What the hell were we thinking?

Oops...


Has a sober person ever held a 40oz bottle of Mexican death hootch and said I think that it would be a good idea to consume you in entirety?

I believe I know what the answer is…Needless to say it was an awful morning.

Just because more people are leaving camp it is not a good idea to break out the tequila.

After the champagne…

and the beer…

and the martini…

and more beer.

Three planes today. Float planes. Last month I built a fabulous dock for it. I was hung over then too. Thankfully we are having a crew change on the float plane because the last guy sucked. We haven’t used the dock once in the last 4 flights. In fact I just kept wading back and forth within 5 feet of my lovely dock but not on it. Yesterday was a laugh riot. Windy like you wouldn’t believe…and cold too. Float plane came and tried to dock but couldn’t. It rolled out 6 barrels of fuel and then left.

Too rough.




I spent 20 minutes up to my waist in freezing cold water. I even had the man killers on but they didn’t really help much as they only go half way up my thighs. The water was warm on the inside of the boots though. As for the top half, let’s just say that it took near 24 hours for my testicles to descend into their rightful position.

That waters cold!

Today almost no wind, should have been a cinch to cozy in tight to the dock…

We get a better pilot later today.

I am tired of getting wet.

The Chip Light

Full speed ahead


Damn is it slow here.

It would appear that I have finally got this place running like a clock. Now we have fewer campers on sight, less field work and too many people doing my job. It’s one thing for me to appear that I am a busy little beaver while truthfully I find myself constantly wavering on how I will configure that new laptop I covet. But trying to manage the least self motivated, constantly looking for a companion on the internet, having worked on this project for 3 months-1 month more than I have-and still has no idea of what to do with himself everyday, makes my job doubly difficult.

“What’s priority today?”

“Same as always Willie” (not his real name, he prefers William)

“What’s that?”

“Heat, Light, Water, Shit and Garbage.”

“Oh..OK”

Day in Day out the same query, One of these days it is going to sink in and it will probably be the day he sets the garbage on fire in his Winnipeg apartment all the while running a hose up three flights of stairs to fill the bathtub wondering how he is going to flush the toilet into a big black plastic bag.

Poor bastard!

So how does one keep the one community worker in camp busy? Menial labour. Tell the guy if he wants he can move 8 pallets of 50lb salt bags from one side of camp to the other. I told him to take his time and that he could use the quad. It didn’t take him too long to complete that task. I had this brilliant idea of drinking all the booze in camp and having a house wrecker party so as Willie and I would have something to do the next day but we haven’t had a plane in almost a week and there is no booze!
Now I am thinking about having him move the drill steel from one side of camp to the other and then tomorrow changing my mind.

As for myself. I have had a bit of secretarial duties to perform as well as constantly hassleing our fixed wing charter provider.

“When do we get any of the planes that we booked last week?!”

"The food that was supposed to come up on that Friday flight we had reserved is currently rotting at our expeditors warehouse, Are you going to pay to resupply us if and when you actually send the plane?”

“We have a sample pile here that is quickly becoming the highest piece of topography in the eastern arctic”

“Our helicopters don’t run on hydrogen power yet!”

More on that one in a bit…

I just can’t wait until they send the invoices and start wondering how come we haven’t paid.

“Sorry, the check went out on the flight to Hayes camp. It will be overnighting there for the weekend.”

“Sorry, airmail had a mechanical, maybe tomorrow.”

“Oh there was a whole bunch of oversized mail stuck at the post office and we had to go rescue it.”

“Stamp emergency in Baker Lake.”

Bastards! It’s not so much that I am worried about getting fuel for the helicopters, sending the sample mountain south or the rotting food in the warehouse. No, I got two flats of Trad sitting somewhere in Rankin and I think in the alcohol starved north that the locals may be able to sniff it out.

Speaking of Jet fuel:

So yesterday I got to go on an adventure. I was asked if I would mind going out to do a little prospecting. I jumped, no, leaped at the opportunity to escape! The plan was to put down at a couple rather nice looking indicator occurrences and just look around for kimberlite or anything that may explain what we were seeing on various geochem/geophysical result maps. The work primarily entails walking around with your head down, turning over a few rocks and bashing them up and observing whether or not they are the mineral we are looking for. A great excuse to plug into the little music box and wield a heavy hand.

It also gave me the opportunity to take one of the helicopters a little ways to the northwest and clean up a couple of fuel caches. The idea was to transfer all of the empty barrels to a location that at float plane could gather them along with the accumulated samples.

So everything was progressing along smoothly until we got close to the seconds site and realized that we weren’t going to have enough fuel to move everything in one shot. So we punched off the load and made our way back to camp for a fill up. It wasn’t until the waypoint was plugged into the GPS that we realized the gravity of the situation. 20 minutes to camp and only 15minutes of useable fuel. No problem. We’ll just put down and call camp on the sat phone.

Problem. After an hour of walking around and bashing rocks we left the helicopters sat phone with the remaining prospecting crew as they neglected to bring one of there own. No Problem. We’ll just call camp on the radio.

