Waiting out the Wind

We knew that Banks Island is windy, so we made sure we had the right clothes and gear to deal with it.  We built layover days into the travel schedule, knowing that there would be times when it would be too windy to paddle. I took a Brunton ADC Wind device so I could record wind speed, temperature, and wind chill.

The day we were dropped off the winds were light and the temperatures were mild, which made it a lot easier to set up that first camp.  After a quick lunch we turned our attention to assembling the canoes.  With the light winds we were able to get all three of them done in two hours, leaving time for a  hike before dinner.
 As we ate a late dinner, the already light winds dropped even more.  It was so calm that the water on the river was like glass.  A yellow-billed loon swam by; we could clearly see his reflection in the water.  After dinner Karen only half-jokingly suggested we strike camp and  hit the river.  But it had been a long day and our sleeping bags were calling, so we crawled into our tents around 10:30 looking forward to paddling the next day. 

But ... the wind had other ideas.  No sooner had we settled down than it started to blow and the temperatures dropped.  The overnight low temperature inside the tent was 42°, so outside it must have been in the mid 30s. By morning it was blowing between 10 and 20 mph right out of the north and there were whitecaps on the river.   We clearly weren't going anywhere. In fact, we weren't able to go anywhere for a couple of days.

 So we slept in and had leisurely breakfasts.


We took long hikes.






We visited the local wolf den.  No-one was home.


We watched lots of birds and accidentally got really close to a pair of nesting Brant.











We found lots of muskox carcasses and enjoyed the just-starting-to-bloom wildflowers. 

 We hiked some more, took long leisurely lunch breaks, and marveled at the artistic abilities of arctic hare.

And finally, just when it looked like we might be spending a third night at the landing site, we realized the wind had diminished, so we decided to make a break for it.  That's one of the good things about traveling above the Arctic Circle in summer - you don't have to worry about the sun setting. 

Now when I say the wind had dropped off, I mean it was blowing less hard than earlier.  We were still paddling in whitecaps straight into 10-15 mph winds. We got on the river around 9:00 pm and managed about two and a half hours before cold and fatigue got the better of us.  We covered just over 10 miles - a pretty slow pace, but putting the landing site behind us really gave us the sense that our adventure was truly underway.  

Why the Thomsen River?

The Thomsen River runs north through Aulavik National Park on Banks Island in Canada's Northwest Territories.  The headwaters lie in a series of lakes to the south of the park boundary, and the river ends in a broad estuary at Castel Bay on the McClure Strait of the Arctic Ocean.   The river and its valley are the main geographic features of the park, which occupies a large section of the north side of the island.  The island has little elevation, particularly the northern portion, so the river is wide and slow-moving.  No white-water, unless you count the whitecaps.

Banks is the western-most island in the Canadian Arctic Archipelago.  The island has recently received a lot of publicity due to the discovery of the HMS Investigator, which spent several winters trapped in ice in Mercy Bay along the north shore of the island before sinking in 1853.  McClure, the ship's captain, was eventually credited with discovering the Northwest Passage.  There are several interesting books describing the expedition.  I liked The Ice Passage by Brian Payton, which I read shortly before our trip. 

The Thomsen River is said to be the northern-most navigable river by canoe, but that's not really what drew us there. Rather, it was the opportunity to experience one of the least visited and most remote parks in Canada.  The pristine wilderness is home to a number of rare animal and bird species,  muskox and Peary caribou being among the most well-known.  The unique light of the high arctic, the subtle textures and colors of the landscape, the magic of the blooming arctic wildflowers, the isolation  - these are the things that made us want to travel there.  That, and being unplugged for two whole weeks.

Getting There

Getting to Banks Island isn't easy, and it takes a while. The starting point of our trip was Inuvik, a village in Canada's Northwest Territories on the Mackenzie River delta. To reach Inuvik, we first flew from Boston to Edmonton. We stayed overnight in Edmonton, where we met up with Susan, another of the trip participants. We were all staying in the same hotel and were on the same connecting flight. I should point out that there aren't that many options for getting to Inuvik, so being on the same connecting flight is less of a coincidence than it might sound.


