Random conversations on the tundra

Below is a collection of snippets that left us, at various times, rolling on the hummocks with hysteria/giddy giggles.

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Marilynn (while peeing): “Crap. Helicopter. Go pee, go."[Jumping into waders] “Uh-oh…. wetness. Sweat or pee? Sweat or pee? It would be warm if it was pee, right?”

5 minutes later.

Marilynn: “Gross. I just stepped on a dead bird.”

Heidi: “WHOA. Look at the size of the maggots on that thing! Those are the biggest maggots I’ve ever seen. Do you have any campinos?”

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One day, we found ourselves half-trotting over hummocks from Stickleback outflow to our launch site on the lake. Helichopper ETA was 2 minutes.

Marilynn: “!*@&#, are you serious? Bloody substandard.......”

The bag of water bottles had broken and there were bottles scattered everywhere in willows, hummocks, and scrub birch. An hour later, we were similarly trotting between Fickle Duck outflow and Fickle Duck lake. Heidi looked down at the bag and panted, “Oh boy. Structural integrity compromised.”

Marilynn: “Make sure you’re running on hummocks and not on rocks. That way the bottles won’t break when your bag breaks. You know what’s really easy? Running through a swamp in waders with a 100 lb pelican case.”

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Angela and I stumbled out of our dark cabin at 6:15 am one day with one eye open against the light and thoughts of nothing but the disgusting coffee we were about to wolf down.
Angela: “Heidi, you know what? I’m not getting any LESS tired.”

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Angela, Paul, Claire, and I were all on Patch Lake one day in rather horrific weather. Paul had branched out from cookies to tarts on this particular day and somehow, our lunchtime discussion turned to soda crackers. This was perhaps because I was wolfing down about 5 packages of crackers in an extremely ill-fated attempt to kick the cookie habit. (For the record, it didn’t work and at one point during the day I resorted to a 2-year old granola bar in the bottom of my pack that tasted like rancid peanuts).

Paul: “Have you ever tried putting 4 crackers in your mouth at once and eating them in a single minute without drinking any water? It’s impossible. You THINK it’s going to be easy, just like eating a tart (opens mouth impossibly wide and inserts an ENTIRE butter tart while Angela, Claire, and I look on incredulously), but it’s actually impossible.”

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Marilynn and I arrive at Boston Lake, where Claire and Dan have left a boat for us to use for water sampling.

Heidi: “Hmmm. That’s interesting. I thought they would have left the pump with the boat (kicks half-deflated pontoon). I wonder why they would take the pump back to camp?”

Marilynn: “In other news, it’s hurricaining again. No bugs, though.”

Heidi (zig zagging half an hour later through the chop): “It’s like driving a shovel with a sewing machine. Man, this is easy.”
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Marilynn and Heidi are sampling the ocean at the base of Louie Lake outflow, where the bear they chased earlier is back fishing in the rapids and there are seals congregating around the boat. Also, we may or may not have forgotten the paddles on this fine day, so the boat was a bit crowded with pieces of 1 x 4 (we tested, and we could actually paddle) and a LARGE rock to be used as an emergency anchor, if necessary. Marilynn was passed out on a pontoon.

Heidi: “Mem. how many Benadryl did you have today? Only, you’re missing bear TV and seal TV. It’s pretty cool.”

Marilynn (drowsily groaning): “Three Benadryl.”

Heidi: “Don’t they have non-drowsy stuff?”

Mem: “Yes, but you know I’m a cheap-ass and it was a few dollars more.” [Pondering for a few seconds] “Perhaps if there was a Shoppers Drug Mart on shore I would spend the extra money.”

Heidi: “You are ridiculous, you know. Is that a bear-shaped rock up there or a rock-shaped bear? I’m not wearing my contacts or glasses. Haven’t all summer, in fact.”

Mem: “I’m ridiculous? Rock-shaped bear. How fast do you think bears can swim?”

Heidi: “Don’t know, but if he heads this way, you paddle with the 1 x 4 and I’ll throw the anchor rock at its head.”

Hurricanes and safety dudes

I have previously mentioned the abundance of safety dudes on site this year. One day, after a safety dude saw us in a boat and had a conniption, Marilynn was approached by one of the staff in camp.

Direct quote: “Does it ever get rough when you’re in the boat?”

Marilynn looked at this person in stark amazement. “Does it ever get rough?” she thought to herself. At which point, a raft of answers flooded into her mind.

Marilynn (in her head): “Well, we are at WINDY Lake.”

Marilynn (in her head): “Don’t know if you’ve noticed, but we’re in the ARCTIC. The BARREN lands.”

Marilynn (in her head): “You know when it’s too windy for the planes to land? And we’re in the boat?”

Marilynn (in her head): If by, “Is it ever rough,” you mean, “Is it ever so horrendously windy that you zip up two rain jackets to your eyes, bail while driving, drive with only one eye open, and zig zag for two miles across a lake wreaked by 18 inch waves while a bear eats your gear on shore,” then “Yes, sometimes it’s rough.”

