Above the Arctic Circle

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by Brian Lawrenson

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Title: Above the Arctic Circle

Author: Brian Lawrenson, owns the copyright to the material in this
eBook. © 2010 Brian Lawrenson
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ISBN: 978-1-921814-41-9
Published: September 2010 Smashwords.com

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Above the Arctic Circle
I’ve never seen myself as an Artic Adventurer. Antarctic perhaps, but
Artic no.
Where is the Artic anyway? Is the Polar Region the same as the Arctic?
Where is the North Pole? Who discovered the North Pole? If the earth
reverses it’s magnetic fields occasionally, why isn’t the North Pole,
down under? Who decided that the North Pole is at the “top of the
world”? I knew nothing of the answers to these questions when I
started on my quest to become an Arctic Adventurer.
However, hanging in my den, there is a plaque that confirms that Jill
and Brian Lawrenson “having crossed the Artic Circle have been
accepted for membership of the exclusive Polar Bear Chapter, Order of
Arctic Adventurers”. It is given under the hand and seal of the Chief
Adventurer, John H Parker, Commissioner of the Northwest Territories,
Canada.
My wife Jill and my travelling companion for 40 years have visited
Canada on a number of occasions between 1988 and 2004. One of these
visits was to the community at Resolute Bay. Resolute Bay is a remote
Inuit community and communications base located on the south most tip
of Cornwallis Island, in north western Canada. It is above the Arctic
Circle and it is the most northern airport in the world and the
staging post for many expeditions to the North Pole. This is the story
of our visit to Resolute Bay and some of the unusual experiences that
we experienced there.
***
We came across Resolute Bay by accident. Our trip there started, as
many adventures do, with a large map of Canada spread out on our
dining room table. We had just found out that in six weeks time we’d
be going to Canada on an Award trip for the computer company, where I
worked. Being allowed an extra week or two to travel in Canada, I had
found out that the most cost effective way to do this was to use the
Air Canada multi-pass coupon system. At that time, there was a special
promotion with a six coupon Pass for less than $500. The question that
I was researching was: where could we go for our money? The longest
leg was Montreal to Resolute Bay.
When I discussed this with Jill, she asked, “How far is that?” Now I
didn’t know but a few more minutes on the Web turned up the answer:
“Six and a half hours flying time from Montreal”. Sitting on an
aircraft for six hours didn’t appeal to her. “What will we see when
we get there?’ I didn’t know, but after a few more minutes on the web
and I had found the web site for High Arctic International Explorer
Services Ltd in Resolute Bay. The name sounded interesting and there
was a phone number.
Having first worked out the time difference between Australia and
Canada, I dialled the number. A rather Indian sounding voice answered
and I launched into my hurriedly prepared list of questions: “Do you
have accommodation?” “What is there to do when we get there?” “How
cold is it?” “How much will it cost?” and so on. The answers were
encouraging. Once Jill realised that Resolute Bay was on the North
West passage, which she recalled studying at school, she was in favour
and I could now make arrangements for our other travels in Canada.
The six weeks passed and we were soon airborne en-route to Chicago. As
always we tried to pack as much variety into our travels as time and
money allowed, we had decided that this would be the fist stop on our
travels. I had read about a boutique hotel in Chicago that warranted
our interest. It was called Palmer House. Built in 1925 (and
remodelled in 2004), this 25-story, Beaux Arts-style (now Hilton)
hotel features a two-story, gilded lobby with a formal staircase,
marble-topped tables, velvet seating, and a ceiling mural depicting
scenes from Greek mythology. It is located two blocks from the Art
Institute in the business and theatre district.
Booking in, we could see from the lavish decorations of the foyer that
it was going to live up to our expectations. It was dusk and having
flown non-stop from Sydney, we badly needed a walk. We’d covered a few
blocks when I said to Jill; “Have you noticed but there aren’t many
white people around?” “No white people”, she responded. We headed
back to the hotel. When we picked up our key at reception, the
receptionist response was: “You went waking around the neighbourhood
at night?” Obviously this was not something that Palmer House guests
did.
After a shower, we’d decided that the next priority was a coffee.
Whilst enjoying the aroma and taste of freshly ground, real Italian
style coffee, we befriended a local who was attending a wedding. When
he learned that we were from Sydney, he responded; “My Uncle Joseph
lives in Sydney, he couldn’t come to the wedding but you’ve got to
come and meet the wedding guests.” So we did. At times, it seemed like
we were part of the family and at least felt that we’d been adopted.
It was an evening of laughter and fun, made even more special by the
friendly wedding guests and the lavish decorations in the Grand Ball
Room of Palmer House.
The next morning we were up early. We had a long day planned.
Breakfast proved to be the meal highlight of the day. Palmer House
has the most amazing breakfast room, both in terms of its opulent
decorations but also in the variety and quality of the food. Choices
were everywhere. There were some fourteen copper topped food-warmers
and two chefs on hand to do your eggs, “as you like them”. We tried
everything until we couldn’t fit any more in.
We had decided upon a detour on our way to Ottawa. We were to fly via
Grand Rapids, Michigan, to visit a small town called Ada, nearby.
Afterwards we would fly on to Ottawa where we had already made
reservations at the Chateau Laurier Hotel. That was the plan. It
didn’t turn out like that. We found our take-off from O’Hare, the main
airport of Chicago, a little unsettling. The planes were taking off
with a ninety second separation between flights. As our plane turned
onto the runway, looking back, I counted sixteen planes waiting in the
queue to follow us taking off. It seemed a little close for comfort.
However, our fears were unfounded and it wasn’t long before we
descended through the clouds to land safely at Grand Rapids. Upon
arrival, we were paged and informed that there was a high probability
that our onwards flight might be cancelled. We were to call at 2.30 pm
to find out.
Following our Ada visit, we were sitting in a coffee shop having lunch
and we got talking to a friendly couple with two lovely children at
the next table. We told them of our concerns, and following a phone
call, our fears were confirmed: we would have to take a 6.30 pm flight
out back to O’Hare and if we made the connection, we’d get into Ottawa
by about 10.30 pm. This was not good news. Our friends had an
Australian connection as they farmed emus and sold emu oils. They
suggested, “Why don’t you come with us, we’re going through Detroit,
there’s tons of room in our motor-home?” From there, “we could get a
flight on to Ottawa”. This sounded like a better plan and soon we were
settled in their large, comfortable and well-equipped motor-home.
Richard, driving, and I sat in the lounge type seats up front and Jill
and Ann in the easy chairs behind. We had lots in common and talked
flat out as we passed through the miles upon miles of prairie wheat
fields. A couple of hours later, the signs to Detroit started to
appear. They dropped us off at a sizeable interchange with a hotel,
shops and a petrol station. We would keep in touch, which we did for
quite a few years.
The first thing I needed to know was how to use the telephone. This
was not as simple as it sounded, as the Detroit south is at the
boundary between two different phone systems. I will always have
