Sunday, September 21, 2008
Kendall Island field trip-Sep 6-11, 2008
I just started teaching at Aurora College in the Natural Resources Technology Program. There are 7 students in the program and 2 instructors. The first course I'll be instructing is Water Resources, an introduction to fresh water ecology and resource use and conservation. What better way to start the new school year than with a field trip? We set off Sunday through the delta to a whaling camp on Kendall Island at the mouth of the Mackenzie River on the Beaufort Sea. The trip out was glorious. It was a beautiful day and the sun caused the hillsides to explode with fall colours. I haven't been out boating much in the delta so this landscape was all new to me.
The trip was about 5 hours through a maze of channels then to Mackenzie Bay. Our guide and host was a local Inuvialuit elder, James Rogers. We stayed at his camps on Kendall Island and in the delta an hour out of town in a sheltered channel. The objectives of the trip were to go out on the land with an elder, to work together as a team - oh, and to collect water and benthic samples from some coastal lakes and the bay to bring back to the lab for analysis.
Two boats of students and equipment travelled through the maze of delta channels following James. We had GPS's, but not James. His GPS was in his head. He's been travelling these channels his whole life and he can read the water because, of course, the channels and sand bars change. However, even old timers can get caught taking a wrong turn or misjudging the conditions.
Once we left the delta and headed across the bay to Kendall Island we were technically on the Beaufort Sea. The water was shallow - from 2-4 feet (NOT metres) and in some parts it's so shallow the sonar doesn't register depth. We actually ran aground far from shore and Darcy, the boat operator had to coax the boat off the sand bar. James knew where the deep channel lay. It was a zone only 8-10' wide in this wide bay. We followed him pretty closely after that.
We had an introduction to the geological and ecological setting of coastal tundra and collected our water and mud samples. But mostly, we experienced camp life and chores - lots of chores. Cooking, cleaning and stoking the woodstove were collective efforts. One of the students brought moose meat, someone else brought caribou and we enjoyed country food. We spent a day travelling back into the delta to cut up firewood for James' camp. We were north of the treeline and the logs lining the banks came down the Mackenzie, possibly from the Liard system at the BC -NWT border.
We stayed at James' coastal camp for a few nights, then moved to his delta camp for the last night. That evening the weather was calm and clear and I enjoyed a paddle on James' pond with one of the students. Some of the students stayed in the cabins at night, but I camped out in my tent. Time to get a winter bag!
This is going to be a great year. What a way to start it off! It's a little harder getting everyone into classroom mode, but once we get past some of the heavy theory we can get our hands dirty again.
The trip was about 5 hours through a maze of channels then to Mackenzie Bay. Our guide and host was a local Inuvialuit elder, James Rogers. We stayed at his camps on Kendall Island and in the delta an hour out of town in a sheltered channel. The objectives of the trip were to go out on the land with an elder, to work together as a team - oh, and to collect water and benthic samples from some coastal lakes and the bay to bring back to the lab for analysis.
Two boats of students and equipment travelled through the maze of delta channels following James. We had GPS's, but not James. His GPS was in his head. He's been travelling these channels his whole life and he can read the water because, of course, the channels and sand bars change. However, even old timers can get caught taking a wrong turn or misjudging the conditions.
Once we left the delta and headed across the bay to Kendall Island we were technically on the Beaufort Sea. The water was shallow - from 2-4 feet (NOT metres) and in some parts it's so shallow the sonar doesn't register depth. We actually ran aground far from shore and Darcy, the boat operator had to coax the boat off the sand bar. James knew where the deep channel lay. It was a zone only 8-10' wide in this wide bay. We followed him pretty closely after that.
We had an introduction to the geological and ecological setting of coastal tundra and collected our water and mud samples. But mostly, we experienced camp life and chores - lots of chores. Cooking, cleaning and stoking the woodstove were collective efforts. One of the students brought moose meat, someone else brought caribou and we enjoyed country food. We spent a day travelling back into the delta to cut up firewood for James' camp. We were north of the treeline and the logs lining the banks came down the Mackenzie, possibly from the Liard system at the BC -NWT border.
