Although it isn't a landform that most people associate with the Arctic, the area around Arctic Bay has a number of "badlands" around. Spots filled with hoodoos and other wildly eroded rock. Probably the most accessible here is a spot that is known locally as Cowboy Canyon, or alternatively Cowboy Land (I prefer Canyon). Sunday saw a small group of us snowmobile over there for a visit.
Leah, her sister Benita, cousin Becky, myself, the kids and two of our clients got ready to head out in the early afternoon, but as soon as we fired up the snowmobiles we ran into our glitch of the day. Hilary, as it turns out, is frightened by snowmobiles. As soon as the first one started, she started… screaming. Not wanting to delay anyone I told them to go on ahead and I took her (crying all the way) to Leah's folk's place. Plan B was also an abject failure as she continued to cry there and insisted she wanted to go home, which of course entailed another ride on a snowmobile and more screaming and crying.
At home I resigned myself to the fact that I was once again the kid who had to miss the games because of his violin lessons, and decided I'd let Hilary put me down for a nap. I had just started to drift off (with the really tired little girl happily watching TV and her dad drool), when Becky and Benita returned. Apparently I was the only one of us who knew the route, so they came back to see just what was taking me. A quick bribe, and Hilary happily went down to Leah's mom's and we headed off to meet the others.
Now the entrance to Cowboy Canyon is high up on a mountain on Victor Bay and just getting there takes you through some dramatic country. From Arctic Bay you climb the pass to Victor Bay and follow as series of small lakes and stream beds down to Victor Bay, and then following along another small gorge head up into the hills. One part of the trail skirts the edge of the gorge and never fails to make me nervous, it is a long way down. This was compounded by the fact I was on my brother-in-law's machine, which I've already tipped and pinned myself under. But really it sounds worse than it is and soon we were on the next part of the trail, which goes through another (or rather the same, upper level) gorge/canyon, stream bed.
It is itself spectacular and I kept looking at the snow cornices high above me, thinking that if they came down, while they probably wouldn't be really dangerous would probably make the trip a whole lot more unpleasant. I probably should have been paying more attention to where I was going because I manage to bury the machine in some soft snow, which lead to another (heavier) machine stuck in soft snow. I was amazed at just how hot the day was, especially trying to free two snowmobiles and soon had shed gloves, hat and jacket. It was a gorgeous day.
to be continued…
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Your SIL is the third person I know of, aside from myself, with the name Benita. Apparently it was quite common in Finland in the early 50’s which must be where my father got it from.
I have no idea of the origin of Bin’s name. I was more familiar with the name “Bonita” which of course is beautiful in Spanish. I wasn’t aware of anyone else with the name, but now I am.