Twilight

The mystical twilight over a forzen lake

I have been waiting for this, the sunless winter period, ever since landing here in Cambridge Bay and it finally arrived on December first. We have been losing about 30 minutes of daylight everyday, but it was surreal to experience the complete twilight for the first time. I remember going out on both days, the last day of so called daylight and the first day without a sunrise, to see what was the difference. Of course it wasn't that big of a difference in terms of the amount of light one would experience. But it was nice to see that here, at latitude 69, we get enough period of twilight to get out and do things. I am sure this period of twilight would be much shorter as one moves up further north.

Sun at high noon, towards the end of November

So another one of my naive misconceptions has been shattered, but this time for the better. I really was dreading spending the entire 6 weeks of so called dark period in the town, and not venturing out. But as it turned out, I have at least a window of about three hours, roughly between 11am-2pm, of twilight to spend it out on the tundra. 

Dogs tied on the tundra; real tough life for such tough animals!

In early November things were still pretty bright and relatively warm. I remember taking my newly bought/fixed ice chisel to a nearby lake for a tryout. I walked for two hours, carrying a backpack, shotgun, and the chisel to get to the lake. It was about -35 with the windchill. So the walk was a welcome relief from the cold. 

My attempt at fishing, in mid November

I started chipping at the ice, and to my astonishment, managed to punch a hole about 8 inches in diameter in about 15-20 minutes time. The lake ice was about 18-20 inches thick. I now know what difference a sharp new chisel can make. I remember well, trying for an hour to punch a hole in a lake ice with a dull chisel in Whale Cove last spring and getting nowhere. 

15 minutes of fishing, and not surprisingly nothing to show for

It felt good accomplishing the second stage of the day's chore so quickly. Now it was the third and toughest of the whole thing, actually catching a fish. I soon realized how cold the day really was. As I started to prepare the hook and the line, my hands were almost numb with the wind. It makes such a huge difference, the wind. I only managed to fish for 15 minutes before giving up. I wonder what would have I done, had my life depended on actually catching a fish. Perhaps one day I'll find out. But until then, I'll take warmth over food any day. So I started to pack my stuff and head back to the town.

Mid November when the sun was still around, all be it very low in the sky

On my way back I was startled by large flock of ptarmigans taking off a few feet from me just up the river bank. I always carry my shotgun for occasions just like this. But that day my hands were still freezing from the futile fishing attempt. I followed the birds and got within 40-50 meteres of them. I wasn't sure whether to shoot them with the camera or the gun. I managed neither. I was carrying the 9-foot long chisel and had the backpack, shot gun and the camera around my neck. It is easier said than done, but by the time I managed to take the gun, backpack, and the camera off my shoulder respectively, the birds were up in the air again. Perhaps I could have just focused on hunting rather than snapping photos first, then hunting. 

A ptarmigan I actually managed to catch. 

I was also greedy, thinking I could round them up and get as many as possible with a single shot. But of course greed doesn't pay, and ended up regretting my decision. They flew just about 300 metres away on the opposite direction to which I was going, as if to tease me further. It was getting dark, and once again I wasn't prepared to sacrifice warmth for food.

Trying to catch as many shots of the bright shinny ball before it disappeared for the year. 

The twilight and in general tundra with its complete white background plays trick with one's vision. There were countless times when I thought I had seen things, like caribous or muskox, only to realize they were just inuksuks or rocks that appeared to be moving. On the tundra you think you can see for miles, but in reality you only get the illusion of seeing. You only get rough shadows or silhouettes of objects. 

An inuksuk in the distance under the twilight

The inuksuks are marvelous landmarks, as you can notice them for miles and miles. If you knew from before where roughly they are in relation with other inuksuks, you'll never get lost. That is if you are a local person or if you have lived here for a while. But they also play tricks with your senses. Many times I could have sworn that I had seen people or other living things walking towards me or parallel to my path, but only to stop, wait, and see them motionless as well. 

