Training

Ever since I returned to Nahanni my free time has been dominated by training. Last year introduced me to the natural wonders that surround this community, and I have resolved to make the most of my time here and explore what I can.

I am taking this very seriously. There are real dangers associated with travel in these parts, especially if you are alone. Over the summer I purchased the equipment I require, but there remains much work to be done. An essential element is physical preparation, and to that end I have been training hard every day. Key to this is my pulk sled, acquired during my time in Colorado. The recent snowfall has allowed me to take to the trails and practice hauling it around, and I have been very pleased by its performance. Part of my current routine is to pull 50lbs or so on a 10km circuit down by the river each evening, racing against the rapidly dwindling hours of daylight. Ultimately I will have to be able to haul 100lbs of food, fuel and equipment at a minimum pace of 30km/day, regardless of conditions. Already I have learned some useful tricks, such as loading the heaviest gear in the rear of the sled to prevent it from burying its nose when pulling through deep powder.

In addition to the physical training there is the mental aspect. I spend at least an hour a day studying maps of the area, memorizing compass bearings and distances, local features, routes and alternate routes. I've tracked down every bit of information I can find, be it aerial survey photographs or sattelite imagery.

In the weeks to come, there will be still more things to learn and practice. What if I get caught in bad weather - how long does it take for me to set up my tent blindfolded? What if I've fallen through the ice - how long does it take for me to start a fire?

This winter offers me a chance to see and do some remarkable things. I intend to take it.

Progress

My quest to outfit the gym with a solar array is moving along. Step by step I am ticking all the boxes, filling in all the blanks, and moving that much closer to the day when I can actually see them installed. The community and Band Council has been very supportive, which has made my job much easier, and I am feeling increasingly optimistic that I might just be able to pull this off. I have sourced a Yellowknife-based supplier, put together a budget, and should be ready to submit the formal proposal to the government in the next week or two.

The media has gotten wind of the project and over the last week or so have been interviewed by the Dehcho Drum, CBC North, and others. I think I would have preferred it if they had waited until after the array has been set up, but even still it's nice to give Nahanni Butte some good press!

Winter

And so I begin my second winter in the North. October is giving way to November, the temperature is dropping, and the river is beginning to freeze. Over in the Yukon they call this the sourdough year, the year where you prove that you're either too stupid to leave or crazy enough to enjoy it.

Last winter was a season of firsts: first time skidooing, first time seeing the aurora, first time experiencing -40C and colder. What will this winter bring?

Flight

Getting home wasn't especially pleasant. The drive to Fort Simpson took more than 12 hours, and wasn't helped by the snowstorm that descended on us between Yellowknife and Behchoko. Angry clouds followed us all the way across the Dehcho, raising the possibility that I could be stranded in Fort Simpson for a few days. Luckily the sky cleared somewhat as I arrived, so I hopped in my charter and we headed out.

Once we were in the air the conditions were better than expected, although the heavy clouds forced us to descend until it felt like we were skimming the treetops. We bumped and rattled our way across the forest as snow streamed around the cockpit. Below it was obvious that winter is already tightening its grip - most of the lakes were covered in a thin scum of ice, as were many of the smaller creeks and waterways.

As we approached Nahanni we broke through a final bank of cloud, revealing patches of friendly blue sky. We hit one last patch of turbulence as we passed the cliffs before banking gently and coming in for our landing. There were a few buffalo lounging around the runway, but they scattered at our approach.

Yellowknife

My week in Yellowknife flew by. The meetings went well and I am happy to say that I can now move forward on getting solar panals installed on our community gym! There remains considerable work to be done, of course, but if all goes well they could potentially be in place by winter's end. I can't wait to get started.

This week also gave me a chance to explore the capital more fully. As always I was struck by its strange blend of small-town charm and big-city bustle, and the warmth of the locals. With a population of only 18,000, it doesn't take long before you start recognizing people wherever you go.

I spent some time in Old Town, which is one of my favourite districts. Dating from the city's founding in 1936, the awkward clutter of buildings huddles around a spur of rock jutting into the lake. If you climb any of the local hills it's not hard to spot some of Yellowknife's famed houseboats.

In Old Town you can find everything from art galleries to junkyards filled with rusting machinery. The streets wind between industrial hangers and decaying cabins, often terminating with no warning or merging with others to create a sort of tangled maze. Still, it is hardly a big place so if you keep moving then sooner or later you'll end up wherever you're trying to go.

