The House & other Arctic musings

Pins on a map

This afternoon, as I walked from the plane to terminal in Iqaluit I looked back to a beautiful slim crescent moon, followed in the sky by Venus and Jupiter. As the sky has deepened tonight I can't seem to keep my eyes from drifting up to them. It is a nice way to (almost) end my trip. One more leg, tomorrow, and I'm home. 

I've been travelling this week for work. And I have travelled the length and breadth of Nunavut, and not just figuratively. From 73° North, south to 62°. From 68°W in the east, clear across into the NWT capital of Yellowknife.  It was eight days, for three and a half days of meetings.  That saw me stop in all three regions of Nunavut: The Baffin, Kitikmeot and Kivalliq and seven communities including two territorial capitals.

Some of the places were new to me, new pins in my mental map of Nunavut. Even though a couple of the new places, Gjoa Haven and Taloyoak, were simply stops at the airport enroute. Cambridge Bay, on the other hand was a welcoming place were we spent several days. Although I didn't get to see much apart from the hotel and the meeting rooms I liked what I saw in my short walk. I had hoped to get a chance to see and photograph some of the many Muskoxen in the area, but unfortunately they were quite far from town while we were away and time wouldn't allow it.

Travel isn't always easy up here, and there were glitches along the way. But that is all part of the experience of travelling in the Arctic. I spent time with fellow bloggers, Craig, Megan and a brief visit with Tara. People I usually only get to talk with through their blogs or facebook. We had good sessions, and I once again am coming back inspired by my fellow Economic Development Officers, men and women who I hope are appreciated by their communities, because of the awesome work that many of them do.

Checking in to my hotel tonight I found that I lucked into a huge corner suite, complete with a king sized bed. Alas there is no one to share it with. I miss my wife and kids.

I miss home. Tomorrow, barring any of those northern travel glitches and weather permitting, I will be home. And that is where I long to be.

Hello, is it me you're looking for?

I caught a glimpse of the fireworks from Winterfest the other the day. We had stumbled into a Formula Taxi race somehow, and were speeding through the city. The last time I'd been going that fast in a city was during a high speed chase through the streets of Saskatoon.  But as we approached downtown we could see the fireworks framed by the highrises. It was an interesting view of them, quite enjoyable, apart for the fearing for my life part.

But here's the thing. During the ride I missed two phone calls and a text message. I'm not, in any way shape or form, what you would call "Cell aware". I live my life quite happily outside the cellular phone system, but on my last trip south we got one, so Leah could get in touch with me easily.

But it is really outside of my consciousness. When it rings it is just some random noise coming from my pocket. I'm not trying to ignore anyone really. I'll pull the phone out to have a look at the time and there will little notices "6 text msgs" "3 missed calls". And I set it to vibrate, but I never notice the damn thing. The only time I've realized my phone was vibrating was when I had it in my hand.

This isn't a phenomenon isolated to this trip either. On my trip to France in 2007 I rented a phone over there. I was in a kilt for much of the trip and the only time I knew there was a phone call was when some stranger would approach me and say "Your sporran is ringing".

Technology, who needs it?

Away

So I saw the Sun yesterday, high in the sky above Iqaluit. We’re south, in Ottawa, which is why I get to see it before the first week of February. This marks the first time in a number of years that I’ll not be in Arctic Bay for the return of the Sun, and it seems just a touch disorientating. But I’ll survive. 

Our trip down was punctuated by a four hour delay, strangely caused by weather down south. Delays and disrupted travel plans are the norm in the north. Travel rarely happens quickly without quirks. Limited schedules and routes and the sheer logistics of trying to link some 25 far flung communities, plus communities outside the territories makes for challenges.  For example, immediately after we return from this work trip/holiday I depart for Cambridge Bay for four days of meetings and training.

