This year’s journey north to the Canadian Arctic started off uniquely – and by unique I mean with the wedding of two of my friends, one from St. Louis and the other from Austria. On Saturday, Katie and Markus Schober (#Schoberfest) celebrated their wedding in St. Louis with family and friends. Many people even made the trip from Austria for the weekend of festivities. After the wedding and the reception concluded, the celebration continued long into the early morning.

That is where my story of my second trip to northern Canada, more specifically the Canadian Archipelago, picks up.

I looked at the clock as I got back in the car – 2 AM. I thought ahead to my flight leaving from Lambert International Airport – 5:05 AM. Although my math was a little slower due to lack of sleep, I very quickly calculated that I would be lucky to get 30 minutes of sleep before I had to turn around and head to the airport. Nevertheless, I returned to my apartment to finish packing (yes, for some reason I was not 100% ready to leave even though the flight left in 3 hours). After another 45 minutes of packing I set everything out for one final check. With only a few minutes to spare I brought my gear out to the car and took off for the airport. Carolyn volunteered to drive my car back from the airport, despite having to cut her sleep in half for the night. At 3:45 AM we got on the highway and sleepily made our way to the airport. Now it was 4 AM and I pulled up outside the American Airlines terminal and walked, zombie-like, into the fluorescent lighting.

Between St. Louis and Chicago I slept on the plane – one hour of sleep to start making up for the deficit incurred from the previous day’s festivities. In Chicago I met up with one of the lead researchers for the trip, Greg Lehn. Greg and I were roommates in college, and are both self-proclaimed science nerds. We both love the process of observation and discovery that science provides. It was for this mild (ok, maybe severe) addiction to studying nature that we decided to wake up early on a Sunday morning, leave our daily routines, and step onto a plane pointed north for a research trip. It is never easy leaving behind people and things you care about, even if only for a short time, but the thrill of learning more about a new place (at least new to us) was too enticing to pass up. So we stepped onto the plane between Chicago and Calgary and then from Calgary to Yellowknife.

Each leg of the journey I gained ground on my sleep deficit. According to Greg, there were numerous times that he walked by me on the flight and found me, mouth ajar, fast asleep at my seat. Thankfully for me, he doesn’t have any photo-evidence. I am not a heavy sleeper, but I am self-conscious of sleeping in public places. This feeling quickly evaporated when I remembered a line from one of my favorite books by Bill Bryson called “Australia – In a Sunburnt Country.” In this clip he describes the full-sensory experience that his body gives those unfortunate enough to be around him when he falls asleep. Since I know anyone (is there actually anyone?) reading this blog is curious how bad his condition can be, enjoy the passage below:

“I am not, I regret to say, a discreet and fetching sleeper. Most people when they nod off look as if they could do with a blanket; I look as if I could do with medical attention. I sleep as if injected with a powerful experimental muscle relaxant. My legs fall open in a grotesque come-hither manner; my knuckles brush the floor. Whatever is inside—tongue, uvula, moist bubbles of intestinal air—decides to leak out. From time to time, like one of those nodding-duck toys, my head tips forward to empty a quart or so of viscous drool onto my lap, then falls back to begin loading again with a noise like a toilet cistern filling. And I snore, hugely and helplessly, like a cartoon character, with rubbery flapping lips and prolonged steam-valve exhalations. For long periods I grow un- naturally still, in a way that inclines onlookers to exchange glances and lean forward in concern, then dramatically I stiffen and, after a tantalizing pause, begin to bounce and jostle in a series of whole- body spasms of the sort that bring to mind an electric chair when the switch is thrown. Then I shriek once or twice in a piercing and effeminate manner and wake up to find that all motion within five hundred feet has stopped and all children under eight are clutching their mothers’ hems. It is a terrible burden to bear. “

The flight to Yellowknife, a town of approximately 20,000 people, arrived at about six PM. After sending a few quick emails to family confirming that we survived the day’s travels, we began searching for a place to grab dinner. We quickly discovered that many places were closed, some because it was Sunday, but others because of an annual event called “Folks on the Rocks.” We walked for about two hours searching for open local restaurants, along the way stopping to take in the various landmarks around town. From the top of the lookout in the old section of Yellowknife we could see more of the daily life and happenings of Yellowknife.

