Sublimity…

The Yellowknife airport is beginning to feel like home, I’ve been out there at least once ever day since I came back from Snap Lake on Thursday, and most days have spent at least several hours out there. Given my love of planes, I’m certainly not complaining about this, in fact it’s been great. Thursday and Friday were rest days, we had to run a few errands (mostly around the airport) to get things organized for the remainder of the work that we had to do, but most of the time was spent lounging around the hotel. Life is really tough when all you have to do is sleep and eat!

Saturday was back to work as we flew out to
Discovery Mine (about 60km north of Yellowknife) to remove a POLARIS station that had been installed there two years ago. The original Discovery Mine was a gold operation started long ago, around the 20′s or 30′s I think. The mine was very lucrative, they extracted 1 million ounces of gold from 1 million tonnes of ore (which is actually quite good), and so a small town was established around the mine (out in the middle of nowhere) complete with a theatre and a hockey rink. Life must have been harsh here, working underground in an extremely remote site in the Arctic, but it seems like it was a good life all the same. However, when the mine closed (70′s or 80′s as I recall), the town was abandoned, with people grabbing only their most important possessions and retreating to Yellowknife, eerily leaving the town deserted but completely intact (to the point of having dishes on the table etc). It was one of Canada’s “best” ghost-towns and of important historical significance – until the government came through earlier this spring and burned down all remaining buildings as part of a minesite remediation project. The foundations of some buildings were still intact and could be seen from the plane as we approached the runway, but it didn’t seem that interesting a place anymore. I’d been told about the ghost-town before we arrived and so was looking forward to seeing it and exploring around once we finished removing the POLARIS station, but I guess it was not to be. The back-up plan of touring the underground workings of an advanced exploration operation investigating the possibility of opening a new mine on the orebody didn’t work out either, so I had to settle for sitting in the exploration camp’s rec room watching Discovery Channel and checking e-mail. It was perfect example of the incredible reach of modern technology, being able to be so connected so far from anywhere, but at the same time a sobering experience to be out in a place with so much potential (old intriguing history, exciting underground operations etc.) but being stuck watching TV. Modern society is pretty screwed up.

383We chartered a Twin Otter to come and get us at the end of the day and take us and the equipment back to Yellowknife, and though it all fit in the end, there wasn’t much room or weight allowance to spare. The experience also made me realize that the majority of pilots in the north do a heck of a lot more than just fly planes. The pilots are called on to help load and unload the planes each time, to refuel their aircraft (which often is out of fuel drums cached on the side of a remote runway of beach) and the billion other things that need to be done. I’d bet they only spend around half their time actually flying or waiting with the plane, and the rest is spent doing stuff that other people usually do in most aircraft businesses. Throw in long days (they fly when the clients want to, often starting early around 7AM and finishing when the jobs are done, sometimes as late as 9 or 10PM) and its not a cushy job. Mind you, getting to fly around a pretty awesome region of the country is a decent incentive, and I’m sure the job is pretty lucrative as well, so in the end, I’d say they still come out on top. There aren’t too many old pilots in the north, the lifestyle isn’t conducive to long-term employment (especially if you want to have a family), but there are enough young people coming through looking for some excitement and a chance to break into the industry to keep it all going. The guys who flew us back to Yellowknife were certainly in this category, as when we selected the “scenic” flight-path, they proceeded to take us on a wild ride only 30-40m above the ground, following valleys and skirting hills. The scenery was much better, you certainly could see a lot more being that close to it, but for me – a person used to flying in jetliners at 35,000ft – it gave me the feeling of perpetual landing approach (the only time I really fly that low). Seeing trees at eye level out an aircraft window (they were on a ridge maybe 200-300m off to the side) was a bit of a different experience, but though the pilots were cocky flying at this altitude, they proved fully capable of it as we arrived safely back in Yellowknife after an exciting ride.

371Yesterday was an early start, we had to be at the airport for 6:30am, and were in the air by 7:15am. This time we were flying further north, out ot Grizzle Bear Lake to repair an offline seismic station there and replace the electrodes of the magneto-telluric (MT) station installed at the same site. We only had ourselves and a few tools, and so had a smaller airplane, a good old Turbo Beaver. However, this one was neat in the fact that it was amphibious. An amphibious aircraft you ask? Simple, a float-plane with retractable wheels installed on the bottom of the pontoons. This way, you can fly into and out of both runways and lakes making it a very versatile plane. We took off from a runway at Yellowknife, but landed an hour and fifteen minutes later on Grizzle Bear Lake and the pilot “parked” the aircraft right on the beach in front of our station. The flight out was wonderful, an overcast day with low-lying cloud, but since we flew under the clouds, the views were great as there was no glare from the sun. Plus, just getting to fly for over an hour and watch the scenery go by was amazing. Even the downsides of flying in a small plane weren’t too bad. The roar of the engine was dampened by the ear-plugs, my rainpaints did pretty well at stopping the “gale” of cold wind that blew in through cracks around the door, and my legs didn’t hurt too much after they (quickly) went numb from being cramped into a tiny seat with barely enough leg room to even scrunch my knees up against the seat in front of me. All in all, the views the flight provided were more than worth these small sacrifices.

