Friday, September 14, 2007


Creative thawing of the kemmerer nozzle

Unbelievably, started on the second pull. Way to go Whippy!

Things we Froze Today
4 hands
4 feet
2 survival suits
4 gloves
secchi rope
zooplankton net
zooplankton net rope
integrated water sampler (of death)
kemmerer (inside and out)
kemmerer rope
boat
cargo net (to the boat)
motor
motor tilt switch
buoy(s)
pH sensor
gas tank

Things that we Broke Today
kemmerer (several times)
Horiba water quality meter
Marilynn's knee
Heidi's back
Marilynn's sanity
Heidi's patience

Wednesday, September 12, 2007


Bubba Big Munch

So, after leaving the Kent Peninsula, Marilynn and I moved to our next site at the Naujaat Hills. We decided to employ new anti-bear tactics, including anchoring the boat offshore (as previously mentioned) and taking a bear monitor along with us. The Naujaat Hills were beautiful, the charr fishing was fabulous, and we were in high spirits. On the last day we said to each other, "we probably don't need a bear monitor, we'll be on the water most of the day and we haven't seen any bears." We did take our shotgun as per usual, though.

Well, approximately 3 hours into the day, Marilynn and I were electrofishing in the rapids that cascade down from the lake.

Marilynn: "Heidi, what's that?"

Heidi: "THAT'S a bear, eating our gear. Again."

Marilynn: "What should we do?"

Heidi: "First, I think we should remove all things from our bodies that are trippy, such as electrofishers."

Marilynn: "Good plan."

So, the usual routine. Fired off bear bangers. No response from bear. Sounded air horn. No response from bear. Shot off 8 shotgun shells in direction of bear. No response from bear. Bear is between us and the boat, and is ripping apart my brand new $100 seal bag.

Heidi: "YOU BUGGER. UNHAND MY SEAL BAG."

Marilynn: "Heidi, perhaps we should be happy he is not eating the boat. "

Heidi: "Indeed. Perhaps we should also contact camp."

At this point, we decided to move to a point where we had a better view of the bear and, since he was not responding to bear deterrants, wait until he got bored. He eventually did, and we took the opportunity to move to the zodiac. Since the radio and satellite gods were not with us on this fine day, we then removed our gill nets and followed the bear up the shore with the boat to get some pictures while we waited for our helicopter pickup time.

Marilynn: "Heidi, that is a rather large bear. Do you think there is anything left of our seal bags?"

Heidi: "Very unlikely. He probably ate my cliff bar, too, dammit!"

Marilynn: "Heidi, I believe we have lost another cooler."

The bear was then named Bubba Big Munch, because it was big and munched everything. We lost our best field bags, a cooler, and my second bottle of sunscreen. Sigh.

We are now known as the "bear girls."

Monday, September 03, 2007

The easiest thing we've ever done. Stupid Spinny. Stupid Chewy.

Spinny Escapes: Part Deux

After the arrival of Chewy, we decided that the safest course of action for boats was to anchor them offshore. Unfortunately, we may or may not have miscalculated the force of outgoing currents with the tide.

Emerging from the cabin after a satisfying lunch of soup and nut bread, Marilynn saw Heidi yell, “Shit! Where in the hell is Spinny?” and run down the hill as fast as one wearing waders and dodging hummocks can run. Mark the bear monitor spotted Spinny, approximately 300 metres offshore in the Arctic Ocean and well out of swimming range. Inside Spinny, there were floats, rope spools, and the depth sounder. Decision time.

Marilynn: Can we finish the work without that boat?

Heidi: Maybe, but we’d have to pull up a gill net without a boat, which may involve swimming down and cutting off the anchor and then dragging it from shore. Not fun. I think we should drag the zodiac down the rapids and retrieve Spinny.

Marilynn: Heidi, we then have to get the boat back UP to the lake, and Chewy chewed the cart. I think we should let the dingy go.

Heidi (pathologically stubborn): I really think we should get Spinny.

Marilynn: I really disagree with this decision. Okay, let’s go.

We proceeded to drag the zodiac down the bouldery rapids until we became permanently stuck about 2/3 of the way down. We removed the 4-stroke motor (which we were now cursing because it is extremely heavy to haul through bouldery rapids), and finished hauling both to the foot of the rapids. At this point, Spinny was out of sight but Mark the bear monitor had kept an eye on its trajectory. We followed the waves out into Parry Sound and spotted Spinny with the binoculars about 3 miles offshore.

Heidi: Well, we said we wanted to see the view from the ocean.

Marilynn: This is the most ridiculous thing I have ever done. Rescuing a DINGHY in the Arctic Ocean.

