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EXPLORATION OF NORTHERN UNGAVA 93
off shores. The days were glorious — blue skies and wads of cotton for clouds, and what wind there was, warm and soft, carried spring in its arms. On the tenth of April we came face to face with a gigantic pile of rafted ice. “Tiahoke — the sea!” exclaimed the men. The ice, however, seemed impassable, but so were the beetling shores which hemmed us in. For three days we climbed and tumbled and chopped and wriggled our way through it. We fed the dogs on frozen beans and sacrificed our grub boxes for fuel enough to boil tea. As the tides buoyed it up and down, the groaning and rifle-cracking of the ice upon which we slept resounded the long nights through.
When morning came, we climbed the highest ice on the lookout for a course beyond the welter of stuff that lay ahead. What we saw was open water in the distance, and floes packing with the wind. Up and over the shoreline, which now, however, was not so steep, was the only way. We climbed the hill in stages never more than two hundred feet at a time. The dogs almost played out before we reached the crest, but Omarolluk, going ahead some hundred feet, would lie down on the flat of his back and with his hands and legs moving erratically in the air, imitate the flippers of a basking seal. As Nero would put it, “Dogs, him come.”
Six hundred feet above the sea, a vast panorama lay outspread below us, the blue and white of Ungava Bay some thirty miles away^ in the middle-ground the tangled skein of the shorelines of Leaf Gulf. There were islands of strangely familiar form, tabletopped, grotesquely slanting, as if they were about to topple into the sea. “Kokrak, tiamitow!”