We stayed at James' coastal camp for a few nights, then moved to his delta camp for the last night. That evening the weather was calm and clear and I enjoyed a paddle on James' pond with one of the students. Some of the students stayed in the cabins at night, but I camped out in my tent. Time to get a winter bag!
This is going to be a great year. What a way to start it off! It's a little harder getting everyone into classroom mode, but once we get past some of the heavy theory we can get our hands dirty again.
Dempster Adventure and Dawson City Aug 13-19, 2008
It was time to get out of town - and I mean to the 'Outside'. I had about a week between leaving Parks and starting at Aurora College - and I now had my truck. Good ol' Sally. Leanna and Brian brought her up on their roadtrip from Vancouver. She ran really well, except for the green fluid that leaked into the passenger side of the cab. A friend rather dubiously went over the truck before I took her back out on the Dempster. He bypassed the hoses from the radiator to the heater and showed me how to change the spare tire. No heater? No problem. I'd just wear a hat and gloves. As long as the radio and lighter outlet worked so I could plug in some road music. She ran just great, except for that funny noise when I started her up.
When I left town late Wed, it started to rain and the wind started to pick up. Past Fort McPherson, the mud sucking at my tires was threatening to bring me to a standstill. 'Oh, please don't stall here!' It became so windy, I got nervous and pulled off the road at the next opportunity. No setting up my tent here. It was too windy for me to even light my stove for hot soup. I just backed up to the territorial boundary sign for a windbreak and crawled into the back. No leaks! There's nothing quite so cosy as being warm and dry inside a tent - or truck canopy - while the rain is pounding on the roof.
The next morning, after a hot coffee and clean-up, I went to start the truck and leave. Just that funny noise, then nothing! Thank goodness I had backed the truck up and had a slight downhill slope for a roll start. We rolled out of Windy Pass (figures!) and didn't stop until refueling at Eagle Plains, the halfway point. After refueling, some guys gave her a push from behind to get me going again, shouting 'Don't stop 'til Dawson!'.
I rolled into Dawson late and stayed at a hotel in town for a few nights, then at my friend Val's for a few nights. I brought Sally into a mechanic on Friday and was told it was just a loose connection. Great! I ran around town and enjoyed 'Discovery Days' and the Klondike Arts Festival events all weekend.
Dawson City was established at the junction of the Yukon and Klondike Rivers in 1896 during the Klondike Gold Rush. It has a fascinating history. For a very brief period at the height of the Gold Rush, 1898-99, it was the 'San Francisco of the North' where fortunes were lost and won. With a population of nearly 40,000 people, it was a modern city with electricity, running water, and high-brow theatres as well as dance-halls.
The whole town is part of a National Historical Site administered by Parks Canada. Heritage interpreters dressed in period clothing led tours and gave presentations. I attended as many as I could. What a great weekend to be there. I thorougly enjoyed being a tourist. Val and I went for a few walks. Hills! Forest! The air there smells different from Inuvik. Some of the vegetation is familiar - not coastal BC, but interior montane.
I woke to sunshine on Monday morning and by the time I left , I felt I had a break and I was looking forward to the drive back. Just before Tombstone Territorial Park, where I planned to go for a short hike, I pulled over and stopped to take some photos. The noise came back! Oh no. No stopping now until Eagle Plains. Actually, I did stop a few times to take photos, but either left the motor running or stopped on a hill.
The mechanic at Eagle Plains recognized me and showed me where to tap the starter with a hammer if needed. As I pulled away, I saw him waving me down in my rear view mirror. When I stopped, he handed me the tailpipe that fell off just at that moment. What are the chances of me recovering my tailpipe in the only spot on 800kms of potholed road where someone might have noticed it falling off?