More of the low flying sun during late November

Another factor is of course the low light of the twilight and its combination with both frozen crystals in the air as well as frost on the eyelashes. Combine the three, and you'll really have a hard time of actually seeing anything. Rocks appear to be moving, and snow covered rock appears like stealthy arctic hare, a bare large rock may seem like a cabin,... I did bring a fine pair of binoculars with me, but I rarely take it out on the tundra with me. First I don't want to carry any more weight than I am already carrying, secondly on most days I find it too cold to have my hands out of the warm mitts for too long. Snapping photos are already long enough on most days. So I do get to miss lots when out there. The frost on the eyelashes can be easily removed by using your fingers to slowly melt, and slide them off. 

A nice walk in late December. That day was actually comfortable, no wind!

Hearing is another sense that is of little reliability when out on the tundra. As you walk on the snow, the crunching sound is so loud that you miss out most other sounds. I sometime have to stop in order to hear things, or to listen for a sound. Foxes can be very vocal, but everytime I thought I heard them and stopped to look for them, they would stop calling. And of course I could never tell whether the white shadow I see from the direction of the sound is a fox or another snow covered rock! As loud as the walk on the tundra is, walking on the frozen lakes are almost dead silent. I sometimes take longer routes, walking on lakes, just to get a break from the sound of the crunching snow. The newly bought -100 degrees celsius boots have soles like crampons which make walking on ice a pleasure.

Lake ice with lots of trapped snow bubbles!

Another thing I sometime take for granted and pay for it dearly is properly judging how much and what to wear when heading out. There were times when I wore my heavy duty winter parka along with down pants, winter boots, and natural skin mitts, and be comfortable for the entire day, only to forget how cold it really was. Then the next day or week, I wear the slightly less winter proof gear and live to regret it for the entire time out. How I know this? Well if I am thinking about the beauty of the surrounding, or of fish, or wild games, then I am warm and comfortable. But I forget that all of those sweet thoughts were the result of being warm, which was due to the heavy duty winter gear. When not warm, all I can think of is keeping my toes, fingers, and face from freezing, so out goes any other thoughts in my head, except for one: And that is how those poor, arrogant, and ignorant early European explorers must have suffered!

A dead raven 

I am reading a book on early arctic explorers, The Arctic Grail, and am astonished how they suffered. How generations of European explorers failed to learn from the Inuits. I can't even begin to imagine how cold and miserable it must have felt wearing 19th. century european cloths, gloves and boots, while trapped for months and years in the arctic. While walking on the tundra I often wonder what it felt like knowing you needed to walk for days, weeks and months on the ice carrying huge sleds, and not even knowing whether you were going to get where you wanted to go. Or in most cases not even knowing where to go. The simple thought of getting up one day, hungry, cold, tired, and yet embarking on a few hundred miles journey into the unknown. Wow!

Tallest plants around, in fact the only place I have seen plants this tall, about 2 feet.

I am finding it a good read, but this is not the best book I have read about the arctic. That one has to be the Arctic Dreams, which a good friend of mine gifted to me to read over a year ago. Whereas The Arctic Grail chronicles the struggle to discover the northwest passage and the race to the north pole, focusing on the motives, means and struggles of the explorers and the people behind them, Arctic Dreams portrays the entire phenomon of the Arctic. It does a great job of exploring the holistic experience of the arctic; ice, light, cold, exploration, animals, plants, and most importantly its people. I think of myself very new to this whole arctic experience, and am keen to learn about more books, and more importantly learn from the true masters of this landscape, my Inuit friends.

My Christmas turkey!

My attempt at catching the northern light right in the town and without the use of a tripod. You can see the light just above the houses

A nice and comfortable walk under the twilight.

Another shot of the twilight.

P.S. I feel about the twilight here in Cambridge Bay the same way I did about the floe edge in Whale Cove!

