Fieldnotes

“At the same time, the needs of communities seem to be on a different scale than many of the climate models operate.  If the village of Anaktuvak Pass wants to know how permafrost composition will look around its surroundings in order to adjust for managing caribou and goose hunting, the outputs of certain models will overlook global and regional connectivity in pursuit of that information.  The cross-scalar issues seem like very wicked ones—and though they do no present any cause for “giving up” or avoiding planning—they certainly do make the job much harder.

I also was intrigued by the role that infrastructure and history has played in the spatial distribution of data monitoring locations.  In other words, it seems that there is a path dependence linking road formation in the WWII/Cold War era, siting of monitoring equipment, and the construction of pipelines in the 1970s.  It is probably much “easier” (less expensive, less time consuming) to collect the data if it exists on road networks.  But what geographic or ecological bias is given by placing monitoring locations along roads, or only along corridors where roads go? What role does infrastructure play in science, economic development, and politics?

Another tension that lurked in the background and foreground of many presentations today was the history of native-governmental relationships that have strained today’s native-governmental relationships. This was evident in one person’s talk as he described the means by which a federal agency monitors and models caribou populations.  He suggested that the agency uses satellite collars for many herds, including the Porcupine herd (which crosses the international border between the US and Canada).  He noted that the models also do not include hunting pressure in estimating the herd’s populations.  In both cases, it seemed that a native perspective—observations on populations, help with reporting hunting figures—would be useful to help manage the herd, maintain its population, and provide a viable population for harvest.  Yet, he seemed frustrated by the prospect of working with native communities.  Why is this so?”

Chasing the Midnight Sun

In the coming two weeks, I’ll be traveling around northern Alaska.   And I won’t see darkness the entire time.

The midnight sun.  It’s an anomaly to us southerners who chop up each 24-hour period into “day” and “night.”  In Wisconsin, the sun sets everyday–we’re used to this in the temperate zone, so what we experience there is what we deem normal. But to those who live north of sixty, a clear and well-lit 3:00am is a regular summer tradition.   One’s view of the midnight sun depends on whether you see the Arctic as a frontier or a homeland.

This is the line that divides the Arctic. It’s a line that’s tread-well by tourists–how do we see the places we visit for what they are while reconciling that our vision is shaded by our experiences in where we come from? It’s a tight line.  It’s a tricky line.  I still don’t understand how to walk it.

I’ve come north because I’m enrolled in a two-week summer field course hosted by the University of Alaska-Fairbanks.  The objective of the course is gain a richer appreciation for the relationships among Arctic plant, animal, and human communities–all of which have experienced dramatic change over the last fifty years:  the increased frequency of wildfire and the northern march of the tree line; the well-publicized plight of the polar bear; and the encounters among native villages and non-native scientists–some of which have been cooperative, others not so much.

Along with fourteen other students and three faculty, I’ll be visiting research stations, Alaskan villages, and even the oilfields of Prudhoe Bay in hopes of looking at northern Alaska with a new perspective.  At times I’ll be on the “insider” side of the line–at other times, I’ll be standing across it as an outsider.

What will I see?  I hope to update the blog with stories and photos from the trip.  The journey and the course start tomorrow.  Below I’ve included our itinerary, so you can keep track of where we are and what we’re up to.

Feel free to send along questions and comments–and I’ll do my best to respond.

July 6
Students arrive to Fairbanks

July 7
Quick introductions
Overview of the course
Objectives, expectations, syllabus

July 8
All Day Seminar  – 30 minutes lectures by guests with 15 of questions and answers

July 9
Chena Pump Campground: Long Term Ecological Research field studies on Tanana River

July 10
Drive to Toolik
Stop at Coldfoot NPS Visitors center
Visit NPS visitor center
Spend night at Toolik Field Station

July 11
Toolik work with researchers
Spend night at Toolik

July 12
Drive to Deadhorse
Lodging at Arctic Caribou Inn (Deadhorse)

July 13
Oilfield tour
Drive from Deadhorse to Toolik
Spend night at Toolik

July 14
8:30 Drive from Toolik to Coldfoot
1:00 Fly from Coldfoot to Anaktuvuk Pass (spending the night at the school classroom)

July 15
Anaktuvuk Pass (spending the night at the school classroom)

July 16
Morning at Anaktuvuk Pass
Afternoon commercial flight Anaktuvik to Fairbanks

July 17
Free day

July 18
Presentations and wrap-up

July 19
Depart

Conversations in Inuvik

During the spring of 2008, as I prepared to leave Inuvik, Northwest Territories for Wisconsin, I sat down with selected town residents to discuss issues and research ideas, one-on-one.  I approached each conversation with an openness toward potential dissertation topics; I did not tell them what I was researching–instead, I asked them what kinds of research would help Inuvik, the Inuvialuit people, the Northwest Territories, and the Arctic.

Conversations floated from topic to topic, with some focusing in on specific places, historical moments, or community problems.  My goal was to take in all of this information, sift through it, and determine whether or not there was a community need to address a particular problem in a particular time in a particular place.

I have not sifted through these conversations yet.  The act of recording them on this blog, however, is one step of wrapping my brain around the information and getting a feel for what Inuvik residents are saying.  There are few direct quotations in these records, as I did not impose a tape recorder on many of these meetings.  Instead, you’ll find my synopses of conversations with people I met and respected in the Mackenzie Delta.

