Last summer I found myself looking out the window at icebergs over the Hudson Straight on the way to Iqaluit, Baffin Island. Years of reading about Inuit culture and high north adventures was turning very real, as I checked the JPI 800 unit for the hundredth time. Not a good spot to loose an engine. The water below was 32 degreesF, and rescue services were…well, spotty.

Just about everything north of Sept Illes, Quebec is distinguished by a total lack of airports or smooth fields of any type…but more on that later.

The Need

I’ve always dreamt of owing a Lake or something on floats and mixing my love for water with flying, but after 18 years and 3,000 hrs in my trusty 201, I could never give up the speed and efficiency of my J.

Earlier in the spring while my 7 yr old son Miles, and I were Kayaking near our home on the Hudson River, we started talking about how fun it would be to have our Kayak on our Mooney trips. Paddling our plastic Kayak was turning into a passion that was even giving flying a run for the money. Of course, getting it’s 13 ft. length in the cabin was out of the question, and we were happy the Hudson River was near our house. Our talking sparked some dim memory of reading about folding Kayaks in a National Geo or something. Back home a search of the web turned up a whole universe of boats. My excitement grew as I viewed sites and companies that have made folding boats for years. Some of these were used in famous artic expeditions, and unusual travels all over the planet.

Folding Kayaks to the rescue

Looking for the lightest, most affordable boat led me first to Pacboats in New Hampshire. They made a gym bag size (25lbs) boat that had good reviews on the web. I flew up to Lebanon, New Hampshire to check out the Pacboats with high hopes. My paddling buddy Ben and I gave the Pacboats a checkout at a local lake near Lebanon airport and found them delightful with some reservations. I needed a boat that could fit both my son and I, and handle rough conditions. In Kayaking, like flying, things can change quickly and you trust the gear with your life. While promising a bigger, 2 person model next year, the single seat model was all I could currently buy.

The next search led me to Folbot Inc., an old company with a very time tested product at a good price. Most of the high end boats companies like Keppler and Feathercraft, were out of my price range which was >2,000. Folbot had a Yukon model that was a large single, but they would add a extra seat for Miles, free of charge. My buddy Ben also bought one at the same time, and we excitedly awaited the boats arrival.

Boat Building 101

When UPS dropped off the boxes, I was a little surprised at the size of the bags inside. I guess I was hopping for something smaller, but still knew it would fit easily in the 201. Building the first boat was a lesson in feeling stupid, as we reasoned through the manual. The Folbot has a beautifully simple aluminum frame that snaps together like a tent, and fits snugly into the Kayak “skin”(canvas and rubber). Building in the exact order is necessary until you get the hang of it. I can now put mine from bag to water in 10 to 15 mins, and wonder what ever confused me. Kind of like the first GPS experience.

Once in the water my frustration with bag size disappeared, as I realized I was paddling a serious (expedition quality) Kayak, made for hardcore fun and rugged use. Tracking like on rails, the rudder kit included with the Kayak seemed unnecessary. With Miles onboard, we had a stable, trustworthy ride that made even scary Hudson chop and waves easy to handle. When you snap on the “skirt” and attach it to the turtle-deck of the Kayak, you are watertight and ready to tackle seas, no sane boater would even consider. This is the joy of Kayaking. The Inuit developed a Kayak technology that can only be described as amazing. The sports car feeling of a Mooney is good preparation for an afternoon trip enclosed in your Kayak.

My 201 was becoming an amphibian at last. My new water abilities have changed the map during travel. Rivers, lakes, and ocean airports are all up for grabs when I travel now.

The Mission

Baffin Island is a place of extreme contrast. It is huge, stretching over 800NM, and very sparsely populated. Air trips between towns can be over 4 hours of seeing no sign of man. The Inuit, one of the most isolated groups on the planet, have been there well over 5,000 years and are well adapted to the artic environment. No further from my home in NY than Key West, Baffin Island represents a unique destination for private flight and Kayaking. Folbot had asked me to take some photos and develop a media production kit for them, so I had the perfect excuse to justify the travel cost to my long suffering (aviation) wife.

