No caribou were harmed in the making of this memory

Well, we carried around our rifles for three days and called it good. Not only did we not see any caribou, we didn't see anything that could crawl, walk or fly until we got back to the car (two ravens and a family of ptarmigan were hanging out by the haul road). 

From the tracks and turds we figured the herd had been through the area in the last week.

 

Scat+wind=flying buttresses

Do you see anything Robert? 

The snow conditions varied from wind-scoured dunes to deep fluffy wallows.

Whole sections of the hillslope were trampled out like this where the caribou had hoofed down to the lichen and moss below. You could see tracks from fox, hare, and weasel that came in afterward to take advantage of the exposures.

 We skied down a narrow canyon to check for caribou. We then skied back out.

 There was absolutely no wind (even our frosty tent fly didn't make any noise through the night). The northern lights were bright enough to see by, not that anything was moving in the Chandalar Valley.

Besides us shuffling from the tent to the pee spot and back.

Robert is a big Dune fan too, so on our way back to the car, we pretended like we were Fremen wearing stillsuits dodging Harkonnen thopters and watching for worm-sign. We didn't see any worms.

Back in the trees on the way home. Some of the Black Spruce were more snow than tree.

For the complete "hunt" pictures click here.

Hunting again

"And it is pleasing unto me that they should not be used, only in times of winter, or of cold, or famine ... the beasts of the field, and the fowls of heaven, and all wild animals that run or creep on the earth; and these hath God made for the use of man only in times of famine and excess of hunger." Doctrine and Covenants 89:13-15


Tomorrow I am going hunting again. Me, an otherwise vegetarian, driving up the Trans-Alaskan pipeline road with some skis and a rifle to break up some caribou's family. How did I get here?

A borrowed gun, gifted book, and knives from Steepandcheap

I'm opposed to turning vibrant living beings into meat on ethical, religious, ecological, and health grounds, but here it is 1:30 AM, and I'm looking down the scope of a 30-6 in my living room. What is it about this issue that has short circuited all the social and internal systems that are supposed to help me make ethical and good decisions?

My friend Robert invited me on this hunt a couple weeks ago. We would park somewhere around the Chandalar Shelf airstrip, ski out of the five-mile no-shooting pipeline corridor, and hunt to the south east. I have a hard time saying no to a game of chess, let alone a multiday, snow-cave building ski adventure.

To make things even morally muddier, yesterday, while trying to track the herd online, I found out that the tracking project name is the CircumArctic Rangifer Monitoring and Assessment Network (CARMA). Perfect. It turns out that CARMA stopped posting the herd's location because of hunters just like me.

Several times I've come close to canceling the trip, but each time something stops me. "How many people actually have this opportunity," my inner Gargamel will whisper. "You're providing for your family after all."

"Sure but I can also provide for my family with the box of Kashi seven grain pilaf I picked up at Fred Meyers."

"It is a time of winter. The word of wisdom clearly makes this exception."

"Sure, but that's only because times of winter were times of famine in those days. I've got romaine lettuce and fresh bananas downstairs. Plus read verse 15, it says only in times of famine AND excess of hunger. Pretty clear right?"

The good news is, Robert gives us a 20% chance tops of actually seeing any caribou. But what does this say about me? I'm hoping that dumb luck will save me from committing a sin I'm not strong enough to resist. My moral compass is experiencing some serious declination at these latitudes.

Cake pops

I had two cake pops today. When I woke up I didn't even know what that was. I also didn't know we got eight inches of snow last night (the first fall of more than four inches this year) until I walked out the door, already almost late.

With a couple other graduate students I'm co-teaching a basic ecology course. Today we talked about decomposition. Did you know that Archaea are the only organisms that create methane and they are only present in about half of humans' guts. That means that only half of us are emitting flammable flatulence.

Halfway down the ridge a Toyota Yaris tried to pass me on a curve. The tiny wedge shaped car became a wedge shaped fountain of powder as it crossed the piled snow on the dividing line. I thought for sure he was going off the road but he was able to slow down fast enough to barely make the turn. We waved at each other and he sped off.

I made it to class five minutes early but then I realized that the tiny netbook computer I'd bought from my Czech friend Vladen was powered down. With some 256 Mb of RAM it takes 15 minutes to load Windows XP. I hit the power button and started chatting with the students. Twenty minutes later I gave up and one of the students loaded my presentation on his laptop.

"What's Breaking Dawn?" Kevin asked after popping my flash drive in.
"Oh you know, just a story about a vampire and a human that love each other very much." I knew I should have emptied the trash after deleting that from the drive.

Tonight we shoveled the driveway. I scooped snow while Rachel pulled Ingrid behind in a sled, acting like a little compactor. Ingrid started with one leg hanging over the side of the sled. After ten minutes all four limbs and the back of her head were dangling and dragging as Rachel pulled her along.

The crazy thing is, the cake pops were from two totally unrelated people. One was the size of a golfball and chocolate, the other was the size of a big grape and berry flavored. They were good but I can't help but think that they'll never beat the real thing, or even cupcakes.