Problem. It’s lunchtime and no-one is answering the radio in the office. Call again, no reply, climb higher, call again. Reply! Hurray. Relay current situation…then the chip light starts to flash.

“Low fuel”



Pilot manages to dictate last known position and just before we land he tells me that they were only approximate co-ordinates. So a bit of headshaking and the odd “this has never happened to me before” ensues for the next hour or so. We make a stack of rocks and throw rocks at this stack. He has another cigarette, the odd photo is taken and eventually the other machine arrives, with everybody in camp that could fit into it seemed. They were going to enjoy this moment. Soon enough we had enough fuel on board to get us to camp where we would top it right up and grab another sat phone for one of those just in case moments.

Gas N Go!


The barrels eventually ended up where they were supposed to and we got back to the prospecting only two hours late. I spent the next couple of hours getting’ my groove on and knocking on rocks. No luck on the kimberlite but I did make one startling discovery. Red leaves on the sparse ground cover. The first sign of fall…Last night our weather went for a shit and today was a movie day.

Summer can’t be over yet…Can it?

Seal Balls

Again it has been long time since I last updated the goings on of ultra rural life. Not much has happened that is worth bitching about. And what is the point of a blog if not to complain? Today I had planned on typing up a little blurb about the joy of the departing drill crew. But that will have to wait until tomorrow...or the next day, but thanks to Sister Sarah I got myself a honest to goodness rant prepared for you today.

Sister Sarah has brought to my attention this little site about how to kill polar bears without a rifle. I suggest opening that site in another tab using Firefox or Safari , so you all can follow along. I feel the need to address the issue for all the molly coddled city dwellers and “ bloody foreign treehuggers from the UK”. Who I assume are rather quite charming but misinformed. I will bring to the fore many points with regards to the rifle-less camp defending method.

- Seals don’t swim in fresh water.
- Human beings cannot survive on salt water without some serious desalination.
So our camps are built in-land.
- Given the choice between prime rib, Thai/Indian curry or seal. I know which one I would eat.
-I am not going to sit motionless on the ice…its fucking cold when the lakes are frozen! And real fucking cold when the ocean is frozen!
-There isn’t a lot of wood up here to make a fire.

The most contentious point: Waiting for the Polar Bear

We don’t want to wait for the polar bear. We don’t want the polar bear. We are lower on the food chain than the polar bear. And yes the dogs will notify you that the polar bear is nigh but then there will be silence because the dog team is all tied up so they don’t run away and therefore easy pickins’.

My favourite part. After the belly is poked: “Track the bear with the dog team until you find its carcass. This may take up to a week.”

After a couple of appetizing seal balls, one week leaves plenty of time to snack on the rest of the camp and campers! Thankfully I know how to fly so I am out fast if one of the pilots becomes a main course.

Sure the big white-and now red-bastard may have a little upset tummy cuz of the ribs poking through his intestines, but he is just going to chalk that one up to heartburn! He may not eat for another week regardless of the fatal seal balls but if there is food about he/she is surely going to dine until he/she goes into that great beyond. And I sure hope that I am not on the menu.

And finally: The Traditional Inuit Method.

Ha ha ha!!!

That’s the best line I’ve heard all week! Todays traditional methods don’t involve dog teams, harpoons or seal balls. Horsepower(wheels or skis) large calibre firearms and lead is more like it.

The last words from our Inuit bear watcher today was; “Just wait till you see the gun I am going bring back after my break!”

Essentially the traditional methods have gone the way of the Dodo and efficiency is key. The Inuit get cold too. We are not out here to make friends, resource extraction is our mission and damned be the big white bastard that gets in our way or cookshack.

And if you got a problem with resource extraction…

So should you feel the need to be more sporting while defending your property have a ball. Just not a frozen seal ball, they’ll kill you.

Air Rage

Well here I am again. You would not believe what I returned to in Rankin and then camp itself. Wind and lots of it. Who would have guessed? It would only get worse as the night progressed, but I will get into that later.

I just love travelling. Waking up early, last minute packing, the ride in the taxi that smells worse than the Pacto I will be dealing with when I get to camp and then there is the airport itself.

What a day. First off was of course the obligatory travel headache generated the night before and then the crippling gas also a result of the same evening. Upon arriving at the airport the cabbie screwed up with the visa machine not once, twice or three times but the fourth time with a Master Card he managed to figure it out. I am checking my account on an hourly basis to be sure that I am not going to be charged all four times.

So then when I enter the domestic building it is over stuffed awith people and there seems to be more chaos than normal. Lines going every which way but not to a wicket of any kind. Then when I finally figure out the best way to deal with mess is to just point and shoot my way to the shortest actual check-in I am stuck behind the family of five with four bags each, no boarding passes and no intention of giving up their spot to someone-me- who does until wife/mom figures out how the express check in works. Then they have no picture ID for any of the kids over 16. More chaos ensues.

