The wind rolled me right over in my tent that night forcing me out to re-bury the lines and the fly. With little in the way of a wind-block, I was at times hard-pressed to find shelter for cooking as well. In the end, I paddled whenever the wind died and returned to shore when in picked up again.
My forced shore time saw me walking miles of beach and tundra. In the above picture I came across another Thule Culture dwelling. This one was being lived in by new tenants, a family of foxes! I suspected as much when I saw the lush green ground cover from a distance and sure enough, I found young kits hiding just inside the tunnels their parents had dug into the old house.
Turning the corner westwards brought me to within a day's paddle of Igloolik, situated on an island about 5 miles or so offshore. Once again the winds held me on the beach, but this time I had company. A group of Iglulingmiut, two families actually, were camped near a small stream fishing. They too were pinned down and waiting for a window in the wind which would allow them to cross over to the island. We all waited for five days before there was a break in the weather.
I left a few hours after their big freighter canoes did. The water was very choppy and bouncy without any set wave pattern. Several times I looked back thinking I was over my safety limit, but I kept on. I knew people on the island were aware I was coming across and eventually I could see 4-wheelers on the hill tops looking for me. In a way, they 'pulled' me over and I finally arrived at midnight, a 3 hour paddle.
The following day was totally calm and I went out for a midnight paddle with a few of the local paddlers.
I also got a chance to drive out to the old hunting camp at Iglulik Point where people were now beginning to build 'cottages' out of old building materials which became available as newer houses were built in town. So much had changed in the intervening years, but it was marvelous to be back with old friends!