It consists of many colorful homes of every shape and size nestled unimposingly amongst the many rocks and crevices around town. Many homes had three or more stories and twisted unsteadily into the sky similar to, I presume, the Weasley household from Harry Potter. On the water, houseboats sat quietly while the occasional float-plane touched down and small boats glided by.

The view from the lookout provided a more complete view of a town that we did not get to explore last year when we came to town. While we were taking this all in, our stomachs returned to their grumbling, apparently un-swayed by our newfound appreciation of this remote Canadian city.

We set back on the trail to find food and eventually settled on the “Number one Vietnamese restaurant in Yellowknife.” We were not able to confirm whether the second Vietnamese restaurant we passed in town was still in business, but the sign and our growing hunger eventually led us back to this restaurant for dinner. We arrived fifteen minutes before close, but the owner graciously offered to serve us regardless. We quickly devoured our plates of stir-fry and returned to “The Explorer Hotel, perched solidly atop one of the few high-points in town. After grabbing a drink at the hotel’s bar, we retired for the day, anticipating the start of our remote research trip. In the words of Chris McCandless, “I now walk into the Wild.”

The amount of sunlight that seeped through the curtains as I woke up indicated that there was a bit of fog this morning. A glance out the window confirmed my suspicions. I rolled out of bed and completed my pushups and sit-ups for the day. Actually, I fell behind a few days ago, so I did twice as many today to start to make up lost ground. It has become a necessity to incorporate this into my morning routines up here. It is not common for people to go on runs around here, partially due to the ever-present risk of running into a bear or other large mammal. Although I would love to see a bear at some point on this trip (at a safe distance), I would prefer not to see one when I am a mile outside of town by myself with no defense except the blindingly reflective qualities of my Irish skin. As a result I have taken to doing these minor workouts to hold off accumulating too many pounds from all of the delicious meals provided to us by Nadene and Johnny. I have never left a meal hungry that’s for sure. When I first signed on to come to the Arctic I thought meals would consist of Ramen noodles and bread! I could not have been further from the truth.

The community aspect of this project is part of what makes it so great. In each city we visit, Matt has established a relationship with the local Hunters and Trappers Organization (HTO) and individuals at each location have offered to assist us with our work. These relationships are critical to the success of this project – without local help and knowledge we would limp along each step of the way. The HTO of Kugluktuk assists in many other scientific research studies to help understand their ecosystem. They have participated in shorebird studies, caribou tracking, fish population monitoring, and much more. Jorgan and Christian, our two local research assistants, are prime examples of this commitment from the community to continue adapting their knowledge base for the organisms and environments they interact with on a daily basis.

Today Greg and Matt headed down to meet Christian and Jorgan at the Kugluktuk HTO to teach them how to collect the water samples. While they went to do that, Rob and I stayed behind at Enohkuk Inn to hold down the fort.

One of the great aspects of this trip has been the ability to catch up on several things that I have not had the opportunity to work on since last summer. I grabbed a cup of coffee and got to work. We worked through lunch and chatted with Johnny and Nadene. Greg and Matt did not get back from collecting samples until about 3:00 PM, but when they had settled in we checked to see if they were interested in going for a hike. Greg agreed, so we packed out bags and donned our boots.

The hike started out on the high ground to the south of town. We traipsed around the rocks and bluffs overlooking the river. We stumbled upon a stromatolite, which is an ancient life form that is presumed to be one of the first organisms to produce oxygen gas (O2) on a large scale.

The presence of stromatolites in oceans around the planet dramatically changed the composition of earth’s atmosphere.

How did it end up on a cliff in northern Canada? Two of the usual suspects of global rearrangement, continental drift and glaciation, most likely deposited this ancient organism at its current location.

We explored the bluffs and eventually found ourselves on a four-wheeler track (“quad” as they are referred to in Canada) that lead into the lowlands toward the river.

The ground squished and slurped every step we took. It had an uneasiness about it that made me wonder what our steps did to the soil as we carefully made our way across the delta, or floodplain, of the river.

Greg described the soil here as walking on a wet mattress. With every step the ground shifted as though on springs. Water seeped into every footprint.

The delta of the river was saturated with water. I quickly regretted not wearing my rubber boots. We sloshed along further. Several times, I reached sections of the trail where water lapped at the rim of my boots, waiting to flow over at any moment if given the opportunity. We reached a creek that was too wide to cross and turned around. The hills gracefully rose to our left again as we proceeded back toward town.