I had a great time in Dawson City and loved the drive (mostly). I found a great roadside camp spot north of Eagle Plains just before the road leaves the tundra and dips into forest. I enjoyed a campfire that night and even had a hill to roll down the next morning. I have a whole new respect for the Dempster Hwy. It deserves it's rough and deserted reputation. On Tuesday, there was little traffic. The weekend's rain kept most of the tourists away, I'm sure. The first truck didn't pass my campsite until about 11:00am. I was passed by about half a dozen vehicles all day - all 4 wheel drive trucks, I noticed - and about another half dozen determined cyclists. That's OK - me and Sally kept plugging along. I'm looking forward to driving the Dempster again with a more reliable vehicle - and in better weather. The snow and wind started again at the territorial boundary.
I've been driving around for about a month now with an unreliable starter, no heater, and no tailpipe. I'm getting much better at roll starting and don't need as much distance or as much of a hill. Still, it's definitely time to get it fixed or retired. I've had strangers stop me while I was out walking on the street to ask if I've had my truck fixed yet. How did they know it's mine? Life in a small town.
When I left town late Wed, it started to rain and the wind started to pick up. Past Fort McPherson, the mud sucking at my tires was threatening to bring me to a standstill. 'Oh, please don't stall here!' It became so windy, I got nervous and pulled off the road at the next opportunity. No setting up my tent here. It was too windy for me to even light my stove for hot soup. I just backed up to the territorial boundary sign for a windbreak and crawled into the back. No leaks! There's nothing quite so cosy as being warm and dry inside a tent - or truck canopy - while the rain is pounding on the roof.
The next morning, after a hot coffee and clean-up, I went to start the truck and leave. Just that funny noise, then nothing! Thank goodness I had backed the truck up and had a slight downhill slope for a roll start. We rolled out of Windy Pass (figures!) and didn't stop until refueling at Eagle Plains, the halfway point. After refueling, some guys gave her a push from behind to get me going again, shouting 'Don't stop 'til Dawson!'.
I rolled into Dawson late and stayed at a hotel in town for a few nights, then at my friend Val's for a few nights. I brought Sally into a mechanic on Friday and was told it was just a loose connection. Great! I ran around town and enjoyed 'Discovery Days' and the Klondike Arts Festival events all weekend.
Dawson City was established at the junction of the Yukon and Klondike Rivers in 1896 during the Klondike Gold Rush. It has a fascinating history. For a very brief period at the height of the Gold Rush, 1898-99, it was the 'San Francisco of the North' where fortunes were lost and won. With a population of nearly 40,000 people, it was a modern city with electricity, running water, and high-brow theatres as well as dance-halls.
The whole town is part of a National Historical Site administered by Parks Canada. Heritage interpreters dressed in period clothing led tours and gave presentations. I attended as many as I could. What a great weekend to be there. I thorougly enjoyed being a tourist. Val and I went for a few walks. Hills! Forest! The air there smells different from Inuvik. Some of the vegetation is familiar - not coastal BC, but interior montane.
I woke to sunshine on Monday morning and by the time I left , I felt I had a break and I was looking forward to the drive back. Just before Tombstone Territorial Park, where I planned to go for a short hike, I pulled over and stopped to take some photos. The noise came back! Oh no. No stopping now until Eagle Plains. Actually, I did stop a few times to take photos, but either left the motor running or stopped on a hill.
The mechanic at Eagle Plains recognized me and showed me where to tap the starter with a hammer if needed. As I pulled away, I saw him waving me down in my rear view mirror. When I stopped, he handed me the tailpipe that fell off just at that moment. What are the chances of me recovering my tailpipe in the only spot on 800kms of potholed road where someone might have noticed it falling off?