So the guy behind me asks. ”When’s your flight sir? Because mine’s in 15 minutes”

“9:00, sure go ahead.” So then the guy scans his boarding pass at a blocked-read don’t use me please- baggage tag scanner and procedes to crash the computer.” 15 minutes later, thankfully security was a cake walk, I am sitting down for a quick bite to eat.

Now my flight has been delayed from Edmonton. No big deal I got 40 spare minutes in Calgary. Well wouldn’t you know it 40 minutes late we finally begin to make our way to the taxiway. The flight itself was uneventful but of course something was bound to go wrong: “Ladies and gentlemen, sorry for the delay but we can’t shut down our left engine until we have auxiliary power and as a result we can’t disembark the plane until the engine is shut down. We have informed all connecting flights.”

So now I am waiting and I really got to have a leak…so when we are finally freed I find a toilet and just as I settle in “Paging Winnipeg bound passenger Deanoh, this is your final boarding call for flight…” Not exactly in a position to hurry things up I can only hope that the gate isn’t too far away. I do make it on board but there has been so little time between my last two flights I am convinced that there is no way on earth that my baggage will be joining me to Rankin this week let alone today. Not exactly a transportation hub.

So 5 hours later my third flight of the day arrives in Rankin Inlet and I am pleased to see that one of the camp helicopters is sitting on the apron. The first good news I have had all day. I won’t be spending the night in the Rankin at the crew house and as it turns out it would have been 3…but more on that in a second. The second bit of good news was that one of the cooks who was leaving for her break on the flight I just arrived on will be returning to feed us in two weeks. The third piece of good news: one Action Packer containing 48 ales, 40oz of fermented potato juice and warm clothes for the flight to camp circling on the baggage carousel! So I finally make it into camp and I am instantly dropped into camp guy mode. Can’t even get a good sleep before I get my hands good and dirty.

Batten down the hatches, cuz she is going to be a wild one, which was the word from Environment Canada. There was going to be at least 48 hours of crummy weather coming our way and this time they weren’t wrong. The tent shook all night long and then it rained like I was back on the North Shore in November and when I finally decided to pull the earplugs from my skull and get out of bed the next morning I had a hard time finding the kitchen because the visibility was next to nothing and would stay that way for the next 2 days. Kind of crummy for the guys stuck out at the drill as it was the second time in as many weeks. At least this time they decided to save the survival food for a survival occasion this time as apparently they had been using it previously as lunch until they did get stuck out for three days with nothing. Ha ha ha!! The graphic image for aviation showed an intense low with a band of clouds circling much the same way a hurricane would, the satellite image montage was equally impressive. The clouds finally broke but the wind picked up when front passed. As I type this out, there is still a wind warning posted for Rankin Inlet. I think I can deal with it…for now.

There's no place like home!

Kansas dancing shoes

So much for happy thoughts, this place licks serious balls!

Oh how I had planned to post a doozy of a bitch yesterday. Shitty god damned weather yet again. I had all these plans to post the aviation bulletins and point out the eminent scattered shitties coming our way. Like this one. Let you all know that it was fucking cold but not yet freezing! I was also going to post a graphic illustration from the same source. Followed by more commentary:

“What is with the “New” bull shit? And QS? Quasistationary? That’s crap. Essentially what it says is that for the next 12 hours I am going to be in a foul mood.”

Well it wasn't far off, it was actually 18.

Well the wind died then it rained all night and I woke up to the prospect having to wade my way through the saturated moss sponge to the kitchen for breakfast. Had a couple cups of coffee and then it got quiet. We cheered, opened up the door and were then presented with this pleasant sight.

Three god-damned more sleeps and I am out of here. And I can just see what is likely to happen. The wind will stop as hoped and the bugs will come and instead of only the 12 hour respite from the gales we will get 2 weeks and the only clouds obscuring the sky will be the mosquitoes and black flies. Hate to rain on your parade but when I am back home I might have to step on every spider I see, mind you I think that could also be done in Calgary and Winnipeg on my way back to camp.

On the positive side, I attended a going away party Thursday night for one of the cooks and went to bed sober. Which means any headache that may have been incurred was due to the diesel that spewed all over the floor because I forgot to light the stove for which I turned on fuel flow. Oops!?

Damn those girls can party!

More good news, the alcohol has almost all dried up and it looks like smooth sailing until I get back to the big city and jump right back into the monkey cage!

Well having gotten the bitch out of my system, the wind has died yet again and blue skies can be seen poking through the horizon offering just the faintest bit of hope for tomorrow.

Did I mention 3 more sleeps?

Liquid Evil!

The word of the day is:

Abstinence…

We’re running out of Advil.

Garbage Day...Everyday!

I have been getting feedback that this job must really suck. Perhaps it is because I only write about the shitty things, why else would anybody be interested? Now I think it is time to spew on about something that I really enjoy about my job…and the Arctic.

Garbage!