Heidi: THERE SHE IS!!!! And we’re actually rescuing the rope. We are fresh out of sideline without those spools.

Marilynn: So, this entire calamity can pretty much be blamed on our chronic shortage of sideline?

Heidi: Yup.

Whereupon we pulled up, deflated Spinny, and placed her firmly in Zippy. Upon arriving back on shore, Heidi said,

“Let’s take stock. The boat, boards, and motor weight approximately 700 lbs (as estimated by the helicopter while slinging). We have no cart because Chewy chewed the wheels. In other news, we can’t deflate the zodiac and take it apart because Chewy chewed the air hose so we won’t be able to re-inflate it.”

Marilynn: This is going to be the EASIEST thing we’ve ever done (this is our canned line whenever something is going to be ridiculously difficult).

Marilynn cunningly fashioned handles out of some random tubing we found on the shoreline and we hauled the motor (as pictured) 500 m up and down a hill in the sled sans wheels. The boat, well, we don’t have a picture of that. Basically, we took ratchet straps, hooked them around our shoulders, and started pulling 300 lbs of boat. For 500 m. Up and down a hill. Over tundra.

Spinny may be burnt at the end of the season. Grrrrrrr.

Heidi, looking a little swollen after swimming for Spinny

Spinny Escapes: Part 1

So, when we were out on the Kent Peninsula we had a zodiac on Nauyuk Lake. Zippy is a nice, sturdy zodiac with a peppy 4-stroke 15 hp motor. There is a set of rapids that joins Nauyuk Lake to the Arctic Ocean and this set of rapids is impassable to zodiacs. So, on the ocean side we had an inflatable dinghy (no motor, no keel). The dinghy’s name is Spinny, named for her incredible penchant for spinning.

Well, we may or may not have miscalculated the height of tide at this particular location. Emerging from the cabin after a satisfying lunch of nut bread and cashew butter, Marilynn watched Heidi yell, “SPINNY!!!!” and run down the hill as fast as one wearing waders and dodging hummocks can run. Heidi thought she could still grab Spinny with her waders on. Marilynn, meanwhile, grabbed Heidi a long iron pole that happened to be lying on shore. Heidi charged into the water, extended the extremely heavy pole, and felt herself slide down an extraordinarily slippy piece of algae-covered bedrock. Deciding that all was lost anyway, she dropped the pole and started swimming (in waders) after Spinny. Spinny was retrieved, and Marilynn laughed for at least 15 minutes at Heidi’s waders, so full of water that she looked like she was 300 lbs.
We have decided that Spinny is a recalcitrant teenager, bent on escape.

Sunday, August 26, 2007


Chewy the Bear (pictured investigating one of the Inuit camps)

We are desperately behind on blogging, sorry!

So, after being on the peninsula for 3 days, Chewy the Bear showed up. Chewy is a juvenile male grizzly and he showed great interest in everything that holds (or used to hold) water, air, or fish. Chewy scored 12 points against Heidi and Marilynn and managed to maim and/or destroy floats, 2 seal bags, 1 boat, sunscreen, a cooler, Heidi's cart (!!!!!!!), etc etc. He was completely unfazed by bear bangers, shotgun shells (as noisemakers), and airhorns. After Chewy's second visit, Heidi and Marilynn took stock.

Heidi: Let's take stock. We are currently in the middle of nowhere, floating in the Arctic ocean in an inflatable dinghy with no motor. In other news, a bear is ripping into our fish cooler and he now has his front paws on the zodiac. It's 10 p.m.

Marilynn (Looking through binoculars): Heidi, I'm not going to lie. Your cart is dead.

Heidi: Hmmm. I feel we should call camp and get some advice.

Whereupon Miramar kindly agreed to send out a bear monitor to help us keep an eye on Chewy. The bear monitor arrived at 7 am the next morning via the Scare Plane and found us where we had camped on an island so as not to be eaten by Chewy. Chewy showed up twice more. The last time, Mark the bear monitor reported that he ran down the shoreline, stopped briefly to bite our inflatable dinghy (a.k.a. Spinny - more stories to come), and kept running. Spite in bear format and definitely worth a laugh.

Wednesday, August 15, 2007


The Most Beautiful Place in the World

After Neil left on his plane, we walked to the cabin to check it out. As we walked along the rapids from Nauyuk Lake to the Arctic Ocean we saw fish swimming everywhere. At any one time, we could count about 20 fish, mostly lake trout, but also some charr. The view from our front door was breathtaking, looking out at the bright blue ocean, between the mesas, with the river in the foreground. This place is truly special. On the top of both mesas, there are inukshuks, which Heidi and I came to regard as our guardians. The best word that we could find to describe this place is ‘sacred’.

