Clausewitz coined the term “the fog of war” to describe how hard it is for military commanders to make good decisions when they have imperfect and incomplete information. We are trying to navigate the fog of ferry crossings like a great General, but can relate to their predicament. No one knows anything. Everyone is an expert. RV tourists, having thrown in the towel, roll into Eagle Plains with stories of packed campgrounds and mile long lines north of us. Salty truck drivers with no choice but to wait it out, exchange stories of their last nightmare trip up the Dempster in an effort to keep it all in perspective.
Yesterday, we unhitched T@G and drove 4 hours to the Peel River to reconnoiter the situation ourselves; partly out of boredom, partly for the blog, partly because that might be the furthest north we wind up getting, and partly because we are no good at sitting still. We can tell you that it is both dire and common. It is dire because a civilization runs on logistics, and those have totally broken down. Without truck traffic running on the Dempster, supplies are running out from Fort McPherson to the end of the road in Tuktoyaktuk. Vacationers are running out of time and medication. Everyone is running out of patience. It is common as apparently there is always some uncontrollable event impeding the Arctic flow.
Time has made us experts on the hydrodynamics of rivers. The Peel got to 9 meters above flood level when the force on the ferry snapped the cable. Flood stage is 6 meters, which was the height the Peel was at when we advanced to the front lines yesterday. It is dropping at a typical pace of 1.5 meters per day. Today the construction crews should be able to begin the process of rebuilding the ferry landings such that the big rigs can enter and exit the boat without sinking into the river bank mud. The engineers are standing by to replace the cable. With rain in the forecast, calculate the amount of rainfall needed to raise the river 1 meter, thwarting all progress to date. JK!
We have also become experts on river boat design and displacement. Entrepreneurial locals have purchased their own small powered barge and are running those that dare across the river for $400 Canadian. Do we dare? It turns out that their aluminum ferry front loader can haul 3 tons and up to 19 feet of length. Quick math on an F250 shows it to be 4 tons and 21 feet. We dare not.
Eight Semis and half a dozen RV’ers are camped on the south bank of the Peel watching and waiting, swatting swarms, and conserving potable water. After four days, they were in good spirits, sharing their folding chair opinions on the state of affairs and not smelling too good. We were happy with our “fog of war” decision to stay encamped 3 1/2 hours south at Eagle Plains where we have access to the 3 W’s, wind (less bugs), water (drinking), and wifi (blog).
For our troubles, we picked up our crossing of the Arctic Circle certificate. At 66 degrees and 33 minutes, the Arctic Circle is the latitude where the sun never sets on the summer solstice. It looks just like any other latitude up here absent the sign. We also crossed into the Northwest Territory but for that you get no certificate. What you do get are sweeping views of everything around the North Pole that an iPhone cannot capture. Inexplicably, the Dempster turns to a smooth crushed shale in NWT on which vehicles can fly along at high speeds in massive clouds of dust visible for 10 miles in the distance. The truck and the entire contents of the bed are coated in a thick fine powder of Arctic dirt that needs to be brushed clean.
On the fourth day of our encampment in Eagle Plains, the wind has died across the ridge where we’ve staked our claim. We knew that would pose a problem. The T@G battery has run down such that the overhead fan no longer provides air flow through the sleeping compartment. Climbing temperatures, 23 hours of daylight, and no a/c make the fan critical for broken sleep. With no wind, it is hard to work on these things because of the mosquitos. Without shower availability, we are reluctant to apply Deet. Wearing protective clothing like long sleeves, tall socks and Grand Island mesh jackets is proving to be only somewhat protective.
We are now experts on many the lives of the 50 or so of us coming, going, and staying south of the Peel from river to Plains. Residents stroll by and ask what we knew about the ferry because we have become the experts. Our parking lot neighbor, Lyle, took the housekeeper, Julie, on an emergency run to the Peel for a small boat crossing so that she could attend to a family emergency in Inuvik. Diana is a Whitehorse artist missing out on showing (selling) her work at the festival. Big Rig jockey, Lorne, drinks too much at the bar until the bartender, Devon, kicks him out and he walks the parking lot talking to strangers because how many hours a day can you spend alone in your truck? Sabine from Quebec and Ray from Alaska left yesterday. She was running out of meds and he had to report back to work. Isaac, hauling supplies for the new school being built in Tuktoyaktuk, permanently occupies the worn leather loveseat in the lobby. He has volunteered for the run to Tuk many times across all seasons because it’s always a mess and people need basic things to survive. Manager Laura is keeping everyone’s mood in check with sign up shower slots in room 17.
And so we join a hundred stories of the folks surviving in The North. It is so few people that no one in the rest of the world knows or would even care if they did know that the Peel River ferry is out. In The North, your problems are yours to solve. Figure out how to live on a box of tinned meat, canned vegetables, and a bag of chips. Invent a pasta dish called smoked trout on pasta in an olive-tomato garlic sauce. Learn to live in mosquito-ville because there is no reasoning with them. Appreciate clean water for the precious resource that it is and use it wisely.
There are plans, and then there is life after those plans encounter The North. We now restrict our plans to how to best ration what coffee remains in the Maxwell House can. Today we have chores to do, water and power to replace, a spam meal to prepare, and books to read. Can we last here another day? Another 2 days? How many? We’ve already as good as missed the Great Northern Arts Festival. Is it time to raise the white flag? For mental health, it is best to not try and guess. For today, we remain in The North.
