For much of Canada the Victoria Day Weekend (the May Long) is the kick off to Summer. People head off in campers and cars, to beaches and campgrounds, and that cabin at the lake. Very few of them are thinking about ice fishing.
But up here on the May Long, that is exactly what occupies everyone's thoughts. It is the Fish Derby weekend, and quite simply one of the biggest days up here. I would think that it wouldn't be an exaggeration to say that 75% of the population participates in the Derby up here, at one of the five open lakes.
Because of the differences in the general sizes of Char at each lake, and the relative difficulty in getting to each lake (a general rule of thumb is that the farther you go, the larger the fish) and the fact that not everyone has the means or equipment to make the longer journeys, each lake has its own prizes.
We traditionally (and when I say "we" bear in mind that this is my first time participating in six years) go to the second furthest lake, Kugarjuk. It's actually a river, with several wider spots that hold Char, and it is over 200 kms away from here. By snowmobile. Each way.
To put that in perspective, imagine driving by snowmobile half way between Winnipeg and Roblin Manitoba, camping for a few days, and then carrying on the rest of the way. Add to that no restaurants or gas stations, or for that matter any buildings or shelter along the way, and you can get a bit of an idea of the trip. If you're from New York, it would be from there to, say, Cape May and back. Or if you're from London, from there to Cardiff and back.
I love the trip.
We left here Friday afternoon, with three machines, each pulling a Komatiq. We had our older four stroke Skidoo, as Leah's wouldn't charge the battery and so far had mystified the people that need to get it fixed. It was a gorgeous day, mostly blue skies prevailed. As we pulled out of Arctic Bay in a line, then out into Adams sound, where we passed the first broken machine, barely fifteen kilometres out.
As we rounded the corner to Admiralty Inlet I looked back to the St George Society Cliffs, an impressive sight at any distance, and we moved on farther south. I'm continually amazed at this land, and its beauty. As the miles passed, we passed majestic valleys, lined with red cliffs, and towering peaks. Every one would be the highlight of other place's landscapes, but here they are almost ubiquitous. I was somewhat surprised at the lack of icebergs on the trip, given how many were around last spring and summer.
The first iceberg we encountered near some small islands called Pingujiniit. Brilliant blue ice, it looked for all the world as we approached like a fort, or castle. Twin towers marked the front corners, and all it lacked was a front gate. As we passed it opened up, as though it was a fort missing its rear wall. But the miles were passing and we were not stopping for photo ops. There was, in the words of Robert Frost, miles to go before I sleep.
And the miles were about to seem a lot longer, and take longer to work through. Although travel had been relatively smooth, as we edged to the South East into Moffit Inlet, the trail got rough, and our speed dropped below 20 kph. Although it had apparently been like a highway only two weeks earlier, our late snow storms and strong winds had transformed it into a continual mass of drifts, perpendicular to our path. It was slow going and it seemed to me that someone had added to the length of the inlet since my last trip down it.
But we eventually made our way down to the foot of the inlet, by this time joined by other snowmobiles, where we paused before moving into the low gentle valley we'd follow for the next leg. One of the other machines had snapped a bolt so we paused to repair it, and have tea and some snacks, before continuing on our way.
The valley was only slightly less drifted than Moffit Inlet and our way was still slowed, but we eventually passed the length of the valley, which opened into the bottom of Admiralty Inlet. As we turned the corner towards the river and Kugarjuk, two Ptarmigan flew down from the hills, landing between me and the komatiq ahead of us. The male landed right on the track and I actually had to turn off the trail to go around him. It was my first look at a Willow Ptarmigan up here, all the others I had seen have been Rock Ptarmigan. He was a handsome bird in his breeding finery, and he finally took flight as the snowmobile passed him.
Then came the accident.
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Oh, the suspense. Sounds like quite the journey…..~karen
Sheesh! It’s not nice to play with my emotions like that. Oh, the suspense!
Just want to keep you all coming back for more.
Were you too busy looking at the Ptarmigan to be paying attention to driving?