After a good night’s sleep, we were ready to head out onto the ocean in Billy’s 24’ freighter canoe. All we needed was our gear and we were set to go. The 11am flight arrival would give us lots of time to sort our stuff and head out in search of the icebergs that I wanted to study and paint. Actually, knowing that this was one of my goals on this trip, Billy had already located a couple not too far away.

With all this set, we got the word: the flight was cancelled. Fogged out. The rest of our gear wouldn’t make it.

Well I might be learning something, because I had paid attention enough to grab a few critical items the day before when leaving Pang: my paints, easel and one small box of painting panels. Also had the video camera and sleeping bag and some clothes. With Billy filling the missing holes for our immediate needs, things like a tent and for Marten a fleece, we decided to head out for the night, and maybe run back in the next day if the balance came in. After all, there were new things to see and explore.

Sure enough, 45 minutes after put pushing off, we were into icebergs. They were lots of chunks along the way, but they didn’t count. These were bona fide, genuine frozen chunks of ice history that were making their way down the Davis Straight from somewhere way up north.

It was getting late so we only had time to tour around each of them a couple of time to shoot some footage, then we headed past to a beautiful camping spot that Billy had at the back of a sheltered bay. I hit the sleeping bag anticipating the next day’s possibilities.

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