The Martin and Howard Expedition      Part 4

The four Martin and Howard Expedition stalwarts were undecided where they would turn around in Northern Canada and launch into their bone grinding hike back to Detroit.

It was the end of Day 3, although one could not have told it by the progress of the sun which shone most of the time in this part of the world, the border of Nunavut, the Inuit province.

None of them knew where the end of road was, although an ancient explorer (or was it Dick Purtan) had once written that, “A change in the road is never the end of the road, unless you fail to make the turn.” I am not quite sure how that applies, but I think the M and H Expedition began to sense that the end of the road had arrived, turn or not, when a blinding blizzard dumped on their camper, right before the thick plastic shell housing the rear cabin exploded, the result of the wrenching plummet into a double digit minus zero.

It was like someone had fired a cannon back there.. Bam! A horrendous gash ripped open, and snow mounded rapidly in the cabin, covering everything including the stove. The camper had been their main haven from the elements and, now it was one huge rolling snow bank.

Providence took a turn. Blindly heading into the blizzard, the men, now scrunched in the front cab, made out a ghostly figure standing resolutely in the center of the trail, blocking their way, waving them down.

This far north, it could have been an Inuit. But framed by a thick halo of fur, they saw an imposing white man with a well coiffed mustache. He introduced himself as a Royal Mountie and told them that he had been instructed by his superiors in Windsor to be on the lookout for them..

The following was summarized to us by the Royal Mountie Chief in Windsor, embellished by the writer, of course..

The officer told them that it was time to turn around, that they had just crossed the Nunavut border, and that there was a massive blizzard gathering force just ahead. Translated, that officially meant, “Turn around. Your trip is done.”

I am told that one of them started to dismount the cab and face him, but the Mountie sharply ordered them, “Don’t come out, If you do, you will be dead within minutes. Where I’m standing is 40 degrees below zero in your Fahrenheit terms.”

The man appeared to be doing a magic act. He turned, and began plodding methodically in large snow shoes to a Range Rover which they had not seen before. He got in, wheeled around, and waved them to follow him.

Within minutes, they arrived at a cluster of low buildings, lit by tall light poles whose bright beacons were diffused into golden hazes by the furious storm.

It could only have been a trading post,. The Mountie signaled them to park and run inside the larger building, actually a World War 2 Quonset hut.. He inspected their skimpy American parkas, and shrugged like they would have to do, but hurry into the building, for God’s sake.

Inside, they were introduced to an elderly, low key Inuit couple who ran the outpost. It was here that serious exchanges took place off to the side between the Mountie and Inuits

The trading post was unlike any sporting goods store imaginable by Americans, accustomed to attire closer to what might be fashionable in more temperate American climes like, say, Minnesota, and Maine.. The floors were piled high with animal skins, bows and arrows, harpoons, beaded mukluks, antique ivory, and bone carvings, guns, fishing poles, axes, shovels, ice saws, rope, and other specialized ice tools.

The apparel du jour was more like the outfits seen in National Geographic Magazine, thick animal skins sewn together, with a hood that, when you put it on, made you look like your head had exploded out of a Polar Bear, obviously high fashion in Nunavut.

The M and H team, eager to join in, told the incredulous Inuits that they would get into a four man harness and tug their sled back to Windsor. The Inuit man let the idiocy of that idea pass and, unblinking, asked them what kind of footwear they had. They replied that they would use cross country skis. Like a long suffering teacher to slow children, he said that cross country skis would not do and they would have to use snow shoes for traction as they pulled the sled.

The Mountie led the Inuit outside to view the half-dead camper. This led to the matter of the exploded camper roof. The Inuit man did his version of a sigh. The woman driver would not be able to handle the camper under such conditions, nor would they survive the trip if they did not seal the roof,. He suggested a heavy canvas cover which they would lash to the camper. Sold!

By now, the M and H Expedition crew had drawn a crowd, a large circle of jabbering family members who were enjoying this like it was a sitcom and the white guys were the butts of the joke. Obviously, they didn’t get much excitement up there.

Now came some serious negotiations., not by M and H guys, but between the Mountie and the Inuits. The transaction was suspended when the apprehensive M and H leader busted into the confab and asked about how much money the Inuit man was talking about. The old man named a figure that chilled the deal more than the raging blizzard outside..

The Inuit told them that he was open to trade, and asked them if there was something in their truck that was barter material.. The first reaction by the M and H guys was no that there was nothing, then desperation drove them to think of the .338 Winchester Magnums. that each of them had been given by our show to kill prowling polar bears. The Mountie consoled them in their despair by telling them that Polar bears were scarce this far south and the besides, they could probably do a pretty good deal using a gun for barter.

No use playing a hand they didn’t have. The Winchester exchanged hands and the Inuits happily set about honoring their end of the deal which was to get our team in shape to mount the trip. It was then that, on cue, the large crowd of Inuits eagerly fanned out, and began detailing the camper by shoveling out the snow and throwing the large heavy canvas over the roof and lashing it snugly in place with Inuit trail knots, never before seen by the outside world...

They enthusiastically launched into outfitting the team in more appropriate attire, One teen aged Inuit boy started fitting the men into thick parkas with the cool appraising eye of a New York 7th Avenue tailor.

The Mountie walked to them and said, “There is time for a nap for you gentlemen. The blizzard will blow over by the time you wake up, then you can begin your trip. The Inuits will have your gear all arranged by then. You will only have to harness up and begin.”

When they were asleep, the Mountie contacted his superiors in Winnipeg , Manitoba who relayed the message to Windsor, Ontario that the men had been found and were safe, at least temporarily. Winnipeg relayed the message to Windsor who informed us. Unknown to the guys, we had asked the Canadian Government to watch over them.

This was like a Royal Command in Canada. It was not us but, in their minds, The American Broadcasting Company that had requested the Canadians to watch over our men as they rolled north, snaking their way through the maze of rivers and lakes in Manitoba.. This had diverted a dozen or so Canadian Mounties to this mission. Highway Patrol cars radioed the progress of the Martin and Howard team as they drove through Ontario and Manitoba.

The Mountie who had stopped them on the Nunavut border regarded it as payback for the entire Royal Canadian Mounted Police when he burst in on them after a few hours sleep, whistle blasting, ordering them American Marine D.I style to fall in outside on the double..

Our men scrambled to the front of the building to find a sled burgeoning with everything they would need on the trail: rations and water, tools for chopping their way through trail obstacles, sleeping bags, energy food, dry socks, underwear, the three remaining Winchesters…everything. The Inuits stood by to help them squeeze into the harnesses, feverishly cinching them in,

The blizzard had lifted, leaving a heavy blanket of snow, but otherwise, the air was clear and the temperature had climbed to a tolerable 5 below zero.

The Mountie raised his pistol to fire into a snow bank, which would be the official signal for them to blaze the new trail through Canada..

Our M and H Expedition spokesman who had not had much to say for the past couple of days was moved almost to tears at the show of dedication shown by the Inuits who were now all assembled for the starting line ceremony..

He raised his hand for silence, and turned to address the Inuits. “I just want to say that up till now in my life,” he said emotionally, “I had not properly appreciated the true worth of our Indian brothers, the Inuits….and…. “

The Mountie fired the starting pistol.