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The August 2002 International Wolf Center trip to Aylmer
Lake in Canada's Northwest Territories ended with rave
reviews from the 14 people who ventured "north of 60."
Good weather and abundant wildlife in this powerfully
beautiful landscape gave all the participants memories to
last a lifetime.
This destination is located 240 air miles north-northeast
of Yellowknife, a small but thriving city on the northern
arm of the Great Slave Lake. Aylmer Lake is well above
this hemisphere's meandering tree line, surrounded by a
land of breathtaking scenery and abundant wildlife including
caribou, barrenground grizzlies, wolverine, raptors, shore
birds and song birds, arctic hares, foxes, sik-siks (arctic
ground squirrels) - and of course, wolves. Aylmer Lake Lodge,
with its magnificent view of Rocknest Bay and the surrounding
ridges, is spacious and comfortable. Cozy cabins make the
sleep accommodations less than rustic, and the meals are delicious.
This lodge and the facilities
are not, however, an attempt by the owners to drop a vacation
resort into a remote wilderness. What makes this place so
special is the absence of human traces, the isolation from
both the blessings and the burdens of civilization. No roads
bring the hum of traffic, no sound bites or canned laughter
from the television mask the sound of the wind and the song
of the horned larks.
Fourteen people, including trip leaders Dave Mech,
Nancy Gibson and Canadian biologist Dean Cluff, participated
in this summer's wolf and wildlife adventure. The enduring
beauty of this land with its vast stretches of tundra and
rugged hills, its sparkling lakes and inlets and its "big sky"
will lure us back every year.
Day 1 - Saturday August 10, 2002
Lashing rain and gusting winds delayed our
early morning departure from Yellowknife to Alymer Lake, but
we finally took off in one of Air Tindi's Twin Otter float
planes in early afternoon. We arrived at Aylmer Lake Lodge
two hours later and watched as the rain ended and dazzling
sunshine chased the clouds across the tundra and boulder spills.
Just as we strapped on our backpacks, a brilliant rainbow
arched across the ridge behind the lake.
We hiked to the crest of the ridge behind
the lodge and stationed ourselves among the ancient glacial
rocks. With binoculars and spotting scopes, we scanned the
landscape. Suddenly, a smoke-gray wolf appeared on the flank
of the hillside opposite our vantage point, swinging along
in the effortless trot of the long-distance traveler. It must
have caught our scent because it stopped abruptly and stared
straight at us before resuming its journey to the far ridgeline
where it disappeared in the rocky rubble at the top. What
a prelude to the coming week! Someone observed that the only
thing missing was a swelling anthem of background music. Perhaps,
we agreed, the wolves would provide that.
Day 2 - Sunday August 11, 2002
Warm weather with intermittent showers and sunshine
ushered in the dawn at 4:00 a.m. One of our early-morning
hikers dashed back from the ridge top to announce that a barrenground
grizzly bear sow with a cub was just out of view of the lodge,
busily digging up a sik-sik (arctic ground squirrel) burrow.
At mid-morning, several members of the group again spotted
the grizzly. She was now foraging for berries and was in the
company of not one cub, but two! The mother bear, her coat
a pale amber that deepened to dark cinnamon on her legs, ambled
from place to place closely followed by her dark brown offspring.
The bear-watchers were joined by others of our group as they
were returning from a long hike to a rocky canyon where peregrine
falcons and rough-legged hawks nest on the cliff sides. The
group had found not only beautiful wild flowers along the
base of the canyon but an ice cave in the sandy bank along
a rushing creek.
After dinner, the entire group of 14 climbed
into the fishing boats and motored down the lake to the traditional
Rock Nest Bay den site. Dean Cluff, the biologist for the
North Slave Region of the Northwest Territories, had earlier
(in the spring) heard the mortality signal from the radio
collar of Wolf #344, the breeding female of the Rocknest Bay
pack. We found the spot where she had died, and nearby, her
scattered bones served as mute testament to her demise. The
radio collar lay nearby. When and how she died remains a mystery.
We found no evidence that pups had been born in the spring
of 2002 at this den.
Day 3 - Monday August 12, 2002
Sik-siks are arctic ground squirrels. They
look somewhat like portly prairie dogs, and quite of number
of these chirping mammals live at Aylmer Lake Lodge. These
resident squirrels are both gourmets and gourmands. The lodge
owners, Kathy and Alan Rebane and their two sons, indulge
these sik-siks with peanuts, leftover cooked cereal, pancakes,
garlic bread and cheese potatoes. The adults, named Suzy and
Sid, have educated their numerous offspring to partake of
the bounty offered by the Rebanes and their guests. Wildlife
viewing at Aylmer Lake Lodge begins on the deck outside the
dining room door.
