The next morning we landed on the most recently-estimated location of the Wonderstrands, a series of beaches described in Viking sagas relating the tales of Erik the Red. I welcomed the sight and smell of trees, which hadn’t been a part of our journey in the northern reaches of tundra-coated Labrador. We walked the length of the beach, pausing occasionally to watch seabirds dive for food and studying the sandy tracks of a black bear that must have scurried off just before our landing.
That same day, we also stretched our legs on a visit to an abandoned whaling station in Gready, exploring the perimeter of what must have been a booming operation. We waded through the tall grass amongst giant rusted drums which stored the oil processed from long strips of blubber; next to these drums, the metal frames of the main processing structure still reached up towards the sky like a partially-collapsed skeleton.