This was my first experience with arctic tundra, and more specifically arctic tundra that was no longer frozen. As the project progresses I presume this will become much more commonplace as the ground continues to warm and thaw for summer.

Fog moved in as we sat down to dinner, which prevented any further exploration.

I caught up on a bit of work and sat in the common room of Enokhuk Inn with a cup of coffee in hand until late in the evening. The side of me that is always on the go wanted to be out in the field again. On the flip side, there was something special about the peace and quiet that can be found up here if one is willing to listen. It is easy to find noise in many places these days, but it can be much more difficult to find quiet. I closed my computer and finished my cup of coffee while the sun drifted close to the horizon behind the sheet of fog.

First off, in order for the title to work, you have to say it in your best (or worst) Canadian accent. Now that I’ve covered the ground rules, here is my blog post for the day!

The morning started off with a peek through the window in my room. Fog clouded my view of the bay below – we would have to wait for this to clear before we could take the boat up river. I packed my bag for the day and went out to breakfast to discuss the plan. As I munched on Cheerios and toast, the sun started to burn through the fog. By 9:00 AM the fog had almost completely lifted. We organized the research coolers for the day and packed up the van. One last check of necessary materials: bear spray – check, pocketknife – check, water – check, satellite phone – check. By 9:45 we were on the road down to the Hunters and Trappers Organization (HTO) to meet Barb and our boat driver for the day, David.

As we pulled up several men were bringing their morning’s catch to Barb and David. In each bag was an arctic char measuring between 24-44 inches. The HTO prepares and freezes the meat and will distribute the food to the community to help those people who do not have enough to eat. There is a strong network of support in the town of Kugluktuk, and we have noticed this in the short time we have been on the ground here. For instance, when we mentioned to Barb that we would like to have a boat to take samples up river, she called David who was willing to give up several hours of his day to help us with our project. Each step along the way, members of Kugluktuk have made us feel welcome despite having wandered far from home.

We grabbed our life jackets, donned our waterproof raincoats and pants, and took off for the shore to meet David at his boat. One thought kept coming to mind as we neared the frigid water of Coronation Bay – “one minute to control your breathing, ten minutes to use your muscles, one hour before you lose consciousness.” This past spring break, while individuals flocked south to find warm, sandy beaches, Greg and I went to the Pacific Northwest, to the University of Washington, for several classes to prepare for this summer. We were taught about small boat safety, bear safety, emergency preparedness, and small river crossings. Along with Matt Alkire, we learned to always wear life jackets on the water (of course…), to tell others where you are going, stay calm in emergencies, and many other life-saving bits of information. Perhaps most useful and impressive was the section on hypothermia. In the event that one of us were to fall into water in the Arctic, it is important to remember how much time you have to do several important things – “one minute to control your breathing, ten minutes to use your muscles, one hour before you lose consciousness.” This sequence of events was brought home by Dr. Gordon Giesbrecht in this video. He staged a scenario where he fell through the ice on a frozen lake. He talked through each of the steps in the moment, while he is experiencing the symptoms from his predicament. He emphasized that the goal of the video is to save lives. The lines run through my head once more as we pull up to the boat – “one minute to control your breathing, ten minutes to use your muscles, one hour before you lose consciousness.” Okay, maybe I’ll just focus on not falling in…

We tossed our gear into David’s boat and strapped on our life jackets. With a nudge from a man onshore we floated free and started heading up the shoreline toward the mouth of the river. A light fog wisped around us and the icy air just above the water revealed any exposed skin. David guided the boat skillfully, avoiding low points and other objects in the river, including chunks of ice.

The hills on either side of the river rose sharply, exposing layers of sedimentary rock, deposited long ago as sediment fell out of the river and settled on the river bottom near the mouth. We stopped about a mile upstream where the channel narrowed. In order to get a better profile of the river, we decided to collect three measurements, one on either side and one in the middle. We pulled over to the shore and hopped out into the mud.

The shore was muddy, despite being covered in vegetation. Only a few days ago, the water level was several meters higher from the pulse of ice and freshwater flowing downstream due to the river breaking up. We grabbed our gear and slogged to a place on the shore not covered by mud to start sampling.

Greg and Matt reviewed how they wanted the samples collected and re-emphasized the importance of preventing contamination.

It was pivotal to keep any dirt, sand, mud, hair, and other objects out of the water once it has been pulled from the river.

