"In the estimation of this Californian beef-fed kid, Baffin Island surpasses the Lucifer-wing windswept ice-plains of Hades in sheer miserableness. Tears froze down my cheeks when we made the decision to descend from Mount Asgard. Only the screaming leaves along the River Styx could match my anguish and disgust with the hellish cold one experiences 1,500 feet off the deck on Asgard. But don`t let my laboured verbosity fool you, dear reader. I`ll be back, because Baffin is bitchin`, and the rock here is heaven."

Logbook entry by climber Will McCarthy at a hut near Summit Lake, Auyuittuq National Park.

Baffin Island, in 1988, was meant to be my first solo adventure abroad, being the first stopover on a yearlong round-the-world journey. But when I met three friendly New Yorkers in Pangnirtung, the desire for company became stronger than the need to experience this wilderness alone. So off we went together for our six-day walk, assisted by Adamac, the skidoo driver, who got us to the start. No heroics, unlike in the above quote, but cold enough to inspire awe and respect for those very few climbers adventurous enough to lay bare hands on the icy vertical rock that abounds here.