The last leg
Today is the last day of the hike – I’m a bit sad, having enjoyed the days on the trail despite my fall and sometimes grueling rock walking. My feet have suffered, blisters and worse, a pain across the ball of my foot. It seems the sole of these boots is not study enough for the weight and off trail conditions: lesson learned for the next hike.
The sky looks like it will clear…clouds are flat on the bottom, pancake shaped but fluffy on top and moving out towards the sea. A final espresso and we load up all the last bits and pieces. It’s an easy grassy go, following out a small creek that collects more water as it goes along. The ditches are lush with summer fat berries, I can’t get enough, bending over frequently to scoop them from near ground level. Sweet and juicy, firm to the tongue, intensely blue, bountiful gifts of the Labrador summer – I eat and enjoy.
Crossing the last ditch, we climb up a gentle shoulder and suddenly, sea blue waters of Komaktorvik appear! For the last hour, I have been staring at the mountain on the opposite side of the fiord, watching it grow larger as we draws near. Finally, I see where land and sea meet, the grey sculptured slopes weathered into deep rills. Icebergs are visible far out, at the entrance of the fiord, carried away by the North Labrador current.
The ocean is calm, a wonderful blue –green. I will look forward to exploring the large tidal flats at the west end of the bay, now, covered with only the tips of the largest rocks above water. We look for the depot, laid down 5 weeks ago: bear proof barrels with fuel, food and film, the three essentials for these wilderness junkies. Opening up the barrel, the first thing is a sip of peach schnapps! Then the tortellini dinner…and on it goes.
Bellies full, the alarm fence set up, inside the tent, we settle in for the night. It’s calm and a bit spooky, knowing that polar bears are likely in the area (although none seen yet), waiting and wondering if the alarm will sound tonight. Excited by the hot humid still air, mosquitoes knock against the tent screen, their noisy buzz growing, frustrated, with blocked entrance. Our conversation hangs in the air, with no wind and no flapping nylon tent, then I, ever so gently, drift into sleep.
