Bear Necessities

Encounter of the safest kind.

Came across a little brochure at the visitor centre here in Cambridge Bay, entitled "Safety in Polar Bear Country." I thnk this was applicable to the ATV adventure last week. Nice to know we came out of it unscathed, having neither read the brochure, nor seen the alleged bears.
1. STAY CALM and call for help by radio or satellite phone. (Get contact numbers at your orientation to the park.). Right. Still looking for the little hut where the park ranger sits to orientate us. Found the outhouse. Maybe he fell in. Say what? Oh, there is no little hut with a park ranger. But the out house was real. Stinky, too. Um, radio? Satellite phone? You are joking, aren't you? And while we are at it, let's look at the calm for a moment. The bear might be well over a thousand pounds. I'm 120. QUIT LAUGHING, it might anger the bear (and me). When he stands on his hind legs, he's about 34 feet tall. I'm 5'7" ish. I think the only calm one will be the bear as he will know where his next meal is coming from.
2. Report location and time of incident. So now that I am standing in front of the calm bear, I have to report on my non-existent satellite phone or my non existent radio (my choice of which) where I am (on a rock in the middle of no where, about 45 minutes away from somewhere), and the time of the incident  (Meal time. For the bear.).

3. Report the number of people involved. No one. He hasn't eaten anyone yet. Maybe the calm bear can count how many of us there are. Breakfast. Lunch. Dinner. Midnight Buffet.
4. Report extent of injuries and property damage. Assuming the bear is still calm, then mainly I will need new underwear and yoga pants. Ditto for the other members of the now party-less party.
5. Check that all people in the group are accounted for. Huh? Where's Dinner?
6. Report numbers and last locations of all polar bears involved in the incident. There's more than one? I can't see beyond the 40 ft. tall one standing, calmly, 6 feet in front of me. Maybe they're hiding behind him. Calmly as well, I hope.

7. Report reason for the attack if known. (Female protecting cubs, surprise, defending food source, etc.). They don't specify who is surprised. The bear is remaining calm, but he might be a wee bit surprised because the food source is right in front of him. The food source is a tad unhappy at this point, and since I can't see behind the 45 ft. tall standing bear, I don't know if he is defending cubs. Which would make him a her if he was. Is.
8. Report description of bears (male or female, size, markings, etc.). Got this one. No gender bias. Big. White. Black eyes, black nose. Hungry. But calm.
9. Stand by to provide additional information to rescuers. Stand. By. Yes. I have information for you. Missing Breakfast. Lost Lunch. Almost done like Dinner. GET ME OUTTA HERE NOW!

More Arctic Antics.

Gave up my broom to ride this.

Saturday's antics. Grandma is not a wallflower.

Sure beats the stuffed one at the airport. Or the one in yesterday's burger.

The Arctic from Mt. Pelly

A fine repast with Elaine, Mike and Lisa, on top of Mt Pelly.

Going down was easier than...

 Going up.

Along The Northwest Passage. July 14, 2012, in case the icebergs fool you.

To think I did my hair before we went out. The end.

Arctic Appreciation.

I looked after a young man about my daughter's age the other day. It took a few minutes to realize he was deaf. He rang the doorbell at the clinic, I thought he saw me coming to the door, but he walked away before I could get there. I opened the door and called out, but he scurried away. I figured he was looking for a specific nurse, and when he saw I wasn't the one, he left. He returned a few minutes later being rerouted by our xray tech at the residence (he had knocked at the residence door) and I let him in. We had the most stilted non-conversation of grunts and groans I have ever had. I gathered he had been in a fight and hit in the jaw. Finally, once in the ER, I could only find a pad of Post It notes, fortunately the size above the little one inch square ones, and it was on them that the whole visit was charted, once I asked him in writing if he was hard of hearing. We wrote back and forth until I had a nice little pile of about 25 Post It notes. In the end I felt his injuries were not serious, and sent him off with some ibuprofen and instructions to return in the AM for the doctor to take a look at him. In return, I received a handshake, a smile, and two thumbs up. And then the nicest of hugs before he disappeared into the day. And that is why I love my job.

Arctic Summer

This beauty is only 3 inches tall.