Sunday, August 05, 2007

Takin’ the Scare Plane to the Kent

This year at Windy Camp there is a Beaver (single engine prop plane on floats) that is stationed at the camp, making it easier to get people around. The pilot of this plane is named Neil, or as we like to call him, Jack Black in disguise. Imagine Jack Black (as per School of Rock) in a bug shirt, black carrhart’s, and an inflatable fishermen’s vest (in case of a hard landing) peeing off of his floats in front of eight or so people. Imagine Jack Black stuck behind a deflated zodiac in his plane with his legs waving in the air yelling, “Son of a Gun, Son of a ****.”

This is Neil and the Scare Plane. Neil, somewhat like Dick the helicopter cowboy, likes to fly low and fast. Our trip to the Kent Peninsula was somewhat of an exception because he climbed high enough to hand over the controls to Heidi so he could enjoy an ice cold Coke while doing his paperwork. Heidi, white-knuckled at the controls, pondered this state of affairs and decided to get her pilot’s license. Marilynn, white-knuckled in the back seat was busy hoping that Neil would NOT let Heidi land the plane.

Neil spots the sampling site and we circle a few times looking for float-eating boulders. Neil lands safely (Marilynn thanks God) and we get stuck in the mud slightly offshore. Neil (ever the manly man) handily jumps off his floats in Carhart’s and work boots to anchor the plane. Marilynn and Heidi (more sensibly) don their waders and proceed to hump the gear out of the plane through the mud to shore. “The gear” includes: one 15 hp 4-stroke motor, 1 12 ft zodiac, 5 coolers, 2 tubs, 1 12-V battery, 1 generator, 1 freezer, 5 jerry cans, etc etc. Jack Black lifts everything down from the plane and hands it to us. Upon completion, Jack Black (looking back at us from the floats) says, “You girls just impressed the SHIT out of me. He then hops in his plane soaking wet, and yells out the window, “when do you wanna get picked up.”







The Scene:

Heidi and Marilynn are sampling from Zippy on Hope Bay (Arctic Ocean) at 1 am on a very windy night. Large waves are rocking the boat and occasionally dragging the anchor. Marilynn forgot to pee before leaving shore. She discusses the situation with Heidi and decides the best course of action is to hang her ass off of the back of the boat and hang on.

The Script:

Marilynn: Heidi, does it make you uncomfortable that I am peeing less than a foot away from you?

Heidi: No. Could you please pass me the depth sounder?

Friday, July 27, 2007

Marilynn in her super-suit. This is our finest hour. Water sampling at 2 am on the Arctic Ocean.

Ta-ta for now.

This afternoon Heidi and I will be heading out of Windy Camp for about two weeks, for a spa vacation on the Kent Peninsula. We are both really looking forward to our yummy dehydrated food and some tundra peace. On the other hand we have made friends with some people in camp that will be gone when we return, for example, Dick the Australian cowboy helicopter pilot. We'll miss his stories (eg. 'the time I punched a demon-possessed ptarmigan', 'the beer commercial', and others) and amusing flying style...'he flies like he stole it' -Pete, helicopter engineer. We have also had to say goodbye to our good friend Stephane the pilot, who has an unbelievable ability to place our boat on the shore PERFECTLY every time, therefore requiring much less muscle power on our part. We're looking forward to seeing him again in August but wish he was around to keep an eye on us during our tundra adventure like last year.

Take care, everyone, and we'll post when we get back.

Sunday, July 22, 2007

Scarves of Serenity


It is bloody windy. We were hoping that we wouldn’t have to use our new windproof neckwarmers until August, but alas, they made their debut last night. Following Kathryn’s suggestions, our stylish ‘Scarves of Serenity’ are made of two layers of windproof fleece, complete with a drawstring at the top, and a snazzy trim of polar bear/igloo flannel (good for boogers). Amidst the chaos, all we need to do is to pull the neckwarmer past our eyes so that it overlaps with our toques, and, presto, two shivery sticks on the tundra become two serene sticks on the tundra! Although it was a bit cold, it was the first day we didn’t have to be covered head to toe for the bugs…yahoo?

