The Majestic Muskox

I think I have finally been initiated into the Cambridge Bay community. This morning, I walked past a sewage truck for the first time (I'll let your nasal imaginations take over from there). You see, residents of Cambridge Bay have their water delivered to them by truck, and their sewage disposed of the same way. If water were pumped to each house, it would freeze in the pipes. This way, the city can heat one central pump and ensure that water is made available to everyone. A con to this system is that each house is allotted a certain amount of water, so if you run out in the middle of your shower, too bad! After today's experience, I would have to say that another con is the smell of the sewer trucks.

Today, I basically went for a very long ski-doo ride. It was supposed to be another attempt at caribou hunting, but we didn't get close to any. There were a few off in the horizon at one point, but we did not pursue them, probably because the Arctic horizon is much, much, much, much further away than a horizon you and I are used to. I wish there was a way to accurately portray in a picture how expansive the sky is here. Due to the sparse vegetation and very flat ground, one can see for at least twenty miles in every direction. What you think is a rock on a hill thirty yards away turns out to be a boulder seventy yards away. : ) It's quite confusing. Even more fascinating is how guides like David manage to know their way around when the landscape is covered in snow and ice like it is now.

David looking for caribou, or figuring out where we are, or perhaps just admiring the scenery...not really sure

We turned back after about two hours of ski-dooing. On the return, we saw a muskox herd in the distance performing their defense mechanism. When muskoxen feel threatened, they form a circle so each of them are facing the outside. The babies stay in the center of the circle. A few minutes later, we surmounted a hill to run into a muskox herd only about thirty yards away! They ran away from our ski-doos, and it struck me that they moved similarly to buffalo. The imagery of the herd running together across the frozen tundra and then forming a defense circle was one of the most beautiful acts of nature I have ever seen (I was so in awe, I didn't take any pictures). Sure, zoos are great for educational purposes, but I am convinced now that to see animals in their natural habitats has got to be one of the greatest gifts humans have been given. In my mind, the muskox transformed from one of the ugliest creatures I had ever seen to one of the most majestic.

This picture is from Randy, who notes that the photographer (his uncle) got way too close to the muskoxen for his own good

With the arrival of 24-hour daylight, it has become even more difficult to sleep regularly. Sometimes my body insists on a nap at 7:30 pm or I don't feel like sleeping until 1:30 am. Randy says the opposite happens in the winter...everyone sleeps all the time! : ) Since many people have been inquiring about what 24-hour darkness is like, I have been asking people here how they cope. I was first reminded that 24-hour darkness does not mean 24-hour pitch black darkness; there is twilight a majority of the time. You can see where you're going, basically. However, people take great care to shine lights on their faces during work to stimulate vitamin D production and ward off the inevitable depression that accompanies darkness. Of course, the temperature is bitter cold; it gets down to -40 and -50 degrees Celsius regularly. The thick, goose-down jacket that I am wearing to ski-doo in would evidently only barely keep me warm in winter weather. According to teachers, students will often miss class in the winter because they are sleeping, in the same way that they miss class in the spring to go hunting.

Another one of Randy's pictures: I love how this winter sunrise scene shows the vastness of the sky and the never-ending horizon