Waterfalls fascinate me. I can sit and watch them for hours. The constant roar of the rushing water. The cool breeze blowing down from the mountaintop. The pungent smell of moisture from the rocks, slick from the frothy spray. But most of all, I’m fascinated by how waterfalls are constantly changing. They carve different paths as they flow eternally through the landscape. It’s kind of a little bit like life, if you’ll permit me a metaphor. But I digress… Today was the day of the big hikes in Auyuittuq National Park. Most of the students and staff departed the ship early in the AM to start a 25-km hike to the Arctic Circle. The remaining students and staff, including myself, were to participate in a shorter hike, followed by a series of workshops in the afternoon. I’d come to grip a few days ago with the fact that I wouldn’t be going on the long hike. My substandard performance on Digges Island had illustrated to me that I had a long way to go before I was ready for such a physical ordeal. So I had resigned myself to the shorter and less “memorable” hike to a really nice waterfall a few kilometres into the park. I can’t deny my disappointment that I would once again not participate in what is a deep bonding experience for all involved. But as my fellow chaperone, Wayne Lovstrom pointed out, there’s no room for disappointment with Students On Ice. It brings bad karma. So, I set out on my hike with hope and optimism coursing through me. It was a good hike. And I’m happy to say that I completed it without being nearly as exhausted as I was last year, or on Digges Island. But here’s the thing. The waterfall I was expecting… didn’t happen. Or at least not at first. We had walked for a good ninety minutes before I realized that we had passed it. Why did I miss it? Because it looked different. Even though it had only been a year, the waterfall had changed its appearance quite dramatically, to the point that I almost didn’t recognize it. And it got me thinking about waterfalls and life. There was a point a while ago where I had my life all plotted out, right down to the date. But like a waterfall, life likes to carve different paths. And various events have changed those plans drastically. Nowadays, I try not to plan things out so rigidly. Don’t get me wrong, I know what I want to do in the next few years. Most importantly, I know who I want to do those things with. But like a waterfall, I’m letting life carve the paths for me, instead of trying to divert the flow myself. OK, enough metaphor stuff for now. Let me tell you about the coolest thing I did today, if not on the entire expedition. So, Pangnirtung Fjord has the fastest tides in the Arctic. And as we prepared to head back to the ship, the tide was moving out quickly. The first zodiacs barely made it out, and we had to walk a few hundred metres further so the second round of zodiacs could pick us up. Even then, we had to watch very carefully to make sure we didn’t hit any submerged rocks as we made our way slowly away from the shore. Alas, the water was muddy from the glacial run-off, and before we knew it, our zodiac of 12 passengers was firmly hung up on a rock, with the tide receding by the second. Now, I am well aware of my pecking order amongst the more-experienced staff members with waaaay more wilderness training than me. So I stayed in the boat while Jenna, our zodiac driver, and Eric Mattson, our glaciologist, jumped out to try and budge our hung-up craft. But it became quickly obvious that there was nothing moving. So without hesitation, I took off my backpack and swivelled into the cold Arctic water. At the same time, Scobie Pye was manoeuvring in with a second zodiac to help. Coming in bow to bow, we got him close enough to transfer some students over to his boat and push him out to deeper waters. That gave us enough weight loss for all of us to pull the zodiac off the rock. But we were far from out of danger. The tide had receded to the point that numerous other rocks blocked out escape route. In such shallow waters, the outboard motor isn’t very manoeuvrable, so we ended up having to drag the zodiac through the rocks. As the water deepened, we all flung ourselves in the boat and sped away to the safety and dryness of the ship. It was the single-most exhilarating moment of the trip, if not both SOI excursions. For the rest of the day, I had a huge grin on my face as I basked in the adrenaline high from the experience. As the afternoon wore on, I couldn’t help but shake my head at how quickly the water can shift (literally) and life can carve a new path for you. One minute I was a little melancholy about missing out on a memorable experience, and the next minute I was chest deep in Arctic waters pulling a zodiac to safety. Tomorrow, we are off to Kingnait Fjord, just a little bit down Cumberland Sound from Pangnirtung. Last year when we visited it, there was an absolutely stunning waterfall that left all of us in awe. I’m sure it’s still there, but I can’t wait to see how it has carved new paths. And I can’t wait to see how life will carve new paths for me…
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