle and kayak to conquer the North Pole. In the cozy living room of the lodge were a foursome from Milan en route to the grave sites of the ill-fated 19th century Franklin Expedition on nearby Beechey Island, and an elderly British woman collecting trilobites who spent the entire evening peering through a loupe at samples she’d found on the beach that day.

A Scottish couple from Alberta who had come on a whale-spotting mission were surfing through the satellite TV channels to catch the landing of Pathfinder on Mars. When the robot buggy began sending back the first photos of the rocky surface of the red planet, the Scotsman proclaimed with disappointment in his thick brogue, “Looks like bloody Resolute!”

It was July 4, 1997, and my hiking buddy, Philip Kibler, and I had just flown 7 1/2 hours from Montreal to this hamlet, population 171, on Cornwallis Island in the High Arctic reaches of Canada’s Northwest Territories. (In April, the Northwest Territories will split and the eastern half, including Ellesmere and Resolute, will become Nunavut.) Set on a flat, gravelly shoreline with little vegetation, Resolute looks like the end of the Earth. In one respect, it is: Resolute is the last-exit, gas-food-and-lodging stop for expeditions to the North Pole, 1,100 miles farther up the globe.

We were en route to a 10-day trek through Ellesmere Island National Park Reserve, the northernmost end of the northernmost part of North America. Resolute was as far north as regularly scheduled airlines would take us, so we would fly the remaining 600 miles to the park by charter aircraft that also was ferrying in national park staff.

Most Ellesmere trekkers plan their trips through experienced outfitters; others prefer “soft adventure” tours that include day hikes from the park’s two ranger posts. I had been asked to shoot pictures for the national parks archive. Philip and I were experienced in the northern wilderness, so we would be hiking through the park on our own. Our only contact with the outside world would be the nightly transmission of our location by radio to a ranger station.

People living in the Earth’s temperate zones picture the Arctic as one vast snowstorm-whipped emptiness. It is vast, but its climate and landscape are varied. One could say that Ellesmere National Park is the High Arctic’s temperate zone.

The island itself is a polar desert; it receives less precipitation than the Sahara--about 1 inch a year. At the same time, due to the position of its mountains and the four months (April 20 to Aug. 20) of 24-hour sunlight, the northeastern corner is a thermal oasis, warmer and more lush than anywhere else on the Nebraska-size island. The comparatively balmy weather brings to life an abundance of vegetation in spring, which in turn attracts all manner of wildlife, from herds of musk oxen and caribou to Arctic foxes, wolves and about 30 species of birds.

*

Stepping off the plane at the park’s Lake Hazen warden station, we were 2,554 miles due north of Montreal; had we flown the same distance south instead, we would be in Panama City.

We were greeted by Warden Jeff Maurice, who helped us choose a route across the unmarked tundra to park headquarters at Tanquary Fiord, 85 miles to the west.

Officially, about 500 people a year visit Ellesmere, including scientists, park staff and Canadian and U.S. military personnel from the radio and weather base at Alert, the northernmost settlement in the world. But fewer than 80 adventurous souls actually hike into the wilderness. With so few humans around, the resident animals are not shy and often will come close.

At Lake Hazen, as we readied our packs--each of us carrying food and supplies for 12 days--it was an astonishingly warm 69 degrees. We stripped down to T-shirts and set off through ankle-deep grasses, yellow poppies and mauve, pink and white wildflowers buzzing with bumble bees and orange butterflies. Hard to believe we were only 640 miles from the geographic North Pole.

Though warm and summer-like at the time, the weather in the High Arctic often is treacherous. Temperatures can plummet below freezing in a matter of hours and it can snow in midsummer.

The first day, we followed the shoreline of Lake Hazen, accompanied by squadrons of big, hairy mosquitoes--hairy as a defense against the cold. As we set up camp at 8 p.m. I realized that we had hiked eight hours and yet the sun had stayed roughly at the same height all day, simply circling the sky. It was tough to force myself into my sleeping bag with midnight sun streaming into the tent.

Heading toward the first glacier on our itinerary the next day, we knew there were musk oxen around by the lengths of soft gray down streaming from rocks where it had snagged from the passing animals. Sure enough, grazing along a riverbank below us, a big male lazily backed up to a rock, rubbed his butt and lay down contentedly in a patch of purple flowers.

At our first river crossing I rolled up my pants and began to wade, leaning on the back-country ski poles we had brought as hiking staffs. The water was so icy that within moments I could barely feel my feet as I fought to keep my balance on the shifting, slippery pebbles. Chunks of ice were being swept along in the current, battering my legs in the thigh-deep water; we’d packed every piece of hiking gear we owned, but no one had suggested shin pads.