memories of me, with a pile of quarter coins, surrounded by about half
a dozen locals who’d just spent the afternoon in the pub, all giving
me advice on how to make calls to the Wayne County Airport.
The news was not good: “the last flight to Ottawa has already left”.
However, if we could get ourselves to Windsor in Canada, we could get
a flight from there. My communications assistants now became travel
experts. None of us had a map. Various routes and estimates of travel
time were suggested. “You should head for London, there’s a big
airport there” suggested one “expert”. Later when we found that a
majority of Americans had never been out of America, including going
to Canada, we were more careful about taking their travel advice. We
called a taxi. It would be there in fifteen minutes. Just time for a
beer and I felt that I had to reward the friendly communication
experts cum-travel agents for their “advice”. Now I was out of the
quarters and into the green stuff.
Jill who had been looking after our luggage and reading a book in the
comfort of the lounge whilst all this had been going on, was somewhat
taken back when the taxi arrived. Yes, it had a taxi sign on the roof
but it seemed to have various appendages that made it look more like a
tank, including the camouflage paint job. We weren’t waiting for
another taxi - this was it.
Willing hands helped load our luggage in the “boot”. Sorry trunk. The
taxi driver turned out to be a Vietnam veteran. He would get us
across Detroit to our destination, the airport in the town of Windsor,
in Canada. As we settled into the rear seats, the driver turned to us
and through a hole in the (what was at one time) a clear plastic
screen, he announced “the half inch thick steel plate behind my seat
can’t be penetrated by a “45”. Not having a “45”, which I assumed was
a type of firearm, this information didn’t make my wife any more
comfortable. Once he found out that we were from Australia, he became
our best friend. “I’ve met lots of Aussies in Vietnam. They were our
mates there, I’m going to repay their friendship by giving you a tour
of Detroit”.
From the rare occasions when his hands and the steering wheel actually
met, we conclude that he must have been of Italian origin. He went to
great lengths to point out all the landmarks along the way, sometimes
using both hands to reinforce the point. The fact that the windows
were rather grimy didn’t help us enjoy the view but as the 20 miles to
Detroit sign went by, we decided that the polluted Detroit air was to
us the preferable of the two. We wound down the window, something that
hadn’t been done for a long time, if ever. This just stirred up the
dust inside, so we decide that the filtered city view was better after
all. The redistributed dust had an odour that we hadn’t noticed
before. Sort of like rotted carpets with an unhealthy dose of BO
thrown in. Perhaps we’d have a little fresh air.
Fortunately the early evening traffic was light as all the people who
didn’t want to be murdered or involved in a traffic accident, had gone
home. We were on a three lane highway. This gave the driver the
opportunity to use all three lanes to show us the various “horror
sites” along the way - some were on the left (when he used the left
lane), some were on the right (when he used the right lane), if you
get the picture. As we neared what was obviously the downtown area,
we’d already covered the Top Ten of the eight attractions that Detroit
had on offer, our driver asked, “Do you want to know how bad life in
Detroit is?” No, we didn’t, but he was going to tell us anyway. After
passing the scene of about the fifth murder and eighth motor accident
fatality, we now beginning to wonder if the law of probability would
catch up with us and we’d become the next victims.
We tried to focus our diver’s attention on the need to arrive in
Windsor. Eventually he admitted “I don’t quite know where it is – I
haven’t been there before but there is an underground crossing into
Canada”. This was helpful. “Do you have a map?” I asked, hopefully.
“Used to have one but some bastard stole it from me”, was his reply.
Soon afterwards, by following road signs and more by accident than
design, we arrived at the customs checkpoint on the US/Canadian
border. He showed his driving licence, we showed our passports. “How
do we find the airport at Windsor?”, I asked. “Follow the signs”, we
were told. We would look out for the signs. He would drive. As we
drove along, he said “Hey, look at that, isn’t that neat?” “Wow, look
there’s no graffiti!” “Oh, this is such a beautiful place”. Finally as
a summary of all that had gone before, he concluded, “Oh, this is like
heaven, Detroit is like hell”.
We kept our focus on the signs. It was now after nine and we didn’t
know the exact time of our flight, so it was a great relief when we
drove through the gates of the Airport. We had arrived safely, after
all. We gingerly extracted our fingernails from their embedded
position in the door arm rests and Jill reappeared out of what at one
time had been velour upholstery, where she’d been taking refuge. We
gave our bags a couple of good smacks – there wasn’t much sense in
taking the dust on to Ottawa, anyway. Our, still friendly, taxi driver
had never had a fare that big and after adding a five dollar tip, I
didn’t have much money left in my wallet, anyway. We thanked him and
hoped that he made it back to the USA.
We were famished. The snack bar was closed but the flight was at 9.45
pm. The lady behind the reservations desk said: “Yes, there is
availability and yes, you can pay by credit card”. Jill found some
nuts in her bag. Things were looking up. The flight was short and
uneventful which was good because we’d used up our adrenaline supply
for the day. It was two bedraggled and exhausted travellers that
booked themselves into the beautiful Chateau Laurier hotel.
The Chateau Laurier is an impressive classic luxury hotel that was
opened in 1912. It was designed by Charles Melville Hays of the Grand
Trunk Railway Company, later Canadian National Railways, a rival of
the Canadian Pacific Railway Company that built the other Chateaus.
These companies had plans to build grand hotels along the train route
across Canada. This was in the age of steam rail travel in the early
1900s. Ironically, Hays died on the Titanic just before the hotel was
opened. The hotel is named after a Prime Minister of Canada, Wilfred
Laurier. It was built in the same French Renaissance style as Quebec’s
Chateau Frontenac and it certainly adds a sense of elegance to
downtown Ottawa with its castle-like grandeur.
The hotel has a multitude of spacious corridors, public lounges and
lobbies. This allowed guests to wander about creating the illusion
that they are house guests of some wealthy family. One of the best
things about staying at this grand hotel is its location. On one side
of it, there is the majestic looking Parliament Buildings and on the
other side, in the heart of the city, next to the Rideau Canal, a
natural system of lakes and rivers made navigable by locks, dams and
canal cuts. Today it is a popular site of leisure activities such as
walking, boating and skating in winter.
The following morning we ate a leisurely breakfast served in the Zoë
dining room, which is the more casual of the Chateau Laurier's two
restaurants. We had a great view as the room has large windows that
look out at all the activities downtown.
After breakfast, we were off to view the Trooping of the Colours, a
display held in front of the Parliament building. The guardsmen were
splendid in their red tunics and bearskin hats, however I’ve always
wondered how they could see where they were going – probably they just
follow the person in front of them. Afterwards we visited to a number
of Ottawa’s downtown tourist attractions. But, after the adventures of
the previous day, we didn’t have the energy so we retreated to the
comfort and elegance of the Chateau Laurier Hotel. Later in our
travels, we were to visit or stay at a number of other Chateau hotels.

