I was up at 1am getting Bomber back on to his chain, again. His collar is now tight. Breakfast at 7.30am before six hours travel covering twelve miles. Henry mentioned polar bear hunters were out in front of me making for Baillie Island. Apparently others will follow. Baillie Island is a dead cert for polar bears. Water is open year round there and seals present themselves as plentiful fodder for cuddly bears to crunch skulls as if made of eggshell.

Before breaking camp a hunter from Tuk’ pulled up on his snowmobile for a chinwag. Introducing himself, Pat Gruben looked impressive with his huge wolf fur mitts and wolverine trim around his parka hood. No buttons or zips only claws for hooks. He said he was out for wolves or wolverine and pin pointed on my map where he was heading for. I noted he was heading where we wanted to go. Useful, a fresh trail, good start, we’ll make the most of this. Breaking trail over tundra with a laden sled is no joke. We’ll be on Pat’s trail for a couple of days before breaking out on to the ice of Husky Lake.

A surprise. Henry found my camp this evening and stopped. He’d been out hunting and gave me a fresh caribou hind leg. Dog shit on my mukluks warmed in the loft of my tent. I was careful falling bits missed my food. From memory, it doesn’t taste pleasant.

Made twenty miles in seven hours, I walked or ran beside my sled. Dogs look strong and happy fed on Nutrience Active. Spoons and Blitz I’ve left behind in Inuvik. They’re fed on Nutrience Junior. Little Spoons will experience her first heat while I’m away.

Best day yet spoilt with Saxon exploding into volcanic brawl with anyone around him. In seconds four dogs were piled on top of him and his muzzle was ripped into a gaping bloody mess. He wasn’t fussed and was still looking for more once I’d calmed the situation. Blood pumped out of his face and spattered snow all around him until a clot formed. A close look revealed it looked worse than it actually was. I thought we’d resolved this nonsense, obviously not. It’s very heavy on my head when they perform like this. Tomorrow I have no choice but to slot Saxon nearest my sled and have everyone else in front. This way he won’t swing around to fight those behind him. Instead he’ll have me snarling at him for a day or two.

Twenty-two miles covered in seven hours, with one-hour dog rest stoppages. We traversed Campbell Island and all day could see a DEW line site (Defence and Early Warning) as I habitually scanned the ice behind for anything furry following us. Looking like giant golf balls these radar sites were built and manned during the Cold War, at strategic points along the entire Arctic coast. A useful thing to know, these sites have a telephone inside you can use. Not to order pizza but for dire emergency purposes.

It was a joy to cheer my dogs on as they pulled hard all day through perfect weather, a calm -20ºC. Will it last? We’re camped on Liverpool Bay ice, at the cliff’s edge. Navigation will be easy enough as this edge leads to our next heading, Nicholson Island. Phoned in my co-ordinates and those I’m heading for. My satellite phone airtime for this journey comes from a Roadpost pre-paid card (looks like a credit card) that simply slots into the phone, vital for safety, communicating progress, interviews and talking to my veterinary if necessary.

I saw a caribou herd on a ridge before they bolted out of sight. Piston pulled like a dog possessed. Nettle I noticed pulled like a drip. She’s coming out of her heat cycle with a mind obviously elsewhere, Twizzle’s doing well, Marshall too. Saxon spent all day wanting to fight. He tends to bore me when he’s like this. This I told him at the same time suggesting he might want to pick a fight with me.

Saxon is a wonderful dog but I want him to prove to me he’s capable of sustaining his power to pull and concentrating instead of all this muscling for supremacy from his team-mates. This I explained to him.