An expedition report from Conor Hurley, who ventured north with Claire Sieber and Jon Walsh to explore Auyuittuq National Park on Baffin Island. MEC provided Expedition Support for this adventure.
Imagine a land without trees that’s barren, windswept, and cold. An Arctic desert, where ice and rock take the place of sand. Auyuittuq National Park, located at the head of the Pangnirtung Fiord in Nunavut, is all that and more.
Photo Credit: Conor Hurley
Auyuittuq is an Inuktitut word that means “the land that never melts,” but the fact is that glaciers in the park are receding. In the planning stages of our trip, we envisioned having to struggle through post-glacial terrain to get from the Weasel Valley up onto the glaciers, as indicated on the maps we were using. However, what we often found on our trip was kilometres of rubble – debris left by the hasty retreat of glaciers. It was sobering to see “the land that never melts” melting.
Photo Credit: Conor Hurley
The adventure wasn’t lost, though. Rather, the challenges we faced only added to it. Terrain that we’d anticipated cruising across became the grounds for daily battles between us and our packs.
It was an adventure to the first degree. Cold, wind, and heavy loads; frozen rivers and moraines; glaciers and wind slab; polar bears and Arctic foxes – these were all things we took into account when we embarked on this trip. But really, the only thing we should have expected was the unexpected.
Our adventure began on April 9, 2012, with what we thought would be an easy day of getting towed by snow machine from Pangnirtung up to Akshyuk Pass, but sledding up the frozen Weasel River was anything but a cakewalk. We pushed and pulled and watched in awe as our snowmobile guides skillfully piloted their machines up the steps of the frozen river. Finally, at around 6pm, we arrived at Summit Lake.
When our rides departed, the solitude set in. As the sun crept further behind the mountains and the shadows grew long, the temperature plummeted down to -35ºC. It was a dry cold, though, and movement and warm clothes were all we needed to keep it at bay.
Photo Credit: Conor Hurley
We went up the Turner Glacier and headed toward the enormous granite plug called Mount Asgard. To haul our loads through knee-deep snow, across boulders, and up steep moraines was nothing short of a grunt, but as the aurora borealis danced across the star-lit sky, the fatigue morphed into elation. We’d made it. We were on Baffin Island and we were camped in the middle of nowhere watching emerald green flames dance across the sky.
The rhythm of the walk became the essence of the days, and we passed postcard views by the minute. Soon, ice-capped mountains were the norm. Seracs hung like streetlights and ice dripped from every nook and cranny of the peaks surrounding us.
Photo Credit: Conor Hurley
We were handed a reality check when we began to see the conditions of the runs we’d intended to ski – wind-blasted glacial ice was more the norm than the exception. We did discover a vein of sun-crusted powder that plunged at a 45-degree angle for nearly 500m between Midgard Mountain and Mount Asgard. The aesthetic line provided some crusty jump turns, but we’d sought it for the position, not the powder.
With the Asgard tour complete, reality struck again and we amended out plans. Travel conditions were too arduous to carry out our initial plan, so we turned to day tripping, travelling lighter and faster. Even then, we were limited by the conditions Mother Nature presented – cold temperatures, wind, and wind-scoured glacial ice in lieu of snow on the faces we wanted to ski.
Wind had blown the Weasel River bare, and with the wind at our backs, we were able to slide gently down its frozen blue waters. The next day, the wind switched directions, which left us fighting for traction every step of the way.
Jon returned to Calgary, leaving Claire and I to discover what the southern end of the park had to offer. Camping in the valley and then climbing to the alpine by day was our modus operandi, but it wasn’t easy. One day, we travelled 3km and 800 vertical metres over facet-laden, boulder-choked moraines to gain the Tete des Cirques glacier. Let’s just say going up was easier than coming down.
A couple of days later, we reached the summit of Gauntlet Peak. The ice-capped summit yielded a few powder turns, a bunch of wind slab, breakable crust, and lots of boulder dodging. That’s not to say it wasn’t fun; rather, the endeavor was par for the course.
Photo Credit: Conor Hurley
The final ski run of the trip followed two days later when I discovered a pristine chute that climbed from the fjord to ridge-top over the course of 750 vertical metres. Yet again, the turns ranged from rocks to wind-slab to sun-crust and a wee bit of powder… but if powder had been the goal, well, I would’ve stayed home in Revelstoke.
The high pressure was breaking down and Pangnirtung Fiord is known for its winds, so Claire and I made a break for the hamlet of Pangnirtung. With the wind pushing us from behind, we scurried across the frozen sea ice and bid farewell to Auyuittuq National Park.
For more information on MEC Expedition Support Grants and how you can apply, click here.
Filed under: Activities, Expedition Support, Snowsports