I am the garbage man and I love my trips to the transfer station. I am the master of the ultimate “Arctic Recycling” program. For those unfamiliar with the program I can sum it up thusly: I take what was given from the earth and return it to the sky.

Not exactly the most environmentally responsible act performed up here, but it is definitely one of the most dangerous. While geologists go on that the ultimate goal of their career is to be responsible for a great big hole in the ground. I am not too sure that I feel quite the same about my contribution to the ever expanding hole in the Ozone layer. You see, good garbage disposal involves liberal application of fossil fuels and their by-products. If you are a little offended by the concept of the preferred method of garbage disposal, I could refer one and all to the section in our land use agreement that states specifically that all food waste must be incinerated on site and that any thing that can be burned shall be burned. I paraphrase of course but the gist of it is that I have full territorial authority to create big-ass fires. And if you are still not convinced come up here and visit the landfill of one of the local communities and then have fly over of my camp. We may not get ISO approval. But we will win the gold medal for “cleanliness”

So today I offer up the following: a how to reference guide in the art of camp waste disposal as there are a select few out there that need the guidance…you know who you are. Contact me directly if you want the PDF.

The Essentials

1: Garbage.

Kitchens are a great place for this, unfortunately our cook is real good at using leftovers in other meals and as a result she provides me with by far the least amount of food waste ever. While on the one hand this is a good thing the other says “Damn! Fewer fires.”

The Ingredients

2: The appropriate incinerating device.

There are specific propane powered units available for this specific purpose but our land use agreement states that we may use empty 45 gallon drums. Fortunately we have no shortage of these. Cut the top off and poke it with a few holes, but the real key is to make a big ass hole near about 3” from the bottom of the can roughly about a half a square foot.

3: The wick

Cardboard boxes packed with more flattened and folded cardboard boxes. We seem to have no shortage of cardboard here, there may not be any trees out here but I am positive that if I look hard enough I will find a cardboard farm out here somewhere. Find a box that will fit with in the can but not take up all of the available space. Fill the box as tightly as possible with more cardboard. Bonus points for tidiness. Place in the bottom of the can.

4: Liquid fire



The aforementioned fossil fuels. We have no shortage of flammable liquids here. Take your pick. While I would love to just grab a full one I am finding more than enough “waste” fuels to do the trick. The main one is P50 (diesel), but there is also an abundance of JetB from the helicopter. The P50 is kerosene based whereas the Jet is naphtha based. I am no Poindexter but the ultimate difference being the flash point and the boom associated with. The jet has a much lower flash point so lights much easier. The P50 being higher and burns longer though consequently a bit dirtier. In short the jet fuel makes a hell of a big boom in a very short time if you let it soak too long and the diesel is less explosive but leaves one hell of a big black cloud. Gasoline is just plain crazy and don’t get me going about avgas. Also available to us is used motor oil and hydraulic oil.


Soak Liberaly

Procedure: With caution

Face the big ass hole on the empty “incinerator” into the wind. Insert cardboard box and soak liberally with liquid fire. Insert refuse, if in bags tear open and add more liquid fire. Be sure to not fill can over the rim as fluid available or in-use and the bang associated with it may leave the area with a mess quite unlike one was intending. Light carefully…then walk away briskly. Enjoy the fruits of your labour. For extra dramatic effect toss more fluid on, again very the amounts and distance tossed according to the flashpoint of the desired fluid. In the case of gasoline I have had the flames from the “incinerator” leap at near light speed back about 5+ feet to the bucket from which I tossed it. As mentioned gasoline is somewhat scary.


Fill to the rim

Dangers: Many

Batteries, aerosol cans, hidden pockets of low flash point fuel and being eaten by some creature that gets a whiff of the sweet aroma. Oh! There is also the possibility of burning to a crisp or suffocating if a boom is big enough.

Satans Workshop

Summary:

Garbage burning is one of the few instances in which the dreaded wind is appreciated as there is nothing like force feeding the incinerator more oxygen with which to make one hell of an inferno. My ultimate goal during waste disposal operations is to make a fire so hot, so big and so brown that sensors in NASA’s Earth Observation System will go absolutely ape shit. Mind you if that does happen I fear that a pink slip would soon follow the explosion. A boy can dream…


One hour later.

Thus far I can think of few objects able to withstand the holiday in hell. Among them are pipe wrench jaws, brocolli, and cantelope rinds. In fact I believe that brocolli and cantelope could be the most fire resistant items on earth and should they have adequate insulating properties could be the ultimate in home building materials. All natural and good for you as well.

Unlike my favorite occupation.