Cloudy Skies

View of the bridge on one of my walks back to town  

I wouldn't have believed it if someone had told me I'd be experiencing less sunshine in Cambridge Bay than in Vancouver. But sadly enough, for me, that is so true. I wont be exaggerating if I had said we had no more than 10 sunny days for the last 75 days that I have been here in Cambridge Bay. I was so counting on sunshine that I made sure to go and get two extra pairs of sunglasses on my last day before leaving Vancouver. Soon I wouldn't be cmplaining about cloudy skies any more as there wont be daylight starting the end of November. In fact today's sunrise was 8:56 and sunset 2:51pm. In about three weeks time sun will set, and wont rise again for a very very long time.

One of my catches during ice fishing; a lake trout

So shortage of daylight has seriously dented my chances of getting out after work these days. I have been spending way more time at work than I really should be. I do however make sure to get out on the weekends to enjoy the beautiful, crisp, and cold tundra and the frozen river and lakes. In early to mid October I used the ATV that had bought, sadly a bit too late in the season than I would have wanted to, to get out to surrounding lakes to try ice fishing. There are lakes all over the place, but only some are accessible by trails that are still drivable using an ATV. So I pack a shovel, an ice chisel, hot coffe and some snacks to go out on the tundra. Surprisingly I haven't found it cold enough to use my "A" winter gear yet. I still haven't used my heavy parka nor have I tried the beaver mitts. My newly bought -100 degrees Celsius winter boots are still in its original box.

Coffee and cookies to keep warm

That doesn't mean that I am learning to become more cold tolerant though, as I see elders driving snowmobiles and ATV's with just a pair of simple work gloves. I couldn't get by with those even in Vancouver. But it does feel better knowing that I can head out without wearing too many layers. I get to feel more mobile and agile! As for fishing itself, I still don't have much to show for other than an odd lake trout once in a while. The ice is only about a foot thick now, so it is not too difficult to chip a hole wide enough to pull a decent sized fish out of the lake. It takes me about 20 minutes to half an hour to punch one hole. But I often make three to four holes to try my luck at different spots. Sometime I just do it to stay warm, hence more comfortable.

A giant lake trout one of my local friends caught with his net

The ice and the lake water is so clear that you can actually see the fish circling the lure or just curiously swiming by it. Just to see them under the ice makes it that much more satisfying and rewarding being out there. In shallower sections you get to see red chars, chars during spawning season, and lake trouts. Unfortunately chars still don't bite, but luckily trouts do. Some trouts can get huge, although the large ones tend to stay in deeper water. I have seen trouts that were about 20 pounds, but couldn't manage to ctach them. I am still resisting using bait to make the lures more enticing. But pretty soon may have to, as my fish stock is declining fast.

Learning how to make fish net. I am proud of my latest acquired skill!

The calrity of the ice also makes it quite sacry to drive or even walk on. I remember on my first weekend driving out looking for a spot to fish, I noticed a few people out on the other side of the lake about five kilometres away. I decided to drive down to the lake and see if I could join them. As soon as I hit the ice I was freightened by the clarity and thickness of the ice. It literary felt like I was on the water. I tried my best to drive back to the safety of the shore, but it wasn't easy, as I kept sliding all over the place without any control over the ATV. I finally made it back to the shore. Luckily one of those out on the ice was making his way back to town. He stopped and gave me a few pointers on how to get there, mainly by driving just off the shore following the lake's perimeter to get where the others were. I did somehow made it there, but there were times that I would just close my eyes and hope for the best. I could not believe that I was actually driving on glass like ice where you could see rocks and everything else beneath the ice so vividly. The ice was about 4 inches thick. For the return trip I made sure to follow one of the ATVs back to the trail.

A walk on the frozen tundra and the river

I see arctic hares quite regularly, especially with all the fresh snow we are getting these days. It is easy to follow their tracks and sure enough see them doing their best to stand still. Once they think you are not close enough they start to run, but stop a few seconds later to see your reaction. If they decide you are not an immediate threat, they'll sit still and watch your moves. Once you walk away, they go about doing their thing, usually grazing on whatever they can find. I also see ptarmigans more, again thanks to the snow on the ground. They are amazing birds. Impossible to spot, even with their tracks betraying them. But once you spot them, and they don't find you a threat, they pretend you don't exist and continue feeding as if you are not even there. I once had them just a few meters from where I was standing.

