The Sylvia Grinnell Territorial Park is an expansive nature reserve on southern Baffin Island near Iqaluit, the capital city of Nunavut. It features the Sylvia Grinnell River which cuts through the landscape and flows out into Frobisher Bay, providing a stark contrast to the endless tundra that expands as far as the eye can see. The tundra consists of bedrock that has been shaped and shifted from glaciation thousands of years ago. A sprinkle of overlying soil provides life in a variety of forms; mostly mosses and lichens, with the addition of grasses and low-lying shrubs that produce a variety of berries. The only reminder of civilization is the infrequent roar of an airplane flying overhead, and the sparsely scattered camps across the valley.
I was fortunate to spend time in the park while I was helping with a project on the stock assessment of Arctic char. The Sylvia Grinnell River is an important migratory route for Arctic char (Salvelinus alpinus), a fish that migrates to the ocean for several weeks in the summer and then returns upstream to spend the rest of the year in freshwater. They’re an important fish for food and are much enjoyed by the locals. Our job was to “count” these fish as they migrated upstream, so that we could get a good estimation of how many fish are in the population, which would inform us on the health of the population and how many fish should be allowed to be caught every year. In order to count the fish, we used a sonar device called a DIDSON, which stand for dual-frequency identification sonar.
It was a grey, rainy, morning when we ventured out with our ATVs to the temporary make-shift camp that had been set-up in the park. We turned off the main road, onto what appeared to be a trail. We drove over rocks, around boulders, up and down hills. I took extra caution in maneuvering my ATV around the obstacles because I was towing a small trailer filled with extra supplies. We finally descended upon the camp, which was nestled in a meandering section of the Sylvia Grinnell River and consisted of three canvas tents: two for sleeping, and one for food and cooking. Upon arrival, the other group that had been stationed at the camp for several days came to greet us. After they showed us around, they returned to Iqaluit with their ATVs, leaving me and my field partner with the very important task of babysitting the DIDSON.
Within an hour that we arrived at the camp, we went to go check the DIDSON. Amidst the pouring rain, we crossed the narrow boulder-strewn river flat, and huddled under the tarp that was covering the laptop. The computer was saving the sonar video being recoded by the DIDSON, which was secured in the middle of the river. There was a makeshift wall of rocks that had been built in the river leading out towards where the DIDSON was positioned. This was so that fish would have to swim on the side of the river that the DIDSON was recording, as they made their way upstream. As we kneeled under the tarp, our eyes were greeted by an error message that was being displayed on the open laptop screen. It indicated that the sonar footage wasn’t being recorded. My heart skipped a beat. This was my first time dealing with this kind of equipment, so I was not all familiar with how to proceed. Luckily, I found a notebook tucked inside the laptop case which contained written instructions for what to do in case certain warning messages appeared. We followed the instructions and hesitantly restarted the computer. Much to our dismay the message still wasn’t gone, so we restarted it again. Thankfully upon the second time, it started working again (and I could finally breathe!). We double-checked the cord connections to the laptop and better secured the tarp that lay overtop, making sure to minimize the potential for pooling water.
For the duration we were at camp, we frequently checked the DIDSON and made sure the generators powering the laptop and DIDSON were topped up with fuel. Luckily, there were no other hiccups with the laptop for the rest of the time we were there! We also checked that the wall of rocks was standing its ground against the river’s forceful flow and continued to successfully redirect the path of the fish. One day, some kayakers came down the river and their dog swam into our rock wall. We immediately suited it up in ill-fitting waders and wandered into the cold rushing water to fix what was broken. As we reached our hands into the freezing water to re-stack the rocks, more rocks came toppling down. The rock wall, once weakened, was no match for the continual mass of rushing waters. We did our best to rebuild the wall, while trying not to be swept away by the forceful current. The river wasn’t too deep where we stood, so we could reach down and gather larger-sized rocks, one by one, and use them to reinforce the wall. We had limited time before our hands would be frozen and rendered useless, since our soaked-through gloves were no match for the cold water. We did our best to patch up what we could, but only time would tell how well the job was done.
One day we received a message on our inReach (a type of satellite phone) that there had been a polar bear sighting in the park. This meant we were possibly in danger. We immediately pulled out the rifle that was tucked away in one of the canvas tents. We examined it, making sure that if it came to, we would be able to use it. We were told to go to a cabin for the night, so we drove our ATVs up a ridge a little ways from our camp to get a view of the cabin. From a distance, we could see there were quite a few people there. We didn’t want to intrude, so we didn’t approach, and instead returned to camp. Once you become accustomed to the comforting isolation of being in the wilderness, it becomes difficult to socialize with unfamiliar humans. We decided that we’d probably be fine at our camp. We both moved our things into one tent and I tucked the rifle under my cot so that it was always within reach. Later we found out it was a misunderstanding; someone saw a big white husky on a hill and thought it was a bear from afar. I was majorly relieved by the thought of not having to confront a polar bear.
On another day at camp, I went hiking to explore the surrounding area. It was a beautiful day, the sun was shining and there was a light breeze carrying the sweet smell of the tundra with its rich earthly undertones. I hiked towards a section of bedrock that protruded from the flat monotonous land. When I made it to the top, I was amazed by the view! It was a wide-open landscape, aside from some camps scattered around, there was nothing but the unrelenting tundra. I could see the Sylvia Grinnell River meandering into the distant unknown. I could also see Frobisher Bay, which was apparent beyond the hilled embankment of the river near the camp. Although there were no trees, the tundra was ornamented with different types of moss and lichen as well as delicate cotton grass and low-lying shrubs filled with berries. It was the end of August which was an incentive for small shrubs to display beautiful hues of dark red and hints of orange. I picked blueberries as I hiked, enjoying their delicious taste – it’s amazing how something so sweet can survive in the harsh conditions of the tundra.
At night, my field partner and I hiked up the ridge that overlooked our camp. We looked up into the dark, clear sky, hoping to catch a glimpse of the northern lights. There, far beyond our reach, we saw the apparition of green lights that pierced the darkness of the night. The longer we sat and watched, the more was revealed to us. The green lights swirled and moved, making every moment unique and different from the last. Our gaze was engulfed in the mesmerizing display. We were completely consumed by the wonderous moving lights so high up in the sky. A priceless show, free for anyone willing to venture North.
The Sylvia Grinnell Territorial Park is a beautiful, expansive park near Iqaluit. It provides a glimpse of the isolation exhibited by Nunavut’s tundra while providing the comfort of knowing you’re within reach of the city. I was really fortunate to spend several days helping out with the Arctic char stock assessment project, and enjoyed the trials and tribulations that came with looking after the DIDSON.
Thanks for bringing us into your camp to be a part of your experience Isabel. It’s nice to have exciting times being part of our natural realm. Keep up the good work. Ps I hope you like attic char’
Thanks so much Mary Lou!