Thirty-five years after

 While this blog is about Kuwait, I digressed in the last post and let me do so more now. I happen to have given a story about my summer in the Arctic, so I thought I'd post it here. They cannot be further apart in terms of climate, but not so in terms of population distribution or colonial history...

Spectacular view of Grise Fiord looking North, Timothy K,
from Google Maps

Even though Grise Fjord is across Jones Sound (#2 here) from Grinnell Pen., NW Devon Isl., central Canadian Arctic Islands, the landscape is the same - my summer there is described on ye olde website here - I left all my photos with my employ then, NRCAN. So here is what I recently shared as a story:

Let me tell you about an excursion on Grinnell Peninsula [... Above] is what the area looks like. Quite mountainous w wide coastal plains, gravel flats for planes to land on and to establish camps, but 1000' cliffs or moutains make you feel this small. 

So my field geology lead Andy was going to take me and our field cook, Marianne from London in fact, on a little jaunt  to check out some geology but also as a thank you treat for our cook who worked tirelessly for us thru the 8 week camp in July August 1986.

So we get in the helicopter, Andy in the front, Marianne w me in the back. There are 3 seats in back but she's nervous so she sits in the middle, first not to see the scenery zip by that scares her, second to hold onto me for security. We got along well, actually think she liked me, but I was still v. much in love w my 1st wife, so she knew I was not confused and she could be chummy with no sexual innuendo, that made others jealous and our Inuit guides confused.

So as helicopter takes off and pilot radios in our route plan - the chopper call number is seared into my brain - for security one checked in every 2 hrs, so if a call went missing search&rescue would be launched and we'd never be more than 2hrs outa touch, critical in the hostile Arctic.

Marianne leans into me and I put my arm around her and I can see her relax, tho she clenches my knee when the chopper drops all of a sudden in an air pocket 😱 but we make it to our destination on a glorious sunny n warm day by Arctic standards, meaning 70s °F (20s °C) w light breeze making it 60s °F (teens °C).

You see with ice caps atop mountains in the islands and open waters in the summer, there's a constant cold breeze sliding off the cold hilltops toward the warmer open coastal waters. As a result our tents flapped all the time, making it hard to sleep... in addition to the fact the sun never set that far north mid-summer!

So we leave the chopper in the lee of the valley and climb along this long narrow but straight ridge along the flank of this glacier. The idea is that we'd record what rocks we saw under our feet, then scan the same across the glacier on the opposite side, with the plan to return the next day to be dropped off the other side of the glacier, and do the same looking across back to where we r now. That meant we covered a large area quickly, when efficiency is important to cover such vast areas

As we reach the top we hear this roar, and to our amazement we see an ice dam break and slush (yes like the drink... a mix of ice and water!) roar down the valley below. As glaciers bend and fold over topography, they can create so-called jumklas or ice-dams, which can break thru melting on a mild day like that day. Those ice dam breaks are fearsome however,  as their speed is phenomenal, you can neither outrun it nor swim in it: "too thick to swim and too thin to walk, so you die in it" the Inuit would say very tersely...

So Marianne grabs my arm as the seriousness of what's happening - well below us thank God - sinks in. We then turn around as the sun is the other side, and exposes the opposite ridge in glorious detail in the crisp clean air.

As we arrive at the bottom... the helicopter is gone! Panic sets in, Marianne is fully hugging me now until she steps aside in embarrassment, but i reach for her arm to tell her i understood & it was OK.

Thank God we soon hear the distinct whop-whop of the chopper returning from just around the corner... So we crouch not only to avoid being blown over but also to let pilot land safely. We climb in and pilot puts his fingers to his lips asking us to be silent as he powers down the engine turbines. So we sit in silence  wondering wazzup, until we see over the nearby ridge a herd of muskoxen cresting the ridge to check out these intruders (that be us). They form a wall w babies safely tucked behind them, as they cautiously come down the ridge to about 500 yards, and simply stop to watch them graze on the scant lichen and willows, there's no grass pe se this far north. "That's a sign they relaxed and accepted us intruders" the pilot says, "but earlier they kept circling me and never settled, so I simply took off and landed two ridges over to draw them away...  which it did, as they just arrived back... but i s'pose they got used to us and settled down second time around". 

That's the most I ever heard our pilot speak in 8 weeks! First he was explaing but second he was gabbing to relieve his tension,  tho as a northern man he'd never admit that he might've been scared... even if just a little and even if just for our own safety! For muskoxen weigh over a ton apiece and there were a dozen, half of which males that could've made a run for us to scare us away, coz their abso clear who belongs there... and it's mo def not us! The only predator they fear is polar bears, so we're down the list of dangerous beings um afraid.

So the pilot fires up the chopper, Andy took many pics, and Marianne beams with glee and gives me a peck on the cheek in excitement. She immediately recoils flustered at her outburst, but again in put my hand on her arm to reassure her it's OK... I dont think she noticed her hand was an my knee the entire way back! I knew it was reassurance for her on the flight back, with a squeeze every time the chopper dropped or wobbled... figured I was her walking talking security blanket LOL