The Winds Of Change

Fire 
According to the calendar June 21st marks the first day of summer. Solstice, the longest day of the year and the beginning of sun n’ fun. There was certainly no end to the fun on Tuesday night, but the sun has failed to make any significant appearance and I am under the distinct impression that after I woke up from the latest alcohol induce slumber, that summer had made a brief appearance when I wasn’t looking and I was confronted with Autumn upon my return to consciousness

If there is one aspect of the eastern Arctic that I think that I could do without, it would have to be the endless gale force winds. The only redeeming factor of the constant gusts is that with it’s constant presence we can be assured that the emenint insect problems will not be much of an issue. But factoring in the fact that I can count the number of windless days that I have encountered in the last 28 days with only my thumbs, the prospect of a day surrounded by millions of winged pests couldn’t be more appealing.
If it is any consolation Environment Canada assures the region in its latest forecast that the winds will change…direction at least


I could go on and on forever about the wind…in fact I might. Ever seen a bonfire that burned horizontally for hours and hours yet went nowhere? Never has something been fed so much fuel, core boxes, and never leapt higher than a foot and a half. Damned if it wasn’t hot though. With my back to that horrific wind I still couldn’t stand closer than 5’ to the bastard. Something about being force fed oxygen that makes stuff burn real good.

I am tired of bitching about the wind.

Wind’s boring.

Now I got nothing left to bitch about.

Hell of a party, free booze, sushi, frivolity and then followed by a pseudo-day off. Save for the dreaded sewage responsibility. Hell of a hangover cure though.

Ah… summer. Once I get out of this place I might actually get to experience it…Somewhere.

Have I mentioned how much I love the Arctic?

Watermelon head

If this doesn't work...

Nothing like the feeling of a waking up with the feeling of a dehydration headache and stifling heat. 40oz, five people and one dead soldier, you do the math. The first true arctic FABAMAS. As predicted Advil was to be in order but unfortunately someone has yet to place that order, in fact I believe that is part of my job description.

Hunh…

What an inopportune time to have shirked my responsibilities. The day continued to spiral out of control when there were threats that I may have to strap on the hoop again. Thankfully something of the utmost importance came up and I managed to successfully avoid that hardship. Alas it was while I was sitting on the crapper that the trouble began.

She no flushy!


Try this.

Nothing is likely to sober you up faster than having to grasp a handful of last night’s dinner first thing in the morning. So once the sewage was dealt with I got to spend the next hour on my hands and knees with my head in the “bowl” examining the toilet. The Pacto is a complex machine I have discovered. Many gears and pulleys working in unison to make the most unpleasant of human necessities that much more pleasurable. But when the shit hits that fan, or in this case the feed wheel, she is an evil beast in need of hands on comforting and attention.

Anyway, with my head all cleared up and knew found knowledge of the inner workings of the loo I was free to get on with the rest of my day unencumbered with the baggage of a nasty hangover.

You should try it sometimes, I think it could be the ultimate hangover remedy.

Thankfully the last few days have been without much in the way of drama. Even my return to the scene of the grime, the not so dry, to finish up the plumbing went smoothly. We had a couple of conservation officers over to give us a little chat about the wildlife, specifically bears and what to do in case we happen to cross paths with them. The gist of it was: The brown ones and the white ones are carnivores. If you play dead they will think you are and eat you. Nothing could finer than enjoying a nice warm meal without having to work for it. In case of attack we were told to go for the most sensitive areas: the nose or the toes. Unfortunately they are in close proximity to those real dangerous things like the arms and the mouth. We were assured that being a bit of a distance from the coast we were not likely to encounter and polar bears and even less likely to see any grizzlies. Apparently the most dangerous things up here are the rabid foxes.

With the animal lecture all over, the officers and the film crew that they brought with them were ready to head for town. That’s when the real fun began. The plane came in with its new pilot and promptly over shot the runway at highway speeds and nearly flipped over when its landing gear hit a ditch. The only thing preventing it from ending up on its back was the wing that bounced off- dug into is likely more appropriate- the tundra 3 times. Stay tuned for the pic’s, the ruts it left behind are pretty cool, I walked the strip yesterday and was picking up paint chips all over. Unfortunately I didn’t have a camera with me.


Arctic SUV's, as they are intended to operate.

The Conservation officers and film crew got to see it live, while the rest of the us got to see the whole thing on video as the plane limped back to town with nobody but the flight crew on board and one would suspect some serious airframe damage. So our dinner guests got to stay the night and fly to town the next day on the replacement plane flown up from Uranium City. Since then we have scouted out another strip for those ever changing wind directions. At almost 200 metres this one is just a tad longer than the 170m first one. Think about that the next time you hop on an airplane

I like helicopters they don’t need a lot of space and can stop real fast and now that the pilot and I are on speaking terms the one in camp is actually a pleasure to be around.

Isn’t camp life exciting?

Need I say more

Have mercy on my soul... 

As my fingers tap out the words with anything but precision, both of my tent-mates are sawing logs like there was no tomorrow.

I envision a night of insomnia and a morning of Advil.

I couldn't be happier...

High and Dry...Wishful thinking.

It started out well enough 

Best day of the field season so far, we might have actually hit double digits today and no wind to boot. Things are looking rosy. That is until the various insect larvae begin their rapid climb to the surface of our many thawing lakes. It wasn’t looking so good last night though. Turned out to be a bit on the noisy side; one pair of very amorous Sandhill Cranes was getting it on into the wee hours and the dreaded night screams made an appearance. Save for the heat in the tent being utterly unbearable I slept rather soundly and arose to the singing of the birds and bright yellow light streaming through the white walls of my little tundra abode.