Peter Clarkson:  June 2, 2008

Duane Smith:   June 6, 2008

Conversations in Inuvik: Peter Clarkson

June 2, 2008

This post is part of an ongoing series.  Click here to learn more.

I first got to know Peter Clarkson through the winter survival course he led in December of 2007. As volunteers with the Frontiers Foundation, Peter invited Ariana and me to participate in a two-day class dedicated to learning how to manage the extreme winter conditions in the Arctic. The first component of the class was an afternoon learning survival theory at the Inuvik Hospital (all of the other participants were affiliated with the medical profession, as they frequently fly in the winter and could find themselves in a survival situation).

The second component of the course was a 24-hour survival simulation. Peter took us out to a lake on the edge of town and equipped us with a saw, a tarp, some rope, some matches, and a shovel. We had to build our own snow shelter, build a lean to, start a fire, cook a meal, and, above all, make it through the night.

Through the entire course, I learned that Peter Clarkson is a capable facilitator. He came prepared for the theory portion of the course and orchestrated it beautifully. He began with introductions, moved on to the outline of the course, and from there, stayed on the track he laid out flawlessly. He spoke clearly, answered questions thoughtfully, invited conversation and discussion, and knew how to manage people, time, and information.

I asked Mr. Clarkson if he would sit down and chat with me about potential research topics for my Ph.D. His backgrounds in both the academic and political worlds are almost unmatched in Inuvik–he is a grizzly bear biologist and currently holds a territorial-level governmental position in the Northwest Territories (he is also a former mayor of Inuvik). In addition, at the time of our meeting, he was in the middle of organizing a conference in Inuvik on boom and bust economies.

With respect to resource extraction, Mr. Clarkson and I first spoke about whaling. He mentioned that there are some physical historical sites at Franklin Bay, close to Paulatuk, including the Whalemen River.

One recommendation that Mr. Clarkson made was to seek out a local student to assist with research.  Perhaps a student at the high school has an interest in history, environmental history, oral history, etc, and could benefit from research experience.

Peter Clarkson also mentioned staying on top of the permit process involved with performing research in Inuvik and the Territories.  He encouraged me to develop a good relationship with the ARI and, in particular, the staff members who oversee permitting.

I see Mr. Clarkson as a good contact in the network of professionals, community leaders, and academics in the Mackenzie Delta, and in the Territories.  He is friendly, professional, intelligent, and an expert at linking people together.

Conversations in Inuvik: Duane Smith

June 6th, 2008

This post is part of an ongoing series.  Click here to learn more.

Duane Smith is the current president of the Inuit Circumpolar Council, an international group representing the world’s Inuit people with offices in Canada, Alaska, Russia, and Greenland.  The major goals of the ICC are to:

strengthen unity among Inuit of the circumpolar region;

promote Inuit rights and interests on an international level;

develop and encourage long-term policies that safeguard the Arctic environment; and

seek full and active partnership in the political, economic, and social development of circumpolar region.

It is quite an opportunity to sit down with the President of the ICC in Inuvik, where the ICC’s main office is located.  I had run into Duane a few times throughout my year in town–his son was a student at the elementary school where I taught, and I frequently saw Duane at the gym.  In addition, he seemed to be a trusted voice in town for a variety of issues:   the building of the new school, the possible curfew, and other hot button community concerns.

Ironically, I had met Duane before I knew Duane–in Tromso, Norway in January of 2007.  I was visiting Tromso for the Arctic Frontiers conference, a gathering meant to stimulate public and political action on Arctic issues affecting the circumpolar north.  Duane was a speaker representing the Inuit of Canada and the world, and his presentation combined Inuit perspectives with those from Canadian scientists.  As I reflected on that presentation, I knew that his opinions and advice for my Ph.D dissertation topics would be well informed.

Duane and I talked about whaling for the first few minutes of our conversation.  Whaling, in Duane’s eyes, is a community event.  There are individuals who carry out the hunt–but the community gathers to help process, prepare, and distribute the meat.  In addition, the community has helped organize two summer camps for children to learn the traditions involved with whaling.  Whaling remains a central part of Inuit life in the Delta.

The community has also instituted various methods of protecting whales in the Beaufort Sea.  Before the 1980s, Inuit had their own indigenous science or local knowledge that insisted on safe practices and a managed hunt.  The land claim process in the 80s formalized a co-management strategy in some sense, and Inuit began working with governmental groups like the Joint Secretariat and Game Councils to manage whales and whaling–though Inuit had long worked with these groups before the land claim.  In 1999, Inuit whalers put forth the “Beluga Bylaws” which outlined an agreed-upon process of hunting and regulating whales, including specific goals for struck and loss and total whales hunted per year.  Duane does not see these by-laws as much different from the 18th century days where Inuit men gathered in a snow shelter and discussed whaling.

Duane is well read and had several book recommendations for me.  Saami Potatoes explains the relationship between another Arctic indigenous group, the Saami of northern Norway, Finland, and Russia, and reindeer herding.  Reindeer are a central part of Saami life, like potatoes are to the diets of many in the United States.  This book offers lessons on the perils of overharvesting animals.  In Search of a Polar Continent describes efforts to reach the North Pole by explorers and locals in the Arctic.  In the Arctic, there is a a long history of following dreams so far that they become illusions, as is the case with a mirage of an island off the coast of Banks Island that perplexed Europeans and Canadians alike.

I hope to remain in contact with Duane and follow up with him during my next visit to Inuvik.  He has a strong vision for Inuit people and a determined work ethic–I’m sure he’ll stay in a leadership role in the North for years to come.