What a lovely evening I was going to have last night! Purchased my modem in the afternoon. In anticipation of a night with Facebook, I went for a walk straight after work. I was gone for almost two hours. What was frozen only a short week ago has melted, for the most part, and now portions of the tundra are alive with wild flowers and short grasses. Oh yeah, and mosquitoes and blackflies and no-see-ums. A couple of evenings ago, I decided to walk "off road," through the golf course, to avoid the plumes of dust riled up  by passing ATVs and trucks. There were a few bugs, but they weren't bad. Then  decided I had to play with the macro on my camera and snap a few pictures of the tiny wildflowers that painted the normally barren landscape, so I stepped onto the tundra from the dirt road. NEVER do that, folks. It is an open seating dinner invitation to every six legged creature with wings. Even if you sport bug repellent as I did, you can imagine there are many hardy, hungry creatures out there determined to harvest your blood. It's not like there is much for them to chose from out there. Still haven't seen a musk ox. Except for the stuffed one in the airport. Maybe he stepped on the wrong piece of tundra too.

Last night's meander took me on the road towards Mt. Pelly, a rocky (what else?) land formation about 15K from here. I went as far as the bridge a kilometer from town as the crow flies, closer to two because of all the dipsy doodles and curves in the road. The river that had been iced over was now flowing freely. I turned onto a small road beside the bridge, and found remnants of camps, and sand spits that contained a chair or two for the fishermen that would soon troll the shores for the summer bounty of fish. The water looks shallow, but is beautifully clear. I stuck a hand into it, and sure enough it was icy cold. On the way home I spied 3 children on the banks further down toward the river, in their skivvies, jumping in and out of that river, laughing and giggling and having a grand old time chasing each other on the sand. The air temp is hovering around 20C, which is unseasonably warm for this time of year. Actually for anytime of the year, here, that is.

I walked into one of the town cemeteries that lays on a rocky ridge. I like cemeteries. They all have so many stories to tell, and they leave much to the imagination. Here, the graves are marked by wooden crosses, some painted white, others in natural wood. Some are small in stature, others are a commanding presence. Some marked with fading paint with the names and the dates of death. More recent ones have engraved plaques that leave you wondering, why so young? Why so old? Some graves are encircled by rocks, some painted, some not. Many are completely covered with artificial flowers and wreaths, the odd stuffed Snoopy or a baseball cap implanted. Most look well tended, but as with any graveyard, there are those that seem neglected, the fake posies having faded from many years in the sun, the painted names no longer readable. As I said a few silent prayers for all the souls interred in the rock, I wondered who will pray for me when I have been gone a while, will anyone ever look at my grave and wonder who I was, who my family was, and wonder how I mattered in life? Will a prayer ever be said by a stranger, wondering what stories lie within?
The walk ended on a high note, with me skipping away, I even ran a few paces in spite of my sore heel. I was going to cook dinner, and entrench myself in my apartment with my soon to be hooked up internet. Facebook! Yahoo! The ability to pay bills on my own computer! And.....nothing. The newly purchased modem didn't work. I think the graveyard residents could hear the f-sharps echoing across the land. And so I was forced into another night of DejaView TV. As you can tell, I have remedied the situation quite nicely.
I work with a lot of younger nurses up here, at least younger by my standards, and I have to wonder when my neck became attached to my chin? Really? I have been heavier than I am now, and I used to have a jawline then. Now it seems the turkey wattles are forming. And we are not amused.

1230 AM. My kingdom for a night. Or a knight.

The parade of craftsmen has started here, checking out the new nurse to see what she will buy. Well, she told one entrepreneur on the street that she wanted the ring carved from musk ox horn, but he had to come by the clinic during regular business hours when she would be sure to have the cash to pay for it. Guess he slept in or something. Geez, I tried to wear a part of a musk ox, and couldn't. I think, however, there are plenty of 2-legged ones roaming the streets on the weekends.
It is just after midnight as I write (type, compose, whatever), and I can see that the sun is looking like it wants to set. I am craving darkness and an open window. Well, I have the open window, but it is blocked by a supposed  black out blind (ha!), some sheer drapes, two quilts and assorted push pins. And a chair. The light shines through still. I checked on the internet, and the sun will set for the first time since May on July 23rd. For an hour or so, in the middle of what the rest of the world would call "night." If I had champagne, I would drink a toast!
And that is my world for the moment.
Salud!