Late that afternoon, after a comfortable train trip, we booked into

the Queen Elizabeth Hotel in Montreal. The six days of the conference
was loads of fun and a fair reward for twelve months of hard work. The
first evening was a fabulous “Getting to know you” party. The 2,000
delegates mixed with musicians, clowns, performers and cartoonists.
Food stalls, each representing a province of Canada, served delicious
fare. Beer, wine and spirits flowed freely. We still have the
caricatures sketched that night, hanging on our bedroom wall. The
Awards Ceremony went off smoothly and on our last evening all the men
dressed up in cream dinner jackets and the ladies in elegant formal
gowns for a Farewell Ball. It was a grand occasion and we and our
partners looked the part.
We had enjoyed Canadian hospitality and had included spending a couple
of free evenings exploring the Jazz Clubs down by the Montreal docks.
Sadly, the fun had to end and after bidding our work colleagues and
newly-met friends, farewell, we set of on the next leg of our Canadian
adventure, the train trip to Quebec and two nights at the Chateau
Frontenac.
Quebec is smaller than Montreal and also has a strong French
influence. It has a rich history and many terrific tourist
attractions. We visited as many as we could fit in, in two days. Apart
from staying at the Frontenac, which was like living in Disneyland, a
highlight of our stay was the lunch at the little French restaurant,
La Vendome, in the lower city part of Quebec. We tried escargot –
snails. They were delicious. The two days just became a blur of
tourist activities and suddenly it was time for our flight to Resolute
Bay. We departed Montreal at 21.05.
***
As we neared Resolute, as it is called, from our window seats at
31,500 feet, we had a terrific view of the sun rising over a cloud
bank that covered the whole Arctic mass below. Soon we were descending
through the clouds to a touchdown on the runway at Resolute.
Our host, Bezal Jesudason, was there to meet us and to our surprise he
told us that he’d been born in southern Indian. His mother tongue was
Tamil, but he also spoke four other Indian languages, as well as
German and English. He also spoke Inuktitut, the local language. He
was an engineer and he had come to Canada in 1968 seeking the
opportunities that Canada offered. He had met his wife Terry, a
Canadian, when they were working at the even more remote community of
Grise Fiord on Ellesmere Island.
As we signed the register at the High Artic International Explorer
Lodge, Terry, said: “Oh, you’re from Sydney, you must the know Dick
and Pip Smith”, Now Dick and his wife are well known Australians but
so yes we did know of them but no we didn’t live near them. Dick had
used Resolute as his logistics base for his attempts to be the first
person to fly a helicopter to the North Pole.
Dick Smith is one of Australia's best known businessmen and
adventurers. He's also well known as an aviator - he holds such
records as the first trans-Tasman balloon crossing, the first solo
helicopter flight around the world and the first helicopter flight to
the North Pole.
One of the most fascinating stories about Dick is when he towed an
iceberg into Sydney Harbour. He was interviewed by Richard Fidler on
Australian’s ABC Television. His explanation of motives was as
follows; "I wanted the publicity for Dick Smith Electronics and
someone had worked out you could tow an iceberg to the Middle East to
provide water for Saudi Arabia, so I came up with the idea that I was
going to tow an iceberg into Sydney Harbour, cut it up into icecubes
and call them 'Dicksicles' and sell then for 10 cents each.
"This was just a joke, but the media actually fell for it. The various
journalists kept ringing me and saying, 'When is it happening?'... The
ABC rang and they said that they were chartering a plane to get a
scoop on the iceberg. "On the day before April Fool's Day we towed a
big barge outside Sydney Heads and that night we draped a big sheet
over it and we put fire fighting foam and shaving cream... We towed it
through Sydney Heads. I’d given my staff a list of the radio stations,
newspapers and TV stations and I said, 'You have to get up at 5am and
call them start saying, what's that coming in through the Heads, it
looks like an iceberg!' They fell for it.” In the end it was on every
radio station that Dick Smith's iceberg was coming in... people drove
an hour to look at the iceberg. As it came past the Opera House, Dick
received a call from the Navy who offered a moorings for the iceberg!
It had been the perfect April’s Fool joke and Dick and his company did
very well out of it.
But more about Dick Smith’s Arctic flying experiences. Flying a
helicopter to the North Pole is not exactly as straight forward as it
seems. Firstly, there is no pole at the geographic north pole. If you
need one, you have to take your own. The pole is situated on a number
of ice-flows. These can drift up to four miles a day. The Magnetic
North Pole is a moving target too. It is closer to Resolute, about 300
miles but it moves around too. It moves in an arc of approximately 90
miles. There are lots of other physical difficulties about flying in
the artic, one of which is a lack of a horizon on most days. Dick left
Resolute on 24th July 1987 and arrived at the North Pole on 5th
August. His route was eighty nautical miles to Alert for refuelling.
At Alert there is a signpost erected on the spot were Robert E Perry,
who is believed to be the first person to reach the North Pole,
started his journey in 1909. Dick’s route took him over Hunt Island
and then eight hundred and sixty miles to the Pole.
Yes, the North Pole was made for adventurers like Dick Smith, or
perhaps it should be the other way round.
When we arrived at Resolute, we knew very little about the Artic. Now
we were learning fast. There is a season for adventurers who want to
be the first to arrive at the North Pole. The season starts in late
February and ends when the ice melts in May. Earlier in the year that
we were there, a French Micro-lite Expedition had succeeded in
reaching the Pole on May, 4th. When we were there, there was a group
attempting to be the first to windsurf to the Pole. They failed.
The North Pole is one of the most unusual places on the Earth. The sun
is always overhead from Spring to Fall regardless of the hour of the
day or night. The sun only rises once each year and sets once a year
at the Pole. All lines of longitude meet at this point. You can walk
around the world in only a few steps. I was wondering as to whether
you would revisit yesterday as you pass through all the time zones of
the world after walking in a clockwise direction. I never did find
out.
Every direction you face is South and all winds blow South. It gets
cold at the North Pole. Typically -20C to -60C but this can be
increased by 50% by the wind chill factor.
We were to find out that Resolute is located on the south coast of
Cornwallis Island in the Queen Elizabeth Islands. It was named after
the H.M.S. Resolute, one of the ships in the ill-fated Franklin search
expedition of 1845. Cornwallis Island was one of the last known places
circled by Franklin before his expedition sailed southward and
disappeared forever. The Inuit name for Resolute is Qausuittuq which
means “Seagull nesting place”. Later, we were told it meant “place
with no dawn”, so you can take your pick.
We found out that there are lots of things to do at Resolute. It
offers unique arctic adventures. At the right time of the year, you
can try a five-day husky-sledge ride with igloo camping journey over
the frozen ice to the community of Grise Fiord. If the history
intrigues you, try snowmobiling expeditions onto the frozen sea ice of
the famous Northwest Passage. Dog team trips and polar ice cap tours
are also available.
Resolute is also an excellent location for marine wildlife watching.
Pods of beluga and narwhal can be seen from Resolute's beach as they
head to their summer feeding grounds. Ellesmere National Park Reserve
and Polar Bear Pass National Wildlife Area are both easily accessed by
air from Resolute Bay.
Local Intuits still hunt for seal, caribou and fish whilst
professional hunters hunt polar bears. A quota system ensures that the
polar bears aren’t hunted out. Whilst we were there, the untarred
roads were snow free but we were told this only lasted for about four
weeks a year, after which the ski-dos or snowmobiles are the main form
of transport. Dog teams are still used but now they are kept by a few
families rather than in earlier time each family had a team. The dogs
live outdoors and seem to be tied up most of the time. We found them a
little fierce and not the clean and friendly “husky” that we’d see in
the promotion photographs. We kept our distance.
Terry ran the accommodation side of the business and the Lodge was
more of a “home away from home” than a hotel. We were amazed at the
interesting people staying at the Lodge. There was group of keen
Canadian fishermen who just flew in from some remote location, where
they’d been fishing for Artic Char. Three nights in sub-zero
temperatures sleeping in tents on a rocky shore obviously was a small
price to pay for the experience. The fish were an impressive size and
Terry cooked one for dinner that night. They couldn’t have been any
fresher.

