Showing posts with label Yellowknife. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Yellowknife. Show all posts

Monday, February 29, 2016

Canada's Arctic; a curious winter destination.

Canada’s High Arctic may not be on everybody’s winter travel list, but they really do offer an extraordinary glimpse into another world, and a rich culture that has been evolving slowly but surely for millennia in this unusual climate.

In many ways, the Arctic shows best in the winter; at least, when there is some sunshine. Twenty-four hours of darkness can be a downer for visitors, but by mid-February the sun is rising, and the crisp, bright winter days, although short, are quite delightful.

The winter is simply another time of year to the Inuit, it is a time for iglus, ice, dog teams and wider hunting grounds. It is a time for traditional pursuits and discussion, a time for creating the tools that will be required for the short summertime season where their food is accessible from the water.

True, activities are limited, but with a number of communities now starting to develop some community-based tourism products, this will change. For now, a comprehensive and fulfilling to a northern community should start with an email or phone call to the local EDO (Economic Development Officer), Hamlet Office and the Territorial tourism organisation, Nunavut Tourism.

Icebergs and aviation - staples of Canada's Northlands 

It should be possible to plan a visit that would include meeting locals who will be most willing to explain elements of their heritage and language, and set up a chance to go out for a day or a half-day trip by dog team of skidoo to explore the local scenery.

Vessels waiting for Spring
I loved the trip; the opportunity to get to Cambridge Bay, a hub community for the hamlets of the Kitikmeot region was a treat. The community of thirteen hundred hardy souls lies on the south coast of Victoria Island, some thirty miles off Canada’s north coast, and acts as a vibrant centre for the economic and political life of the region.

I was there with a colleague to facilitate a workshop in tourism development, and was quite engrossed by some of the ideas that were offered.

One participant, Bobby Klegenberg of Haokak Outfitting was fascinating. An Inuk man with a passion for teaching the youth in the community the traditional ways, offered a fine example. “I teach people to make a traditional spear”, he said, “and then take them fishing; finally, we cook and eat the fish that we catch.” This is a perfect idea, and a really good example of a short product that would be of great interest to visitors. I asked if he had already done this, and he told us that this was a program that he ran for young offenders.

Cambridge Bay on a late February morning
“So,” I said, “for me to be able to do this, I would have to break a few windows, go to court and be sentenced to spend a morning with you learning about traditional fishing? Couldn’t I just give you $100?”

That tourists’ interests appeared to be aligned with those of the young offender was a fascinating insight for us all. Tourism is all about learning, and so, of course, is the emphasis of a correctional system.

There are many ideas; having dinner with a local family and learning about country food and the language and culture of their people: spending a few hours being introduced to the Inuktitut language and the syllabic writing: taking a walking tour of the community with a local guide who can explain the community’s social structure. There are many, simple products that can, as a community, be evolved into fascinating insights for visitors.

The key connecting cities of Yellowknife and Iqaluit are excellent balances to the remote hamlets, and an ideal visit to the north would incorporate a few days in each. The hamlet’s facilities, accommodation and food, are basic but comfortable enough. The major hubs, in contrast, will let tourists visit more comprehensive museums and interpretive displays, and enjoy some creative local meals.

 The Territorial Assembly in Yellowknife  

Overflying Auyuittuq Park
On the Baffin Coast, the community of Qikiqtarjuaq lies at the north end of the Auyuittuq National Park, and this gorgeous community offers visitors the sense of a compact and self-reliant, traditional community and a brand new visitor centre. Simply flying from Iqaluit is a treat, on a good day, as the aircraft flies low for the thirty-minute hope between Pangnirtung and Qikiqtarjuaq offering a staggering view of this remote and extraordinary park. 

There is a strong sense of hosting visitors there, and the community is coming together to create a broadly-based offering of products to engage visitors. The surroundings are quite stunning, the local guides engaging and the sense of adventure and exploration complete.

The Bay in Qikiqtarjuaq with its captive icebergs

The bay, that dominates the village, is host to some "captive icebergs"; Qik, as the hamlet is known locally, lies on the Davis Strait, the major iceberg highway that carries the glacial behemoths south to The Atlantic from their calving grounds in Greenland and North Baffin. From time to time, a glacier becomes caught in the bay, and once in, it cannot escape. For decades, as they slowly melt, the bergs form an integral part of the landscape, and in the winter offer visitors a fantastic opportunity to head out by sled and clamber over these iconic arctic giants.

To explore and learn; the two major components in my kind of tourism are both here. As tourism develops, and it will be a slow and deliberate process, travellers who venture north can be sure of a warm and fascinating welcome to this Baffin outpost.

I usually head south at this time of year, but the past couple of weeks in the High Arctic have been among the most fascinating I have ever been fortunate to experience, and I can’t wait to return to the small communities in the coldest part of the world. 

And yes, in the winter!