In the cool morning, our group hiked to a
promontory overlooking Aylmer Lake and then to a beautiful
esker near a bulging hill we named Bread Loaf. Some members
of the group had the unexpected thrill of spotting a wolverine
on the flank of a ridge, hurrying along with its distinctive
undulating lope. Soon after, they discovered a fox den and
saw what might have been the vixen (female fox) nearby. Several
of the group members used part of the afternoon to fish for
lake trout in the pristine waters of Aylmer Lake. These trout
live, so it is said, up to 200 years and may weigh up to 60
pounds. The Rebanes maintain a strict "catch and release"
policy, but once a week, groups may keep enough trout or grayling
for a fish dinner.
Day 4 - Tuesday August 13, 2002
Since the Rocknest Bay wolf pack was nowhere
to be found, we changed our focus and headed down the lake
and through a narrow passage to another expanse of open water.
Our destination was a sandy beach on the shore of an unnamed
peninsula. The boat ride lasted fully an hour, but it was
worth it, even when we had to brave some rough water in the
runabouts. On the way, we spotted a wolverine traveling along
the side of a hill. These solitary animals, members of the
weasel family, are large and powerful, but they do not deserve
their reputation as vicious and aggressive.
Two musk oxen herds on the peninsula had been
spotted earlier from the air, and we headed out across the
tundra to find them. We shouldered our backpacks, stuffed
with scopes and lunches and raingear, and headed out on foot
across the tundra hummocks and the gravelly higher ground
to a ridge top that would, we hoped, afford a panoramic view
in all directions. Everywhere were clusters of cloudberries
and blueberries, and our boots sometimes crushed the aromatic
labrador tea that grows in great abundance on the boulder-strewn
landscape. The leaves of the miniature tundra plants were
already beginning to change from summer green, and soon the
hillsides will explode with the brilliant reds and oranges
and golds of autumn.
A quick look about from the ridge top revealed
the musk oxen along the side of a lake in the near distance.
Some of the great shaggy beasts were placidly grazing while
others lay resting in the warm sunshine. A preliminary count
revealed a dozen animals, but as they lumbered up from the
shore and began a slow drift across the tundra in front of
us, it became apparent that the herd consisted of at least
32 adults and 7 calves. Dave Mech commented that this herd
was the largest he had ever seen. We watched entranced. Musk
oxen are perfectly adapted to this harsh environment and seem
to belong to an earlier place and time. "They look almost
prehistoric," observed one group member. Indeed they are.
Then someone whispered, "Look! Down there!"
And there was a wolf, trotting steadily at an angle straight
toward the musk oxen. Then just below us, another wolf came
into view, this one with a coppery gray coat that seemed both
to absorb and reflect the brilliant sunlight. In his book
Of Wolves and Men, Barry Lopez described the purposeful
way wolves move as "a bicycling drift, reminiscent of the
movement of water or of shadows." Lopez had it right.
The musk oxen ambled over another ridge in the distance.
They must not have noticed the wolves because they
did not seem alarmed, nor did they form their defensive
circle. We reluctantly packed up for the boat ride back to
Rocknest Bay, all of us anxious to return to "Musk Ox Peninsula"
the next day.
Day 5 - Wednesday August 14, 2002
Armed with curiosity, new energy and a desire to
discover a possible wolf rendezvous site with adults and
pups, we returned to Musk Ox Peninsula. The rough boat
ride did not dampen our enthusiasm, although we could
not say the same for our clothing. Good raingear comes in
handy even when it isn't raining!
We hiked in and split into two groups so our scanning
and watching would be enhanced by eyes looking in every
direction. The pattern of "wolf traffic" - the fact that
adult wolves seemed to be staying in the area and not
just passing through - intrigued the biologists, Dave
Mech and Dean Cluff. That the adult wolves were moving back
and forth through the area indicated there might be a rendezvous
site somewhere. Certainly there were good places with water
and shelter for rambunctious and rapidly growing pups. Dense
clusters of dwarf willows hugged many of the sandy eskers,
perfect places in which to escape the bugs and the summer
sun.
Two members of the group who were watching from the flank
of a distant hillside reported on the two-way radio that
they were seeing what appeared to be smaller wolves
interacting with adults. From their lookout, they could see
a protected spot at the end of an inlet where dwarf willows
and rocks provided a safe haven for pups. The report of this
"hot spot" made all of us, including the biologists, eager
to return the next day.
Everyone agreed the searching and the fitting together
of the "puzzle pieces" was not only fun, but a valuable
lesson in how field research is conducted. Persistence
and patience and the willingness to wait and watch are all
prerequisites to success. We hiked back to the beach
and the waiting boats in high anticipation of what the next
day might reveal.
Just as we had settled about midnight for a "long
summer's nap," someone yelled, "Everybody outside!