This visit underlined my sense that Yellowknife is a place that hasn't quite decided what it wants to be. Hokey drifter haven? Glittering mining hub? Northern cultural mecca? As with everything else up here, it defies any one definition or description. This leads to more than a few surreal experiences, like rocking out to Somali music in a taxi while the aurora flares overhead. When you walk down Franklin Avenue you can almost convince yourself you're on the main street of any large town in the South, until you pass someone chewing on a slab of muktuk (whale blubber) or a First Air C-130 Hercules roars in over the rooftops fresh from some charter to the Arctic.

This is a place that is mismatched and misunderstood. It's vibrant, chaotic, beautiful, and above all: strange. It is undeniably Northern, and yet so far removed from my experience in Nahanni that it might as well be another country. I'm hooked.

Last Chance

Hope springs eternal. Tracking down alternative energy sources has been something of a pet project of mine over the past 6 months, and so far it has taken me to an energy conference in Whitehorse and consultation with the Arctic Energy Alliance in Yellowknife. I had made considerable progress in getting a solar array for the community gym, but then things stalled at the start of the summer. I thought the project was dead in the water, but this week I had a chance to come to Yellowknife again to try and get things back on track. Leaving while school is in session is far from ideal, but I have invested considerable time (not to mention my own money!) in this project, and this is probably my last chance to get things sorted out.

Now, of course, the problem is getting there and back. Nobody seems too keen on chartering a plane for this humble volunteer, so I've had to figure out my own travel plans. I'm currently sitting at the diner in Fort Simpson after a scrambled departure yesterday afternoon. I was able to hitch a last-minute lift with an outbound DPW crew, but had only 20 minutes to pack and get ready. Now I am just killing time before the "bus" (translation: rickety van) to Yellowknife leaves later today. Of course, I have yet to buy my ticket for that.

Coming home will be far more challenging. Freeze-up is not far away, and it is entirely possible that ice will preclude boating back across the river next week. If that's the case, I will have to charter a plane for the leg back from Fort Simpson. Much as I'd enjoy the flight, it wouldn't be easy on the wallet. Ho hum. This is the life I've chosen. If nothing else, getting around up here makes me appreciate the certainty and reliability of travel in the South!

Drums and Ceremonies

It has been a momentous week. No longer are we classified as a fly-in community: our winter road is now officially all-season. You still have to boat across the Liard River, of course, but we are now much more accessible than before. On Monday a swarm of government officials descended on Nahanni Butte, including Kevin Menicoche, our local MLA, and Michael McLeod, the Territorial Minister of Transport. There were speeches and snacks, and even a ribbon-cutting complete with golden scissors.

Accompanying all this was a fire-feeding ceremony with Michael Cazon, as well as a drum dance. I haven't used my drum in months, so it felt great to get into the rhythm again.

Aurora

I have never seen an aurora display like the one that lit the sky last night. Around 2am I woke to a shimmering green glow coming through my windows, and I looked out to see the sky filled with drifting curtains of light. I grabbed my camera and hurried outside, only to be dumbstruck by the sheer scale of the display. The aurora stretched from horizon to horizon, reflecting off the river and curling around the summit of Tthenaago.

The only downside was that my camera was nowhere near as effective as I would have liked. I had been experimenting with different settings earlier in the day but neglected to reset them to something suitable for aurora photography. As a result, most of my images were ruined! Knowing that any moment the display could fade, I stopped my adjustments and just enjoyed the spectacle. Perhaps that's for the best -- this night will be forever engraved in my memory. I just wish that I could have shared it with you properly.

Fort Providence

This weekend we took 7 of the students over to Fort Providence for a badminton camp. Everyone had a lot of fun, and the kids learned some valuable skills. We're going to begin regular practice at school in order to get a team ready for upcoming tournaments in Hay River and Yellowknife.

On Saturday we left bright and early, aiming to be on the road by 930am or so. It was a gorgeous morning, with the sun peeking over the trees as we drove down to the river crossing. It took us three trips with the scow, but we soon had everyone over to the far side. We loaded up on the van and set out for the 7 hour drive.

Fort Providence itself is much like many of the other Northern communities I have visited. Home to about 800 people, it is a collection of dusty streets, stray dogs, and rows of houses arranged in a sort of haphazard pattern. The Mackenzie River dominates the town and the stiff wind brought with it the smell of mud and willows. On Sunday I went for a walk, and spent 20 minutes watching a gang of ravens leap from the steeple of the church and using the wind to parachute glide to the ground before flying up to do it again. They awked and quorked at each other, obviously enjoying themselves.

The badminton camp was held in the local school, and everyone had a blast. They spent Saturday learning some basic skills before trying their luck in a tournament on Sunday. Our kids did really well, with some of them winning 2nd place in their respective groups.

At the end of the tournament everyone got a new racquet, and we will soon put them to good use over here in Nahanni!