In order to collect several liters of water ‘quickly’ we used something called a peristaltic pump. Despite the complicated name, it operates in a similar way to how we swallow food. Tubing runs through the middle of a drill-operated pump that squeezes water through the tubing and into our bottles. It took us almost an hour to fill all of the bottles for the first site, partially due to some complications with the pump. After we completed these measurements we lugged our equipment back to the boat and set off for the middle of the river.

The river measured approximately 200 meters across at this narrow point. We set anchor in the swift current and began taking samples.

The purpose of this study is to obtain a chemical fingerprint that can be used to determine where the water from this river (and the six others we are measuring) goes once it enters the Arctic Ocean. The interaction between freshwater and saltwater is interesting and complex. In most cases freshwater is less dense than seawater. Due to its density, freshwater behaves in a similar way to oil that sits “on top” of water. The subtle differences in density are enough to prevent water from deep down to circulate to the surface in the Arctic Ocean. This property (which is a simplification of the overall process, but I don’t want to bore you with all the details here) is what allows ice to form in the Arctic Circle. Similar to salt being thrown on the road and sidewalks during winter, saltwater in the Arctic Ocean freezes at much lower temperatures than freshwater. This project will provide the first set of measurements from small Canadian Arctic rivers in the hopes of seeing how much freshwater they contribute to this cycle and where this water goes. Still with me? If I set you adrift somewhere, I’ll toss you a rope and pull you back into the boat with us!

We finished collecting samples in the middle and far side of the river. After sitting in the boat for almost three hours, my hands were nearly frozen despite being bathed in sunlight all morning. The temperature was still a chilly 5 degrees Celsius (41 degrees Fahrenheit) and windy. We finally pushed the boat off from the shore and sped off downstream. The wind had picked up since we left, which made the ride back much choppier. A few large chunks of “candle ice” melted on the shoreline, unable to resist the pressing waves of summer.

By tomorrow these chunks of ice will be gone. We returned to the beach and unloaded the boat. We thanked David, our captain, and he pushed off into the Bay to begin checking nets again for more Arctic Char.

We drove back to the Inn and brought our gear inside. My stomach was growling having missed lunch, so I decided to wander to the Co-Op store for a snack. You know how they say never shop when you are hungry? Well that point becomes even more apparent when the items you would normally purchase as snacks are two or three times more expensive. I bought a bag of chips, gummy worms, and a few bananas and spent $20.00. My wallet winced a bit as I put the receipt inside, but alas my stomach’s grumbles won out. I walked back to the Inn munching on my snacks, occasionally stopping to talk to people who were selling some amazing, hand-carved trinkets. I mentioned that I would be interested in a carving of a whale or bear, but did not want to buy anything today. Roy, the man who was showing me his carving, nodded and said he would see what he could do. This would not be the last time I would hear from Roy.

Dinner was another delicious meal provided by Johnny and Nadene. We all left the table thoroughly stuffed. For the second time in two days a thunderstorm moved over the town of Kugluktuk. Lots of lightning was accompanied by heavy rainfall.

This storm hovered over the town all night long. With nowhere we needed to be after dinner, I sat on the porch of the Inn and watched the storm roll by. Two unseasonal storms in two days. Today’s sample collection was a success – the first trial for a three-year study. Tomorrow we plan to show Jorgan and Christian, both 19 years old, how to collect the samples. They will have a part to play in helping their town, Kugluktuk, understand how their Coppermine River contributes to the Arctic freshwater input. The fact that they are enthusiastic about the opportunity shows human nature’s ability to take on challenges with unknown results. That individuals are trying to redefine their community given new circumstances gives me hope.

Today we woke up early, grabbed some breakfast, and set off into the field in search of a good sampling location. On the east side of town is a road that extends toward the Coppermine River and the town’s pump house. The goal for the day was to find a location where we could easily collect water samples that were representative of the geochemistry of the entire river. Geochemistry combines chemistry and geology to better understand the major mechanisms that direct geological systems.

Despite the pump house being easy to access, we decided to walk on in search of a better location. To our left the hill descended quickly to the valley floor. The river widened as it flowed into the bay. Tiny purple flowers and willow bushes began to open their petals and leaves to the sunlight. We ascended the red-rock hill in front of us and the view of the valley floor opened up below. A large sandbar extended from the bottom of the cliff toward the river. No easy path presented itself through the marsh so we decided to head back to town and await our meeting with the HTO Board of Directors.