So how did I celebrate such a wondrous day? I got good and wet. Should I not be able to achieve my objective as a helicopter pilot, I managed to at least eliminate another possible trade as an alternative career choice. Plumber can now be stricken from the list, along with roofer. Just when things seem to pick up around camp and my mood improves I somehow find the most effective way of bring myself back down to earth. Today’s chore was to reroute/reconnect the dry plumbing.


But then fate stepped in 

The “dry” is a bit of a misnomer, it is truthfully the wettest building in camp as it is where the washing, showering and “drying” of wet dirty work clothes occur. Our particular dry is special. It has two sink basins, three showers, and a pair of washers and dryers. Each one of these fixtures has its own drain of course. But none of them are tied together in anyway; they all just go under the floor and out the back of the building. Or that was the intent when the building was initially constructed. What we actually have is six individual drains, seven if one includes the kitchen, spewing their fluids in many different places most notably right under the dry. Today I began the arduous task of trying to tie them all together and ensure that the grey water actually ejects itself a suitable distance from the back of the building. Three and a half hours wallowing like a pig in shit. Fortunately the shit as previously mentioned is self contained in another building but almost two months worth of shower and laundry water wasn’t all too pleasant. And I have only completed half of the project.


And kicked me in the ass! 

I could go on and on about how the dry and kitchen should have been plumbed: Like raising all of the showers one foot and connecting all of the plumbing inside of the building, ensuring a couple of things, especially in winter. One: you will be warm and dry when connecting all of the various sections of pipe and two: all of the connections will be solid and free from the hazard of freezing because the last thing you want is broken plumbing inside the dry. Well none of it happened and guess what? The plumbing froze and broke and I went for a swim before any of the lakes completely thawed. But I won’t go on and on about how it should have been done. As it is, it looks as if a deranged group of gibbons bodged together my fix.

There was good news today. I may just get that gin.

Pinch me!

Wanted: Poorly Motivated Individual, Must Have Own Rifle

Whiskey...Camp Mascot.

FABAMAS

Friday
Arctic
Bitching
And
Martini
Abstinence
Society

I need a Gin!

Never have I craved the hard bar so much. While a nice fat Zin would be delightful and tall cool pint of IPA would be quite fine right about now. 4.5oz of Plymouth or Sapphire and a twist and I would be in heaven. I guess a Trad in a dirty glass will have to suffice.

You all look wonderful. Are those new shoes?

Speaking of booze, looks as if we have lost ourselves a potential bear watcher.

So we happen to be located reasonably close to Hudson’s Bay and the ice out there is a melting fast. Big white Yogis are now roaming the coastline in search of food. Should there be no food on the coast they have to make there way inland until they find some tasty morsels to munch on. Recently the barren land grizzly has also begun to show up in the eastern arctic and they get the munchies too and this is where the bear watcher comes in handy.

The whole project revolves-quite literally –around the drill and it is a big noisy bastard. Within that drill are a couple drillers keeping themselves busy doing driller things. Most notably smoking and bitching during a run of 10ft then adding another rod and the process begins anew…for 12 hours. And did I mention it’s noisy! The job involves frequent lubrication of coarse threads on the ends of the drill rods. The grease used is supplied in five gallon buckets of a fine light brown matrix with the remarkable likeness of honey. Only it’s grease.

The bears love it. Should they catch a whiff of the stuff or just diesel fuel or say a smelly driller they’re in like flynn, but the drillers remain woefully indifferent in there noisy shack as they bitch and smoke up a storm. Many a driller has been chased out of the drill by Yogi and sometimes Boo-Boo too just for the taste of the grease.

Because working in this area has proven to be a somewhat contentious issue for many of the locals. Many positions on the project have opened for the sake of good community relations. The most coveted of them all is “Bear watcher”.

Job description:
2 people required 2 12 hour shifts, night and day. 2 weeks in 2 weeks out. Must provide own rifle. No reading, no walking, no carving, no sleeping. Just watching.

All interested please contact…

The number of replies have been off of the chart. Our two current guys are about to switch off for their breaks and most recently we have been in a panic replacing them. It wasn’t too bad until one of our hires found himself in the Grey Bar Hotel.

Ah…poor George. A local artisan whose milieu is caribou antlers on which he carves up likenesses of Inuit hunters. He had spent a week or so with us as a cook’s helper and was first in line to be one of the replacement shooters. So George is a bit of a character. My first day in Rankin he got the smell of new guy in town and tried to sell me a carving. In fact he was the first of many local carvers that I would meet during my three days in Rankin. So up he comes to camp to flip eggs and wash dishes. Always with a smoke in his mouth just waiting to be lit up the moment he’s finished in the kitchen. When not in the kitchen he chips away at his day with an antler and a Dremel tool. Caribou antler stinks. George knows all too well. After George left we recently discovered his preferred method of dealing with the odor: A plastic 1 cup blender bong!