Monday, August 24, 2015

Yellowknife, NWT - Canada's Perfect Capital.

I have always had a soft spot for Yellowknife, and can unequivocally say that it is my favourite of the fourteen provincial, territorial and federal capitals. For what it is worth, Edmonton is my least favourite, but nobody asked, and I don’t want to dwell on the Bad Times.

Yellowknife, quite simply, is fun; it takes itself so seriously that it borders on becoming a parody of itself, and in that enthusiasm embraces visitors and observers into the unique perspective of life that is offered by diamonds, government and tourism.

I first travelled there in the early 1980s. At that time Northwest Territorial Airways operated an elderly Lockheed Electra, a most comfortable 86-passenger propeller plane that offered a semi-circular lounge area in its tail, on a three-hour flight from Winnipeg to Yellowknife. I was fortunate to ride on this line several times, and came to love the frontier town that the Territorial capital then was.

The price of gold was marked hourly by chalk in the smoky coffee shop of the Discovery Inn, this information seemingly critical to the minute-by-minute temperament of the locals. Tourism, of course, was barely on the horizon in those days, but there were great folks around who wanted to see how they could join this burgeoning industry.

One Yellowknife airport!
And they most certainly succeeded! Yellowknife now hosts as many as 75,000 visitors each year, a number that exceeds its population. Many (some 22,000) come for the Northern Lights, as Yellowknife is one of, if not the preeminent locations to witness this extraordinary display. In particular, the Japanese visit in huge numbers, 10,000 at the last count, and this has spawned a fascinating parallel economy of fine sushi and other Japanese niceties to sooth these visitors’ yearnings for home.

But is it not all about lights, of course, given that the city bathes in sunlight for several months each year. It is, above all, I decided, all about aviation.  The city is alive with aircraft from the conventional jets that connect the city with the south to a vast miscellany of buzzy little creatures that whizz miners, tourists, campers and sightseers around the astonishing surroundings. Lakes and trees, Canada’s staple landscape, dominate; however, the connectivity by air, the isolated cabins, the dramatic lodges and fertile hunting grounds bring the bush to the city and the city to the bush. It is hard to tell where one ends and the other begins.

One of the many houseboats in the bay
The Old Town is the cultural heartbeat of Yellowknife; the original houses, some restored professionally, some with only love and a smile and some untouched for decades, reflect the powerful sense of triumph and the future that the original prospectors imbued. It is a place to get lost, and there is a superb audio-app that every visitor should obtain that quickly draws you back to the thirties and forties, and the real core of Yellowknife’s soul.

 Yellowknife's Old Town

From the city, when one just has to get away, there are lodges and camps, but none finer then Blachford Lake, a long-term work-in-progress facility about forty minutes away by air. This lodge defies description; it is comfortable and has managed to incorporate the souls of every visitor and staff member rover the thirty-five years it has been in operation. It offers accommodation and food, of course, but more importantly a milieu that can best be described as its own ecosystem.

I love Blachford. The facilities are by no means luxurious, but extend the security of a family with the celebration of friends in the most unlikely setting. There are educational courses and weddings, small think-tank meetings and romantic weekends, fishing escapes and aurora watching and dog sledding and ambience; above all, the northern ambience. Visitors come for many reasons, but all leave with the same images woven together to form their own memories.

Blachford Lodge
And if one has to point out that if it is good enough for the Duke and Duchess of Cambridge, given their choice of evey lodge in Canada, well, I would agree that is is more than good enough for me. 

We were there for dinner, and as our six-seat Beaver waited patiently, we certainly didnt' want to leave too fast. The atmosphere of the Lodge is unique; anover used word, perhaps, but this truly was. It is not a "Wilderness Lodge", and does not fit neatly into any single classification, but this, of course, is the core of Blachford's attractions. It is simply a Lodge in the Wilderness offering its guests an extraordinary opportunty to feel free, comfortable and to completely relax, secure in teh knowledge that the remarkable staff are ready to explain, show, identify and talk about anything and everything that happens and lives in these vast woods. 

Back in the city, and seeking food, we were surprised at the varation that is available; certainly a result of both local demand and the thousands of hungry tourists that come by each year. Terrific restaurants abound, and Bullock’s Bistro, the Dancing Moose and Sushi North deserve a special mention; there are brilliant museums and exhibitions; the town’s hiking trails, particularly Frame Lake are fabulous, and in the winter, and I am sure that I will get back again to report, a whole new world of opportunity opens up.

Yellowknife is an active place, and for those willing to get out and enjoy, the rewards are endless.

Saturday, August 22, 2015

The Canadian Prairies; Driving the Yellowhead Highway to Yellowknife

How remiss and idle I have been.

