Exploring Baillarge Bay

I did it!  I finally did it!  It took an extra two years but I finally explored Baillarge Bay!  My first attempt was in April 2017, but if you remember, my skidoo tipped over about 37km north of Arctic Bay.  I was able to drive back into town with a broken side mirror.  I vowed to try again and I can proudly say my second attempt was a success.  I only wish I didn’t have to wait so long.

            

The original reasons behind my wanting to explore this bay were: I haven’t been there before and I wanted to see if there was a path at the end of the bay that led south across the land into Strathcona Sound.  If there was a path, I would not have to drive back the way I came.  Google Maps gives the impression there is a path but the only way to know for sure was to go see it with my own eyes.

            

I was not taking any chances this time.  I didn’t want to wait another two years if my second attempt failed.  Previous day trips & local advices have taught me:

            1. Never rely on last year’s ice.

            2. Follow previously made skidoo tracks if they’re safe.

I made the necessary preparations for the trip.  I wore many layers of warm, comfortable clothing; packed snacks, extra ammunition, second pairs of gloves, toilet paper, batteries, plastic bags, binoculars, goggles, spark plugs, a bottle of oil, duck tape, a small first aid kit, and extra pair of sunglasses.  The essential supplies consisted of: GPS, SPOT, 12-gauge shotgun, machete, helmet, camera, ten gallons of extra gas, and beaver mitts.  My Canada Goose gloves just aren’t warm enough when driving for long periods of time.

            

The day trip was set for April 17.  The weather was in my favour: sunny, blue skies, and partly cloudy.  It took me an hour to get dressed and everything ready.  I had already told several people in town where I was going and how to follow me on SPOT.  Wearing so many layers of clothing and a large helmet made me feel like an astronaut.  The helmet provides and extra layer of protection against the Arctic cold.  And it also protects my head!  It took another 10 minutes to lock the door and do my final checks.  I pushed the tracker button on my SPOT.  Once satisfied that I had everything, I sat on my skidoo with my backpack on my back and my shotgun slung across my chest.  The gun rested comfortably inside the large green Cabela’s bag.  I revved the engine and began driving towards Victor Bay.  The trip began in the late morning.

            

I followed the Road to Victor Bay.  The right side of the skidoo where the muffler is located was exposed to the cold.  The cold would keep it cool.  I turned off the road and followed a previously made skidoo track to a row of cabins along the shore.  From there, I drove onto the ice road that was plowed to the Grade 1 teacher’s cabin.  Driving 100km/h along smooth ice was a breeze.  I slowed down when I neared the cabin and drove off the ice road.  As I passed the cabin, I saw a lot of black spots in the distance.  At first, I thought they were seals, then large congresses of ravens.  Finally, I got close enough to realize that it was the Nunavut Quest Support Teams.

            

Nunavut Quest is an annual dog sledding race that’s held every spring.  This year, the race started in Pond Inlet and would finish in Arctic Bay.  The support teams always travel ahead of the competitors and set up camp at the designated stops so that there is warm food and shelter waiting for them.  I wasn’t expecting to see the support teams; I thought they would be arriving the following day.  I stopped and took several photographs of the long convoy of skidoos and qamutiks.  I assumed they were having a tea break before driving into town.  I think there were going to drive around the peninsula and enter the bay from the south.  Driving through Victor Bay would take less time but it would be less spectacular.  I could have driven up and asked someone but I didn’t want to interrupt their schedule.

            

Cape Strathcona.

I left Victor Bay behind and drove across the ice towards Cape Strathcona.  I followed a previously established skidoo track.  Around this time of the year, many locals head north towards the floe edge to hunt.  The trail was a little bumpy but the ride was mostly uneventful.  I kept looking in my rear-view mirrors, making sure my gas cans were still attached.  The only thing to keep me company, besides the gorgeous views of the land was the loud monotonous drone of my skidoo engine.

            

The tall jagged mountains behind Cape Strathcona slowly came into view.  We meet again, I said to myself.  The trail slowly led me away from the mountains because there was a lot of large ice boulders near them.  The last time I was down this way was March 2016.  Further down this way, portions of the skidoo trail began to disappear, having been blown away by wind.  I had to slow down and look for flat snow to drive across.  The more I drove, the more I realized I was getting better at predicting where to drive.  Although, I wouldn’t call myself an expert.  I periodically looked at the jagged mountains to my right, admiring their striking features.  They haven’t changed at all.

            

Ship Point.

I finally arrived at Ship Point after covering a distance of 45.5km.  This is the furthest north I have ever been on skidoo.  It was time for a quick break and to refuel my machine.  I stepped off my skidoo and scanned my surroundings.  No polar bears in sight.  I faced my skidoo, knowing what was coming next.  I had been thinking about this moment since I started driving.  I walked up to my machine and briefly looked at the red kill-switch button.  Here we go, I said.  I pushed it.

            

Silence.  Overwhelming, deafening silence.  It’s a “sound” and feeling you can never forget.  It makes you feel really small, alone, and deaf.  I should have brought a box of pin needles and dropped them onto the snow.  The sound of my breathing didn’t even register.  The fact there was no wind only amplified the silence.  I truly felt like I was on a different planet.  The furthest distance away from any living organism.  I can see why humans need movement & sound of some kind.  Prolonged exposure to this kind of silence could possibly drive someone insane.  I blinked several times to remind myself that I was still alive or not vividly dreaming. 

