Bearly Walking

Our last afternoon hike was hard work. It looked as if the weather was going to deteriorate like the previous day but was just about managing to keep the expected snowstorm at bay. The danger this time didn't come from the sky but from the sea. Sea ice, because of the salt, freezes at a lower temperature to freshwater.  When it does freeze, the salt drops and becomes concentrated into any water below it. But when you have a rising tide, that salty water is lifted, defrosting the previously frozen sea from below. This had the effect of turning the sea ice we had successfully navigated the previous day into a giant Slush Puppy. Under the weight of our steps, the icy crust would randomly give way causing us to lurch over, precariously. Fortunately, the drop was only around a foot as we were walking along the water's edge.


Terry doggedly trekked onwards, heading down the shoreline towards Churchill and where we'd seen bears the previous day. Our group of adventurers walked behind, no longer in single file but spreading out to avoid the pitfalls of those ahead. Every step became a challenge until one of our group found a particularly deep section. Icy cold water flowed over the top of her boots. "Are your feet wet?" Terry was concerned. Nothing causes heat loss more than being wet. It's one of the reasons Polar Bears avoid swimming if possible. Even with their thick insulating layers of fat and furry coats, the loss of heat costs too much energy.


Derek and Terry looked at each other, the slush covering most of their boots, and decided to divert inland and head up to the frozen lake by the lodge. To get there, we had to trudge through deep snow, a part of the boreal forest with its ancient stunted trees, then a boggy area that didn't realise it should have been frozen by now. At that point, Jan began to feel the clammy chill of a damp sock. She hadn't noticed until then that there was a small slit on the toe of one of her new snowboots, through which water was slowly seeping in. With no wildlife sightings, the hike was losing much of its appeal. 


Finally we reached the relatively easy walking of the frozen lake, albeit we still had to be careful of the odd slippery patches. Stood in the middle of Dymond Lake, we looked all around but could see very little evidence of life. Not even a bird. Cold, a little damp and rather tired after our exertions, we returned to the lodge for a mug of hot chocolate and some delicious freshly-baked cookies.