The House & other Arctic musings

Asleep at the Wheel

With the temperatures now in the minus single digits, calm winds and cloudless skies, it is easy to get lost in the day. When I'm inside I look longingly down Adam's Sound, thinking that that is a trip I need to make soon, before the cracks appear. My thoughts increasingly turn to the birds that will soon (but not soon enough) return from their southern sojourns.

Yesterday, while everyone was still asleep, and the clients had been breakfasted, I thought I'd take a quick trip out to the St George Society cliffs, check on the aerie. Perhaps my path would cross that of the errant Snow Buntings, who have arrived about a month early and have seemingly been seen by my friends, but not by me.  Leah's machine is now back working (and mine is hopefully soon to follow suit once a further part order arrives), so I fired it up, and headed out.

There were no birds at the nest, but I didn't really expect them quite yet. With the snowmobile off, and the silence enveloping everything again I laid down upon the seat. My head nestled in the crook of the handlebars, feet over the backrest I settled in, relishing the warmth of the sun. Two jets raced towards the sun, never have I seen two so close together, perhaps ten airplane lengths away  from each other. I watched them emerge from the brightness, still locked in a chase, and head to the crowds down south.

I laid back there, enjoying the sun, mildly annoyed at the gas cap pressing between my shoulders (solved quickly by my gauntlets), and listened to the absolute stillness of it all. An errant breeze brushed my face and reminded me that I was outside, I shifted slightly to catch the full rays of the Sun on my face and then...

Then my snoring woke me.  And woke me a second time and then a third before I stayed awake and enjoyed the moment swirling about me.   High up, near the top of the cliffs a Raven appeared, soaring along its face, tiny and black along the red rock. It called, and did not stop calling, every phrase different, each playing off its echo. A variety of voices from one bird that was stunning. Then it was joined by a second, singing a different song, two voices, two echos, like some ethereal corvid choir.  When they moved off, it was time to go. Glancing up, I saw the two wing tip to wing tip, quiet now, soaring back along the way they had come, leading me to town.

Something like Spring

 

Carving

I consider Adrian Arnauyumayuq to be the best carver in Arctic Bay right now. He is imaginative, and skilled, and a really nice guy.  Here is one of his latest carvings, bought by one of our clients this morning. 

The Narwhal is about 18 inches long. Although the photo doesn't do the piece justice, you can see the life in this whale, unlike so many that are carved.

Excellence

Our more than 1,000 First Air employees remain dedicated to excellence in customer service and our belief in continuous improvement.

Scott Bateman: President and C.E.O. First Air

Eleven days ago we had a food mail order from Northern Fancy Meats in Yellowknife delivered to First Air Cargo there.  As we've yet to receive the order, and we have a rather interesting history with First Air and food mail I tried to track it down today.

My first call was to Northern Fancy Meats, to get a shipping reference number and confirm that the order had been shipped. The second was to our local First Air cargo office, which was unfortunately closed for the day, as I reached them after business hours.  My next call was to First Air Cargo in Iqaluit.

Excellence

This is essentially how my call there went:

Me: I'm calling from Arctic Bay and I'm trying to find a food mail order that was shipped from Yellowknife on the 11th that we haven't received.
Cargo: Its not here.
Me: I haven't given you the reference number yet.
Cargo: It doesn't matter.  Its not here, as soon as we get food mail its sent out on the next flight. Its not here.
Me: Do you want the number.
Cargo: Its not here! We ship it out on the next plane when we get it.
Me: Then why did it take one of my orders three months to arrive.
Cargo: Its not here.
Me: Never mind, I'll call down to Ottawa.

Continuous Improvement

A short time later Northern Fancy Meats called back to let me know that a check with First Air in Yellowknife confirmed that it had been sent, that it wasn't in the freezer there, and the system showed it was sent to Iqaluit. I related the above to her. 

Having reached the voice mail of the First Air office in Ottawa I was trying to reach, I left an angry message and then set about putting the details in an email to them. The phone rang again and Shiloh from Northern Fancy Meats again greeted me, this time with the good news that she had found our order in Iqaluit.

She had apparently spoken to the same person I had, who told her the order was there in Iqaluit, and that he had missed seeing it when I had called (which apparently was why he was able to answer me so quickly on my call, I had reached him on the phone in the freezer). He had overlooked our four boxes of frozen meat initially but would ensure they would be put on tomorrows plane to Arctic Bay.

He was also under the impression she was calling from First Air in Ottawa.

Yep, excellence and continuous improvement.

If you are looking for excellence in customer service however I will highly recommend Northern Fancy Meats in Yellowknife. I have used them for food mail for a number of years now and have yet to be disappointed.  Their products are first rate, they package exactly how I ask, and Shiloh, who handles the food mail orders for me is incredibly cheery, and always extremely helpful.  Make your next meat order through them, and tell Shiloh that Clare sent you.

Scenes from a Quest

As Darcy and Kennie have already more than ably reported on, Monday was the start of the 2009 Nunavut Quest, the Inuit style dog team race. This year the race runs between Arctic Bay and Pond Inlet.  Below the fold are some photos from the start of the race.

When plans fall apart: An iceberg study

Yesterday, the plan was to head out with the family to the cliffs beyond Uluksan to join most of the community for tea.  When I got down to Leah's folk's however, Leah and the kids were already in a komatiq ready to pull away, and I got instructions to go with another relative on another machine. I watched them head away and then I waited, and waited, I filled up the machine and I waited. At this point my inner curmudgeon took over and I jumped in the truck and decided that the day was too nice to not do something.

The something turned out to be a hike to the iceberg for my first close looks since it became stranded here last fall. Confronted by several thousand tons of ice, forty feet tall, armed only with a camera and brand new lens what was I to do but take a hundred and fifty or so photos.  Luckily for you, I've weeded them down to a dozen or so, and even luckier I've hidden most below the fold. Just in case you subscribe to the the theory that if you've seen one photo of a particular iceberg, you've pretty much seen them all.

Fire and ice

More later, when I'm up to it.

I and the Bird, #98

Ramble on over to Nick Sly's Biological Ramblings for a heck of a day list, the 98th edition of I and The Bird.  As is always the case there are great posts about birds, and birding for you to read.

A couple of specific posts for you to check out.  Amila of Gallicissa, a blog from Sri Lanka, has a post that features some Leopards (see, its not just about the birds), but check out the short video in it of a Sri Lanka Frogmouth. Frogmouths are cryptic birds similar to our nightjars. I was amazed to watch this brooding male transform itself from a bird into a lichen covered branch simply by closing its eyes and changing its posture.

And Jeffery Gordon writes about his trip to Ecuador, one of the countries I most enjoyed visiting. Check out this post about Rufous-bellied Seedsnipe (amongst others), which although it appears to be a grouse is actually a shorebird that has adapted to life in the high paramo of the Andes.  It is a striking bird, and an excellent example of convergent evolution.

Stirfry

Demonstrating that I am devoid of anything to post about, here is tonights supper, just finishing up on the stove in my great huge 14 inch saute pan.

The man I most wish I was

While searching my slides a couple of days ago I came across my favourite picture of my father, standing in a field of alfalfa on their land, with the late, great, Opus at his side. It was taken perhaps 20 years ago, or more.

Last Sunday, my father turned 80. I could think of no where on earth that I would have rather been, but once again I was far too far away to join my family. When I think upon my life, the influences on it, the things that make me who I am, there is no doubt from where the good parts came from. My father remains, by a huge margin, my biggest role model. He is the man I wish I was.