The planning was intense in terms of safety equipment, aircraft health, alternate plans, and the big one…weather. There was a short window in July and early August where you could hope for a few days of sun and comfortable temperatures in the 40’s to 50’s. I decided to launch directly after Oshkosh.

A weather window opened so I called my friend Ben, and with two Folbots aboard, we headed to Canada. The basic route is: up the St. Lawrence Seaway, hang a left at Sept. Illes,(CYCZ) to the most northern airport with services in Quebec, Kuujjuaq (CYVP), and over the Hudson Straight to Baffin.

Welcome to the North

I could have flown non-stop to Iqaluit (CYFB) from Sept Illes, except for one minor detail. Once there the nearest IFR alternate was 339NM away. No plan B. A friendly artic pilot I met in-route gave me some advice…never miss a chance to top off. This single piece of advice is critical up north where conditions change in minutes. Our Mooneys are not bush planes so off airport landings are one-time options only. Artic pilots had warned me that conditions can change in 10 minutes or less, which I was going to find out about later.

I dropped down from altitude into Kuujjuak and got my first blast of sub artic culture. Gas was an outrageous $4. per gallon with $75 handling fees after 5PM and weekends. The gruff linemen had no thoughts about dropping hose cap parts on my wing while wielding their industrial strength equipment. Mosquitoes were as thick as fog, filling the cabin, and soon you were breathing them in. I started to question my desire to head further north, but had already heard through the Internet grapevine to avoid Kuujjuak, so I hoped it did not represent Baffin Island. As we took off, swatting mosquitoes, as I cursed the advice that had me landing for expensive fuel I didn’t think I needed.

The final leg over the Hudson Straight to Iqaluit went from interesting to awesome. Trees were gone and a line of snow-capped mountains formed the lower part of the peninsula, which was filled with endless lakes and rivers. Every spot below looked like the most amazing real estate you have ever seen. I imagined in a few years with efficient solar and fuel cell technology the landscape will be dotted with summer homes and getaway spots. (of course I hope this never happens)

Crossing the mountains and up the bay revealed Iqaluit Airport, a 9,000 ft. runway, and a good-sized town. Courtesy of the DEW warning system, the whole base and infrastructure was turned over to the native Inuit about 20 years ago. Recently this has become a Canada’s newest province called Nunavut, with Iqaluit serving as the capital city. Sadly this means the town is filling up with paper pushing civil servants, with the natives doing the grunt work. This leads to alcohol and drug abuse, broken homes, and….well, you know the rest.

We parked on the ramp about a mile from the terminal and had a lesson in self-reliance, walking forever over with our bags to get to the street. The hotel was nearby, and a wonderful surprise. The Discovery Lodge was as advertised, clean rooms and great food at a fair price for a place where everything is imported. The cold air kept the bugs stupid, and not a problem. After dinner around 10PM it was still bright daylight, so we walked around town, which was still buzzing away, with kids playing and groups of folks talking.

The next day when getting a car ride out to the plane, I noticed the AC was on full blast?! It was 52 degrees F out with a good 15kt breeze, and I was wearing my heavy clothes and jacket. When I asked whatsup, the driver (in a tee shirt) gave me a funny look and said the heat wave was killing everyone and explained he could hardly work in this hot weather. The vast differences between us were starting to show.

Kayaking North Of the Artic Circle

The next morning we fired up the Mooney and headed to Pangnirtung (CYXP), or Pang as the locals call it. Located 170NM North situated in the mouth of one of the worlds most dramatic fiords, all the charts have strong warnings about the vicious winds there. The flight was wonderful, passing over Caribou, virgin lakes and strange treeless terrain. I was relieved the wind was under 10kts when we arrived. The view in the fiord was otherworldly, with vertical cliffs of over 7,000 ft. etched in the crystal clear air, with a bright green/blue glacier river snaking below. After landing it turned out the twin coming in before us had whacked a landing light with a prop, and were trying to figure out what to do. I thought about how much I didn’t want to leave my bird damaged in the artic, and worked hard at flying my best. The perma-frost kept the runway from packing down, so the gravel felt soft while landing and rolling out. Worrying about the prop clearance, and sucking in gravel, I tried to do everything downhill, at low power, and feel fortunate I made the trip without a ding.