We didn’t see any specimens of the lake’s namesake, but it did rain for awhile prompting us to improvise a (very respectable) shelter by attaching a big tarp along the the back of the solar panel racks. It never rained really hard, instead it was just sporadic showers, prompting me to suggest that “Drizzle Bear Lake” might be a more appropriate name for the site. No one else thought it was that funny (they hadn’t been wearing their raingear in the beginning and so had gotten a little wet). Calvin and Andy took care of fixing the seismic station (a large creature – bear – had come by and knocked over the vault containing the seismometer even though it had been partially buried sand) while Jaquin and I worked on replacing the 5 MT electrodes which were scattered within 100m of the station and buried 1.5m in the sand. The hardest part of this was finding them (just because it would be a good idea to leave clear, easily visible markers to identify where the electrodes were apparently doesn’t mean that happens…) and although Calvin had been bitching about having to do so much digging when he did similar replacements at other stations, the 4 holes I dug were a piece of cake. Mind you that’s Calvin for you, he does what he has to, but he likes to do things his way, and doesn’t like to be rushed or “overworked” at all (one of those guys who leaves the lab at 4PM precisely whether the days work is done or not). Being told to go out and dig up “tonnes” of dirt to replace electrodes that he felt were still perfectly fine didn’t make him a happy camper.

351We finished everything by two, and though the plane wasn’t supposed to come fetch us until 7PM, we were able to call in via sat phone and arrange for pickup at 3PM. As much as I like being able to get out and experience all these places in the north, as I said before, the barrenlands are places I’ve decided I love to see from the air, and love being able to put down for short times to explore particular areas, but being out in one place (and not being able to wander due to the threat of bears) for extended periods of time isn’t something I want to do more than necessary. Our flight to Grizzle Bear and back was being piggy-backed with another flight to move some field geologists mapping the Wompmay orogenic belt from a field camp west of Grizzle Bear, and since they were paying the full costs of the plane, the consequence of us coming out early was that we had to go fly to
their camp and wait for awhile while the pilot flew out to pick them up and bring them back from the day-long traverse he’d dropped them off to do in the morning. I didn’t mind, there wasn’t much to do back in Yellowknife anyway, and this way I got to see some more terrain and visit a real field geology camp. There were only 7 people in the camp, a cook/caretaker and 6 geologists who went out traversing each day so it was the polar opposite of
Snap Lake for example. To be honest, I think I liked this camp better, a big kitchen tent for cooking and eating, a similar sized tent for working/mapping/etc and then each person had their own personal tent for sleeping in. The tents were scattered across a small island in the middle of a lake, far enough apart for privacy, but close enough for convenience, and no bears to worry about in the middle of the lake. The cook was very welcoming and hospitable, though a little preoccupied and reclusive as he had to prepare supper for the incoming geologists, but the offered tea and cookies were a much appreciated offer, and the quotes written on the walls of the tent provided all the entertainment (and more) that I could have asked for. Apparently the tradition of recording inappropriate quotes on the walls of your living quarters is not restricted to Queen’s geologists…

Eventually the plane returned and we exchanged places with the geologists that had been picked up. Though we didn’t really talk to them much, they seemed like nice people, and as Calvin put it “they appeared to be lifers”, decked out in their raingear and backpack of notebooks, rock hammer, airphotos and all the other required field equipment. Even their features mannerisms clearly gave the impression that they were used to being out mapping in the wilderness all summer long, had been doing it for several years, and had every intention of continuing with it. All in all neat people doing something that I could see myself really enjoying. Maybe some other year…

339The flight back was very different. Since we were flying back to a full-equipped airport, we had the option of using IFR (Instrument Flight Rules, as opposed to VFR – Visual Flight Rules) which allowed the pilot to fly above the low-lying clouds which still blanketed the area, thereby increasing our speed and reducing fuel consumption, important factors to consider on a flight of nearly 160km. Every other time I’ve flown in a small (bush)plane, it’s always been by VFR and thus we were limited to about 1500ft or below the clouds (which ever was lower). To find myself at 8500ft well above a sea of clouds was therefore a completely new experience for me. The fact the these planes could fly higher than the VFR ceiling hadn’t even crossed my mind until then, but there was no disputing it, we were up there! You could feel the difference in temperature higher up (the wind from the leaky door was really cold now!) we certainly were zooming along. The view was very different, it was neat to be able to see the clouds up close (the windows on bush planes are so much better than jets), but the ground was so far below that even when the cloud cover broke, you couldn’t really make out much below. In the end, it was neat to be able to see the world from above the clouds, but on a regular basis I’d rather be up close and personal with the ground, buzzing along not too far up and able to see everything clearly.

Today we are waiting around the hotel in Yellowknife hoping to finally get permission to go out to Ekati (the big diamond mine, the first one in the NWT) so we can fly out there tomorrow for the day to do maintenance on a nearby station, but the paperwork has been stuck in a legal quagmire and it doesn’t look good. If it doesn’t work, we’ll just be lounging around Yellowknife again tomorrow, so I’m really hoping that it pulls through in a bureaucratic miracle so I can see Ekati (which would be super cool!), but I’m not holding my breath. Either way, we’re heading back south on Wednesday, back to Ottawa, back to the heat and darkness at night, and back to work at the office. It’s been an awesome trip, and as much as I don’t mind moving on from Yellowknife (I’ve spent enough time in this area for now I think), I don’t really want to go south, and certainly don’t want to go back to work at the office. Oh well, that’s the price I pay for getting these sweet field trips, and regardless, the next trip north (way north, to Igloolik!) is only about 2 weeks away. So for now I’ll savour it while I’m still up above 60ËšN and then start thinking ahead to the next trip. Hope you’re all having as good a time as I am!

This entry was posted on Monday, July 25th, 2005 at 12:05 pm and is filed under Arctic, Work. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Responses are currently closed, but you can trackback from your own site.