As the days passed, the terrain alternated from gravel or sand to broken green and red shale. Most tiring of all was hiking across deep, spongy tundra, especially where it had been heaved up by winter weather into cauliflower-size, grass-covered hummocks on which I teetered precariously with each step.

*

We saw hares running on their hind legs as they do only in the High Arctic, a technique that enables them to see predators at a greater distance on the flat landscape. Not recognizing us as a problem species, they came within 10 feet. Arctic terns wheeled above us, having just arrived after their long flight from winter in the Antarctic. I startled a family of ptarmigan so well camouflaged that their chicks looked like rocks with legs as they scurried over the scree. Philip was repeatedly buzzed by a long-tailed jaeger, angry that we were close to her nest. Searching the ground, we spotted the fuzzy brown chick, vulnerable to predators such as the fox we saw being shooed by screeching snow buntings later in the day.

“Day 7: Tuesday, July 15.” I had just written that in my notebook as I peeled back the door of the tent for a look at the morning weather. What I saw was a musk ox, oblivious to us, making his way down a rocky slope about 100 yards away. I remembered the posters at Lake Hazen warning to stay at least 500 yards away from the territorial beasts. Quickly pulling on clothes and boots, Philip and I slipped down a hill outside the tent, crossed a stream and scrambled up a steep shale cliff.

The musk ox had caught our scent, and he was not amused. He sniffed the air across the gully that separated us, lowered his head and pawed the ground, snorting loudly. My heart was in my throat. “When you can hear them snort, I think you’re definitely too close,” Philip whispered.

After a lengthy display of displeasure, the animal turned and sprinted back up the slope he’d just come down. The speed and nimble elegance with which he tackled the loose ground was scarier than his snort; we would never be able to outrun a musk ox.

Like a king in his castle, the musk ox stood high above us and watched. We waited another hour without budging. When we decided that he wasn’t coming back but just keeping an eye on us, we headed back to our tent, which we packed in record time.

The next morning greeted us with near-freezing temperature. Bent into a wind bearing pellets of ice whipped into pins of pain, we were making our way through a dry riverbed when a wolf crossed about 75 yards in front of us. We stopped, sat on boulders and waited. Within minutes she had circled around and sat down behind us. When we finally rose and continued to hike, she followed for almost half an hour before lying down in the rocks for a snooze.

The ninth day of our hike, we dropped to sea--and mosquito--level, and we could see the head of Tanquary Fiord, our destination. It was another day’s walk before the brown Quonset huts of the warden station came into view. I have never been so glad to see a Canadian flag.

Senior Warden Barry Troke strolled out to meet us. “Congratulations,” he said and shook our hands. I heard nothing more, for I’d caught scent of the chicken Barry had thrown on the barbecue when he saw us approaching. After 10 days of freeze-dried food, what could be more heavenly? After 90 miles without creature comforts, what else did we need?

“Would you two be wanting a shower by any chance?”

Pfeiff is a photographer and writer based in Quebec.

(BEGIN TEXT OF INFOBOX / INFOGRAPHIC)

GUIDEBOOK

The Arctic for the Adventuresome

Getting there: It is expensive and difficult to visit Ellesmere Island National Park Preserve. The only access available to the public is via planes--10-seaters--that are chartered from Resolute by tour operators.

First Air (telephone [800] 267-1247) flies to Resolute from Ottawa twice a week. The round-trip fare, with restrictions, is $1,100.

The two air charter services in Resolute are: Kenn Borek Air Ltd.; tel. (403) 391-3300 or (867) 252-3849, and Bradley Air Services; tel. (867) 252-3981.

This summer’s charter trips are full; the following tour operators are taking reservations for 1999:

Canada North Outfitting in Almonte, Ontario (tel. [613] 256-4057, fax [613] 256-4512), flies “highly experienced hikers” on one- to three-week outings, charging about $2,000 per person, round-trip from Resolute, air fare only. A licensed guide is optional at $650 per person per week. Internet https://www.arctic-travel.com.

One-week “soft adventure” tours of the High Arctic are offered by Arctic Odysseys, Seattle, WA; tel. (800) 574-3021 and (425) 688-0838, fax (425) 726-8488. Price, including hotels and round-trip air from Ottawa: $6,450.

For more information: Parks Canada, Northwest Territories; tel. (800) 491-7910, (867) 473-8828, fax (867) 473-8612.

Canadian Tourism Commission, 550 S. Hope St., 9th Floor, Los Angeles, CA 90071; tel. (213) 346-2700, fax (213) 346-2767.