2018/07 Arctic Part 2 - Tuktoyaktuk |
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Dear All,
At the end of Part 1 of this journal, we had just arrived in Tuktoyaktuk, an Inuit village on a peninsula jutting into the Beaufort Sea and the Arctic Ocean.
This part of the journal covers our short stay in Tuk, and our subsequent journey back down the Dempster Highway and across the Yukon to the Alaska Highway and British Columbia border.
Wednesday July 4th
We’d arrived in Tuk in good weather, sunny and windy with temps in the teens C (60s F).
As I mentioned in our previous letter, the entrance to Tuktoyaktuk is not pretty, as the new road winds through all the stuff that they kept out of the living area, like rubbish dump, power station, fuel tanks, etc. The biggest surprise though was a bay absolutely jammed with tree debris. There are no trees in sight around Tuk, so why is this bay full of driftwood? Tuk is on the edge of the Mackenzie River delta and the river valley is warmed enough by the river to support black spruce trees, billions of them. These in the bay must have been carried down the river and swept out to the sea which had eventually cast them ashore here. Scrawny black spruce logs have little value today but they were probably once important to the Inuit that lived around the river’s delta.
This was not our first visit to Tuk; we had flown here from Inuvik back in 2004 and been taken on a tour of the village. We were looking forward to touring again but at our own pace.
The dominant view as we approached the town was the DEW (Distant Early Warning) station across the harbour. It is no longer used but is still remotely monitored, the locals say, so don’t try to land on the island or a voice will tell you to leave
The road winds its way between bays and lakes and in places is barely above water level. Occasionally there is a side road going to a few homes on marginally higher land. The whole village doesn’t seem to be more than a couple of miles of buildings along the main road.
For such a small place, with a population of less than a thousand, it has an amazing amount of traffic: cars, trucks, motorcycles, ATV four-wheelers. We were creeping in at the speed limit of 15 kph (10 mph), partly because it gave us time to look around. The locals were, of course, zooming past us in all directions. 
Tuk has no formal campground, but visitors are allowed to camp at The Point, which also happens to be the end of the road. There were about a dozen other campers there already, mainly truck and van campers, but also a few brave souls in tents. They were scattered around the road’s loop/turnaround, with everyone facing the water. We opted for a view out over the ocean, and managed to find a flat spot, on the edge of town, next to this marker for the Trans Canada Trail.. There were no buildings on the Point, and I guessed that in stormy weather it might all go underwater.
We ate lunch while watching the parade of traffic going around the loop and soon got to recognize trucks and motorcyclists. Perhaps the Point had always been a hang-out for the local teenagers, so they’d be cruisin’ thru just to see what was going on. But now it had tourists too, so that’s another reason for cruisin’: to go see what the campers are up to.
We took a stroll around the neighbourhood, spread around this bay. It’s a fishing community so no one wants to be far from the sea. We were told that most of the boats were out at their summer fishing camp.
This is a typical Tuk house; with few windows, to conserve heat. The ground underneath the house is permafrost and it must be kept frozen orthe house will sink into it, so heated buildings are built on wooden piles driven into the permafrost. There is no town water or sewage system. Fresh water is delivered by a truck and another truck like this pumps out the sewage.
The Catholic church is built on the ground. It probably has no plumbing and is only heated for services.
Likewise the Anglican church. I don’t know what this circular building is. It looks like a smaller version of Inuvik’s Igloo Church, but there was nothing to identify it,
so we’d have to ask.
Graves with extravagant plastic flower displays are common, wrapped in poly against the elements. Family plots may be fenced with little white pickets.
Our Lady of Lourdes used to transport supplies to the Catholic missions in the Arctic in the 30s and 40s. Sadly it is also remembered for transporting Inuit children away from their families to residential schools. This ground squirrel was clearly in charge of contributions associated with the ship.
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Ground squirrels (1.39) |
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This is what Tuk’s houses used to look like. They were built out of sod, similar to a prairie house except that their interiors were all above 
ground; they were too close to the ocean to dig pits. There was another ground squirrel in charge here too.
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Sod house interior (0.27) |
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Tuk does have one very large pit, dug well away from the shoreline. It is the village’s freezer, accessed by ladders that lead to each family’s cache of meat and fish. Tourists used to be allowed to visit the freezer and go down the ladders, but the village’s lawyers were worried about liability. Ricky, our guide in 2004, suggested that the lawyers be tossed into the pit.
As is usual in Canada’s remote communities the Northern Store sells everything, well everything you’re ever going to get in Tuk. I’d guess that delivery charges are high if goods are ordered online.
The weather was deteriorating. The wind was stronger and the clouds had rolled in. If I was to get my swim in it had to be now. It seemed silly to drive all this way 
to the beach and not sample it. Sandie, for some reason, wasn’t keen, so I went looking for a good place for me to swim. I couldn’t risk deep water in case I cramped up, so we went to the extreme end of the Point where a line of rocks bordered a shallow area. By this time the wind had got cold enough that I was keen to get into the water! It was cold, but not numbingly so. I’ve swum in mountain lakes so cold that my hands and feet went numb. This Tuk water wasn’t much worse than the English Channel in winter. Although I was in the Arctic Ocean, it was somewhat muddy and only faintly salty; probably a mix of seawater with the Mackenzie’s river water.
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Arctic dip (1.30) |
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By the time I’d got back to the camper the wind had come up and was screaming. I was determined to have a beach barbecue, but even though I’d built a windbreak I couldn’t get the fire started. One of the locals sat down next to me and asked if I needed help.
I was expecting some ancient Inuit trick, but he pulled out a plumber’s torch and blasted my pile of wood until it was blazing. I offered him a bratwurst but he said he was just happy to help. A German girl came over to share the fire. By the time I’d finished cooking, rain was lashing us sideways, and she returned to her tent.
Sandie asked me to get rid of the fat from boiling the brats and I tried to empty the pan into the fire but the wind blew the fat onto the rocks. A dog appeared and with one mighty lick scooped up the fat and swallowed it. At this latitude dogs, like people, need their fat!