Another Adventure With Grandma

I went to my best friend's cottage for a few days, with the Bean and the Humvee in tow. This is what I learned:
1. Women who elect to have children in their fifties are seriously flawed (stupid, naive, two bricks short, maybe more). There's a reason the baby works close down pretty much on their own at this age. We should never fool with Mother Nature. Ever.
2.The ability to make horrendous piecrust is not inherited. My Mom made great piecrust. I, who can make/bake pretty much anything, cannot make a piecrust to save my life. In fact it may be declared a weapon of mass destruction. My daughter however, can make piecrust to rival my Mom's. And her fig and whiskey pie is the best.
3. Vegetarianism is a learned behaviour. When cooking for/with my daughter who is vegetarian. Who would miss the meat with things like a mushroom lasagne with dried lobster and porcini mushrooms, and fresh shiotaki, white, cremini and oyster mushrooms combined with two pounds of cheese? Or the lightest of home made ricotta gnocchi with fresh mozzarella and a delectable tomato sauce?
4. Advanced verbal skills do not mean advanced reasoning skills. It's sometimes hard to remember that the Humvee is short of 2. However, I am trying hard to figure out why this is also true of many adults I know.
5. Grandma of the Year? Won't likely be me. Locked the kid out of the house earlier this year, then left him on his own while his Mom was in the outhouse. See # 1.
6. Deerflies and kids don't mix. Particularly true of adult children.
7. A sunny "Hi Grandma!" will always rock my world!
Until we meet in the GWN, provided I retrieve my computer in Yellowknife. Look it up.
Salud!

Arctic Antics

1. I'm Just Wild About Harry: That's our Jack of all trades at Cambridge Bay. Said to me one morning after what I thought was a successful struggle with my hair gel : "What happened to your hair?" Gee, thanks?

2. Where's Waldo? Okay, where's my computer? There is an advantage to owning essentially three computers even though I am by myself. Because when stupidity sets in and you leave your computer in the overhead bin of a stupid small plane chartered by stupid Canadian North because their stupid big 737 wasn't working, then you have something to fall back on.
3. Non Service With a Smile: I remembered my computer while waiting in the security line up in Yellowknife. Went to the airline counter. No one from Canadian North would go across to the Arctic West hangar to retrieve it, neither would the Arctic folks deliver it. Oddly, they never contacted Canadian North about it, you know, when they had two hours to deliver it across the parking lot to Canadian North. I was told to pick it up at the airport the next time I was in town, which fortunately will be July 2nd. But what if I never returned? Then what? I was left wishing my Guatemalan guide and finder of lost articles had been with me. He'd have gotten it back for me.
4. Celebrating Granny's Death: Results in a broken beer bottle to the chin and a stitching job from me. Granny would be proud.
5. I'm Telling Dad on You: Said by same patient when he realized (because I told him) that his brother was taking pictures of the whole process with his smart phone. The stitchee was 37 years old.

6. Man's Best Friend? Rabies up there in the Arctic, who would have thought? Gave out more immunizations due to possible rabies exposure than for regular child hood diseases. Didn't touch one doggie myself. It's in the fox population up there.
7. Underneath All That Ice: Is rock and stones. Lichen and some short little plants, but otherwise it's a kind of hilly moon scape. What plant life there is will bloom sometime in July. Otherwise, no trees, no bushes, George W. or otherwise.
8. Land of The Midnight Sun: So what Einstein didn't use black out blinds in the original design? I re-did the windows, design by Reynolds. Wrap. As in tin foil. Maybe they built the place when the 24 darkness was still hanging about.

Look out, Tiger!

9, Search and Rescue: Golfing term up here. Because you can't see the ball among the rocks and stones. But hey, it's free!
10. The Happy Hooker: Okay, not really. "Are you married?" "Uh, no." " Do you wanna go to the Elks and hook up with someone?" "Uh, no."  The nurse that runs the STI program overheard the conversation and graciously offered to go with me since she knows who has what disease. Uh, no.
11. Non Service With a Smile Part 2: The flight out of Cambridge Bay was delayed by almost 2 hours, and instead of the 737 they sent the aforementioned Dash 8, aka the stupid small plane. So those folks with connections in Edmonton missed them. And had to fork out for their own hotels there. Why? Because they weren't booked with Canadian North the rest of the way. Hellooo! Canadian North doesn't go anywhere else through the provinces. And with a ticket cost that could fly me around the world, you would think they would offer some compensation because their equipment basically sucks. Several times weekly, apparently, which saw me stuck in another community when the incoming nurses were stranded in Yellowknife because of faulty planes.

A great supply for Charlie Brown's Halloween.

12. My Little Cabin in The Woods: Up in the Arctic, they don't go into the bush. They go to the rock. The residents all have little cabins or shacks out of town, to get away from it all. Except they already live in the rocks in the middle of no where. Go figure.
13. Do You Know Where Your Children Are? I bet a lot of folks up there don't When I was returning to the residence at 3 AM in broad daylight, I noticed groups of young teenagers and kids plying the streets. Put some foil on the bedroom windows and put them to bed, I say.
14. $13.99: The price of a small jar of peanut butter.
15. $295: The price of handmade sealskin gloves. I'm still thinking. They have to be kept in the freezer, otherwise they shed.

