Nice Rack!

I named him Carl, our only frequent visitor and temporary camp mascot. He and or another caribou that looked liked him spent about 3 days here lounging and getting fat off of the abundance of the bushy goodness we have surrounding the camp. Depending upon the duration of the project and the frequency of floatplane flights in the region, Carl could have been called upon to be more than just a mascot.


This morning we had our first frost, as well as signaling the end of bug season when coupled with the rapidly changing colours of the tundra it foretells the inevitable onset of winter. Summer is known to have a rather short duration north of 60º, but autumn’s visit is even shorter.


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For all intents and purposes this is a pretty sweet gig I find myself attached to, the smallest camp I have ever had the pleasure to keep running in the arctic. There are a whole 5 of us out here: The cook, pilot, 2 geologists and myself. Everybody’s job is pretty much self-explanatory. The geo’s and the pilot head out to some un-disclosed location in the field every morning to run around consulting old maps and sampling locations while hopefully coming across new discoveries, then return to the camp late in the afternoon. The cook feeds everybody and I keep the lights on, the water running and the tents warm, I rely a fair amount upon combustible fluids and lucky for me there is no shortage of those here. But the daily thrill of setting the garbage alight with an otherwise apocalyptic blaze does not last long. The tents require little fuel and due to our very limited numbers the water pump sees limited action as well. Until the numbers swell to 10+ people the fuel supply will hardly appear to have been touched.

There is safety in numbers here: 3 out in the field, 2 back here in camp. It is grizzly country here and as such no one gets left or travels alone. Walking trips from home base are few and not very long in neither distance nor duration. The dense bush that our caribou friend was so fond of surrounds us here and is in places over the head of the average adult and thus provides perfect cover for any inhabitant with a more varied pallet than Carl. Preparations for a short walk are nothing sort of comical. Bring shotgun and ammunition. Familiarize oneself with the operation, when familiar split between both persons and stick close together in case a moment requires the former for the latter… Or is it the latter for the former. Regardless the likelihood of accidental shootings are lessened and the likely hood that the firearm will be used as club are heightened… Safety first! The end result is a short walk and needed escape from the confines of our current Arctic abode.


The days left here are short, budgetary constraints being a prime concern and the wrath of Mother Nature another. Carl aside, not to mention his dead friend, the wildlife here has not been terribly abundant and the sic-sics that had been causing us trouble in camp are eerily quite and likely preparing for a long winter themselves. Loons fly by occasionally and it can’t be too long before the geese make their way south at all hours of the day and night. If one is awoken form their evening slumber by the sounds of these southbound travelers, it is safe bet that you have been here too long regardless of how early the field season began.

The irony about this “exploration” job I currently find myself at is that just over two weeks ago with a few friends I managed to travel 60 plus kilometers over two mountain passes with little holding us back yet here with few topographical impediments we are hemmed in by what we cannot see, perceived or otherwise.