IQALUIT
After four months on the frozen tundra, Sarah McNair-Landry and Erik Boomer returned to Iqaluit May 31, and received a warm welcome ahead of their arrival.

Seen here in Auyuittuq National Park, Sarah McNair-Landry and her dog team navigate a section of the Weasel River March 3. McNair-Landry and her boyfriend Erik Boomer, who took this photo, spent four months circumnavigating Baffin Island north of Iqaluit. They returned May 31. - photo courtesy of Erik Boomer

"We were camped about 40 km from Iqaluit and a group of our friends came out to our camp just as we were waking up, and with them they brought a big tent, a generator, waffle irons," McNair-Landry said.

"They set up this tent and cooked this amazing waffle, whipped cream, fresh fruit breakfast before our last day back into town. It was really awesome. It was a little overwhelming."

The pair left Iqaluit Feb. 3, heading north toward Pangnirtung, through Auyuittuq National Park to Qikiqtarjuaq, up to Clyde River, Pond Inlet and Arctic Bay, and back through Hall Beach and Iglulik before a month-long journey home.

They had planned to be away for about 120 days, or four months, and arrived back in Iqaluit May 31, after 117 days.

"We felt we were always behind and rushing," Boomer said, noting the couple regularly referred to notes by McNair-Landry's parents Matty McNair and Paul Landry, who did the same journey in 1990.

"When times were tough, we found some solace, and so many times the same challenges we were having, they were struggling with the same issue. They switched to night-time travel because it was getting too warm, and we thought, anything that is happening to them is probably going to happen to us, and it did start to get harder. We were a little low on GPS batteries and there was low visibility for the last few weeks. We really lucked out on avoiding the really melty season, where the snow turns to deep, deep slush."

Four months alone on the land forced them to be careful, and they had a few close calls.

"One of the more scary situations we ended up in was when we chose to travel in a blizzard in February," Boomer said, describing an early near-miss on the plateau.

"One thing led to another, the dogs still had power, and they whipped around and caught Sarah in the lines. That pulled her under the qamutik so her legs were under the qamutik, and her skis were trapping her legs on there as the dogs were taking off down the hill.

"Luckily, with a little bit of effort, we were able to get the dogs stopped and get the qamutik off of her leg, but it was one of those points where you realize how unforgiving of a situation we were in," he said.

"If for some reason we lost the dog team, or one of us was separated, or Sarah was seriously injured with her legs, there was nobody who would come to get us in that weather. We were completely on our own. It's one of those moments you look back on and we felt really small and really vulnerable."

McNair-Landry said the trip forged a closer relationship with the sled dogs, including some who were borrowed from friends.

"You wake up and they're outside your tent," she said.

"You're with them all the time."

People in the communities welcomed them warmly, she said, as their arrival by dog team triggered fond memories.

"A lot of people came down to welcome us when we came in," she said.

"It brought up a lot of stories of when they were growing up and their parents' dog-sledding and their dog-sledding stories. Everyone was so friendly. We can't thank them enough for how they made us feel welcome."

McNair-Landry said many people have asked what they did in their spare time, to which she responds that there was no such thing.

"It's pretty busy. There was no time to relax," she said.

"We didn't have books or music or any of that. It's kind of go, go, go. We were either travelling during the day, running the dogs, loading them, navigating. You're paying attention to where they are. As soon as you stop, you have to take care of the dogs, tie them up, feed them. And you have to set up your own camp, melt water, cook, sleep, wake up, and repair stuff. In the end, when we started getting longer light, almost 24 hours of light, we could travel a lot longer, about 50 km a day on the last section. That's over a marathon every single day, or 12 hours a day to hit those big kilometres."

After completing such a long and intense journey, the pair are now recovering and working on a documentary about the project. In the meantime, it's back to daily living.

"Go and work and save up money for the next trip," Boomer said.

"And pay this one off."

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