A pair of rock ptarmigans

But other than hares and ptarmigans, I havn't had much luck seeing any other forms of wildlife. I hear wolves are around all the time, even in the town, but haven't had an encounter yet. I really hope to see some, but know how difficult it can be to see them close enough in order to snap a photo. Also with the dwindling number of available daylight hours, my chances of seeing them are shrinking rapidly. Last Sunday I left home around 11am and was back by 3pm.

Maud, frozen in Cambridge Bay for one last winter

This weekend it will be even shorter. Today we are experiencing a blizzard, so school was closed. It was physically impossible to get out of the apartment. I opened the first door, from the inside, and saw about 2 inches of snow in the porch somehow forcing its way through the main exterior door. It is still going on, but hopefully it will lose its punch by tomorrow, so I can head out and see the landscape after a major storm.

View of the town from across the bay

It is always refreshing to see how the wind reshapes the entire tundra in just a few hours time. It'll create dunes, valleys, hills, and little mountians where you could never have imagined. But it also makes it a bit harder to walk, as you can not be sure which snow is hard enough to walk on and where you might sink, sometime to above the waist. But it will be fun nonetheless. The main problem is that  taking the ATV is out of the question. So that means less distance I can cover this weekend. But knowing there are only three more weekends before the darkness, I hope to get out as much as possible before packing it in for the next few months.

Sled dogs across the bay from the town

School work is going good as usual. In October we took 8 kids for the territorial table tennis championship in Iqaluit. It was a fun few days. Kids had lots of fun playnig table tennis, and making new friends from all over this vast territory. On our way back we had to saty in Yellowknife, due to blizzard, so I got to see Yellowknife as well. Surprisingly it is a nicely designed and structured town. I am much more impressed with Yelloknife than I am with Iqaluit. Where Iqaluit looks like a wasteland of metals and concrete, Yellowknife has a soul, which hopefully I get to explore more on my future stops.

Some of the sights I come across during my weekend walks

Other than that we also invited a few elders to come and teach one of our classes how to make a fish net, and use it out on a lake. We have got the net making and camp setting part pretty well, but unfortunately no luck with trying them out on a lake. Both of our scheduled days were cancelled because of blizzard. We have scheduled it for later this month. Perhaps we get lucky third time around. I can easily see how fun it would be sitting in a cabin, drinking hot tea or coffee while making nets for those long dark winter nights.

Inuskuk our class built during a school outing

On a couple of my fishing outings I was invited to local friends cabins. I got to hear amazing stories of traveling hundreds, sometimes thousands of kilometres with dog teams for months at a time. I started wondering what it might be like going on one of those journies with these guys. I was told there might be a chance that I could find some locals doing a weeklong hunting trip with snowmobiles next spring. I just have to keep my ears open in case that happens around our spring break in early April. But then again, everything really depends on the weather in the arctic, and you can't really plan anything that far ahead.

Iqaluit's most famous monument

Yellowknife airport

Our school's hallway

Old Hudson Bay storage in Iqaluit

Flowing river, this was in Iqaluit

Introduction

Cambridge Bay out in the distance

Well, it has been exactly four weeks since I have arrived here in Cambridge Bay, Nunavut. A northern town of about 1700 people, although this number is rapidly increasing due to numerous projects that are undergoing up here. The twon is located at latitude 69 degrees north and longitude 105 degrees west, which makes it about 800km north of where I was last year, Whale Cove, and one hour of time zone closer to Vancouver. So this latest setting is well above the Arctic Circle, meaning I will get to experience complete darkness in winter and 24 hours of daylight in June. 

