93 Northern search 



were moving swiftly for the open sea farther north. Breakup had 

 started on the twenty-ninth of May but, as we learned later, the 

 rampaging ice had jammed in the Pokiak and Peel, close to 

 Aklavik, causing a serious flood which had only just subsided. 

 Now West Channel off the town was clear, however, and Bob 

 brought the plane in for a water landing in midstream, setting 

 her down against the rush of the muddy current. We had reached 

 our first goal. 



An old friend who had come in to Aklavik some years before 

 from the Yukon told us to remember above all things that the 

 first impression one makes is particularly important in these Arctic 

 outposts. "They see so few strangers," Johnny had said, "that 

 they note very carefully everything you do and say and never 

 forget any of it. Be sure and make a good first impression or you'll 

 be sunk." I thought of this advice as we taxied toward the black 

 mud of the shore, where several men were waiting to greet us. 

 When close in, I crawled to the nose, released the hatch, and 

 then stood up in the bow with a coil of rope all ready to throw 

 to the men on the bank. Bob nosed her all the way in and I man- 

 aged to get an end of my line ashore. Two of the men held fast 

 to the line and Bob shut off his engines. After that no one moved. 

 Bob sat where he was, looking about him with a tired but well- 

 pleased smile, I stood foolishly in the nose and the four men, 

 saying nothing, stood expectantly on the bank. Well, I thought, 

 we must make a good first impression and I guess the next move 

 is up to me. Obviously, the thing to do was to go ashore, shake 

 each of these good fellows by the hand by way of greeting, and 

 then see to the business of securing our aircraft. I stood up on the 

 nose and, grinning cheerfully at our new friends, leaped for the 

 bank. I made it all right, smack into that black, silty mud, hip 

 deep. With exclamations of dismay, three of the men ran off for 

 logs and planks which they threw down across the mud so as to 

 reach me. With their assistance I was then hauled out, a sorry 

 sight. What a first impression! 



The four men were Bill Carson, the Hudson's Bay manager, the 

 Imperial Oil agent, the local game warden, and Ward Stevens, 

 then engaged in a muskrat study in the delta and later Game 