Ben and I got the Kayaks down to the water and started putting them together in the now brisk 20kt wind. The locals were wondering what these outsiders were up to and we soon had an audience smiling and pointing. Looking up after assembly was finished I was very surprised to find the waterline was now about 150 yards away from us. I’ve never experienced a tide this fast, and our planned launching area was now a vast mudflat. The boats that were floating next to us were sitting on dry land, and being serviced by Intuits driving their trucks on to the hard mud sea bottom.

After some portage work, we got the Kayaks in the water and proceeded to paddle and film. It was windy and the water was COLD, and so clear you couldn’t gauge depth by eye. Ben and I could not believe we were really paddling the artic waters, in our own boats. It was getting late so we headed back towards town. As we paddled past some Inuit working on their boats, one man looked up and shouted, “You wouldn’t catch me in one of those things. They’re dangerous”. What happened to Nanuke of the North? I pulled up and offered to let him try my Kayak, but he refused. Said he fell out of a Kayak as a kid and is sticking to his 18ft. stainless steel hull with twin Merc 200HP outboards. I guess times have changed. When I asked where they were off to, he answered, Iqaluit. Iqaluit?? We’re talking over 350NM (it was 170NM for me direct) around two peninsulas into open artic sea, with his wife and kids. “We’re going to visit some friends along the way and have some family there”. He figured it would take 12 days or so, stopping to do a little hunting and fishing. Now that’s a family boat trip.

Time to Go Back

As the days passed we started to toughen up and our last Kayak adventure even included some swimming. We sampled blubber, went to art galleries, and spent time meeting colorful people and exploring the countryside. Looking over a weather printout provided by my new friend Burt Rose, town historian par excellence, we reluctantly fired up and headed back.

I should mention radio work is also a little different in the far north, with other aircraft often acting as relays. Another method is to click on a station (like turning on lights) and wait for the dial up modem to kick in. You then talk to a controller from Montreal who sounds like he lives on the bottom of the ocean. All in all, you can usually get your message across with a little persistence.

With perfect weather we climbed to altitude enroute to Wabush (CYWK) and enjoyed the 150NM view. Back on the Quebec side of the Hudson Straight I took a deep breath and knew the greatest danger of the trip was behind us. The weather charts, sats, and briefing all showed high-pressure along my route. I wanted to skip we last gas stop (the dreaded Kuujjuaq) and go direct to Wabush. As we overflew Kuujjuak at 10,500ft in clear weather, I decided to play it safe and call for one more weather report. What a surprise to find Wabush now raining, with a ceiling of 500ft and falling, with the only alternate, Schefferville (CYKL) already below minimums. The only choice was to dump all that altitude and circle down to Kuujjuak. Within minutes it was raining there too, giving me a good lesson in weather shift. The place hadn’t changed, except perhaps for more mosquitoes, and Ben and I resigned to our fate.

In the end it all worked out. We woke up in a power blackout, with no water, and food service. We complained to the hotel management that the blackout, potato chips on our room floor, not to mention, unmade beds, made the 375. per night rate seem outrageous. Graciously the manager lowered our rate to 150. and we left feeling like we scored a small victory. In the north things are “different” even to the point of having to share beds in some hotels.

We headed home feeling like true artic explorers. Climbing out over the St. Lawrence Seaway, after a good lunch stop at Mt. Joli (CYYY), all Ben and I could talk about was how soon we would return to Baffin Island, a magical place not soon forgotten.

Craig Peyton is president of EarthFlight Media Productions, (EarthFlight.com) serving the aviation community with photography and media promotion products for over 10 years. He has logged over 5,000 hrs,flight time, 3,000 in his Mooney M-20J..