My new residence, a newly built 10plex. I live in the top left unit

When I first arrived here in mid August I had difficulty sleeping at nights, but that problem has long been forgotten, as the days got shorter and shorter by roughly about 10 minutes per day. Today's sunset was 7:33, and tomorrow's is going to be 7:28. Soon it will be the complete darkness that may play havoc to my normal daily routines. I haven't really done much of what I used to do in Whale Cove. I spent some time early in the year to organize and catch up with work, which sort of stopped me from doing more of what I was hoping to do. I do however still go for walks, runs, and ocassional attempt at fishing after work.

One of my favourite spots on the tundra, a shallow creek about 45 mins walk from my place

Work has been really kind to me so far. Although yet again I am teaching completely new courses, I find it much easier than anywhere else I have worked so far. I have been assigned to teach accademic science 10, chemistry 11, as well as PE 10-12. I have about 10 students in Sc10 and Chem11 classes, and 20 for my PE class. Most of my students are very polite and eager to learn, which makes my working life so much easier. The PE class was a challenge in the beginning, it is always difficult to get a group of 20 teenagers to take part in activities that they may not find appealing to them. But that has been sorted out with some variety and clarification on some of my expectations. We all get to enjoy the PE sessions. We even managed to go for a run the other day. Hopefully I can get some of them ready for the Terry Fox run on Friday afternoon, a return trip of roughly about 6km. 

Kiilinik high school. This is where I work

The bridge, you can see the cemetery in the back ground.

As with other places, I have gotten involved with the after school activities now that days are considerably shorter. Once again I am helping out with Ping Pong, and Soccer. Our school has a good girl's soccer program and as soon as they heard I liked soccer, the players asked me to run organized practice sessions. We have had a few sessions already, and I am very impressed with their skill and athletism. I am sure we can challenge some much larger communities in upcoming competition. Who knows, they may even challenge for the territorial championship. As for Ping Pong, the interest is not as much it was in Whale Cove. We have three nice tables, and about 18 kids who take part in training for the mid October competition in Iqaluit. Last year's competion was great, and I hope this year kids will have even more fun. Sadly, I must mention that one of my most skilled Ping Pong players from Whale Cove had drowned over the summer. It will be difficult to go to the competition and not see him there. He was such a great young man, so into making friends and playing Ping Pong.

A central road in Cambrideg Bay. No more dust, as roads are freezing already!

After school fishing and hunting outings haven't been as fruitful as I was hoping either. I was expecting to have my freezer filled with fish and geese/ducks by now. But have not much to show for other than a Greenland cod, a lake char, a lake trout, and a Canada goose. To be fair, there weren't many geese up here, and those that were around, were too close to town to shoot. The fish, especially chars are very hard to catch also. When I started fishing for them, they were heading up river to the lake for the winter, and would not bite. The lake itself is about 2 hours walk from the town. It is very large, but shallow from from the shore. Could not find a place where it would be deep enough off a rock or a sharp drop off. Hence caught only one lake trout and a char!

My one and only lake trout of the high arctic

I am not posting a photo of the char, as it was not worth showing it off. Fisherman's pride, eh! While fishing for chars in the bay, before they headed up river, I did manage to catch a Greenland cod. It is a good fish for fish and chips, I suppose, but not high on my or anyone's list of fish to eat up here. I fillet and fried it fresh. It was very white and flakey, but with little taste. I enjoyed eating it with the help of some spices and of course fresh lime.  

Greenland cod

So the lack of protein from the water or sky forced me to try arctic hare for a change. There are lots around here, but you need to get lucky in order to spot one. They usually move about in the evenings and at nights, so unless you walk right by them, you wont have a chance of spotting one. I caught, the term used by inuits for things they hunt, one on my second weekend here and another about a week ago. They are pretty large; the first one I caught was about 10 pounds or more. And they taste good as well. I saw two of them while retrieving a goos I had shot, I guess they were spooked by the sound of the gun, but decided against catching them. I promised only hunt more hares when I am absolutely desperate for variety in my protein diet.

Cleaning the arctic hare. It was all white, winter can't be far off now!

