Not a lot happened today. In the morning I tried to get in touch with the owner of the airplane again to check on the status of the part. I got a shipment code that allowed me to track the package online. From now on, every half an hour I would log in on the website to check the tracking status. I also contacted some other pilots and people that might have connections to get that damn relay up here.
While doing all this, I remembered how my first plans evolved from an optimistic flying trip without any regard for regulations and safety margins into the trip I was flying now. Double and triple checked for distances, fuel consumption, backup plans, survival gear, rescue services and procedures etc. One of the big changes was the “Tanquary Fiord” airport. It was supposed to be a very beautiful airstrip in the most northern National Park. Very isolated, between the mountains. Next to that, it would have shortened my north Pole jump to “only” 10 hours instead of 12. I never got permission from Parks Canada to land there. It was now, while stuck in Resolute Bay, that I was very happy I never got the permission. Otherwise, I would probably have had the technical problem in Tanquary Fiord, even further away from any living soul…
At least a little bit happy, I asked the housekeeping lady for some touristic advice. She told me there was a big river where the children would go swim. I remembered the directions and walked for 20 minutes. Then I arrived at the smallest stream you could possibly imagine. Half an hour later I was back at the hotel. You could also climb “the mountain”. I decided to save up some of the fun for the next days.
Before going to bed I enjoyed a very good dinner skillfully prepared by Randy, the cook of the hotel. I also noticed my package started moving and was already in Canada. It was Tuesday now, and I was very hopeful it would indeed arrive by Wednesday. Ah optimism, thy heartless b****.