2003 Hubbard Memorial Centennial Expedition

Tidal George River - Photo Album V

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At 6:45pm on August 10, 2003, we pulled into a small cove to set up camp for the evening. We were just 12 miles from the Inuit village of Kangiqsualujjuaq on Ungava Bay. We had heard there was a 17-foot tide at the village so we expected to spend some time observing a tide change so we could plan our arrival at high tide. It is impossible to access the village at low tide due to a mudflat that stretches out more than a mile from shore.

Now you see it, Now you don't! We could barely believe our eyes. It was as if someone pulled a drainplug from the bottom of Ungava Bay. The cove we paddled into was now mud and it quickly became clear that planning our high tide arrival at the village was extremely important.

August 11, 2003: The waiting game begins. Strong winds the previous night woke me on several occasions and at 6:45am the wind abated but did not cease. By 7:15am the wind had intensified and the swells had increased to where canoe passage was too risky to chance. With just 12 miles to go we found ourselves bound by wind and tide.

At 1:00pm the rain had stopped and the wind let up and we suspected the tide had reached its lowest point, so we decided to make a break from the cove and get as close to the village as we could before nightfall. We dragged and lined the canoes down a small channel through the mudflat. We would leave the first load as far out as we could then return for the rest of the equipment. We could then maneuver the entire outfit to the main channel of the river.

Unfortunately, by the time we reached the end of the small channel with our canoes the weather had worsened considerably and as we discussed its impact on our plan I began to notice that the tide was not yet out. The boats, which had been floating in the channel beside us just a moment earlier were now resting on mud and what little water remained around us was now zipping past our feet. We had no choice but to abort the plan, drag the canoes across the mudflat and secure them to trees, then make our way back into the cove (above right photo).

By 3:00pm we were all back in the miserable shack, protected at least from driving rains and gusts of wind reaching 40 mph. The storm continued to rage for the remainder of the day and we keep ourselves occupied trying to decided whether to make either beans and rice or rice and beans for dinner (above right photo) and as each hour passed the miserable shack seemed more and more like a five star hotel, minus room service of course. We would spend one more night in the cove and at 9:20am the following morning the conditions were right for our departure. The final 12 miles of our 660-mile journey were upon us. Kangiqsualujjuaq or bust! (try saying that three times fast)

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