Then there was a quite amazing lady well in to her nineties who had
been a American nuclear physicist. She told us that she was in Who’s
who in America. Her new husband of two years was more typical of his
age group, was wondering just where all that energy came from. One
time, we were taken somewhere across town by four wheeled quad bike.
Jill and I rode behind the driver. Not her, she wanted to drive. Lets
hope that we’ve got that much energy when we get to her age.
Another interesting guest was Shinji Kazama, a Japanese traveller, who
was the first person to ride a motor bike to the North Pole. A 200cc
Yamaha. He had achieved this feat on April, 21, 1987. In 1992, he also
made it to the South Pole. He was staying at the Lodge with his
family. We have this wonderful photo of him cuddling his son. He had
rather long shaggy hair and he looks very much like a black haired
bear. He was researching locations for further motor bike travels in
the Arctic and Greenland. He certainly was an interesting character
and perhaps only our lack of a common language, prevented us learning
more about each other.
After diner that evening, we sat around the comfortable lounge and I
skimmed through the extensive library of books about the North Pole.
The more I read, the greater became my appreciation of the efforts of
the early explorers to be the “first” to do anything related to the
North Pole.
Although Robert E Perry, an arctic traveller and Navy civil engineer,
is regarded as having been the first person to reach the North Pole,
but an American medical doctor, Frederick A Cook, claims to have
reached the Pole with two Eskimo companions on 21st April 1908. A
break-up of the ice had forced him and his companions to over-winter
in the ice-flows living off fish and meagre rations, before they
returned to civilisation to announce their achievement. Robert Peary
arrived at the North Pole with five travel companions on 6-7th 1909
and labelled Cook a fake. Cook had sold his story to the New York
Herald and Perry account appeared in the then-struggling New York
Times. Very soon the two became involved in a dispute that still goes
on today. Perry won the battle and his supporters helped him be
promoted to become a Navy Admiral and retired on a pension. Cook
outlived Perry but spent six years in Leavenworth for what many
believe was a trumped up charge of mail-fraud and was not able to
follow up his claims. A book Return from the Pole by historian
Frederick J Pohl did much to balance the ledger but the National
Geographic Society remained unconvinced, so Perry’s is still regarded
as being the first person to discover the North Pole.
However, there had been earlier attempts to reach the North Pole. The
first of these was by a Swedish engineer, Salomon A Andree. His plan
was to fly in a hydrogen-filled balloon to the North Pole. He and two
companions departed from Danes Island (near Spitsbergen) on July 11th,
1897 but he disappeared somewhere over the ice-pack. His remains and
diaries were found in 1930 on a remote White Island.
The leader of the first party to reach the South Pole in 1911, Roald
Amundsen, was one of the next explorers to try his hand using a series
of flights to try to reach the North Pole. Some came close but it
wasn’t until in 1926, a US Navy Lieutenant Commander, Richard Byrd and
pilot Floyd Bennett left from Kings Bay in a triple motor Fokker
aircraft. After 15 and a half hours they returned claiming that it was
too rough to land at the North Pole and had returned to Spitsbergen.
Within a year, both men were awarded the US Congressional Medal of
Honor. Soon afterwards controversy dogged their claim as a number of
aviators claimed that their flight was physically impossible. More
recent investigations reveal that the pilots may have made a number of
navigation errors. Such then was the primitive nature of Polar
navigation.
A few days after Byrd and Bennett returned, Amundsen and Lincoln
Ellsworth boarded the Italian-made dirigible, Norge, left Spitsbergen
heading for the Pole. On May 12 (or 13 depending upon which side of
the international date line you are on) they flew the dirigible over
the Pole. Amundsen claimed to be the first person the visit both the
North and South Pole.
A little known Australian explorer, George Wilkins and Alaskan bush
pilot, Carl Eilson became the first pilots to claim to have flown a
power aircraft over the North Pole. Both men became instant
celebrities. Shortly after this a series of tragedies occurred that
killed a number of leading explorers including Amundsen. In the late
1930s, the Russians now entered the field with a series of amazing
long distance flights - one was 62 and a half hours, some 5,500 miles
(8,851 kilometers). In 1948, the Russians landed three aircraft at
exactly 90 degrees N Latitude. This was the first time an aircraft had
actually touched down at the Pole.
In 1965, the Rockwell Polar Flight competition resulted in the first
person flying over both the North and South Poles in a single flight.
This was the start of an era which unique flights, re-enactment
flights and others like Dick Smith’s to be the first to fly a
helicopter to the North Pole, became the challenge. All these stories
make fascinating reading.

