A cloud bank engulfed us an hour before the plane banked over us. We thought we were condemned to the ice for another week as the forecast was for continued bad weather and watched from a pressure ridge as Troy the pilot made at least ten passes in the distance before finally landing. We packed quickly and skied 45 minutes to the plane. Bengt was on board, collected at 88 degrees after abandoning his attempt to ski to Canada. The flight over the frozen ocean is always so captivating, pondering how we could ever live on it, travel over it, abide by it. And of course the final sector, that of the Canadian coastline with its colossal pressure ridges, is a bitter-sweet pill to swallow.

We stopped at Cape Discovery for refuelling and I now send this from my room at the Eureka weather station on Ellesmere Island. Canada! Land! Shower! People! Food! Beer! It can only but herald the end of another journey, and perhaps the start of another.

Pic of us on the plane.