Two weeks ago I suddenly found myself with unexpected days off (which just as unexpectedly disappeared). So the celebrate I hired someone to babysit and do my cleaning and chores and struck out for a hike.
Last year I made several trips out to the canyon where the Peregrine's aerie is, but for various reasons I'd only been out there once this year, on an abbreviated camping trip with Travis. This then would be a hike to rectify that, I'd get out, check out the Peregrine's and go from there. I intended it to be a lazy one, and threw the camera gear, sat phone and a thermos of coffee in a pack, told Leah where I would be going and when I should be back by, and drove off to the dump.
The going was wet, which surprised me somewhat, as we'd had several gorgeous days in a row. I suppose I shouldn't have been surprised given the summer we had, but I quickly regretted wearing hiking boots instead of rubbers. And try as I did to avoid it, before I had passed King George I had wet feet.
Another consequence of the wet weather is that we've seen a profusion of mushrooms this fall. Travis now takes great delight in seeking out puff balls and stomping on them, sending the clouds of spores wafting through the air. We don't see many 'shrooms here, normally the ones we do have are on the small side of average so my first surprise on the hike was a line of huge, sorry make that HUGE, mushrooms in the shadow of King George. My ball cap offers a sense of scale.
Horsetail, one of our oldest types of plants, is expanding up here. Local people tell me that it didn't used to be here, although my field guide lists it as common in the Baffin region. A small patch near the road to Victor Bay attracted a lot of attention when I was first here, its bright bright green standing out from the rest of the Tundra. Although a lot of people asked what it was, and told me it didn't grow here, the patch has greatly grown and hardly rates a second glance now.
The horsetail I've seen here is Common Horsetail (Equisetum arvense), which grows pale chlorophyll deprived fruiting stalks in the spring, but follows them with these non-fruiting stems of bright green. I stopped to photograph large swaths of the plant growing along a watercourse.
After I reached the canyon, I stopped near the smaller stream, and enjoyed a deep drink of icy cold fresh water. The pack off, I sat in the warm sun, out of the breeze, and lazed about drinking coffee before climbing up closer to the aerie. As you can see by the following, I took quite a few photos of the small falls while I was there. Perhaps a new obsession.
Once I got closer to the aerie I was disappointed to see no sign of the Peregrines. On my earlier visit with Travis, I only got a brief glimpse of one flying in the canyon, and although we were there for several hours I never saw anymore, nor did I hear one. I'm now concerned that the nest has been abandoned, or breeding failed for this year. Although this visit is late, and the possibility exists that the young had already fledged and the birds have left, I found the lack of whitewash on favourite perches and at the aerie troubling.
So I sat and gazed out at the sweeping vista before me, the Victor Bay iceberg grounded near the mouth of the stream that was crashing down beside me. And as I sat there I realized that I had never hiked the stream course. Being as there were no Peregrine's to photograph, I had the time, and it would likely be my last opportunity before the arrival of winter. And so I set off.
Once out of the canyon the stream only settles down a little, and tumbles incessantly towards the ocean. The vast majority of the streams banks was dry tundra, making for a nice easy hike.
As I got closer I put up a couple of late Lapland Longspurs, who sat at eye level and let me take photos. Further down a flock of near thirty American Pipits leapfrogged past one another, staying frustratingly ahead of me. And a little past them the banks lowered and the tundra spread out before me, the huge iceberg towering above it all.
A growing awareness that only a couple of weeks before, the very ground I was walking on was used by a bear as a route back and forth between the dump and Victor Bay made me stop more frequently, glassing the route ahead of me. Finally a look at my watch, and the knowledge that I was several kilometres from the truck, with supper still to prepare, told me I'd reach my turning point.
So I sat on the tundra, with the strong wind in my face, phoned Leah, and then finished my thermos of coffee. Curious Glaucous Gulls dipped down close to see what I was up to, and they were followed by a most curious Raven, who circled several times, just feet away. This is him in the last photo, and while he may not appear exceptionally close, this photo was taken with a wide angle lens, he is probably all of fifteen feet away.
Draining the last drop, I shouldered my pack and set off in a direct, but wet line, for the pass and the dump. The frequent looks over my shoulder were as much because of a longing to stay longer as concern about whether or not the bear might have returned.
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2 responses
Lovely photos, Clare.
Thank you very much John.