We arrived at the Hunter and Trapper Organization (HTO) headquarters and sat down in their boardroom for our meeting. Barb made a pot of coffee for us in the background as individuals from Kugluktuk started to arrive. Several people showed up to our meeting – two men, Christian and Jorgan, who will collect the water samples, Fredd and Kevin volunteered as our wildlife monitors, and David was the head of the board. After introductions, Matt Alkire began to describe the project to the group.

The group had many questions for us. Why did we want water samples from the Coppermine River? What effect might this study have on the local community? How did we envision the HTO helping with this project?

Matt, Greg, Rob and I responded to each of the group’s questions and this appeared to put them at ease and they seemed excited for the project too. We also had many questions for the board. The people of Kugluktuk have observed many changes in their town with the weather, climate, and timing of events. These anecdotal changes provide a picture of an ecosystem that is rapidly changing and unpredictable. They emphasized that it is very important to them to see the Coppermine River protected and they want to better understand the changes occurring in Kugluktuk.

We settled on a plan to meet tomorrow and take a boat up-river to find a nice sampling site that Christian and Jorgan will be able to access for the remainder of the summer. The group went outside and we started to prepare a boat for the trip. While we checked over the engine there was a part that was disconnected and laying underneath the engine block. With any luck this is not an important part – regardless we will find out soon…. After the boat was ready for the morning we headed back to the Inn.

Before dinner we decided to go check out the Co-Op, a grocery store/hardware store with many other general items. I had been forewarned that certain foods can be much more expensive in the Nunavut, but I was humorously surprised by what I discovered. Are you hungry for some milk and cookies? That will be $16.00 (Chips Ahoy = $9.99 and 1 Qt Milk = $6.00).

How about a bag of Cool Ranch Doritos and a 12-pack of soda? That will only cost you about $32.00 ($7.99 for Doritos and $24.00 for the soda). I quickly slimmed down what items I wanted to only items that I “needed” – you know, items such as bananas, Snyders pretzels, and some candy worms. This only set me back $14.00 – not too bad in my opinion. I walked back to the Inn munching happily on my snacks. Over the hill behind the Inn the sky started to grow dark.

As we walked closer there was a flash of lightning in the distance. Kids continued to climb un-phased on the rocks on the west side of town. According to the owners of the Inn and everyone at the HTO, it is extremely rare to have a thunderstorm in June.

We waited out and began taking pictures of the incoming cloud cover. The sky turned a mild shade of gray and green and continued to roll toward town from the southwest. Just before dinner the storm was on top of the Inn dumping buckets of rain. The temperature outside dropped and hovered around 40 degrees Fahrenheit. Nadene explained that the past couple of years there have been one or two storms like this earlier in summer, but that this phenomenon is recent and often unpredicted.

Many elders in Kugluktuk do not recall ever having to worry about a thunderstorm in the summer growing up. It is unclear what factors are leading to these changes in weather patterns; however, climate change is predicted to cause more-frequent storms and significant weather events in the future. This could become the new normal for Kugluktuk.

The storm passed overhead and faded into the distance. By this time it was almost 8:00 pm, but with twenty-four hours of daylight I decided to go outside to take some pictures. I climbed to the top of the hill overlooking the town.

To the north the storm was quietly sending rain down on the bay. Large sheets of ice still covered most of the bay. Pools of water collected over the smooth, red metamorphic rock that forms the hill west of town.

Dispersed around the rocks are layers plants and organic matter that have accumulated in this harsh environment over many years. Adults and children on four-wheelers (they are called ‘quads’ in Kugluktuk) cruise around town un-phased by the recent abnormal weather. A rugged dog stands firm at his post.

In the Bay fishermen checked their nets for Arctic Char.

This project has the opportunity to fill in significant gaps in scientific knowledge about the Arctic Ocean and the contributions of small Canadian rivers to the overall volume of freshwater entering the Arctic Circle. The data for climate change has spoken – the earth is warming and our actions have directly contributed to this increase. We are still discovering the extent of these changes and their effects on ecosystems. The remaining ice in Coronation Bay continued to float under the unseasonal storm on the horizon, oblivious to the changes occurring around it. One thing is clear to me – this project and others that are searching to understand these changes cannot happen fast enough.