Difficulties at Night

Since we switched to working nights, Heidi and I have found some tasks more difficult than normal. For example, brushing our teeth in the morning (evening). It seems that it doesn’t matter how early we get up, the helicopter is always ready to take us a half hour ahead of when we expect to leave. We have also found it difficult to sleep, with beavers practically flying through our tent several times per day and helicopters slinging stuff all evening. We have commandeered a superior tent, so now we don’t have to deal with leaky screens, leaky roofs, and smoke detectors inspired by leaks. We have found it difficult to eat. We had to deal with bugs when we were working during the day, and we’ve developed methods to deal with that, but it seems that we don’t get hungry at night, possibly because we are too cold/buggy/rushed to be ready before helicopter comes, or maybe our bodies think that we should be sleeping, not eating. The lack of non meat items available at dinner (our breakfast) has made it difficult for Heidi to pack lunch, so when I panicked when I realized that I had forgotten my lunch, Heidi comforted me with ‘Oh, don’t worry, you can have half of my pickle and cheese sandwich’. well, at least she’s got three food groups covered. We are more or less surviving on a diet of cookies and cinnamon buns purloined from the ‘land of milk and honey’, Boston Camp. We find it difficult to remember to drink. We have no excuse for this, other than digging through bags to find our bottles. Heidi and I expect to have kidney stones and diabetes by next Thursday.

PS Moms: We are joking about the kidney stones. and diabetes.

Monday, July 16, 2007

Let me start by explaining that Heidi and I, with the exception of a small nap, have been working for 24 hours. It is all part of Heidi’s master plan to switch to the night shift so that we can get helicopter time when we need it. Ask us in a few days how we enjoy eating breakfast for dinner and dinner for breakfast. We really weren’t sure if we should have eaten a meal last night or not, and if we should, what time should we eat it at? Since I dropped some chemicals on Heidi’s snacks, we had to resort to emergency cookies. At our first lake I tested my skill as zooplankton collector and failed miserably. Never in my life would I ever imagined it possible to haul a zooplankton net and bring up ONE zooplankter. I thought my eyes were getting silly because it was ridunkulously late, and I should have been curled up in my sleeping bag (that I am slightly allergic to, damnit!), but, nope, that was by far, the most unsuccessful zooplankton haul ever.

Since we were working at lightning speed (go team!), we had a bit of time so we took our helicopter pilot friend Stephane to the fish fence so he could get his picture taken with one of the big fish. Heidi climbed up the fence and nabbed the biggest, meanest, wiliest arctic charr in the trap, and was skilfully passing it to me when it jumped out of the net into no-fish’s-land between the wings of the traps. Pretty much the worst place the fish could have jumped into. After they caught the fish, I shot a movie of Stephane with the fish…

Stephane (holding the fish): So, here we are, with the biggest fish here…(chokes on mosquito and sends a gob of spit flying…all caught on tape)…at which point Heidi and I hit the tundra laughing. We could roll around on the hummocks well because we were still wearing PFDs. In any case, we think Stephane enjoyed his initiation to charr wrasslin’.

Quote of the day/night: H: Who would have thought we’d be hauling boulders across the tundra (see earlier blog entry referring to anchors and their lack of hookiness)? M: at two o clock in the morning?!

Sunday, July 15, 2007



Paul's 20-minute fight with a lake trout ends in success


Let's take stock

Experienced blog readers will be familiar with this phrase. In the logistically demanding routine of Arctic field work, we say this at least twice a day. Well, we are about to start Golder's water sampling tomorrow. We will be working the night shift because the camp and helicopters are so busy. Good thing it's 24 hour daylight! In any case, we went to take stock of the water quality equipment today.

Item #1. Boat. Well. To avoid the problems of last year (see earlier blog entries) we had a boat from Golder checked and sent up especially for water sampling. Unforturnately, the boat was accidentally slung into a broken piece of drill casing the other day, taking the leaky red boat status (LRB) to an extremely leaky red boat (ELRB) status. We tried to patch it but to no avail. So, we have a boat that will likely sink. Although I am not the most cautious of people, I decided this boat was bad news. We are now sharing a boat with another crew that's doing the day shift.

Item #2. Water quality meter. Well. To avoid infinite problems with calibration that we had last year, we had a brand new meter bought and sent up. Unfortunately, it weighs 50 lbs. Now, why would someone design a field meter that weights 50 lbs? I have no idea. Also, the data logger won't connect to the probe unless it's fully charged. Because there are electrical sockets on every lake, of course.

Heidi: Let's take stock. We have no boat. Someone else has a fully functional boat that we can probably share but we will need to get mixed gas, because the boat we were expecting to use takes straight gas (see earlier entry regarding sheep and shepherds). The water quality meter does not work unless fully charged and unless we have a lot of siksiks trained to run on hamster wheels, the meter is useless. We can share a water quality meter with the day shift crew as well. Hopefully. Unfortunately, it's nickname is the horrible meter (Horiba meter). In other news, our radio doesn't work, making it difficult to communicate with the pilots.

