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

Vilhjalmur Stefansson: The Anti-Vegan?

In 1907, Icelandic-American expeditioner Vilhjalmur Stefansson spent 96 days living off of hunted game in his return from his first Arctic journey.  With his appetite for the polar region whetted–but perhaps not satiated–he immediately set about securing support to head north again. Yet he was determined to make his next trip even more daring than his first.

“Stef” petitioned the American Museum of Natural History to fund him on another adventure to the North, but not to supply him with any food–and they granted him this request.  The AMNH was looking to lower costs of these expensive trips to foreign places.  And, Stefansson hoped to gain notoreity for pioneering unique ethnographic methods–he sought to live with the local Inuit peoples, rather than just among them.  And for food? He proclaimed he would eat only meat.

Later in life, Stefansson would be criticized for allowing his showmanship to detract from his science, and perhaps this was an early example of his dramatic tendancies.

To find out how Stef fared in this carnivorous journey, check out this online version of his article in Harper’s Monthly from 1935.