I had a great time in Dawson City and loved the drive (mostly). I found a great roadside camp spot north of Eagle Plains just before the road leaves the tundra and dips into forest. I enjoyed a campfire that night and even had a hill to roll down the next morning. I have a whole new respect for the Dempster Hwy. It deserves it's rough and deserted reputation. On Tuesday, there was little traffic. The weekend's rain kept most of the tourists away, I'm sure. The first truck didn't pass my campsite until about 11:00am. I was passed by about half a dozen vehicles all day - all 4 wheel drive trucks, I noticed - and about another half dozen determined cyclists. That's OK - me and Sally kept plugging along. I'm looking forward to driving the Dempster again with a more reliable vehicle - and in better weather. The snow and wind started again at the territorial boundary.
I've been driving around for about a month now with an unreliable starter, no heater, and no tailpipe. I'm getting much better at roll starting and don't need as much distance or as much of a hill. Still, it's definitely time to get it fixed or retired. I've had strangers stop me while I was out walking on the street to ask if I've had my truck fixed yet. How did they know it's mine? Life in a small town.
Saturday, September 20, 2008
Pingo Paddle July 31-Aug 4, 2008
Well, it was back to Tuk again. Diane and I flew in on Thursday intending to borrow a canoe from the RCMP community canoeing program and paddle out to the Pingo Canadian Landmark right away. At least, that was the plan. There had been an unseasonably violent storm the day before, however, and the seas were still too rough to launch right away. No matter, we'll just camp on the beach and explore the town the first day and head out tomorrow . . . We set up camp on the beach by the RCMP station and set off. Well, we finished the town tour in about an hour. What else do you do in Tuk on a cold wet day? There isn't even a public washroom or coffee shop. Like everyone else in town, we ended up at the Northern store for a hot chocolate and to use the facilities and wandered around some more.
We met Carmelle, assistant to Sister Fay of the Catholic Church who showed us around the chapel. We also met Martha, an artist from Toronto who wanted to paint the 'true' north. She had been in Dawson last year, but felt there were too many trees there for it to be the real thing. So she came out to try again. There were some local children who showed us the nests they made for robins to use. Never mind that it's already time for robins to be leaving. We also met Maureen who moved from Saskatchewan to teach in Tuk for a season - 30 years ago. We chatted with Laurie at the RCMP office who also came out for work and stayed - 20 years ago. What is the magic of Tuk that it caught people in its spell so they didn't want to leave?
We visited with the RCMP for a bit. The constables told us about a concert being held that night at the arena. So we also took in a country music concert by a band brought in from Manitoba. What are the chances of us landing in Tuk on probably the only day they've had a community concert in the past few years?! The locals were pretty friendly, welcomed us to Tuk and hoped we enjoyed our stay. The town could still use a coffee shop!
We paddled off the beach Friday morning and headed for the pingos, where we spent 2 nights. They are fascinating permafrost landforms only found in a few locations in the world. These ice-cored hills appear out of place on the otherwise flat and treeless tundra. We camped at the base of Ibyuk, the world's second tallest pingo, at 49m elevation and 300m across at the base. On Saturday we paddled around some of the neighbouring pingos and were dive bombed by outraged gulls. They seemed to take particular exception to Diane in the bow while I laughed at her from the stern. There was no wind on Saturday and the bugs were ferocious. We both retreated into our bug jackets and returned to camp late. There would be no relaxing outside.
When we returned to our campsite we saw that someone had a campfire at the base of the pingo and had left it burning. A campfire had burned out of control at Ibyuk a year ago causing damage and Parks Canada has been monitoring erosion and vegetation recovery at the site. However, our feelings of indignation soon dissipated when we found a jar of cranberry jam left on our stove at camp. What a pleasant surprise - how welcoming! All was forgiven, at least on our part, although I'm sure Parks Canada would not be impressed. Pingos are ecologically and environmentally sensitive. If the overlying vegetation is damaged, the ice is exposed directly to the sun accelerating pingo erosion, melt and collapse.
