Moonwalk

After I had suggested a perambulation beside the sea, my walking buddy convinced me, on this gloriously sunny and -27 Sunday morning, that I have not experienced the north until I walk across the frozen ocean. As a person who always ruminates about worst-case scenarios, particularly when it comes to my personal health and wellbeing, I was not in agreement with her, but I decided to go for it rather than be assaulted by the jeers of my siblings if I chickened out.
We set off across the frozen expanse of sea-ice, every Farley Mowat story I ever read popping into my head, and after the first couple of metres, I gradually began to relax. Ice sculptures created when one slab was pushed above another dotted the surface , and our shadows at high noon were as long as if it were early evening. I figured as long as skidoo tracks were visible on the ice, we were not in danger of falling in. We crossed the ocean at its narrowest point, taking about a half hour to reach the other side of the bay. I was quite aware that , being exposed on the ice in our contrasting clothing, we might as well have had neon signs directing the local carnivores lurking on the surrounding tundra to a Sunday buffet. It truly gives new meaning to the term 'vulnerable'.
When we got to the other side, we turned around and stared at the village, clinging like a limpet to the last bit of Quebec. I felt like an astronaut taking a spacewalk, happy enough for the experience, but eager to get home.