Thursday, August 27, 2009
Sunday, August 23, 2009
South.
Today I begin my trip south, towards more familiar latitudes and shorter, warmer day.
"Whatever evaluation we finally make of a stretch of land, however, no matter how profound or accurate, we will find it inadequate. The land retains an identity of its own, still deeper and more subtle than we can know. Our obligation toward it then becomes simple: to approach with an uncalculating mind, with an attitude of regard. To try and sense the range and variety of its expression--its weather and colors and animals. To intend from the beginning to preserve some of the mystery within it as a kind of wisdom to be experienced, not questioned. And to be alert for its openings, for that moment when something sacred reveals itself within the mundane, and you know the land knows you are there." Barry Lopez, Arctic Dreams
"Whatever evaluation we finally make of a stretch of land, however, no matter how profound or accurate, we will find it inadequate. The land retains an identity of its own, still deeper and more subtle than we can know. Our obligation toward it then becomes simple: to approach with an uncalculating mind, with an attitude of regard. To try and sense the range and variety of its expression--its weather and colors and animals. To intend from the beginning to preserve some of the mystery within it as a kind of wisdom to be experienced, not questioned. And to be alert for its openings, for that moment when something sacred reveals itself within the mundane, and you know the land knows you are there." Barry Lopez, Arctic Dreams
Monday, August 17, 2009
Arctic Climate Change.
"I see all these changes and feel...depressed...worried about what will happen to my grandchildren."
These words were spoken by a Gwich'in elder at the start of Inuvik's youth summit on climate change. He is referring to environmental changes observed in his life time.
These words were spoken by a Gwich'in elder at the start of Inuvik's youth summit on climate change. He is referring to environmental changes observed in his life time.
Sunday, August 16, 2009
Mackenzie Mud.
Today was another rainy August day. The rain was not heavy—just a constant, dampening, gray drizzle. It was enough to saturate the ground and fill puddles and potholes. Puddles and potholes whose muddy waters flowed into one an other and formed miniature Mackenzie rivers. Pieces of litter—the ubiquitous cigarette butts and wrappers—sailed downstream between these tiny ponds, across the frozen ground, and into the east channel—the branch of the Mackenzie that flows past Inuvik.
In town the east channel is lined by banks of deep, slick mud. Mud that coats the hulls of boats and pulls unsuspecting boots deep into its clutches. Most boats along the shore are reached by balancing on long boards or pieces of driftwood, the boats are tied off to sticks driven deep into the dark mud. There are nearly no permanent docks—dramatic changes in ice and water levels constantly reshape the shoreline.
On one trip upstream I watched the shore—nearly four meters high—crumple into the river, carrying a decaying log cabin with it, while a newer camp further back in the woods kept watch.
Hidden in these banks are natural gas deposits and mammoth tusks, buried thousands of years ago by the rising mud of the river.
In town the east channel is lined by banks of deep, slick mud. Mud that coats the hulls of boats and pulls unsuspecting boots deep into its clutches. Most boats along the shore are reached by balancing on long boards or pieces of driftwood, the boats are tied off to sticks driven deep into the dark mud. There are nearly no permanent docks—dramatic changes in ice and water levels constantly reshape the shoreline.
On one trip upstream I watched the shore—nearly four meters high—crumple into the river, carrying a decaying log cabin with it, while a newer camp further back in the woods kept watch.
Hidden in these banks are natural gas deposits and mammoth tusks, buried thousands of years ago by the rising mud of the river.
Tuesday, August 11, 2009
Canadian Sporting Events.
Vancouver, British Columbia is hosting the 2010 Olympic Winter Games. This past weekend Inuvik hosted the 40th Annual Circumpolar games. There was no ski jumping or bobsledding, just a celebration of traditional skills from around the Arctic. There were contests in seal skinning and muktuk(whale meat) eating. Each night ended with drum dances that lasted long into the late evening light.
While watching some afternoon festivities I heard an announcement that there were still spots in the men's muskrat skinning event. I could hardly contain my excitement as a walked up to the stage to see if I could fill in as a last minute entry. I was welcomed with open arms, but warned that it could be dangerous, this event was highly competitive (an athlete in the women's competition had just been taken to the hospital for stitches--she returned in time for the seal skinning). After a quick tutorial on the best method for striping the fur off of these cute, very dead little animals I was off--armed with a very sharp knife, hammer(for mounting the skin to a piece of wood for drying), and the knowledge that Canadian health care would take care of me if my knife slipped. Nine minutes later I was done. I had not placed last--though the winner could have finished a half dozen skins in the time it took me to do one.
While watching some afternoon festivities I heard an announcement that there were still spots in the men's muskrat skinning event. I could hardly contain my excitement as a walked up to the stage to see if I could fill in as a last minute entry. I was welcomed with open arms, but warned that it could be dangerous, this event was highly competitive (an athlete in the women's competition had just been taken to the hospital for stitches--she returned in time for the seal skinning). After a quick tutorial on the best method for striping the fur off of these cute, very dead little animals I was off--armed with a very sharp knife, hammer(for mounting the skin to a piece of wood for drying), and the knowledge that Canadian health care would take care of me if my knife slipped. Nine minutes later I was done. I had not placed last--though the winner could have finished a half dozen skins in the time it took me to do one.
Sunday, August 9, 2009
Fish Camp.
South along the east branch of the Mackenzie there are camps scattered along the high, muddy banks. Many were built over or around sites where people once lived off the land--fishing for winter stores and trapping for the fur trade.
Now they serve as places to escape the "big city" pace of Inuvik, as bases for hunting and fishing trips, destinations for winter ski-doo rides, and homes for some of the last old time bushmen. These individuals still live off of fishing, hunting, and trapping. They are at home anywhere in the delta.
This week I stayed and worked at one of these bush camps. John, Alice, and Robert--the kind people who took me into their home--maintain the traditions of their Gwich'in ancestors who would fish the same eddy each summer--gathering enough dry fish to last them and their dog teams through until spring.
Now they serve as places to escape the "big city" pace of Inuvik, as bases for hunting and fishing trips, destinations for winter ski-doo rides, and homes for some of the last old time bushmen. These individuals still live off of fishing, hunting, and trapping. They are at home anywhere in the delta.
This week I stayed and worked at one of these bush camps. John, Alice, and Robert--the kind people who took me into their home--maintain the traditions of their Gwich'in ancestors who would fish the same eddy each summer--gathering enough dry fish to last them and their dog teams through until spring.
Saturday, August 1, 2009
Rainy Saturday.
Today's cool rain is a reminder that with the coming of August the arctic summer is nearing an end. Each night the twilight gains another eight minutes.
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