When scrambling up the rugged shore to rolling heights of Southampton Island, the eye is captured by a desolate world held within recesses of time. Remnants of the ice age, scattered rocks, some boulder size, rest in stark solitude on bulging hillsides, silent witnesses to perpetual decades of brilliant blue summer skies, scudding rain clouds, and eventual advance of winter snows.
For brief summer months, wind-whipped rolling grasslands and tundra are alive with darting birds and freely roaming Arctic fox, barren-land caribou, and polar bears that frequent fish-filled lakes and streams. During summer evenings, when wind fends off mosquitoes and black flies, an age-old silence reigns over this archaic land, where Thule and Dorset once hunted, built primitive stone houses, their lives faded into antiquity.
Overlooking Thomas Roe Welcome Sound, piles of polar bear-scattered rocks on a limestone bluff present more than an old food cache, possibly used by Dr. John Rae and his Hudson Bay men. When they examining a depression in shadow-casting sunlight, these rocks once covered an anonymous 19th century grave.