Getting there requires two nights in Iqaluit, followed by a charter to Cambridge Bay. It’s the return trip that will drive me to distraction. We leave Cambridge Bay heading in the direction of Arctic Bay, but once we hit a couple of communities we turn around and head in the opposite direction to Yellowknife where I overnight. The following day we head back across and overnight in Iqaluit, and then I get home the next day. Some 12 hours in planes, not counting the time spent in airports. We’ll hit seven communities and traverse the breadth of Nunavut.

But that’s another trip.  We’re warmly ensconced in our hotel in Ottawa, and in few days head to Manitoba to see my parents. I plan on adding a bird or two that doesn't have the scientific name Corvus corax. Although the very first bird I say today was a black corvid, a Crow. 

Last night turned strange as we settled in to the city. First of all the payment information for the hotel was screwed up (I'm on a work trip for the first half of this little jaunt), and the bank account took a hit that hopefully will be resolved in the next day or two.  Then my introduction to city night life as I walked the block to a convenience store behind a group of young men openly smoking a joint. Did I want a hit? Ah no, thanks anyway.

But the strangest turn of the evening happened when we got on Face Time with the kids and received some news of home. Bolt had puppies yesterday, some time after we left. We didn't believe them at first but no, there were pictures of the three surviving puppies, as they got some warm blankets put in the dog house. How did this happen? Doesn't nature now its -30 out up there?

Other than that its been a day on our feet in shopping malls and the like. There was the usual mass disconnect with being inside a large grocery store in a modern city. Seriously, how do you deal with all that selection? 

Can I have my milkrun back?

So the milkrun from Baker Lake that I anticipated didn't come about as planned. Now normally that would be a good thing, but at the end of the day I spent more time travelling then if the original flights had fallen in to place.

In order to escape traveling in the arctic with your sanity intact, you have to realize that things will often come unravelled and have a lot of patience.  There are not a lot of options, and in most places you can't just hop on a later flight if yours doesn't happen as planned. And we had planned to start our day of travel by getting to the airport at 10:30 last Tuesday morning in Baker Lake. The bus dropped us off at the airport, a ways out of town and left.

Good thing we got there early. The plane had problems, and they worked and worked on getting it going. As it became more and more evident that our plane was staying put on the ground, the organizers of the conference clicked into contingency planning mode. Finally it was announced that the our flight was pushed back until 2:30 pm. As it was almost lunch time, a few people jumped in a cab, and headed back to Baker Lake to get pizza for us all.  Meanwhile people were searching for alternatives, including a charter back to Iqaluit.

About the time the Pizza arrived it was announced that our plane was not going to be ready for any flight for us, but that another plane was being sent to get us.  New ETA for departure was 4:30 pm. We ate pizza, talked business and otherwise, and played games.  When it came time to depart for Rankin we had been at the airport in Baker Lake for six hours. There is no mall there.

Rankin saw more delays, and eventually it was announced that we would no longer be landing in Chesterfield Inlet, Coral Harbour, and Cape Dorset but we would proceed directly to Iqaluit.  More delays and then an announcement that the plane had excess weight and that not all of our luggage would make the flight with us.  Finally, at around 8 pm we left Ranking direct to Iqaluit.

Arriving at Iqaluit around 11:30 I soon discovered that one of my pieces of luggage was one that didn't make the flight. It wasn't critical, as the "luggage" was actually a cardboard box with caribou meat in it. But it still necessitated a stop and a wait at the counter to fill out the forms. So by the time I made it to the hotel room for the night it was 12:30 am. I had been in travel mode for about 13 hours (there is a one hour time difference between Rankin and Iqaluit.

Although I wasn't scheduled to leave for another day, I was at the airport bright and early as I had hoped to get wait listed for the flight back home that day. As it turned out there was a cancellation and I did get on the flight.  Which was a very good thing as the flights for the next several days were all cancelled for one reason or another.

Milk and honey

One of the aspects of life up here is that if you are traveling anywhere, you're traveling by airplane. It is pretty much the only option. Certainly a goodly number of people go between communities by snowmobile, it is the only affordable option, but there are no roads, no buses, and for all intents and purposes no marine travel.