On the second day of our visit, it turned out to be the day the boat
came in. One day each year, Resolute, has a visit by a supply ship.
Every other need is flown in. But if you want a new car, ski-do,
refrigerator (well their should be less demand for these really),
building materials, fuel, bulk supplies then you order them in advance
and they get delivered ex Montreal on a supply ship. The boat was due
in mid-morning. A Canadian Navy ice-breaker patrolled the entrance to
the Bay. This year, it wouldn’t be needed.
We were up early to visit a number of Thule historic locations. The
Thule culture started about 1000 years ago and the people drifted
eastwards from Alaska to Canada. We visited a number of preserved
sites and it was interesting to learn how they had survived in this
remote and desolate part of the world. On the way back we stopped at
the site of a crashed F27 airliner. It was only lightly damaged and
the twelve passengers and two crew had walked away from the crash
unhurt. But the structural damage made it too difficult to repair and
the wreck was abandoned to the elements. But the freezing temperature
and the aluminium construction have weathered rather well. In fact,
the blasts of freezing Polar air, sleets and snow have polished the
aluminium to a radiant reflective coat and it looks strange just
standing there looking ready to take off. This aircraft has often
appeared in photographs as a icon of the remote Resolute Bay.
Bezal wanted us back early to watch the arrival of the supply ship.
The ice-breaker wouldn’t be used this year as the ice had broken up in
the Bay and only a small number of icebergs remained dotting the
shoreline. Outside the temperature was a few degrees above freezing.
Fortunately the wind and seas were calm. We asked, “Where does the
ship tie up?” as we could see no sign of a jetty.
An hour later our questions were answered. A quite large red hulled
cargo ship with towering derricks steamed into view. It dropped front
and rear anchors and soon four long cables were passed ashore and each
of these were attached to a large caterpillar tractor which manoeuvred
until the cable was taunt. A flat barge was produced from somewhere.
This providing a stable landing platform with a ramps to the shore.
The ship used its derricks to off-load the items onto the platform.
Soon piles of goods were assembled on a landing area ashore. People
where everywhere, the officials, perhaps customs people, were busy
with the paperwork. It was a festive occasion with lots of the local
population on the shore and landing dock. As new items like cars and
ski-dos were landed these was a spirited discussion about the merits,
colours and usefulness of the items. Then they were taken home by
their proud new owners. This process continued until quite late in the
afternoon.
That afternoon, we met an Australian nurse who worked at the island’s
hospital and were invited to a party that night after the supply ship
had departed. It must have been around eleven o’clock but the sun
still hadn’t set, we’d lost our sense of time. We enjoyed meeting many
of the locals and learning from them what they had received off the
ship. Just about every family received something. The list was
extensive and included many household items like televisions,
furniture, clothing and the like. Although there is a local store, The
Hudson Bay Trading Store, many of the items had been ordered from mail
catalogues. The community is relatively small, with less than three
hundred people living there. These included the local Inuit
population, the staff of the weather station, the people who ran the
(usually government) service facilities and the people who ran the
tourist facilities. In 2006 the Inuit population was recorded as being
229. Everyone was really excited and keen to discuss with their
friends and neighbours, details of their most recent acquisitions.
The highlight of our third day was a visit to the communications base
and the airport area. Located in portable building called “The
Office”, separate from the main airport terminal, is the control
centre to a handful of light aircraft pilots and flight engineers.
They fly small planes to all parts of the Artic often in the most
impossible conditions. This band of quite and unassuming men have
supplied countless expeditions in their attempts to reach the North
Pole. These include expeditions for such people as Robert Swan, the
first person to walk to both Poles. And many others. One of the pilots
was Karl. He has been flying Twin Otters in the Artic for more than
thirty years. When asked about his rescue attempts, he replied: “We do
it, it’s our job”. When asked how many times he has been to the Pole,
he couldn’t remember. “Sixty or perhaps more times”, he said in
typical understatement. He didn’t understand the attraction of the
Pole. He said; “Ellesmere Island and places like it are worth
visiting. You’ll see fox, musk ox and polar bears but at the Pole
there is nothing”. Not only does Karl and his fellow pilots save lives
but he makes dreams come true too. Many people have dreamed about
visiting these remote and forbidding places - those few who can afford
it, with Karl’s help, it is a dream come true.
In “the Office” the radio crackles constantly, either on calls or
waiting for calls. The base manager and co-workers sit around drinking
coffee. There is a lot of sitting around but when the call comes, they
fly. The planes outside aren’t under cover. They are out in the open
both winter (although covered) and summer. Alcohol is thrown over the
wings to de-ice them, when necessary, we were told. The pilots swap
stories and use the large map of the Artic on the wall to make their
points. Lots of photographs of their customers, the explorers, adorn
the walls too. “It hasn’t been done yet, so how about being the first
person to walk to the Pole with a wheelbarrow” someone suggested. “OK,
if you can supply the wheelbarrow“, I joked back. Perhaps they had a
surplus of wheelbarrows. We all laughed.
I’m not certain what has happened to the air operations since our stay
at Resolute but the Twin Otters must now be beyond their “use by”
date. Karl and the other more experienced pilots, hopefully they will
have handed over to a younger generation. But no doubt the same cycle
of polar exploration and adventure travel continues that there will be
a role for these brave men. In my mind, these men will always be the
unsung heroes of the North Pole.

Upon arrival back at the Lodge, we met a rather interesting Canadian couple,
Stan and Kay. They had just returned from kayaking with a group of seven on
North Baffin Island and they were kind enough to send us a copy of their
photographs. They had seen icebergs every day and had been able to paddle
right up to them. The area that they travelled was stark with little
vegetation but at times, beautiful. Often the mountain tops were snow
covered. On days of high winds, they hiked or climbed the local mountains.
They hadn’t seen a soul other than their party, since they had been dropped
on the Island by light plane until the time that they were picked up.

Later that afternoon, we packed up our bags and Bezal took us back to the
airport where we caught our six hour flight back to “civilization”. The High
Artic is a special place and before we departed Terry gave us the plaque to
acknowledge our visit. Certainly we had increased our knowledge, we’d made
some new friends and we promised ourselves that one day we’d travel by dog
sleigh, sleep in an igloo and see some polar bears in the wild.