Condo?

16. $330,000: The asking price for a 3 bedroom condo in Cambridge Bay. We are not talking the Marilyn Monroe buildings we have in Mississauga. Contrary to what one would expect in an isolated part of the world, housing is very expensive.
17. Shopping While Working: As the new kid in town, everday, someone would pass by my office and try to sell me stuff, from zipper pulls fashioned like miniature boots, all beaded and made of seal, to miniature Inukshuks. The Inukshuk won, it now accompanies my Taino moon goddess outside my apartment.
18. On Golden Pond: I asked about where they dump the sewage after it is sucked out of the septic tanks. In a big pit near the dump. Untreated. Ick.
I am back home now, although for me, it's as the song goes, wherever I lay my hat. Except I hate wearing one. I guess it's wherever I park my butt. One week from now, I will hopefully pick up my computer in Yellowknife on the journey to Kugluktuk. I hope the lichens and ground covers are blooming, or whatever lichens and ground covers do. And I am still on the search for a wild musk ox.
Salud!

Adventures With Grandma

Bless her heart, the Bean asked me to babysit the Humvee one evening last week. We all went out for dinner first, then to her neighbours' for dessert, meeting up with two other couples as well. It wasn't THAT long ago that I was in their shoes (was it?). After a Bud Lime and a game of tag with the neighbours' dog, and a recap of where things were, the Bean and her gang took off, and the Humvee and I retired to the house. His little red shoe was undone, so I decided to remove his shoes, it was almost 9 PM so it would be time for a story, a glass of milk and bed. One would have thought I was killing him. My little Humvee started wailing and threw himself on the floor. I told him that I didn't understand crying (liar) and that he needed to tell me what he wanted. "Shoes. Walk." "Can you say please?" "Pease."
Little kids are certainly a test of manual dexterity for us middle aged folks. I pretty much had his laces completely out and the shoes deconstructed before I could squish his feet in. He was highly amused, and giggled away. With hands held, and goofy goldie in tow, we toddled off to the park for a quick go at the swings. Dash doesn't like holding hand too much, but I made him. I told him it wasn't an option. Then, "What did I say?" "Not option." Good. We had a marvelous time, returned to the house just after 9:30, it was pretty dark, but everyone was happy. Until....
I discovered we were locked out of the house. In my old house, and at certain friends' homes, the knob lock is engaged for short outings. At my daughter's house, one has to use the deadbolt, to which I have a key. You would think that after having to have Brianne's neighbour Sean slink through the kitchen window last year when I had locked the wrong lock the first time, I would have known which lock to use. But no. And like all good Grandmas, I swiftly used the "S" word, softly, but not so softly that the Humvee didn't hear. He was happily dancing on the grass, uttering the expletive in a sing songy voice with each step he took.
Aha! The cell phone with the kids' cell number you say. Aha! Locked in the house too. An open window? Nope. Neighbours with keys? They were out with the Bean and Ian. So I uttered a few more expletives in my mind while I put the dog in the back yard. What to do.
Checked in on the neighbours' neighbours. Light and voices emanated from within. Finally an opened door after three trials of knocking.  I politely asked for a phone, child in arms. "No phone." Door shut. No soup for you. Off we shuffled to another set of neighbours about six doors down. The inside door was open. Knocked twice. No answer. To the neighbours on the other side of the Bean. No luck. As I was trudging to a local mall with an increasingly tired little Humvee, my saviour appeared. A gentleman going for a drive. I pounced on him before he got into the car, and begged a phone from him. Obligingly, he returned with a phone and a pen and paper. I think I woke Ian's Dad, and when I asked him for Ian's phone number, he said "Which one?" He has 4 or 5. He eventually texted Ian our little dilemma along with the phone number where I was. The gentleman's wife came out, and offered the couch for me and a blankie for the sleepy Humvee, who happily stretched out on it. But, no call back. So I called the number that Ian's Dad texted. "The person you are calling is not available. Please try your call again later." Another mindful expletive. Eureka! I knew where they were! The gentleman googled "The Ranch", and in no time, I was babbling at the hostess: "...and I locked the wrong door and  how could I have been so stupid a second time and no neighbours were around until I came upon this one, and how could I have been so stupid and can you look for my daughter and how could I have been so stupid and my son in law and how could I have been so extraordinarily dumb?"  It was 11 PM by the time I put the baby to bed. The Humvee, not me. I hope they will still let me take him to Disney World someday. They use passcards in most hotels these days.

Wherever I lay my hat, that's my home. Which may be the front lawn when I'm with Grandma.

Salud!