And if you travel any amount of time you are going to experience travel disruptions because of weather. I am about to experience the form of travel known as a Milk Run.

My original travel plans to return to Arctic Bay from Baker Lake was to leave yesterday, flying by turboprop to Rankin, and then by jet to Iqaluit, a little more than a three hour journey. I wasn't returning to Arctic Bay for two days, because of travel connections.  That (Iqaluit to Arctic Bay) is in itself a three hour plus flight in a turboprop.

But the weather intruded, cancelling our plans from yesterday and resulting in the Milk Run option. For those of you not familiar with the term a milk run is a journey that consists of several stops along the way.

For this particular trip I will leave shortly for Rankin Inlet, then on to Chesterfield Inlet, Coral Harbour, Cape Dorset and finally on to Iqaluit, landing about 6 and a quarter hours later. I suspect this will be a very long day, although I am looking forward to seeing parts of the territory I wouldn't otherwise get to see.  A larger part of the land of milk runs and honey buckets.

Visiting

Things may be a little slow here at the House over the next couple of weeks, not that the posts have been coming at a blistering pace lately anyway. In a couple of days we're traveling to Manitoba to visit with my family for an all too short visit. 

The kids are super excited to see Grandpa and Grandma, and their aunts, uncles and cousins. Travis was only 8 or 9 months old when last he was there, Hilary only slightly older when her and I visited three years ago. She was 18 months.  They're both looking forward to swimming in something larger than a bathtub, and have been saving their money and prepaid Visa cards to spend like they were whalers on shore leave.

Leah and I have a ton of errands to run in preparation for moving into the new house in the couple of days we're in Winnipeg, and then I'm looking forward to just hanging out with my family. It has been far too long since I've seen them. The one downside of living here in the high Arctic, is the distance from my family and the cost of getting to see them. I miss them more than they can imagine.

And when we return spring will be fully upon us. The migrants will have begun to arrive, and we'll have the fishing derby to look forward to.  But for now I'm madly trying to get things accomplished before we go, its going to be one of those sealifts.

Now where did I put those kitchen measurements?

The Drake Shake

Part of the adventure about going to Antarctica is getting there. And I'm not talking about the flights all the way down North and South America to Usuahia. Nor the everyday challenges of navigating around countries and customs unfamiliar to you. I'm talking about the somewhat infamous Drake Passage.

The Drake Passage is the part of the Southern Ocean that lies between the Antarctic Penisula and the tip of South America. Essentially four days (two going and two coming) are spent crossing it. But don't get the impression that it is dead time, the amount of seabirds that can be seen during the crossing is amazing, lectures about what you're about to see, or have seen abound, there are films, and amazing meals.

The bird life is phenomenal. Several different species of Albatross, including Wandering, Royal, and Black-browed are almost always present just off the ship. It is amazing to watch these masters of the air soar and dip, never flapping their wings, but using wind and gravity to propel them for thousands of kilometres. Its called Dynamic Soaring and some species of Albatross actually lock their wings in place. To watch them in even the strongest winds  and stormiest of seas is indescribable. Dipping down to the ocean's surface, the tips of their wings almost touching the water, they use the difference in the wind's veolcity to gain or shed speed and then they snap back into the air, wheeling and turning.

Other species such as different petrals and shearwaters also abound, especially once the Antarctic Confluence is reached, and you can get can get crippling views of them. I spent a great deal of time on the bridge of the ship we were travelling on (for a couple of reasons), and one occasion watched a bird I didn't recognize soaring next to the window beside me. It pretty much remained there, moving a little ways off then returning, for several minutes while I flipped through a Seabird field guide until I identified it as a Soft-plummaged Petral.

