Leg 8: Labrador

Disappearing Caribou, dead seals and climate change

Labrador has been dramatically affected by climate change.  Officially, the caribou herd has decreased from over 250,000 to around 25,000 in 10 years, but in this area sightings are rare.  I saw only two caribou on the trip and they were hundreds of miles to the north.  Ely said that they have been gone for only 4 years; “it is just too hot for them” was his opinion. On the way he also showed us two places where ice-fields had melted in the last couple of years leaving clean bare rock flattened into what is called glacial pavement.  It seems like there has been a sort of tipping point.  The caribou held out until a critical temperature was reached and they either moved or died.  Most of the lichen I saw was withered or dying, not a good sign since it is the main food of the caribou.  Warmer winters lead to rain and wet snow freezing on the ground preventing the caribou from scraping the snow away to browse on the lichen.  Early springs allow the black flies to hatch at the same time as the birthing cycle for the caribou.  The young animals do not have enough protection from the clouds of insects to survive. 

At the camp we learned that the seals had not come this year because the sea ice had moved out early. In other areas hundreds of dead seals all apparently fat and healthy had washed up on the shore. So far there is no explanation.  The lack of seals in Torngat meant the polar bears did not get enough to eat so they were congregating at the rivers and catching fish in an effort to survive.  The black bears that normally catch fish in the rivers had been displaced farther into the mountains. I was amazed at the rate of change in recent years.  It appears that many processes and populations can withstand significant environmental stress for many years but when some limit is reached changes occur suddenly and perhaps irreversibly.  It may be that the cod fisheries followed the same path.  In some areas there is some recovery, but other species have moved in, the ocean floor has been disrupted by trawling and the temperatures have warmed.  The cod most likely will never recover to historical levels.   

There was a group of students from Nain at the camp along with several elders. In 1959 the Canadian government forced the Inuit all over Canada to move from their villages to central locations.  These elders were among those relocated from this fjord and were returning for the first time to visit their homeland, tell their stories and keep some of the traditions alive by sharing them with the next generation. The students had grown up in government housing with TV and internet but were genuinely interested in the old culture and learning songs and traditions.   In the evening there was a presentation with throat singing and Inuit games with names like Muskox Push and Caribou Carry.  

Nain

Getting to Nain was a daylong tour through a maze of islands.  We started to see exotic flora like trees that grew vertically.  The harbor itself was almost empty.  There were a few small outboards belonging to the locals but little sign of commercial activity.  We tied up on the inside of the government dock and made a dash to the store before it closed.  Marina found the fuel truck operator who was waiting to fuel a chartered float plane.  Since he was working anyway he kindly brought his truck to the dock to give us fuel at 7:00 pm.  

We were running out of time.  Barry and Jan had booked flights out of St. Anthony and Carol was flying in to meet us so we left the next morning with a forecast of headwinds of up to 20 knots but saw no option but to go straight to St. Anthony.  We motored for the first 12 hours through the islands and made good progress, but then had to head into the open ocean.   By nightfall the wind was picking up.  It continued to gain strength through the next day.  By midnight the next night it was clear that we could not make it in time.  With both wind gusting over 30 knots and up to 3/4 of a knot of current against us we had only made 24 miles in the last 12 hours.   We eased sheets and headed for Makkovic based on the report that there was connections by air to Goose Bay. 

Makkovik had a well constructed government wharf with two fishing boats and a sailboat on it.  It appeared to be an active harbor despite the small town of 300 people.  It turned out that the fishing boats had also come in seeking shelter from the rough weather and the yacht had just arrived from Greenland and was headed south.  

Barry left with the same speed he arrived.  A quick hug and he was off hitching a ride on an ATV to the airport.  Jan took a more cautious approach and found a person at the medical clinic with access to a telephone who rearranged her flights and got her out the next day.  Knowing Jan’s love of green vegetables, we promised her broccoli soup for her farewell dinner, but relented and cooked a meal with no vegetables. 

Marina and I had the boat to ourselves for the next few days sailing south.  Though we missed our friends, the boat seemed delightfully empty.  We soon spread out our piles of clothes and managed to cover all the vacated space within a few hours.   By this time we were so tuned into each other and the boat that the passage seemed almost effortless, though we were still plagued by headwinds and calm.  We mostly motored south to Battle Harbor, stopping one evening at a sandy beach and picked up pieces of coral that washed ashore.  Coral does grow in the arctic! 

We entered the narrow channel at Battle Harbor after dark after determining that the electronic charts were in fact accurate by comparing our actual position determined by bearings from landmarks with the GPS position.  It is one of the great benefits of GPS to be able to come into a harbor at night or in conditions of poor visibility. In times past I would have had to remain offshore until morning.  As we approached the dock there was just enough light to see that it was tilted at an odd angle.  We hesitated and soon saw men on shore with flashlights waving us on to the next dock.  It seemed impossibly close to shore, but we came in slowly and realized that the bottom dropped off so quickly that we could have put the bow almost on shore and still have water under the keel.

The next day we took a tour through the buildings of the once thriving cod fishery.  I was amazed at the scale of the facility.  In the summer up to 1,500 schooners would come up from Newfoundland to fish.  Some of them used Battle Harbor as a staging place to bring their catch to dry and preserve in salt before shipping it south or to Europe.  The building that stored the salt was over two stories high and close to 100 feet long.  The process of drying fish was delicate and labor intensive.  Too much heat cooked the fish and any rain would discolor it and greatly reduce its value or spoil it entirely.

From Battle Harbor we made the crossing to Newfoundland, aiming to close the loop by landing a second time in St. Anthony.  For a change we had fair winds and made good time.  It was odd to see lights on shore on the islands as we passed.  Civilization again.  As dawn approached I watched the coast emerge from the black horizon. I felt the sadness of knowing that the special connection I had with the earth and sea was about to change.  There is a purity in the untrammeled world that feeds me and opens me, allowing me to feel a deep joy and peace that I cannot find in the presence of people and their artificial structures.  Coming back is always a confusing emotional time for I also long for the connection to friends and in this case we would be picking up my girl friend, Carol, in St. Anthony.  I was looking forward to seeing her after two months and also excited to have her meet Marina and hoped they would like each other.  With two wonderful women on board I was looking forward to a relaxed sail down the coast of Newfoundland, now that all deadlines had passed and the temperature was rising to a positively balmy 60 degrees.  Still as we approached St. Anthony I was in a state of mourning for the loss of some connection to wildness that is too delicate to survive even in a frontier fishing town perched on a rocky coast of Newfoundland.

It seemed odd to come into a harbor already knowing how it was laid out and where we might find a place to tie up.  It reminded me of the feeling of walking into a movie theater to see a new movie and discovering I had made a mistake and had actually seen the movie before.  It seemed so simple.  Especially since this time the engine ran perfectly, the wind was light and we were able to tie up to the same pier we had been at two months earlier.