On Sunday, the winds picked up and we had to fight our way back to town. We didn't return via the coastal route because it was too stormy. Instead, we landed close to town and hitched a ride back with all our stuff leaving the canoes in the bush for pick up later. After checking in with the RCMP, we then attended our itinerant artist friend's art show in her rented apartment. We ran into Carmelle again and were invited to spend the night at the mission house with Carmelle and Sister Fay. We readily agreed since the wind was howling by this time and the rain was torrential. We enjoyed caribou stew and fabulous company. They were delightful hosts. Sister Fay, in particular, has such a diverse background and has seen a lot through her mission work in various communities across the north. She is such a positive and gracious person and so interested in everything around her. What a wonderful way to finish off our Tuk adventure.
The trip wasn't anything like what we thought when we first planned to go camping. It was more of a town trip where we met great people and had an infusion of culture; a concert, an art show and caribou stew. It's amazing what can happen when you leave yourself open to it.
We met Carmelle, assistant to Sister Fay of the Catholic Church who showed us around the chapel. We also met Martha, an artist from Toronto who wanted to paint the 'true' north. She had been in Dawson last year, but felt there were too many trees there for it to be the real thing. So she came out to try again. There were some local children who showed us the nests they made for robins to use. Never mind that it's already time for robins to be leaving. We also met Maureen who moved from Saskatchewan to teach in Tuk for a season - 30 years ago. We chatted with Laurie at the RCMP office who also came out for work and stayed - 20 years ago. What is the magic of Tuk that it caught people in its spell so they didn't want to leave?
We visited with the RCMP for a bit. The constables told us about a concert being held that night at the arena. So we also took in a country music concert by a band brought in from Manitoba. What are the chances of us landing in Tuk on probably the only day they've had a community concert in the past few years?! The locals were pretty friendly, welcomed us to Tuk and hoped we enjoyed our stay. The town could still use a coffee shop!
We paddled off the beach Friday morning and headed for the pingos, where we spent 2 nights. They are fascinating permafrost landforms only found in a few locations in the world. These ice-cored hills appear out of place on the otherwise flat and treeless tundra. We camped at the base of Ibyuk, the world's second tallest pingo, at 49m elevation and 300m across at the base. On Saturday we paddled around some of the neighbouring pingos and were dive bombed by outraged gulls. They seemed to take particular exception to Diane in the bow while I laughed at her from the stern. There was no wind on Saturday and the bugs were ferocious. We both retreated into our bug jackets and returned to camp late. There would be no relaxing outside.
When we returned to our campsite we saw that someone had a campfire at the base of the pingo and had left it burning. A campfire had burned out of control at Ibyuk a year ago causing damage and Parks Canada has been monitoring erosion and vegetation recovery at the site. However, our feelings of indignation soon dissipated when we found a jar of cranberry jam left on our stove at camp. What a pleasant surprise - how welcoming! All was forgiven, at least on our part, although I'm sure Parks Canada would not be impressed. Pingos are ecologically and environmentally sensitive. If the overlying vegetation is damaged, the ice is exposed directly to the sun accelerating pingo erosion, melt and collapse.
On Sunday, the winds picked up and we had to fight our way back to town. We didn't return via the coastal route because it was too stormy. Instead, we landed close to town and hitched a ride back with all our stuff leaving the canoes in the bush for pick up later. After checking in with the RCMP, we then attended our itinerant artist friend's art show in her rented apartment. We ran into Carmelle again and were invited to spend the night at the mission house with Carmelle and Sister Fay. We readily agreed since the wind was howling by this time and the rain was torrential. We enjoyed caribou stew and fabulous company. They were delightful hosts. Sister Fay, in particular, has such a diverse background and has seen a lot through her mission work in various communities across the north. She is such a positive and gracious person and so interested in everything around her. What a wonderful way to finish off our Tuk adventure.
The trip wasn't anything like what we thought when we first planned to go camping. It was more of a town trip where we met great people and had an infusion of culture; a concert, an art show and caribou stew. It's amazing what can happen when you leave yourself open to it.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
