Taya was rafted up next to us. They had come in the night before, approaching with the sound of metal crunching against rock as they motored over a shoal to reach the safe haven of "Ice Boulder Bay." It was a good thing they did. By morning their little sliver of open water was gone. In fact, a giant pan of ice had been driven up onto the beach right where they had been anchored. The wind had finally died and the sun was shining, so I decided to go ashore to stretch my legs and hopefully clear my head. The dinghy made a tinkling sound as it cut through the skim of ice that now covered the open water. When I got back to the boat in the afternoon, chunks of ice were breaking apart all around us sending mini tsunamis through the bay. The ice boulder itself, which had been our safe haven for a day and a half, now appeared ready to topple and possibly crush the boats. There was nowhere to go. But we couldn't stay where we were. Taya set off first and Polar Sun followed. At first, we were only looking for a new spot to tie up. But after muscling past two huge flows, which entailed ramming them numerous times with the bow of the boat, it became clear that we had to go all out to free ourselves from Pasley Bay. A light west wind was suddenly creating small leads along the shore that seemed to appear just when we needed them. Where there had been a glacial wall of ice the night before, we found an opening. And then another. And another. At one point, Polar Sun was so close to land I could have almost jumped off onto the beach. Taya, which only draws three feet, was in front, radioing back soundings. Two meters, said Alan. Polar Sun draws six feet - when she's not massively overloaded. I throttled up. If we hit the bottom, we'd somehow just have to power through. The depth sounder showed four inches. As we neared Point Edward, the leads got bigger. Renan was up on the spreaders calling directions. Polar Sun took the lead. An hour later, Polar Sun and Taya were in open water. But the ice was not done with us yet. According to the most recent ice chart, James Ross Strait was closing back up. Through the binoculars, I saw another wall of ice ahead.