Have you ever had an experience where you feel as though you’re living in a movie, or a dream, or some drug-induced Alice In Wonderland?

The North periodically has its way of doing this to me.

Back in 2002 and 2003, I lived up in Resolute Bay, Nunavut, which I always considered the “Top of the World” until I had the opportunity to visit Grise Fiord (pictured here) on a couple of occasions.  Grise Fiord is the northern most civilian establishment in North America and sits at 76 ° 25′ N.

When I lived in Resolute Bay I did many things, mainly because my wife had an excellent job in the tiny Inuit community and I had to do my best to keep up with her.  My “professions”, in my short (yet felt so long) stint in the community included grocery shelf stocker, ship unloader, assistant operator at the local power plant, telephone technician, amateur photographer, and expedition support team member.

It was this last role that first plunged me headfirst into the world of Wonderland.  It was 2003 and a British adventurer, Pen Hadow, was vying to become the world’s first person to trek (by ski and foot) solo and unsupported to the North Pole.  Despite the fact that most of the community (myself included, it should be noted) considered him nuts, he pulled it off and our team was plunged head first into the worldwide media spotlight.  My role was small…carry a few bags….head out onto the ice at -72C windchills to deliver some supplies (in a training run ahead of time), but I can remember standing by the fax machine in this crazy metal structure in the middle of the tundra outside of the village and seeing a fax arrive.  A congratulatory fax from the Queen.  Yes, that Queen.  Shortly after, Gary Guy, the famed northerner who was Pen’s Arctic logistics superstar fielded a call from ABC or NBC, who were wondering how they could drive a satellite truck up to Resolute (without, apparently, ever checking a map).  Dream land.

I was in the middle of this crazy world quite by accident, but found it enthralling.  It actually got me my start in photography, too, as Pen’s official photographer was Martin Hartley, who has photographed (amongst countless others) for National Geographic, and he took me, a complete rookie, under his wing and inspired me to head towards my current career path. 

This whole experience reminded me of where I find myself now, at 82 ° 28′ N, which is most likely the most north I will ever find myself unless I happen, by chance, to stumble upon the North Pole before it melts away forever (and from which I am currently only about 500 miles from).

Every year the Canadian Forces holds a large military operation in the High Arctic, designed to refine their skills operating in Arctic conditions and ultimately be able to successfully respond to any far north “emergencies”.  I was fortunate enough to be asked to tag along in this year’s exercise on behalf of Above&Beyond  magazine (expect to see articles and photo features to come in the next issue or two), and jumped at the chance.

I’m now on day 4 or 5 of my journey (its amazing how easy it is to lose track of time on the military schedule, despite its attention to order and detail) and already I have seen and experienced things in this journey that I’ll remember for the rest of my life.  I don’t want to write too much here, as that will dilute my future articles, but in the past few days I’ve gone from experiencing a very small glimpse of life at CFB Trenton, in Ontario, to taking my first flight in a rather large Hercules aircraft (including the opportunity to land in Alert directly in the cockpit, which was exciting), to touring this most unique High Arctic base of Alert, to hanging out with a military dive team (yup, a dive team in Arctic waters), to heading off across the tundra with the Arctic Rangers, to witnessing the commotion surrounding the rescue of an Arctic adventurer.

With parallels to my experience in Resolute in 2003, there are currently a number of expedition teams – 7 or 8 – that are on the Arctic Ocean ice north of Alert heading towards the North Pole, in what has become an annual event that some locals call “silly season”.

The Arctic still holds the imagination of many, and every year there are a wide bearth of adventurers from around the world that attempt to make some sort of mark on it. By chance, Martin Hartley, who I mentioned earlier, is currently north of Alert as part of the Catlin Arctic Survey  team.

Yesterday we heard word after we returned from the tundra that one of the men attempting to reach the North Pole, Australian adventurer Tom Smitheringale, had fallen through the ice and had activated his emergency beacon, and would require rescue by a SAR team from Alert.

When I asked if it was serious, I was told that his hands were “black and waxy”, a clear sign of serious frost bite.  I have experienced minor frost bite, and the experience is not pleasant.  I said a silent prayer for him and went off to bed. (Note – I can in no way comment about his actual, official medical condition.  This was just a comment I overheard, which may or many not have been accurate).

This morning as I trudged through the mess hall with my fried eggs and toast, and took my seat, I noticed a short while later an impossibly tall, athletic guy with a wild beard sit down at the table next to me,  he had bandages on the tips of his fingers and shuffled as he walked.  Despite the fact that he was physically fit, he didn’t look “military”, and my travel-mate, CBC Radio International reporter Levon Sevunts, whispered to me, “that’s him”.

He looked tired, but in good spirits, and quite apparently (I’m smart like that) the Canadian Forces were successful in their rescue of the injured Australian, having extracted him not 6 hours after his distress call came through.  Despite the fact that he didn’t make it, and required emergency evacuation, he looked strong, and looked to be in good humour despite the dozens of stolen glances in his direction from around the mess hall. 

With parallels to 2003, I foresee another media spectacle, and once again – entirely by happenstance, I find myself peripherally involved.  While many will be quick to criticize him, I’m sure, for taking undo risk, I feel the same way about his attempts that I do about many mountain climbers:  you only live once, and how you choose to life your life is your own decision.  Some people die on their couches in front of their television sets.  Others take chances.  Neither is wrong, in my opinion.  Only you know if you’ve truly lived.

Being up here and experiencing all that is going on around me is my own way of “living”, even if I am more of a witness to what happens, through my camera, than the primary participant…but that’s a way of living that I am quite content with. 

Lots more to come.  I have to go live….off to Ward Hunt Island this afternoon.  Ironically, my 8AM departure has been delayed to 4:ooPM due to the rescue attempt (and required rest period for the flight crews).  Best of luck, Tom, in your recovery and I hope you make your goal some day.

Tags: adventure, alert, arctic, expedition, north pole, nunavut, photographer, photography, photos, solo

This entry was posted on Friday, April 16th, 2010 at 7:51 am and is filed under Blog, Landscape and Places. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.