Pos: 68.8936,-105.9828
Loc: last mainland camp
Acc: Hilleberg Keron 4
Dist: 53,7 km
Start: 6:20 End: 17:45

The small boat wrecks continue today. I count about seven of them, if different states of being abandoned. A clear sign of nearing civilization, but I am wondering with each wreck what has happened to the people. The easy paddling continues, and I keep listening to my audio book not to fall asleep. Hands and feet are still cold just before becoming unfunctional. I frequently blow my fingers inside the gloves though each slit on the tops. The pogies are not able to keep them warm, though they are better than having no pogies.
I near the rocky northernmost point of the peninsula, and spot some cabins. Deeply immersed into my audio book story, I suddenly see a person on a small quadbike climbing over the ridge. I press the stop button, and have to get back into the here and now to talk to John, who is happily waving and climbing down to my rocky calm shore. We have a nice chat about this and that and what to do and where to stay in Cambridge Bay, until his friend arrives on another quadbike. He was on the boat which I encountered some days ago driving from Cambridge Bay to Kugluktuk, but only waving at me from the distance and not coing for a chat. The world in the Arctic is small. Now the two guys are out here for a hunting weekend, staing at the cabins I already spotted. We might meet again back in town on Sunday.
I paddle up to the cabins, not fully understanding if there are other people still there having arrived with the two pulled-up boats or if one guy came in each boat. At least I do not see anyone appearing from the cabin and the two tents when I call out loud. I leave them my card, take a few pictures and move on.
Soon, I ecounter two more boats coming from Cambridge Bay, obviously heading also to the cabin point. But they do not stop after we wave at each other. I keep rounding the rocky headland, and feel the wind is breezing up as forecasted from the west. It feels even a little uncomfortable when I start crossing the first deep bay, and I soon better turn back in. But I keep on railing the coast until I coreach to the next deep bay, where I see the first lovely sandy beach lurking on the other side after all those rocks. I pass an abandoned cabin, and land on the sandy dune stripe. Such a lovely place! Though I am eight kilometers short of the shortest crossing distance, I feel I like to call it a day here on this lovely spot, as tomorrow is off. I am also not keen to camp on rocks where I have to find big rocks to anchor my tent. A flat virgin sandy spot is nicer for strong wind, though the sand might blow me in. I walk around a bit before settling into my tent, but no traces to see and nothing interesting to find besides two lovely running rivers where I could have also filled my bags. But I always like to be better o the safe side and carry enough for at least three days.