Our next leg of our journey took us on to Calgary, the home of the famous
Calgary stampede. We spent a dizzy forty eight hours visiting Jill’s brother,
Deryk and his wife Marie, who live in Calgary. It was hectic, visiting
Deryk’s favourite fishing spots, friends, exploring down-town and enjoying
some excellent restaurants. We then flew on to Castlegar, a small regional
airport, to visit my cousin who lives in Trail. The City of Trail is situated
on the Columbia River in the West Kootenay region of British Columbia, 9
kilometres north of the Canada-USA border.
Trail is the home of Cominco Ltd’s lead-zinc smelter complex, the
largest one of its kind in the world.
The next morning we set off to spend three amazing days touring the
beautiful Rockies. Our first stop was at the city of Banff. Located in
the Banff National Park, it sits along the raging Bow River in the
heart of the Canadian Rockies. Following a visit to the tourist office to get maps, we
started our exploration with a walk round the Vermillion Lakes. This took us an hour
and a half through scented pine and fir forests. There were lots of
photo opportunities and we were pleased that we’d taken the binoculars
as there were lots of birds, even eagles, to be seen. At a distance we
saw beaver, muskrat and the mountain sheep and as we talked along the
trails we were wondering what else might pop out of the woods.
Our walk brought us back to the 110-year-old fairy tale castle - the
Banff Springs Hotel. This imposing, dramatic looking hotel sits in the
middle of a forest of fir trees surrounded by lakes and a beautiful
golf course. It must be a golfers dream location. It has eight first-
class restaurants and lounges, indoor and outdoor pools and a fabulous
spa. All in a postcard setting within walking distance of downtown
Banff. The historic grandeur of the group of hotels (now owned by the
Fairmont chain) developed to provide the national railway hotels is
unsurpassed in Canada and all, especially the Banff Springs Hotels,
are absolutely first-class by worldwide standards. To visit one is to
experience a piece of Canadian history.
It was time for lunch. We checked out the eating establishments at the
Banff Springs Hotel and decided that we’d eat at the Bow Valley Grill.
Apart from the superb food, the Grill has great views overlooking the
Fairholme mountain range. It has a unique fifty foot open kitchen that
allowed us to talk to the chefs while our meals were being
prepared. It had a relaxing atmosphere and great décor that celebrated
the spirit of the outdoors, with handcrafted mountain animal
sculptures and tables constructed by local Alberta artisans, featuring
the region's timbers.
As we were coming out after lunch, a wedding party was busy with a
photo session on the north terrace of the hotel with its stunning
views of the forests and mountains behind. A very smart looking
Canadian “Mountie” in the red tunic was in attendance. It was a truly
beautiful setting and Jill and I decided that if we ever got married
again, that this was where we’d like to have the wedding.
We were deciding whether we should climb Tunnel Mountain or Sulphur
Mountain. Both were nearby. We settled on climbing Tunnel Mountain and
then taking the gondola to the summit of Sulphur Mountain. The former
was a two and a half kilometer hike to the summit of Tunnel Mountain
at 1690 m (5545 ft). The switchbacks up the west side of Tunnel
Mountain provided an easy path to the top. As we gained height, the
vistas to the west over the town and toward the Vermilion Lakes and
Mount Bourgeau became more extensive. At the summit there were
sweeping views up and down the Bow Valley.
Despite its name, there is no tunnel in Tunnel Mountain. The name
originated with the at-times impetuous Major Rogers, who initially
laid out a line for the westward-progressing Canadian Pacific Railway
that was to run right through the mountain, an obstacle that he
proposed be breached by blasting a tunnel. As it transpired, a less
expensive route in the valley to the north was found and there was no
longer a need to use the dynamite, however the name has remained.
As the shadows started to lengthen we were ready for our Gondola ride
up Sulphur Mountain. The ride took eight minutes to the top about 2,281 meters (7,486 feet) above sea
level. After arriving at the upper terminal, we went outside to enjoy the breathtaking views. The late afternoon light was ideal for photography and we
moved to the upper observation deck for the best views. Several scenic hiking trails lead away from the summit complex, but it was getting late and we
were hiked out anyway. We had decided upon a cabin stay in Banff rather than one of the more conventional hotels. This too was a uniquely Canadian
experience.
The next day we took a detour to the Yoho National Park, British
Colombia, to see BC’s second highest waterfall, the Takakakkaw Falls.
It was spectacular. Later, we had a coffee stop at the café of the
Emerald Lake Lodge, where there was the most jaw dropping views of the