My one and only Canada goose of the high arctic

As for camping and outdoor activities of worth writing about, only one so far. I along with two other colleagues headed out for a two-hour drive to a place called Starvation cove. We were lucky to be able to drive our ATV's on the shore all the way to our destination. It can get tricky at times, as the tide may make it difficult to get there on most days. It was such a beautiful and relatively easy drive.

Our highway to Starvation cove

The place is known for red coloured rocks, and of course fishing, ironic considering it is called Starvation cove! The rocks were there, but no luck with fish, as locals had correctly informed me of earlier. All the chars were already swimming up river to their winter lakes. So I didn't catch any fish. There were only two or three flocks of geese that showed up in the area, but none close enough to get a shot at. The view however was amazing. We set up camp right on the beach. 

Our tents on the beach at Starvation cove

We parked our ATV's to surround our tent on three sides for a bit of protection from tundra grizzlies. We did store our food about a hundred metres away, but again you can never be too careful when out in the wild. Unlike coastal grizzlies, their tundra cousins have a more aggressive reputation. I guess it all has to do with scarcity of food up here. I am told they do hunt caribous regularly, so that makes them a bit more dangerous. Locals warn me of wolves and tundra grizzlies. Although I have yet to see either, I have seen wolf tracks all over the tundra when I am out and about. But strangely enough on my first day, in fact my first hour up here, I was lucky enough to see a magnificent muskox. 

Heading back from Starvation cove

I was out on a drive with our kind vice principal, principal, and another teacher to get a tour of the area when I suddenly spotted it right on top of a mount by the bridge. It was a lone male, perhaps a dominant male that had been dethroned by another bull. It was just walking down the hill to the shallow creek for some fresh grass. I was hoping that would be sign of things to come, but was reminded that this was a rare occurrence. This was the first time in two years since there was a muskox so close to town. However I was told that there will be plenty of caribous and muskox later in the fall, but of course not so close to town. I'll have to ask around as to when and where caribous are spotted, so I can catch one for the long winter ahead. As I know I wont be able to catch anything when it is too cold. I don't feel ready for hunting in arctic winter just yet, perhaps with a few more years under my belt.  

Frozen rock in early September

I have decided to venture out on weekends for as long as I can survive the cold. This afternoon I headed out despite the 30km/hr wind and -3 temperature which the wind made it feel much colder. It took me two hours to walk to the lake. I fished at different spots for about an hour, lost two expensive lures, and then walked for two hours back. The wind made it very difficult to cast, and not to forget, very cold. On the way back I decided to follow a different path that took me to the creek. I was surprised to see it completely frozen, but then again it made the crossing a bit easier.

Frozen creek, September

Windy and cold day out on the tundra. Look at the tire swinging so high!

The tundra was quiet, except for the howling wind. No more geese, ducks, swans, cranes. No birds but some seagulls, snow birds, and of course the Ravens. Seagulls and snow birds will be gone soon as well, but the ravens are here for the winter. Incredible! I always find it sad when the hustle and bustle of migrating birds ends. And very warming when they return in spring.

My toys out on the tundra

So what is my over all impression of Cambridge Bay? Although still early, I find it less authentic and genuine than Whale Cove. Here is a place that is in a hurry to become a big town. There are many non-inuits up here (like me) which may eventually make it like any other booming northern destination. Something which I hope doesn't happen anytime soon. There are lots of businesses up here that are owned and operated by southerners. The best analogy for me would be comparing it to a northern town in the midst of a gold rush of a centry ago. Many are here to get rich in a hurry! 

Ice and snow in August. That snow survived the 24 hour daylight all through spring and summer, amazing!

You may wave at cars and ATV's without getting a wave back. It makes sense, as there are lots of new faces arriving everyday. I have no doubt that once I reach out and make more local friends, I would find it somewhat similar to Whale Cove. I have found all inuits very welcoming and generous with their friendship once they realize that my motives are not same as that of many other southerners who come up to their towns. If you embrace their way of life, if you show interest in learning their rich culture, then you'll have the most amazing experience. Something which I intent to and look forward to. Quana!

Me in my elements!