I have, in accordance with the Way of Life, been wandering this summer, and notably through Canada. Having left Newfoundland and its unusual dancing, whizzed around the Cabot Trail, and I must say left that iconic drive completely underwhelmed, it was time to head west, and drive to Yellowknife in the Northwest Territories

Now the drive from Winnipeg to Yellowknife, some 3,000 kms of deeply predictably highway, can appear to be monotonous. This would be and unfortunate and slightly unkind observation as my friend, the CBC notable Laurie Hoogstraten pointed out. “Meditative is the word you are looking for, Max”, she intoned, “not dull at all”.

The meditative Prairies

She may have a point. The landscapes between here and there is not Alpine; it does, however offer some broad and extraordinary landscapes coloured by the changing sky, the crops and the periodic, brightly coloured farm building. Yellows, Blues, reds and the heavy and dominating black skies of a Prairie storm were all about, and with the wide open plains, visible in a 360° arc that completely encased our car.

The Yellowhead Highway is the main artery to the northwest, and it was on this wonderfully named road that we spent some 1,500 kms passing through the rolling fields of western Manitoba, the agricultural heartland of Saskatchewan (“easy to draw, hard to spell”), and the transitioning landscapes of Alberta.

Farm implements for sale in such numbers; massive, insect-like machines with purposes city-dwellers could only presume lined the side of the highways as we passed through the Prairie farming towns. Endless fields of brightly coloured canola, herds of sunflowers and the rising tide of wheat that would eventually be taken in the early fall. All of this agriculture was quite overwhelming, and visually delightful.

While at first glance, the road was long, straight and scarcely undulating, it was impossible not to feel the overwhelming sense of community that imbues life on the sharp end of production. It is, after all, these men and women living their lives in a thousand  Dog Rivers that feed us all. Trains, three kilometres long, as they passed by one at a level crossing, gave ample time to ponder their cargoes, destinations and the extraordinary process by which seed, water and sun can create billions of tons of produce to be shipped to every corner of the earth.

And once free, and ready to move on, we reached Saskatoon, the slightly quirky and rather pretty city that houses the University of Saskatchewan and straddles the South Saskatchewan River in the centre of the prairie. It is a welcome break, although it was raining so much its charms were mostly washed away, but there are several very good restaurants in town, and the opportunity was taken to celebrate my cousin Jude’s Marker Birthday in some style.

She, my cousin, was it must be said, quite overwhelmed with the available space of the prairie, the relative emptiness of the roads, the sheer quantity of farmland, the mysterious stick-insect-machines that seemed to be so popular, the proliferation of pick-up trucks, the rather unappealing urban-planning represented to us as we drove, grain elevators, and Corner Gas (to which we inevitably introduced her).

 And so the first day passed; the second (1,074kms to Peace River) was not notably different other than the irritating road works, punctuating the meditation, presented by Edmonton clearly trying to sharpen itself up. We turned north; the first real junction of the journey and a good opportunity to test the car’s steering mechanism, and slowly but surely, in the sort of progression that is only visible to those in a car, or perhaps a train, the landscape changed, and on the third day, (945kms - Peace River to Fort Providence) we passed the border into the Northwest Territories, and as we burst across the 60th parallel, so did the sunshine and our introduction to the north was complete as the park rangers immediately offered us a cup of coffee.

The Sunny (and crowded) border

Coffee is the fuel of the north; barely an hour goes by without someone “putting on another pot”, “topping one up”, “reaching for an empty cup” and bemoaning the black liquid’s viscosity. “A bit thick, this coffee” is a common refrain, but there it is, the primary food group of Canada’s territories.

Fort Providence, a community that lies along the Mighty Mackenzie, and until recently was where all land traffic in the summer had to cross by ferry, is compact, slightly buggy, friendly and a fine place to stay overnight before the final 350kms on to Yellowknife.

The Mackenzie River at Fort Providence

 I am, as many well know, an immigrant from the United Kingdom; London is my Home Town and the transition from Britain to Canada interesting. There are, it seems two English people living in Fort Prov (as it is so charmingly diminutised); appearing in the community one day, and declaring that it offered all that was unavailable in Great Britain, they moved. I didn’t meet them, but would love to find out more. Perhaps it was the curious drinking requirements:

The imposing regulations of Ft. Providence

The Last Leg into Yellowknife
And so to Yellowknife, the buzzy, sunny, captivating capital of the Northwest Territories, formerly the North Western Territory (1859), then the North-West Territories (1871) and finally, in a moment of grammatical defiance, the hyphen was dropped in 1912 and the Northwest Territories became the territory that it is not today.

Having been split into two parts in 1999, the eastern Arctic became the Nunavut Territory, and presumably tired of the etymological disturbances of the past centuries, and being underwhelmed by the new names offered as an alternative (“Denedeh”, an Athabaskan word meaning “Our Land” was a strong contender, as was the choice to rename the territory “Bob” according to polls at the time), the title of The Northwest Territories stuck, and the NWT it remains.

A very fine place, and only 3,020 kms from my house in Winnipeg.