Marilynn: It's fine, I'm sure it's fine.

Today, Marilynn and I walked about 6 km of tundra while sampling streams. Marilynn is learning about hummocks and their devlish ways. On these walks, we often use our wet wader boots with plastic bags over our socks so that we don't have to haul hiking boots along. At kilometer 5, we paused.

Heidi: We are about to enter the willow bloodbath. Remember, don't step on top of the hummocks, aim for the holes. Prepare for 10 minutes of horrible-ness.

Marilynn: Heidi, when we get to the end of the willow bloodbath, are you planning to climb that sheer, slippery bedrock cliff in felt-bottomed wader boots?

Heidi: M, it's really MUCH easier if you think of wader boots as your spidey boots. If you think you will stick, you will stick.

Marilynn: I am dubious.

Heidi: As well you should be. Aim for the lichen. It's stickier.

Wednesday, July 11, 2007


These bugs are ridunculous.


So this is the latest quote from Marilynn, "Heidi, I don't know if I can take many more mosquitos" Paul, the Golder guy we're working with phrased it like this, "I am being totally annihilated." Yup, the weather is awesome. Hot, hot, hot. And, unfortunately, no wind. We gauge the progress of the day by what body parts are on fire. Today, after a 2 hour walk across the tundra in the buggiest bugs ever, we got back to the fish fence and decided our hands and face were never going to feel the same. Solution: we stood in the stream with our heads underwater and our hands on the bottom to numb the bug bite wounds. We call it the fish fence ostrich. The charr wrasslin' is more difficult with nitrile gloves on, but those little babies are surprisingly bug-proof. This morning, I decided to try citronella. I didn't think it was going to work, and neither did anybody else. Paul told me to let him know how it went. Thirty seconds later I was rolling around in the stream in agony washing it off. Turns out I have a skin sensitivity to citronella. Hmmmm. But, our gear FINALLY arrived with bug jackets! Yes! And a new dip net. Paul had taken to hunting down the charr in the stream with his bare hands. Which, astoundingly, actually worked once or twice.


Stephane our helicopter pilot friend is back! YAY!


Ahh, the age old question. When falling asleep, do you put your sleeping bag over your head and roast to death or listen to bugs buzzing in your ear? Speaking of which, this was another quote of Marilynn's today, "Heidi, just so you know, there is a dead and bloody mosquito in your ear. It's kind of gross. "


Monday, July 09, 2007

Heidi in Paul's back-up waders (notice the good fit)

Charr Chaos 2-Double O-Seven is Here!

Hello everyone! We're back. The ice is melting, bugs are flying (correction, LOTS of bugs are flying), and we are fishing. This year got off to a more sane start, with our carts already built, less food to dehydrate, and more chopper support. YES!!!! For new readers, you should scroll back through the archives to get a feel for the project and our dubious talent for songwriting. For old readers, you may be somewhat relieved to hear that we have not been driven to song adaptation (yet).

So, this year Kathryn has a full-time job in BC. This unfortunate (for me) circumstance necessitated an alternate crazy girl #2. Marilynn, my office and lab-mate from New Brunswick, is up with me for 6 weeks and Roshini, my insane roomate from New Brunswick, is up with me for the last 4 weeks. Marilynn came out to Edmonton to start the marathon of cooking and dehydrating in early June. She also sewed us wind-proof neckwarmers (see earlier blog entry).

Our arrival in Windy Camp was somewhat less eventful than last year. We had flights in with Miramar so we didn't have to shout for Fred in the Cambridge Bay airport. However, we discovered upon arrival that the majority of our gear has not arrived and is archived in a warehouse in yellowknife. This is most unfortunate as we have: a) no waders; and, b) no bug jackets. Not to be deterred by minor setbacks, we purloined some excess waders and pulled out our new whizzy bug hats (best twenty-five dollars EVER spent). We don't really have most of our fishing gear yet, so we have been spending the last couple of days at the fish fence helping the golder crew out and opportunistically sampling charr and trout - YES. We'll be in Windy Camp until the 24th, mostly sampling water for Golder and then we head out for our Nauyuk Lake adventure on the Kent Peninsula. It will just be me, Marilynn, the bugs, and the charr for a couple of weeks and we're really looking forward to it.

We will leave you with a parting shot of our first charr of the year. This one mananged to flip so violently on the table that my camera and the pit tag needle flew away at high speed. Fortunately, the camera is shock proof.

We hope you are all enjoying summer as we watch the first spring flowers come out.

PS. Zippy (the only quasi air-tight boat) was slung full speed into a broken drill casing yesterday. Zippy is no longer air tight. Or water tight. Sigh.