Although it wasn't common during the passage there is also the opportunity to see whales and other cetaceans. On the Drake we saw Sei Whales, and Humbacks, a couple of different species of Porpoises, and Dolphins. One time, during the height of the storm, I got the briefest of views of a beaked whale, possibly Cuvier's Beaked Whale, as both the whale and the ship met in the trough of a wave.

The storm? Ah yes. The Southern Ocean has no land masses to interrupt the weather as it circles the bottom of the world (and I realize that that is a pretty northern hemispherecentric thing to say), and it is notorious for its storms, and the waves that accompany it. Crossing the Drake, where the ocean is at its narrowest, has a reputation for being rough. On our trip south to Antarctica we passed through a Force 9/10 gale, with steady winds of over forty knots, and 8 metre seas. It was, to me anyway, an integral part of the experience, and I savour the memory of it.

I was only briefly sea sick, when I spent too much time below decks, lingering in a lecture past when I knew I needed to get out. For me I found that as long as I could see the horizon (or lying in my bed) I was fine, which was the other reason I spent so much time on the bridge. If memory serves me, the bridge was on the 6th Deck, with the water line at the 2nd. We consistently had waves, or spray rather, wash right over the bridge. The ships stabilizers, which dampened lateral rolling, were constantly on. Despite this the ship rolled 30 degrees each way pretty much constantly. On occasion the rolls would get to 35 degrees, at which point things would begin lifting into the air, so setting down your binoculars wasn't an option.One of my vivid memories of the crossing is how I could look across the bridge, out the port side, and frequently see either nothing by grey ocean, or sky. It was, really cool.

Like I said, for the most part I didn't suffer, but others did. My cabin mate, a young fellow from Japan, never left the cabin, and was green. I'd occasionally pop in and leave him some fruit, bread, or crackers, and shared my ginger pills with him. After the trip he gave me a string of little origami cranes, to thank me for "looking after him" but in truth I mostly just watched him suffer. I wore acupresure seasick bands, took ginger, but most importantly kept the horizon in view, and kept food in my stomach (which I know seems counterintuitive but really seems to help).

The only other Drake Shake advice I have are these two things. First of all, enjoy the experience. It is something that only a few people get to experience, and all part of the adventure. The other is this, if you decide the seas are calm enough for you to have a shower, and while doing so you lose your balance and start to fall, if you reach out to grab one of the exposed water pipes to hold on to, make sure it isn't the hot water pipe.

Here are a couple of shots from the crossing, the ones that convinced Leah that she would never go with me to Antarctica. Try as I might to convey the spray breaking over the bridge I couldn't.

I've also modified one of them to put the horizon level.

Don't forget that I'm trying to Blog my way to Antarctica with Quark. If you haven't already done so, take a moment to register and vote for me. Don't forget to tell your friends to do the same.

Camp Temporary

Okay, I've been lazy. Its been much easier to post photos than to take the time to write anything. And as a result I'm getting farther behind on posts I've wanted to write.  It is hard to believe more than two weeks have already past since I had not only a day off, but the opportunity to get out camping with Travis.

By the time we got finished with the client that was leaving, and got organized it was already past supper when Travis and I parked at the dump and headed out to our canyon.  I swear, either camping equipment has gotten heavier, and the hill over the dump has gotten steeper, or I'm getting farther and farther out of shape. Travis insisted on his own pack, and carried a change of clothes in it, along with runners, and trundled along merrily. As I watched this school Spiderman pack flop around on his back I thought we had better get him a decent kid's pack if we are going to keep doing this.

After pausing at the top of the pass in order to let my heartbeat drop back somewhere below 200 we got on with the hike in. First order of business was fending off the mosquitoes that accompanied us. This is the first summer that I've been up here that the mosquitoes have been bothersome. I'm not going to say they were bad, almost every place else I've lived has had it far worse in terms of biting insects, but the annoyance levels are definitely up this year.

Travis has a keen eye, and a sharp memory. Through out the walk in he constantly pointed out things he was seeing, every spider on his path, hordes of butterflies, and flowers. If he hasn't seen a flower before he'll comment on it, and if he hasn't seen a flower many times he'll mention when and where he saw it before.