           

Ship Point & my skidoo.

My skidoo facing Baillarge Bay.

I removed my shotgun from my bag and fired two slugs into the air.  If there were any polar bears stalking me, I hoped the loud bangs would scare them off.  I retrieved a gas can before removing the cap attached to the gas tank.  I looked in all directions as I poured the precious gasoline into the tank.  Once the tank was full, I set the can on the ground and removed my helmet.  Turns out there was a faint breeze blowing but my helmet had muted the sound.  I took out my camera and took several pictures.  The crunching sounds of my boots walking on the snow were clearly heard.  My snack consisted of two granola bars and a juice box.  I placed the garbage in a Ziploc bag.

            

Opposite Ship Point.

Baillarge Bay entrance.

I started up the skidoo and put on my helmet.  I checked to make sure the gas cans were firmly attached to the machine with bungee cords.  The shotgun went back into the bag so that the bolt wouldn’t freeze.  I sat on the skidoo and looked forward.  I was about to enter unexplored territory.  From what I could see, driving down the centre of the waterway wasn’t a good idea because there were large snow drifts.  I decided to try the right side.

            

I didn’t get very far.  More snow drifts appeared and the next thing I knew I had entered into what I like to call a “minefield”.  It’s an area where there are large blocks of ice and snow drifts, kind of like skiing moguls but worse.  I turned around, drove back, and then headed across the frozen waterway to the left side.  Here, the snow was smoother.

            

There were no pre-established skidoo tracks; I had to create my own.  I drove carefully because I would need to rely on the tracks to get out if the southern shortcut across the land wasn’t possible.  The mountains here are similar to ones you see all around up here: tall, jagged, imposing, immovable, and covered in snow.  I stopped several times to take pictures.

            

The place that looked like the beginning of a trail leading south across the land was actually a rising hill.  Google Earth made it look flat.  I believe during the brief summer months when the snow melts, the water runs down this hill into Baillarge Bay.  I stopped my skidoo and pondered on what to do next.  The ice near the end of the bay was smooth enough for me to drive across towards this hill.  But a part of me wanted me to explore beyond Baillarge Bay to the east.  In the end, my curiosity won.  I abandoned my original plan and drove east.

              

A sudden bump in the ice made me stop.  Was I now on land?  I checked my GPS coordinates, and sure enough, I had driven off Baillarge Bay.  I shot two more shotgun slugs into the air.  I had been told this area is frequented by polar bears so I needed to be alert at all times.

            

The track I made just before changing
my goggles.

I was glad I packed a second pair of goggles.  Ice had been building along the sides of my goggles when I entered Baillarge Bay.  Unfortunately, the freezing process continued, and by this time I was having trouble seeing clearly.  I stopped and was about to get out my other goggles when my mind reminded me of the polar bear threat.  I turned my skidoo around to face the way I came.  If a hungry polar bear made a sudden appearance, I could make a quick getaway.  Thankfully, no polar bears appeared.  With my second pair securely attached to my helmet, I turned my skidoo around again and continued driving.

           

As far inland as I got.

I halted my skidoo when the valley began to turn to the left.  My mind was beginning to tell me that now would be a good time to turn back.  I had to think about the gas required to return home.  I still had just over 5 gallons of reserve gas but I had no way of knowing how much fuel was left in my skidoo.  The dashboard had stopped working several weeks ago.  Looking beyond, I could see small hills between the large mountains.  I could either drive over these hills or continue in the centre, following the riverbed.  I wanted to keep going but my conscience argued to play it safe.  I took a picture of where I stopped and turned around.  I looked around for a minute or two, enjoying the scenery, before pushing the throttle.  It was time to head home.

            

The trail to Baillarge Bay.

I followed my own skidoo trail to Baillarge Bay.  I had to stop again and change my goggles.  I continued following my tracks, stopping again at Ship Point to refuel.  Turns out the gas tank had more gas than I thought.  I could have driven further inland.  Another time, I said to myself.  I enjoyed the drive towards Victor Bay.  Yes, I still had to put up with the monotonous drone of my skidoo and I was driving against the wind, but driving in familiar territory made me feel comfortable and safe.  I didn’t see anyone along the trail.  I think the sled dog teams passed while I was in Baillarge Bay.

            

Graveyard Point.

A thought occurred to me just when I was about to enter Victor Bay.  I stopped and took out my camera.  I photographed my skidoo tracks behind me.  They stretched to the horizon and beyond.  I also took a picture of Graveyard Point, the tall mountain that almost looks like a pyramid.

            

Once in Victor Bay, I drove towards the ice road on my right side.  Once on the road it was a very smooth ride to the cabins on shore.  I followed the Road to Victor Bay before coming to a halt at the top of a hill where you finally see Arctic Bay.  There were people out on the ice gathered around the dog teams.  I took a picture before driving down the hill and stopping in front of my residence.  I breathed a sigh of relief when I walked through the front door.  I was finally home.

            

My day trip to Baillarge Bay was fantastic!  I drove 160km.  Even though I didn’t find a southern shortcut, I explored far more land than planned.  The adventure enabled me to get out of the house and away from everything.  I couldn’t wait for my next land trip.