Emerald Lake with the fir forests, hill and mountains behind. As I was
paying the bill, I asked “How much?” The waiter replied “A million
dollars; twenty three dollars for the coffee and the rest for the
view”. It was worth it.
Before we headed towards the Lake Louise Hotel to book in, we just had
time for another detour, this time to the Valley of the Ten Peaks. The
scenic road wound up to Moraine Lake which was ringed by ten peaks
each over 3,000 m (10,000 feet). My camera was in over-drive and I was
rapidly running out of film. As we walked round the edge of the lake,
I remember the Emerald Lake Lodge surrounded by this picture postcard
alpine setting. Nearby there were canoes, awaiting customers. Sadly,
there is a limit to how much one could pack in to a day; it was check
in time. The stunning Fairmont Chateau Lake Louise is perched upon a
blue and green glacier lake, nestled amidst the Rocky Mountains. The
hotel terrace directly fronts Mount Victoria through a gap in the
mountains opposite. Later, as the sun set, the mountain was to change
colours through yellow, orange, purple and then blue. Our room didn’t
have a view of the lake but rather of the pine forests but this was
still attractive, and for us, interesting. Before dinner we took
another walk along the path by the side of the lake and I took some
great photos looking back with the hotel surrounded by forests, framed
in the branches of a fir tree.
Our last day in the Banff National Park was spent following the
Icefield Parkway that runs from Lake Louise to Jasper. We stopped at
the Colombian Icefield Centre and took a tour of the Athabasca Glacier
in specially designed buses with huge tires. These are now called
Snowcoaches. The tour was to be the highlight of the day. We were
awed by the size of the glacier and the surrounding peaks that are
some of the largest in the Rockies.
We had collected a brochure at the Tourist office that told you how to
deal with meeting a bear on the trial - both black and grizzly bears
inhabit the front and backcountry areas of the Canadian Rockies.
According to the brochure, in order to minimize encounters with bears
that could endanger your life and that of the bear, it suggested that
we follow the following guidelines: Make plenty of noise to ensure you
will not have a surprise encounter with a bear - whistle, sing, clap
your hands or holler every now and again, especially when travelling
through thick brush, near streams, on avalanche slopes and through
berry patches. “Clapping and making noises like the classic pig call
(soooouuuEEE) tend to travel farther in windy, noisy (creeks are
surprising noisy) environments. Keep your eyes open for any sign of
bears - tracks, diggings etc.” so the brochure said. We were left
wondering if the bears had been given the brochure to read.
After our “Snowcoach” ride, we spent the rest of the day exploring the
area around the Jasper National Park. The highlight of this was our
visit to Bow Summit and Peyto Lake (40 km from Lake Louise). Bow
Summit is the highest point on the parkway, at 2088 meters above sea
level. The lake is surrounded by dense fir forests and lower down, by
alpine meadows. A short walk from the parking area took us to a
viewpoint overlooking the blue and green Peyto Lake. This sight really
took my breath away. The water is pale blue with a slight green tint.
The lake is surrounded by fir forests backed by steep slopes that
gradually become treeless at the elevation increases, to the mountain
peaks behind. In the foreground there were the remains of an
astonishing display of alpine flowers that were just past their best.
We just sat on some rocks and soaked up the scene. It was magnificent
- the Canadian Rockies at its very best. And the amazing thing was
that the locations were so accessible by car off the major highways.
Saying farewell to the Rockies, our final leg took us on to the city
of Vancouver. We had booked in at the Westin Bayside Resort near
Stanley Park. This hotel had been made famous by the stay of Howard
Hughes in the 1970s. I’ve always found Howard Hughes an interesting
character and I’ve read quite a bit about him. He certainly knew what
he wanted and how to get it. Born in Texas in 1905 Hughes was at times
a pilot, a movie producer, a playboy, an eccentric and one of the
wealthiest men in the world. In my mind, one of his greatest
endeavours was the building of the Spruce Goose, a flying boat built
out of timber. It had been commissioned by the USA government as a
troop carrier (750 soldiers or 3 Sherman tanks). It was completed just
after the second world war. It flew only once with Howard at the
controls. What is amazing about it, is its size – it was 66.65 m
length (218 feet) with a wingspan of 97.5m (319 feet). When compared
with a modern Boeing 747 with a wingspan of 70.4m and an Airbus A380
with a wingspan of 73 m, it shows just how amazing this aircraft was.
Today it is part of the Evergreen Aviation Museum. Considering that it
flew in 1945,some sixty five years ago, it certainly was ahead of its
time. And a credit to the men who built it.