The next morning we boarded a Canadian North flight from Edmonton to Inuvik. We flew on a modified Boeing 737 - modified to carry fewer passengers and a lot more cargo than normal. Considering the amount of gear we were all hauling, we were happy that bag allowances on Canadian North are more liberal than most carriers. Plus, the food service is a lot better. Warm cinnamon bannock - yum!

Coincidentally, our seat companion, a Canadian health safety inspector, had attended college near Wichita and still returns to the area from time to time. He and Lora spent much of the flight reminiscing about their lives in Kansas, and we learned a lot about the oil industry in northern Canada from him.


The flight made stops in Yellowknife and Norman Wells before arriving in Inuvik. At each stop we had the option of getting off the plane and going into the terminal while cargo was off-loaded. In the Yellowknife terminal there is a map on the floor showing a view of the globe from the perspective of the North Pole. Banks sits between latitudes 72-74°N. There are places to visit that are farther north than Banks, but not a lot of them.

Our first view of Inuvik revealed a small town surrounded by water. The Mackenzie is a dominating feature of the landscape, but the sheer number of lakes and ponds is amazing. Being very close to the northern limit of trees, we mainly observed stands of black spruce and willow.

Arriving in Inuvik around 1:00 pm, we were greeted by our friends Karen and MC, who had arrived the day before after having driven Karen's truck all the way from Vancouver, the last 450 miles along the Dempster Highway. They had hauled the majority of the gear and food we would be using. It takes several days to do the drive, but if you've got the time, it's a lot less expensive than the cost of shipping all that gear to Inuvik.

We were soon joined by Alycia, the sixth and final member of our group, who had flown Air North via Whitehorse. We piled our gear (and some of us) into the back of Karen's pickup and headed off to the Arctic Chalet, where we were greeted by hosts Judi and Olav. Not only did we have a really comfortable set of rooms with a kitchenette, but we also had a nice porch that overlooked the lake.

Judi and Olav raise white huskies and offer dog-sled tours in winter. The huskies are very well-behaved. In addition to our view of the lake, we had a good view of the husky pens. Despite our proximity we were never disturbed by the dogs.



Judi and Olav offer a boarding service for guests who travel with pets. Guests' dogs stay in a small pen adjacent to the main pen. Here we see a visiting couple taking their dog out for a walk.

This also gave us an opportunity to observe how interested the huskies are in other dogs. They seemed particularly interested in this little guy ...


Next morning we were up bright and early and back at the Inuvik airport for our Aklak Air flight to the Thomsen River on a Twin Otter. One of the neat things about this plane is its short take-off and landing capabilities, making it a work-horse of bush aviation in the far north. This plane sported tundra tires for landings on gravel bars and flat tundra strips.

The weather was really warm - temperatures were approaching 85°F. The mosquitoes were out in force and we were all wearing the lightest-weight clothes we had. We weren't deluding ourselves, though. We all had multiple thermal layers in our backpacks, knowing that 200 miles to the north the weather would be quite different when we got to the river.

Here we are, waiting for the flight to depart. Except for the folding Ally 811 canoes, all of our gear and food for 15 days can be seen in the photo.

Our destination was the South Boundary Landing Site, a strip of flat tundra along the Thomsen River about 10km north of the southern boundary of Aulavik National Park. The 2.5 hour flight from Inuvik took us north-east out across the Amundsen Gulf to the island. There was still a good bit of ice in the waters between the mainland and the island. Once over the island, we flew north toward our landing site in the park, diverting occasionally to get better views of muskox and caribou. The park itself sits at the northern end of the island straddling the Thomsen River valley, and makes up something like 20% of the island.

Flying along, we were once again struck by how wet the landscape is. Tundra ponds, small creeks, and swampy ground were everywhere. The island itself is quite flat and sparsely vegetated. Many of the small creeks and ponds were still were covered with ice.

I have heard the high arctic described as a place that is indifferent to one's survival. Looking down on that landscape, I found myself reflecting on those words and wondering what challenges we would face in the coming days.

Dress Code for the Arctic

Banks is not a place to visit on a whim.  Not that this is really possible - just getting there is a challenge.  It requires a lot of planning and coordination, the right gear, and the right mental attitude.  You have to be prepared to cope with a wide range of temperatures and a lot of wind.