This flower that caught our eye, is not new to either of us, but it is an interesting flower. They are like little patio lanterns.  It is the Nodding Bladder-campion (Melandrium apetalum). They seem to relish the moister areas and the company of Sudetan Louseworts.

We saw many butterflies, and here are a but a couple who paused long enough for me to get a photo. The first is Polaris Fritillary (Boloria polaris), the second is a female Polaris Fritillary the Dingy Fritillary (Boloria improba).

I was relieved to reach our canyon and get the pack off my back. First order of business was for the two of us to drink deep from the cold, cold stream. After that it was a matter of making supper for the two of us, setting up the tent (field review to follow), and then brewing a pot of freshly ground Kenyan Estate coffee.

After coffee I glassed the canyon and briefly caught a glimpse of the Peregrine flying next to the canyon wall. I had no idea it would be my only glimpse of the trip.  Soon we were embroiled in all manner of activities, throwing rocks into the river, stick races in the stream, watching birds sing, and going for a bit of a hike up the hill.

Travis was not in the mood to climb it would seem, and we only made it part way up towards the Peregrine aerie. But one of the things we did see, was the largest wolf spider I've seen up here. This first photo is the best cropping of the best photo of her.

This second one, though is cropped to show Arctic Hare poop to illustrate her size. That pellet of poop is about the size of a marble (as an aside I'm now using Arctic Hare poop as a frame of reference for size: "He caught a char that must have been 67 poops in length." I expect it to challenge the metric system soon).

Although we didn't get as high up the hills as planned, there are still some spectacular views from up there. And a profusion of wildflowers, including the beautiful and fragrant Lapland Rosebay.

Once we headed back down to camp we explored a little more down the river, snapping photos and throwing rocks. But Travis announced that he was ready to sleep, even though it was only 9:30pm.

So we turned in, although I knew full  well that sleep would not come for me for a few hours, wishing I had brought a book. I laid there, watching my son disappear farther and farther into his sleeping bag, grateful for the opportunity to get out, and spend time out of doors with him.

I soon found it that it wouldn't be much time. About an hour after he climbed into his sleeping bag, a little voice came from inside. "Dad, I want to go home", he hadn't really slept much, was hungry and I think more than anything was missing playing with his friends. So we talked about it a little, I made us something to eat, and we climbed up to near the aerie.

We sat there for a short while, together, and when no sign of either of the falcons came, turned back to camp. I quickly had the tent down , and the pack filled. As he was tired I strapped Travis' pack to mine and with a quick call to Leah on the satellite phone to let her know we were on our way (12:30am) we marched off hand in hand for home.

Old slides

While looking for an elusive slide of Andean Condor for the last post, I came across a box of slides from the Arctic Cruise I led in 2000, and scanned some to share.

Bylot Island through the late night fog.

Iceberg off Pond Inlet at the same time.

Iceberg, Bylot Island and Cotton Grass.

Although  this isn't a spectacular photo it is of a spectacular place, Prince Leopold Island. Prince Leopold is a small island off the tip of Somerset Island, mostly ringed by vertical cliffs rising almost 900 feet from the sea. It is bird sanctuary, and listed as an Important Bird Area of Global Signficance. It is home to some 86,000 breeding pairs of Akpa (Thick-billed Murres Uria lomvia), 62,000 breeding pairs of Northern Fulmar (Fulmaris glacialis), 29,000 breeding pairs of Black-legged Kittiwakes (Rissa tridactyla), Black Guillmots, Glaucous Gulls and other birds. Sailing past it was one of the highlights of my life.

Help send a blogger to camp

... on an island... at the Great Barrier Reef... in Queensland!

First things first.  Take a look at this video. There'll be a short quiz afterwards.

Now.  What are these people laughing at? Would you like to see the video they're watching? Carry on below the fold.