We just had time to explore Stanley Park, one of our favourite walks
in Vancouver, before our flight back to Australia the next day. This
oasis of one thousand acres of parkland is very close to the downtown
area of Vancouver but somehow far enough to make one feel that you are
in the wilderness. We’d chosen to do the nine kilometer (5.5 miles)
circuit of the park. As we walked, just off the pathway, we were
rather amused at the sight of a large cannon standing inside a metal
cage. Apparently the cage was built to stop the Engineers at
University of British Colombia who’d kept on stealing it for a prank.
This is the famous Nine O’clock gun which, we were told, is fired
every night at nine o’clock. Funny, I can’t remember hearing it. Other
than the few spots that are especially suited to viewing the
surrounding panoramas, we kept up a good pace. Whilst we were at
Brockton Point we observed a cruise ship coming in after cruising the
Inside Passage. We made a mental note that that is something that we
were going to do one day. Well we did, and you’ll find this story in
my book, Cruising the Inner Passage and Alaska.
We passed the swimming area of English Bay. It was getting late and
the swimmers had departed for the day. We were quite amazed at the
cluster of apartments behind English Bay in an area called West End.
This is supposed to be the highest density of high rise units in
America. Thank you, we prefer Stanley Park. After a coffee stop to
keep us energized at Denman Street, it was back to the Westin. Over
dinner that night, we reflected upon our two weeks in Canada. We had
had a wonderful vacation and decided that we liked Canada. It is such
a clean, organised and pleasant place. Yes, we would come back but
that’s another series of stories.

@@The End@@

For more information:

Marco Polo Press
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www.marcopolopress.com

By the same author:

Paperback: Following Marco Polo’s Silk Road
Second Edition Published February 2010
Paperback: 344 pages
ISBN: 978-1-43924-942-0
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About the Author

Brian Lawrenson was born in Yorkshire, brought up in Port Elizabeth,
South Africa. After hitch-hiking round UK and Europe in the 1960s he
met and married his New Zealand born wife, Jill, in London and
migrated to Australia in 1968. Since then they have travelled to more
than 70 countries.
Apart from travels in the Australia, including the Red Centre; they
have explored New Zealand; visited the Islands of the Pacific;
journeyed through the Middle East, across Central Asia and China;
criss-crossed Canada and stayed in the remote Resolute Bay; discovered
the beauty of over 20 states of the USA; exploring the Inca trails of
South America and cruised round Cape Horn; and visited many of the
countries of the Far East including Thailand, Vietnam and Cambodia.
And lots more.
Brian and Jill live in their favourite city, Sydney.
Brian Lawrenson is a traveller, writer, speaker and the author of
Following Marco Polo’s Silk Road. He is also runs the small
independent publishing house Marco Polo Press. Marco Polo Press is a
member of the Independent Book Publisher Association (IBPA). Brian
Lawrenson is a member of the Australian Society of Authors and a
number of Travel Writers Associations. He has been featured on TV,
Radio, in magazines and local newspapers.
## The End of the eBook ##