First, you need a good four-season tent.  We were using tents like the Mountain Trango and Marmot Thor. Next, you'll want a good sleeping bag - something rated to 0°F.  And you'll want a bag liner - and not just for the added warmth.  Being able to air out those liners made a big difference in keeping our bags clean.  Of the six of us, four used down bags and two used synthetic. Some people don't like to use down on river trips, but the folks with down bags were warmer than those using synthetic. And given the low risk of capsizing on the non-technical river, using down is the way to go. Finally, a pad with a good R-factor will go a long way toward keeping you comfortable.  Several of us were using Exped insulated mats and were really happy with them.

Banks Island doesn't get much rain, but we wore our rain gear a lot anyway.  Hard-shell jackets and pants provide the best wind protection, and if there's one thing you need there, it's wind protection.  The Parks Canada website states that the winds in Aulavik can be "strong and relentless."  They're not kidding.  Typical day-time winds were 10-15 mph, and we had several days where the wind consistently blew over 20mph.    We had one 24-hour stretch with winds blowing around 30mph gusting to 35mph.  In spite of moderate air temperatures in the 40s and 50s, wind chills were often in the 20s and low 30s. 

During our first week, which was the last week of June, I typically wore a light-weight (Capilene 2) thermal base layer with a heavier thermal layer (Cap 3/4) over that.  Then a 300-weight fleece jacket with a wind layer (either my gore-tex jacket or a WindStopper soft-shell jacket.  I sometimes also had a mid-weight down jacket over the fleece.  Mid- or heavy-weight thermal bottoms with Schoeller pants were typical for the legs.  Wind-proof hats, neck gators, and good gloves are essential. Mornings were usually the coldest. Here's a picture of Lora, MC, and Susan prior to breakfast one morning during the first week - it gives a pretty good idea of the number of layers we were wearing at that point in the trip.

Getting out of the wind, especially when preparing and eating food, made a big difference. We used an old Chouinard Pyramid that Karen had enlarged by adding an extra 18 inches of hem to the bottom. I called it the circus tent. It was perfect for this trip. It has no mosquito netting, but that was not an issue for practically the entire trip. The winds took care of that. The food buckets make great seats.

When possible we would take advantage of little gullies to get extra protection, both for us and the tent. In spite of that we had a near disaster pitching the tent in high winds one morning when a seam split open. But Karen and Susan saved the day with some nylon thread and quick needle-work.

On the river we used Ally 811 folding canoes. They were great for the Thomsen. No need to try and shove three full-length canoes onto the Twin Otter. They are more comfortable and have better load-carrying abilities than kayaks. After being dropped off by the plane, we spent a couple of hours putting them together. It was a rare calm day, so we were able to get all three assembled in about two hours. 

Susan and MC on a calm day

The Muskox and the Wolves

Photo by S. Pfeister

Early one evening we were taking advantage of the relative calm by putting in a couple of hours of paddling. It was getting late and we had been traveling through spotty rain showers for a couple of hours. The temperature was dropping and I was starting to look forward to a warm meal when we came upon a sight that made us forget all about our own discomfort - a large muskox standing in a snow pile at the bottom of a small gully right at the edge of the river.

Arctic wolves (photo by S. Pfeister)

In attendance was a pair of arctic wolves. It took us a few moments to realize that the muskox was injured, but the wolves were clearly in on the secret and were hanging out, biding their time.

Karen & Jen (photo by S. Pfeister)

We pulled the canoes over to observe the scene. Karen and Susan were able to get several photos, but our presence caused the wolves to retreat a short distance back upriver. We weren't able to tell what was wrong with the muskox - we suspect that he fell down the side of the gully, possibly breaking a leg. Whatever was wrong with him - it was clear he would not be leaving that spot. We sat watching for a while before continuing along the river, finding a good campsite a short distance downstream.

Later that evening, Karen walked back up-river and sat observing the muskox and wolves for quite a while. The wolves would try to get close to the muskox, who would thrust his large horned head at them. A dance of life and death with an inevitable conclusion.