Always wondered how powdered caribou antler could make ones eyes so glazed.

So George has a bit of a personal issue in camp one night. Seems his ex, of only a week has decided to shack up with her previous ex. He is in a bad mood. But it’s kind of funny as there is really nothing he can do about it and well he was just kind of a funny guy. The next day he asks if the helicopter is going into Rankin cuz he has to go for his once a month sign in with the Federales. A couple of days later Georges gig as “bull cook” comes to an end as we have a new cooking crew coming in and they are absolutely fabulous, but I digress.

So a couple of days later our helicopter engineer has to fly back home and the drill just happens to break a critical part. So everybody goes to town on the helicopter. Just as the engineer is about to check in for his flight he spots a familiar face. George and his fancy new matching locking bracelets. Seems on his first night back to town from camp he managed to violate his parole within mere seconds. So off to the clink in Yellowknife for who knows how long.

And to think we were going to pay this guy to sit around with a gun for 12 hours a day over a two week period doing…nothing.

Hope he’s only in for a short time. I really liked those carvings.

Happy thoughts.

Let them eat cake... and humous and...oooh? Is that fresh fruit?

It has been a while I have been told.

I would love to blame it on excess but sadly it is not the case. I chalk
this one up to good old fashion laziness ! So since the last report my
shoulders and frail ego have healed and believe it or not without the
aid of good old fashion beer. Bitching and moaning appears to be the
order of the day. I believe that to the best of my ability I have made
it clear that I have no intentions on strapping on the hoop and burning
the 'nads again.

So what now?

Well...a little bit of tundra gardening. My prized crop right now is
plywood and 2x4's. It's like having my own little potato patch out here,
only there is no dirt no maintenance and sadly no potatoes either.
Everyday that the sunshines a little bit of the wood grain pokes its way
through the snow. Given that now we are quite near 24hr day light the
little wood grain grows rapidly as it sucks up the rays. Yesterday I
harvested about a dozen 24" 2x4's. Two days ago it was two 4x8 sheets of
5/8" T&G and a half sheet of 1/2". Today I have seen what may turn out
to be another couple of sheets of of the 1/2". Who knew that so far
above the tree line you could grow quality dimensional lumber?

As the snow disappears so to does the lake ice. Most notably it is along
the fringes where the lakes meet the land. Much of the ice on the edges
is still stuck or frozen to the ground while closer to the middle much
of the lake ice has "popped" free. The result being a big sloppy messes
all around. It looks like a giant slushy nightmare and available in all
the favorite flavors. Visible from camp I can see Root Beer, Lime and
whatever the blue stuff is. Currently not a lot of the ground work is
being done as a result of such sloppy conditions. Doesn't taste so good
either. Throw in the run-off from the tundra and our water tanks have
the appearance of a well steeped tea. Doesn't make for a pleasant site
and for the next couple of weeks the gas is going to be toxic.

The big excitement around these parts is the food. The camp is on its
third set of cooks. These two appear to have a much larger repertoire
than fish sticks, pork chops and breaded fried chicken!. Garlic was
recently discovered in a meal and the deserts are now being constructed
using a multitude of hand measured ingredients as opposed to previously
preferred method of tearing open a box. Word on the tundra is that fresh
vegetables maybe on the way in and that a pineapple was recently
sighted. Good times shall abound!

I now have new room-mate. The consulting geophysicist has recently
returned from Senegal and has now rolled out his sleeping bag on the
other bed in the shack. His first night didn't bode well for yours
truly. I swear he was sawing logs mere moments before his head hit the
pillow. Fortunately he can self adjust that problem. However the next
morning he tells me to be aware that he has this habit of waking up
screaming.

Oh boy! This ought to be nerve racking 2-3 weeks.

Hoop Screams.

Horns'n Hoop: The devil made me do it.

I believe that I have recently been subject to torture much more
severe than anyone of those fortunate unlawful combatants down in Cuba
could possible imagine. The magnitude of my suffering is immeasurable.
It is not possible to have been more uncomfortable in one day. Only a
geophysicist could possibly find any redeeming benefit in participating
in an HLEM "Max-Min" survey. Which could go a long way to explaining why
so many geophysicists are loners.

Today I had the "pleasure" of wearing the "hoop" and traipsing some 75
meters behind the bearer of the horns. 16 steps and then stop for two
minutes and dial up various frequencies all to extreme aural
dissatisfaction. First time ever and hopefully there will not be a
second( mind you I also said that about epaulettes and then I worked on some fancy yacht...).Weighed down with a lead belt of batteries, and suspended from my shoulders both a great ,fat, heavy oval hula hoop and transmitter box, I swear a hold over from the early fifties. All of this lashed to me with the finest in thin leather webbing and rusty steel buckles that
ever came out of the same generation. Never have I spent more time going nowhere with such physical disatisfaction in the search for minerals. Not only that I had the distinct displeasure of having to wear snowshoes during this day of unrelenting misery!