Northern lights!" After a long warm-up, the aurora
suddenly burst into brilliant waving curtains of light, swirling
paint-pot colors and stabbing "icicle" sculptures. One member
of the group confessed to be too enraptured even to doze the
rest of the night. There are worse ways to lose a night's
sleep!
Day 6 - Thursday August 15, 2002
Wolves are often inactive during the day. They stay
bedded down where they can escape the heat and insects.
Sometimes the only way to spot them from a distance with
a scope or binoculars is to look for "rocks with ears"
or the sudden movement of a wolf getting up and stretching
before lying back down to resume its nap.We decided, therefore,
to have dinner at noon and pack our supper in our backpacks.
That way, we could stay out through the long arctic twilight
and watch for the wolves to wake up and perhaps head out to
hunt.
We left for Musk Ox Peninsula in the early afternoon.
We hiked up to the hillside where wo members of the group
t had seen what seemed to be adult/pup interaction the day
before. We set up our scopes, and with bags of M & M's and
tins of smoked oysters and sardines at the ready to sustain
us, we began watching what we thought might be the
rendezvous site.
The afternoon stretched into early evening with no sighting
of wolves. Then all at once, wolves began popping up in
the willows - 3 adults and 2 pups. The pups, one a pale
gray, the other dark, played hide-and-seek and wrestled
in the sand along the side of the esker.
Suddenly, something seemed to catch the attention of
two of the adults who began to trot slowly to the right
with the pups in tow. Dave Mech speculated they might have
heard howling. Whatever the reason for their sudden
departure from the rendezvous site area, they seemed
determined and focused on some sort of mission. In any case,
they disappeared over a ridge and did not return while we
were there.
Best estimates indicated the pack consisted of 3 to 5
adults and 2 or 3 pups. The scarcity of caribou in the
immediate vicinity, a phenomenon we had been observing
all week, raised speculation about what the wolves were
eating. Growing wolf pups have voracious appetites, and
the adults are kept busy providing food for themselves
and for the youngsters. Perhaps the pack was preying on musk
ox calves, or maybe the adult wolves were ranging far and
wide to find the scattered caribou.
We returned to camp at dark to find a welcoming bonfire
blazing on the beach near the boathouse. We stood close
to the fire's warmth, drinking hot chocolate, content
and too tired to watch the aurora.
Day 7 - Friday August 16, 2002
Friday is always a bittersweet day on the Wolf Center
trips. Everyone is grateful for the shared experience,
but no one wants to leave. The brisk wind was whipping
up whitecaps on the lake, so we decided not to attempt
the trip to Musk Ox Peninsula. We headed out in the
boats in the opposite direction, toward the brooding silhouette
of Bread Loaf. After beaching the boats, we trekked through
ravines and over boulder spills, stopping to pick berries
and to gaze at the untouched landscape stretching away in
all directions. Perfect solitude. No roads, no settlements
or towns, nothing except an occasional jet contrail was there
to suggest the presence of humans on earth. A humbling experience,
especially when one realizes that the barrengrounds are not
barren. They are teeming with life - birds and insects and
plants and mammals, each with its niche, each equipped to
survive in this place where few humans have traveled. Arctic
explorer Edmund Carpenter once observed that "the absence
of all human traces gives you the feeling you understand this
land and can take your place in it." Perhaps that is what
one of our group members meant when she described the whole
experience as an epiphany.
A rainbow had greeted us when we arrived at Aylmer
Lake, and the trip ended with a day of brilliant sunshine
followed by misty showers and incandescent rainbows. One
group of hikers described what it was like to stand "inside
a rainbow" and watch sunlight in pursuit of cloud shadows
sweeping over the wind-scoured ridges. One member of the
group invited everyone to look through his spotting scope
where the sunlight on the lake made the water sparkle
like a carpet of diamonds.
A group of four hiked later to the ice cave in the
creek bank. On the way back to camp, a magnificent rainbow
with multiple bands of color arched over the hillside
nearby. Such moments need no camera to record them. They
are etched indelibly on the mind forever.
Day 8 - Saturday August 17, 2002
At midday, we returned to Yellowknife. The leave-taking
is always difficult and the re-entry and re-acclimation to
the sounds of traffic and even the hum of conversation in
a restaurant take awhile. Eyes that have grown accustomed
to focusing on the distance with nothing to interrupt
the line of sight must adjust to having objects near at hand.
We celebrated our week with a farewell dinner and boarded
our homebound flights the following morning, each of us admitting
to a perceptible shift in our view of things. Wild places
have that power.
Watch for news about our plans to the Northwest
Territories in August 2003. The Wolf Center is planning
two one-week trips, and information about them will appear
in about a month on the web site. Inquiries are already
coming in. If you are interested, follow the instructions
on the web site promotion right away so you can be assured
of a place on an adventure to one of the earth's last best
places.
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