Tuesday was a big day for us, sort of the icing on the cake of the Dempster trip. To get all the way to land’s end (the Arctic Ocean), we had to do the last 80 miles or so by air. Our goal was Tuktoyaktuk (“Tuck”), one of the most remote northern settlements in Northwest Territory. We booked a fly/land tour so that we could make a day trip out of it (there are boat/fly tours also), and launched late morning in a 6-seat Cessna 207 into a nearly clear blue sky – just a light smoke haze.

Inuvik slid by under the wing – – –

– – – and we started our course across the huge wetland/delta area. This seemingly endless sheet of land and ponds is visibly punctuated by the Mackenzie East Channel. This waterway becomes the winter Ice Road between Inuvik and Tuck, about 120 miles or so. (It will eventually be by-passed by the all-year road under construction.)

In this incredibly remote land, humans are scarce, to say the least. But our traces can be found – such as the string of DEW-line stations (Distant Early Warning) that were built during the cold-war ‘50’s to warn of intrusion or nuclear attack. We were told there are about 70 of these strung out across the Arctic. With advancing technology, they are now automated and un-manned. In the beginning, they each required a 50-man crew, year-round. Nice job, eh? Freezing your butt off waiting for Armageddon.

Getting close to Tuck, we pass by the largest of a curious formation known as a pingo. A pingo forms when a small lake or depression interacts with the permafrost. An ice “bubble” is created under the surface soil, expanding it upward. There are dozens of these curiosities in the area, large and small.

And then the tiny 900-person village comes into view.

Approaching the Tuck airport, I was amazed at how they could find or fill enough solid ground to make a runway. And remember, it follows the same rules as any road-over-permafrost (see my previous post on this topic).

Here you go – proof positive (you can’t quite read the fine print – it says “69 27 North Latitude”). Time to tour the town.

One of the things we got to see was a traditional “ice house”. It’s not actually a house, it’s sort of a mine shaft, leading to small rooms off to each side. The permafrost in Tuck starts just a few inches under the soil, and its consistency of frozen water, rocks, and frozen mud can be seen along the sides of the access shaft. We were told that these old ice houses are in declining use; apparently the common refrigerator is more convenient. But there are still a few of the old-style cold-storage digs remaining.

Our local guide is a resident Inuvialuit, and has collected some of her own possessions and wares to give us an idea of the Native life. Furs, antlers, bones and such for sale or for making into other products. A musk-ox skull and some hand-made wooden snow-blind goggles (latter day sunglasses).

Houses are standard above-the-permafrost construction. There are a very few old-style constructions, kept either for tourists or sentimental value.

The Mackenzie River brings in huge quantities of wood, washed down from its vast drainage area. The older wood is not too useful, and accumulates. Newer wood is gathered each season for construction and firewood.

The residents use makeshift materials to create smoke-houses, and each summer they stock up on “dry fish”, a cleverly sliced-smoked-dried whitefish that comprises a lot of their winter food stock.

At the north edge of town, the Arctic Ocean awaits our toes – – –

– – – and we dutifully dip them in it. Nope, no swimming or kayaking – – but it wasn’t that cold really. Maybe 50-60F here in the shallow bay.

Other human artifacts are to be found, such as the local DEW line station and a moth-balled oil-rig caisson.

Government housing units aren’t renowned for their aesthetics, but they’re warm in the winter.

One of the most-difficult aspects to convey is the hugeness of what we see. It’s easy to find human structures and take pictures, and that’s most of what I’ve been able to show here. We humans tend to make things that are blatantly un-natural in character, and they stand out easily against the backdrop of sea, lakes and tundra.

What I can’t show is the immenseness that reaches in every other direction. You look in one particular area, and you see the township (above). Then, no matter where else you cast your gaze, you can find only the endless vastness of – – – everything else.

• Miles from home —
  • 3,153 (driving)
  • 85 (flying) or 120 (boat/ice)