In any case, Claire and I were one day off of finishing the August water sampling. We could smell the finish line. We could taste it. Anticipating the sweetness, Claire processed an entire day’s samples on her own one evening while Heidi went out and sampled 7 more streams just to bring the finish line that much closer. So, it was the last day and we were on Hope Bay. It was a TITCH windy. As in, it was Hurricaine Hope. Perhaps we should have waited until it was less hurricainey, but we didn’t.

Beatrice (gazing out into the swells): “Claire, I believe this is going to be the EASIEST thing we have EVER done.”

Fast-forward approximately one-half hour.

Heidi: “Windy logistics, do you copy Heidi on channel one? Yes, we’re going to need an extra hour at this site.”

Beatrice: “Claire, according to the GPS we have dragged the anchor 300 metres since arriving. I think we’re going to have to lift the anchor and move it back to where we’re supposed to be. And then we’ll have to re-sample. RATS.”

Claire: “Right. But, ummm, Heidi, the anchor is about a million pounds at this site.”

Heidi (pondering): “Okay, let’s just get it off the bottom. Then we’ll tie it off on the handle of the boat and long-line it back to the site.”

Claire: “Is this: a) a good idea; or, b) a bad idea?”

Heidi: “B. Bad idea. But it is significantly less painful than: a) lift anchor 25 m into boat.”

So, off we went. Do you know how easy it is to drive a boat in 1- 1.5 m swells while you are pulling an 80 lb anchor approximately 15 m below you? I should mention that the wind was a headwind at this point. Not easy, let me tell you. But we made it and re-established our position. We also let out more slack, in an attempt to reduce our drift.

Heidi (glancing at GPS, then yelling): “RATS. Claire, our strategy has proven ineffective. We are still drifting like an SOB. [Thinking]. Okay, this is what we’re going to do. I’m going to attempt to drive the boat in reverse into the waves while you deploy the Kemmerer. That way, we MIGHT have a chance of getting a vertical sample!”

Claire (looking dubious and recounting the loss of the DFO zooplankton net and the Aqua-Vu camera): “Isn’t it sort of likely that you’ll cut the rope while driving?”

Heidi: “Ha. Yup. That would really suck, especially because this is a brand new Kemmerer. Okay, let’s go. Hey Claire, is it ever rough when we’re sampling?”

Claire: “Do you have any cookies?”

I had 2, and an hour later we were shivering triumphantly on shore, with Claire remarking that her hands had never been so cold in her life. Luckily, dexterity is not required for eating cookies.

The Lake of Futile Death throws us a (small) bone

So, until the last week of August, Louie Lake was the lake of futile death. As mentioned in a previous entry, Maril and I fished like we had never fished before and bug hunted like the world depended on it……all for naught. NADA. ZIP. Not a single anadromous fish and narry a mysid nor gammarus to be found. As a last ditch attempt, Maril and I hatched a plan. Hatching plans is one of our strong points. Bug hunting in the Arctic, evidently, is not.


Maril: “Okay, here’s the problem. You have to start water sampling and I have to go home. And the lake of futile death has not yielded. How about I work for two days on water sampling and then Claire can help you on Louie for two days when the water sampling’s done? Maybe the fish will be moving by then.”

Heidi (while bringing up yet another empty kick net): “Yes, I think this is an excellent idea. Largely because THIS is not working (gestures toward net). For whatever reason, the fish just aren’t moving yet and the bugs are exceedingly elusive. Maybe the water’s too high? [Heavy sigh]. Mem, do you have any patience cookies left?”

This brings me to an important point. When things are really going terribly, the only thing that keeps two fish girls sane is cookies. LOTS of cookies. The best ones are oatmeal with chocolate chips.

Maril: “No, but I do have some campinos. I’ve re-named them, actually. They’re called Heidi’s anti-grouchy medication.”

Heidi: “Hmmm. Yes, sorry. Fruitless bug hunting makes me grouchy. “
So, after a whirlwind of water sampling that shattered all previous time records, Claire and I headed to Louie Lake with our three bears. On day two I was lifting a net when….

Heidi (barely above a whisper): “Claire, I need you to find the dip net. Quickly. There is a CHARR. A BIG CHARR! And he’s only barely caught by his teeth.”

Claire dug frantically around the boat only to discover that the dip net was hopelessly trapped between 2 fish tubs, a cooler, and various other detritus.

Claire: “Ack.”

At this point, I reached into the water and grabbed the poorly-caught charr by the tail. While lifting the awkward load into the boat, I may or may not have fallen backwards into the fish tub. Everything’s a bit of a blur.

Heidi (grinning ear to ear): “YESSSSSSS!!! Look, look, look!! Claire, a CHARR! Ouch. I think I pulled both hamstrings doing that. But who needs to walk? All I have to do now is find otoliths.”

And so, the lake of futile death became the lake of mediocre, grudging, life. It didn’t give us much, but in three days we got half a dozen charr and a couple of sea-run trout as well as some amazing shots of our bears.
Pathologically stubborn? Perhaps.