Snowdrift and clouds blow over in the wind. At twenty below zero it felt colder tonight. I reason it’s because I’m tired. There’s another DEW line site behind us, with another phone where I’m tempted to phone for a pizza.

I made camp tonight where the Mason River spews out into Liverpool Bay. I’m happy to take a rest day tomorrow. Dogs have worked well. I’m pleased. They should be too. Tonight I ate as much food as was physically possible. I watched the stove air my Horizon socks in the tent loft and think what they’ve endured this last year. They’ve kept their shape, my feet blister free and healthy.

A rest day was just that. I didn’t budge from my Wiggy’s sleeping bag until noon. Fed my dogs half their feed. After their initial yawns and stretches I watched them spread out to relax. I mended Cream’s harnesses. I don’t think he’ll be bothered the thread I used isn’t matching.

Checking through supplies and spare gear on my sled I was pleased some of it hasn’t been called into action. I packed Ruff Wear booties and a dog coat in case one of my dogs’ feet needs isolation through injury or an open body wound requires protection. The cold tends to prolong healing if I cut fur away to stitch a wound. Beautifully made, I did leave this gear outside before the journey to see how the materials coped with forty below zero. As usual I’m unforgiving with everything used. After putting a set on one dog for a test they worked great and materials didn’t falter a bit.

This morning through very deep snow I had to strap on my Tubbs snowshoes and break trail ahead of my dogs. The process is achingly slow. Without snowshoes I’d have been up to my waist in snow, which isn’t fun.

Around noon a polar bear hunting contingent on snowmobiles pulled up alongside me at the mouth of Mason River. The Inuit guide was overjoyed to see a dog team travelling the way things were done years ago. The client, an American, strolled up and interrupted loud and rude. Pouting he said, "Hey, I wanna keep moving". Apparently the American didn’t get his bear. Drip. Tomorrow we’ll be heading back to Tuktoyaktuk too, without pouting.

Tonight snow is so deep instead of ice screws I anchored the dogs’ stakeout chain with my snowshoes acting as a deadman snow anchor at either end.

We made it west of Nicholson Island. I noticed a relic from the past, tatty coral fencing used to graze reindeer (not caribou) during Arctic summers. Reindeer were herded here years ago in a pathetic attempt to create a ready meat supply. It took years and years to get reindeer here and days for wolves to pull in and create havoc. I believe it was a sad Danish idea.

Saxon spoilt what should have been a decent day. Tonight Saxon’s very last move as I was getting dogs out of their harnesses was, you guessed it, he just had to start fighting. What is it with him?

Not in a smug way, I was pleased I’d spent so long preparing what I ate on this journey with care. I’ve always considered pre-packed grub sold as ‘expedition food’ as a convenient rip-off. It’s always tastes dull too. Look at the ingredients on the packaging. It’s always clear making it up yourself is cheaper and you can determine ingredients to be of superior nutritional value. Food dehydrators and vacuum packing machines smaller than a regular microwave and costing around the same are a wise investment. Ovens work. An oven will dehydrate an elephant if you chop it up into daily portions.