Who in their right mind could possibly consider snowshoeing a remotely
enjoyable recreational activity. Why on earth would someone want to
post-hole, though not as deep as without the "benefit" of wearing them, anywhere in uncomfortable soon to be wet
footwear when that same person could get everywhere in half the time on
ski's and have considerably more fun descending?

A pox on any of you that actually enjoy this "activity"!

How could I stop there? I can't! A low level jet stream has placed
itself directly over top of us and it is currently blowing in excess of
50kts. At least I'm inside. I could still be out there frying my
testicles and tripping over myself in slush and ice.

Thanks a bunch Sister Sarah for sending me this pleasant sight.

Damn I miss the boat. Serving blue haired old ladies G&T's all day
couldn't be more appealing after today.

Hey look, maybe one day I can make it to the top of the world without getting frostbite.

It's Beer o'clock.

D.

Shitty day on the job

Camp guy's best friend and worst enemy

All hail the Pacto toilet!

Best thing to happen to field camps in the Arctic since the addition of the shovel. Followed closely by fire and alcohol, not necesarilly in that order.

Imagine if you will, household plumbing-so to speak- that doesn't require the addition of water. Not only that some poor fool no longer has to go and dig a hole deep enough to last long enough to dig another hole that is deep enough to accomodate upwords of twenty people. Not only that, said sorry fool no longer has to battle perma-frost to accomplish said task.

Sounds wonderfull yes? Well sort of. When there is a mechanical malfuncion guess who has to deal with the shit? literally...

You guessed it.

"Welcome to Camp Dean. How was your breakfast? Can you fix the Pacto?"

Then there comes disposal day! Oh do I miss just covering up the hole, I just don't miss the digging.

Murphy’s 1st law: Mother Nature is a Bitch!

Camp: Day 1

Spring is the best! Weather sucks, not much gets accomplished, people begin freaking out and to make matters worse I saw on TV that Vancouver was to get up to 29 degrees.

Bastards!

Up until this point I had been stuck for 3 days in Rankin Inlet. The weather in around the camp has been less than ideal for flight. During the fourth attempt over these 3 days the helicopter was stuck 7 miles south of camp on it’s first inbound flight attempt of the day. Whether or not it returned to Rankin for me remained to be seen. Spring thaws and dew points, the temperature at which moisture in the air begins to form clouds, and the topography surrounding camp have brought ideal conditions for fog formation not to mention the possibility of rain/freezing rain.

As for Rankin itself, it has been suffering from floods of near biblical proportions. It pretty much poured all day and night long and combined with the melting of this year’s record snowfall has left lakes and ponds all over and many of those have breached their natural barriers. Now there are streams and rivers all over town. The fire department was called out Tuesday night to pump out one of the offending bodies of water to keep one home from floating away only to return this afternoon with city works in tow. Significant dangers up here as no homes here are built on foundations because of the permafrost.

The helicopter did make it into camp eventually and some 8 hours after it left Rankin it returned to town for me. Thankfully, one can only watch so much TV, and I have had my fill for the next 39 days. As I type this it is still making flights while it can to swap out the current drill crew for the one that will be replacing it tomorrow. So far so good I must say. It would be tough to believe but it is just a hell of alot more comfortable to be in camp. We'll see what tomorrow brings.

Stay tuned

Day one

Home sweet home?

So today I am off to Rankin Inlet, well Edmonton actually but Rankin Inlet being the ultimate destination. Almost everything that I know about the place can be found here:

www.kivalliq.org/eng/rankin.htm

Bear with me, I am still working out this Blog thing and eventually I will get the links figured out so a bit of cut and paste may be the order of the day.

Those inclined to find out more about the place have a party, I myself am bound to find out a hell of a lot more in a matter of hours.


For the next 6 weeks I will be amongst a crew of 20+ people searching for diamonds in Canada's North where I will be responssible for heat,light, water, communication and sanitation.

Sounds like fun hunh?

When I can be assured that the shit flows downhill I will be working out in the field, which may prove to be a little more exciting than previous forays into the tundra as I will find myself in the heart of Polar Yogi country and as far as I understand they have no known predators...

A little salt with your Dean-oh?

The primary benefit of this whole exercise is that I will be around helicopters all of the time with plenty of time to bother pilots and engineers and try to get myself in some sort of position to place myself front and center in the career path that I would prefer to follow. Oh and did I mention a steady pay cheque? That's kind of nice benefit.

Anyway, stay tuned as I hope to post something...anything that I may find interesting on this grand experiment and I hope that you may find it a bit of a curiosity as well.

Untill then. Enjoy the ride!

Hey look! The boy can fly!

Day one all over again

Take two.

Still trying to figure out how all of this blog shit works. It would be nice to have a bit of a handle on it before I hit the road to Rankin, which apparently has suffered from it's highest recorded yearly snowfall.

Oh boy! Can't wait!

More to come